“Amanda Schrock had my heart from the minute she paid a call on the most uneligible bachelor in town. The multiple storylines were fresh, well-written, and simply adorable. Green Pastures is yet another example of why Patricia Johns is a true fan favorite.”

  New York Times bestselling author Shelley Shepard Gray

  “Patricia Johns beautifully captures the struggles of three sisters trying to fit their dreams into the expectations of Amish life. You’ll find yourself rooting for each of them as they navigate love, faith, work, and the push and pull of tradition.”

  Suzanne Woods Fisher, bestselling author of Anything but Plain

  “Green Pastures explores the ties that bind a community as three sisters navigate their way through romance, heartbreak, and marriage. Patricia Johns tackles tough topics, resulting in a poignant story of hope, faith, and love that shines a bright light on the Amish—and human—experience.”

  Leslie Gould, award-winning, bestselling author of A Brighter Dawn

  GREEN

  PASTURES

  THE AMISH OF

  SHEPHERD’S HILL 1

  GREEN

  PASTURES

  PATRICIA JOHNS

  5

  © 2025 by Patricia Johns

  Published by Bethany House Publishers

  Minneapolis, Minnesota

  BethanyHouse.com

  Bethany House Publishers is a division of

  Baker Publishing Group, Grand Rapids, Michigan

  Ebook edition created 2025

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—for example, electronic, photocopy, recording—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, DC.

  ISBN 9780764244179 (paperback) | ISBN 9780764244544 (casebound) | ISBN 9781493448920 (ebook)

  Scripture quotations are from the King James Version of the Bible.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Cover design by James Hall

  Photograph of model from Kirk DouPonce

  The author is represented by the literary agency of Liza Dawson Associates, LLC.

  Baker Publishing Group publications use paper produced from sustainable forestry practices and postconsumer waste whenever possible.

  To my husband and son,

  who are the center of my world.

  You’re my everything.

  Contents

  Cover

  Endorsements

  Half Title Page

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  23

  24

  25

  26

  27

  28

  29

  30

  31

  32

  33

  34

  35

  36

  37

  38

  39

  40

  41

  Epilogue

  Discussion Guide

  Sneak Peek at the Next Book in this Series

  About the Author

  Back Ad

  Back Cover

  1

  The metal gate slammed shut with a reverberating clang, and Tabitha Schrock pulled her dust-streaked cotton dress up to her knees, ready to jump up the side of the cattle-loading chute. A year ago, she’d done this job in blue jeans. Now she was back to a cape dress, pulled up to her knees to let her move more quickly, but with the same unerring instinct for injured cattle that she’d had all her life.

  The black Angus limped ahead of her, swinging his head from side to side on muscular shoulders, his snorts getting louder as the bull’s pain and anger grew.

  “Tabitha, get out of there! I told you already. He’s a killer, that one!”

  She allowed her father, Abram, a quick glance, but that was all. He stood outside the chute, his straw hat clasped between his hands and his wispy white hair standing up all over his head. His white shirt was soiled with dirt, and one black suspender hung down his shoulder.

  Tabitha needed her attention on that bull in front of her, though. He had a broken leg, and he could hardly touch the ground with his hoof. What he needed was a painkiller and a sedative, and then to have that leg set and splinted. But first, she needed him in the squeeze chute and the head gate, or she’d never be able to touch him.

  The bull was a rented animal, and he was only supposed to be here for a few months to sire some calves. He’d done his job, but this injury would have to be healed before they returned him to his owners. All it took was a gopher hole to take down this mammoth.

  The bull came to the end of the metal fence and turned back. He couldn’t charge with one front leg curled up underneath him, but she could tell he wanted to. He lowered his head and hobbled forward. It was sad to see the proud animal reduced this way. He was still dangerous, but her heart went out to him all the same.

  “Tabitha!” Her father’s voice was full of warning. He meant well, but this wasn’t her first cattle chute.

  “Daet . . . let me do this . . .” She kept her voice low and calm, and she held a length of stick out in front of her. “Prod him this way, Amanda.”

  Her younger sister was twenty-seven this year. Her gaze fixed on the animal, and her thin lips pressed together in concentration. She had a stick with a few dried leaves on the end, and she poked it through the rails and swatted the bull’s hind quarters with a thwack. The animal turned on her, and she squeaked and jumped back.

