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pay?”
    Anna insisted Felty sit in front with Moses while she and Lia sat in the backseat. Lia had never seen such a spiffy buggy. The wheel spokes glistened with black paint and shiny lacquer, and the seats were upholstered in deep midnight blue.
    Once they and the pies were securely settled, Moses took up the reins and guided the horse down the hill. “Look at this electric control panel, Dawdi. I can turn on the battery-powered headlights and the signals from here.”
    “It sure is fancy,” Felty said. “The bishop has got strange notions about what’s plain and what’s not.”
    “We’re less likely to be hit by a car,” Moses said, not the least bit ruffled by Felty’s reproof.
    “It wonders me what the bishop would say if I came to gmay in my skivvies next Sunday.”
    Anna leaned back and pushed her glasses in place. “Now, Felty. Remember what the good Lord said, ‘Some folks choke on a gnat and swallow a camel.’ Moses is a godly man who takes fine care of his grandparents. He is not on the road to hell in this buggy.”
    Felty, not apt to be grumpy, threw up his hands in resignation. “The road to hell is paved with good intentions, but I don’t know what vehicle people take to get there.”
    Moses threw a sideways grin to Lia. “I think they walk.”
    Once down the hill, Moses eased the buggy onto the paved country road. The trees formed a canopy of green so thick, it looked as if they were in a tunnel. A car inched up behind them and slowly passed when the way was clear.
    Felty’s eyes lit up like a propane lantern at midnight. “Texas. I don’t have that one yet.”
    Anna patted Lia’s hand. “Felty plays the license plate game with himself every year.”
    “The license plate game?”
    Felty took out a small spiral notebook and a stubby pencil from his shirt pocket. “I start in January and try to find all fifty state plates before the end of December.”
    Lia saw him write “Texas” below the names of seven other states.
    “Not many out-of-state cars come through here. In summer I see more. Last year I got all but Alabama and, wouldn’t you know it, on Christmas Eve I spied an Alabama coming out of the parking lot at Lark Country Store. The best Christmas present I ever got.”
    “Why folks from Alabama would want to be in Wisconsin at wintertime is a mystery to me,” Moses said.
    Felty nodded solemnly. “A Christmas miracle.”
    True to his word, Moses took the trip nice and slow, but fast enough to get them to the auction before dinnertime.
    They found a spot to park the buggy down the road from Bontragers’ farm where the auction took place. A massive green-and-white-striped tent stood where an empty field used to be, and the auctioneer busily chanted prices for farm implements and sewing machines. There looked to be two or three hundred people milling around, bidding on items and buying food from the tent that housed bakery. Englisch and Amish alike mingled in the yard.
    Moses carried Anna’s colorful pot holders to the roomy toolshed where handicrafts and household items were being sold. Lia deposited her pies on the long table under the tent where at least thirty other pies stood waiting to be cut and sold by the slice. Her two measly offerings seemed insignificant next to the sheer volume of food. Next time she would make more pies.
    But every little bit helped. Auctions such as these helped raise money for medical bills and home repairs in the community. People came from all over Wisconsin to experience an Amish auction.
    Four coolers marked “Zimmerman Cheese Factory” were full of baby swiss cheese. Some customers bought an entire wax-covered wheel while other wheels were sliced for sandwiches also being sold.
    Felty came up behind Lia. “I know it ain’t proper to be proud, but I do love seeing Moses’s name on that cheese. He works mighty hard and gives a passel of money to the Amish Aid Fund.” Felty leaned closer and cupped his hand over his mouth. “That is a