Butter Safe Than Sorry Read Free

if what I saw was an impossibility, then I was either experiencing a psychotic break or the world had just gone to Hades in a handbasket, and neither prospect was good for my Little Jacob. When you're a mother, it's all about the children, isn't it? The thing is this: Amy was somebody's child as well. The poor girl was barely into her twenties--if that. She might have been still in her late teens.
    And what about the two security guards? one might ask. What were they doing? Why, absolutely nothing! They were standing as stock-still as the cylindrical trash containers on either side of the doors.
    Amy seemed remarkably calm. "It takes two minutes for the SWAT team to get here," she said in a loud clear voice, "and I pressed the alarm a minute ago. If you leave now, you might still have a chance to get away."
    The Amish do not value education; in fact they eschew it as worldly and dangerous. They are, however, as a rule not unintelligent. In contrast, these three were as bright as the warts on a pickle--and I say that with all Christian charity. The men looked at one another, at Amy, around the lobby at the security cameras, at the security guards, at me, and then back at one another.
    The one standing closest to me called out to the others, "Do you think she's telling the truth?"
    "Only one way to find out," said the man who had the gun pointed directly at Amy's forehead.
    "Shoot the witch," growled the third man, "and let's get on with it." Of course, being a criminal, he used far stronger language than that.
    "No, don't shoot huh!" Little Jacob was on his feet and halfway across the marble expanse before I could react.
    They said that one's life passes in front of one's eyes in a life-threatening situation, but the only thing I had on my mind was the safety of my sweet little son. Like a hundred-thirty-five-pound projectile of flesh and bone, I flew at my offspring, knocking him to the floor. We slid the rest of the way across the room, where we crashed into the villain in front of the counter.
    I still don't know if it was the impact that caused it, or if the robber was trigger-happy, but the gun did indeed go off. Fortunately the bullet barely grazed Amy, doing more damage to her blouse than her upper arm. Still, she screamed and staggered backward, eventually tripping and falling. It was at about this point that the two trash can-like guards awoke from their fear-induced coma and began to stumble about like a pair of drunks. Add to this craziness the antics of the bank manager and the two other clerks, and the lobby suddenly resembled a three- ring circus.
    Apparently all this activity was just too much for the simple Amish felons, who mercifully hightailed it out of the bank without another word, and more important, without firing another shot. However , the police did not show up for another five minutes. In fact, when they did show up, it was only because I had called them on my cell phone.
    "Nine-one-one," the dispatcher said in a disarmingly cheery voice.
    "Uh--there's been a bank robbery. At the First Farmer's Bank."
    "Magdalena, is that you?"
    "Hedda?"
    "Yup, that's me: Hedda Schnurmeister, although you used to call me Hedda Gabbler, on account of I used to talk so much, although I never did get the connection. But it's Hedda Winkler now, and if I recall correctly, you're no longer--"
    "Shut up-- please , Hedda. Like I said, there's been a bank robbery. Put me through to the police."
    "Holy salami! Are you sure? How much money did they get?"
    "Well, they didn't get anything because my son--you never saw a braver hero in all your born days--confronted them. But they did shoot Amy Neubrander in the left arm, so make sure you dispatch an ambulance as well."
    "Hold on, Magdalena, will you? I've got another call coming in."
    "But, Hedda--"
    I waited two minutes for her to get back on the line. In the meantime, I directed the security guards as they tore a three- inch-wide strip from the bottom of my petticoat and wrapped