  “Hey! Hey!” Tabitha called. “This way!”

  “Tabitha, I’m coming in there!” Her father started hobbling in her direction.

  “Daet! Let me do this!”

  Her father was in no state to start playing chicken with a wounded bull. He had his own aches and pains slowing him down these days, and she was the actual expert here, as much as he was reluctant to admit that.

  The bull started toward Tabitha, and she took one step back, her hand on the swinging gate. If he came at her, she’d have to jump. She eyed him, watching as he staggered when the hoof from his injured leg touched the ground.

  The poor animal. The pain would be excruciating, and he wouldn’t be thinking straight. Animals were like people that way—put them under enough pressure and you got the worst out of them, never the best.

  The bull came at her, and Tabitha spread her arms wide and shouted. He veered left, straight into the chute, and she swung the gate shut with a clatter.

  Amanda let out a whoop, and Tabitha shot her sister a grin. Her father planted his hat back on his head.

  The job wasn’t over yet, though, and she prodded the bull from behind to keep him moving into the squeeze gate. Finally, she dropped the last gate behind him and pulled on the handle that brought in the sides. His head came out the front, but he couldn’t move farther, and the sides squeezing against him actually held him up to help support his weight and let her get to that leg.

  “Hey, friend,” she murmured. “I’m here to help.”

  The bull bellowed and struggled, but he wasn’t able to move much. She had her medical bag waiting beside the chute. She pulled out a syringe and a bottle of Meloxicam. That was for the pain. She’d also give him a sedative to help him stay still while she inspected the leg and splinted the fracture. She could tell that the break was below the shank, which was the best possible location to work on for an animal this size.

  Her father came up beside her, pulling up his suspender and eyeing the bull.

  “Not bad,” he muttered.

  “That’s all I get?” she asked, giving him a sidelong look before she pushed the needle into the animal’s neck—the safest place for subcutaneous injections—away from large veins or nerves.

  “I could have done it,” he replied.

  “Daet, you could have, but I’m a certified large-animal vet. You might as well use my skills, don’t you think?”

  He muttered something in Pennsylvania Dutch that wasn’t exactly bad language, but it wasn’t good either. She hid a smile. Daet was getting older, and the last time he attempted to get a cow in the chute, he’d injured both himself and the cow. He wasn’t as quick or as strong as he used to be, and when he’d asked her to come home, she knew it was for more than his care for the state of her soul. He’d been struggling, and a man with three daughters didn’t have sons to lean on. Tabitha’s youngest sister, Rose, had gotten married, but her husband was working his own farm.

  But first and foremost, Gott had been working. When she’d received her father’s invitation, Tabitha had been ready to come home properly, and his letter had been the nudge she needed. In her ten years of Englischer freedom, she had missed the tight-knit community she’d been raised in. Even with her newfound relationship wi
th Gott, it hadn’t been replaceable. And having been back for two months already, she was glad she’d swallowed her pride and returned.

  Tabitha pulled out another syringe and vial of medication. This was the sedative. She measured the amount and eyed the bull. He was already calming, the pain meds taking hold. Good. She’d get him comfortable yet. She rubbed a spot on his front shoulder, a nice thick muscle, and pushed the needle in. He moved a little—he felt that one—and she quickly injected the sedative. It didn’t take long for him to stop moving around, his eyes drooping.

  “There you are,” she said. “I’ll work fast.”

  Amanda crouched down next to Tabitha, and Tabitha glanced over at her. Her sister was tall and slim with strong hands and a keen eye. She crouched with her dress tucked between her knees, and she absently slapped at a mosquito that landed on her bare arm. Another one took its place, and Tabitha reached over and slapped it for her.

  “Mosquito,” Tabitha said.

  “Thanks.” Amanda leaned closer as Tabitha reached through the bars of the squeeze chute and felt down the bull’s limb, her fingers expertly moving over muscle, tendon, and bone. “Does he feel that?”

  “No, he’s pretty doped up,” she replied. “I’m feeling for the break to see how bad it is.”

  It wasn’t too bad, as far as breaks went. Setting it wouldn’t take much force at all.

  “Daet, I have some fiberglass splints in that bag just over there,” Tabitha said. “Could you grab them for me?”

  “I have to tell Leroy Lapp that their bull is injured,” her father said, handing her the splints. She put them on the grass beside her. Leroy was her brother-in-law’s cousin. This wasn’t just a business relationship. This was about family too.

  “The bone will heal in a few weeks. He’ll be right as rain when you return him, Daet. Don’t worry.”

  “I have to tell him, all the same,” he replied.

  “Yah, but you’re also getting top veterinary care at no charge, aren’t ya?” she said.

  “Yah, I suppose.”

  Tabitha knew that her father was a worrier. He always had been. He worried about too little rain or too much. He worried about what people said and what they didn’t. He worried about the beef market and the horse market and the health of his herd. When she’d been at home, he’d worried most about his daughters. When her mamm died when Tabitha was sixteen, her daet had worried about raising the girls without her. He’d gone easy on all three of them, and that was why he’d been convinced to let Tabitha get her GED in town when her rumspringa had started at seventeen. But in that GED class, Tabitha met the man she’d marry—Michael Logan.

  Michael had been funny and attentive. He wasn’t like the Amish men her age. He’d shown his affection openly and directly. She’d fallen for him head over heels, and after two years of dating—something her daet had loathed but could not stop—Michael asked Tabitha to marry him, and she’d said yes.

  Her father had earnestly tried to talk her out of the wedding on several occasions. He’d even sat her down the night before the wedding and pleaded with her to just put it off for another year, but Tabitha was sure she knew best. Besides, she’d been in love, and Michael had been everything that the Amish world could not give her—excitement and adventure.

  But while Michael had been an adventure, he had not been faithful. If only she’d listened to her father that night, because though divorcing Michael had given her respite from the heartbreak of his wandering affection, it also meant she’d never marry again in the Amish faith. Not while Michael lived, at least. Marriage was for life, and a very cautious choice to make. She’d made hers, and the consequences of her mistake were hers to bear.

  Tabitha moved her fingers along the fracture in the bull’s leg, feeling again for where a piece of bone was angling away from its proper position. She used the heel of her hand and a strong push to get it back in place. When she felt the click, Tabitha nodded toward her sister.

  “I need you to hold these splints in place while I wrap them, okay?”

  Amanda leaned forward and did as Tabitha asked. The splints were the right length—there was no need to adjust that—and her fingers worked quickly to wrap the gauze, keeping it straight and unwrinkled as she gave that leg support. She had to be careful to make sure the wrap wasn’t too tight, or it would hinder blood flow and cause other problems.

  Fixing a broken leg was a job Tabitha had done dozens of times in fields, in barns, and once in the middle of a thicket of trees when they couldn’t get the cow out into the open. This was a job she was good at, and one she was prepared for. But it wasn’t the kind of job that a woman performed in Amish circles. The bishop had made an exception for her because of her marital status. She needed support, and she wouldn’t have a husband to take care of her. Besides, the community needed a good vet who spoke their language and knew their culture.

  She’d accepted a position under skilled veterinarian Dr. Brian Fuller when she’d decided to come home to Shepherd’s Hill. Before that, she’d been living in Philadelphia, where she and Michael had moved after the wedding. It was where she’d gotten her veterinarian training, and the base she’d been working from since her graduation and her subsequent divorce. It was only an hour’s car ride away from Shepherd’s Hill, but it would take closer to ten hours in a buggy. The distance between Amish fields and Englischer city life was greater than miles, though. It could be calculated in that tense, uncertain silence between heartbeats late at night when she could feel Gott telling her that she wasn’t where she should be. When she’d come home, that tension in her prayer life evaporated.

  Tabitha was home, an Amish woman in good standing once more. Most lapsed Amish who left the faith didn’t return, so Tabitha knew she was a reason for celebration. And even though this work of setting a broken bone was exactly the same as she’d done on Englischer farms in her last two years as a veterinarian, squatting here in her cape dress, her gray work apron smeared with dirt and mud, she felt like she’d shrugged off a blanket of constant low-level anxiety and she could finally breathe.

  Her heart was in the lush green pastures, the simple Amish kitchens, the earnest belief in Gott’s goodness, and the low sound of a cappella singing on Service Sundays. Her faith had begun out here in Amish country, and exploring the outside world hadn’t brought any of the satisfaction that she’d hoped to find. Freedom had proved reckless, and home was a safe haven where rules protected them and the community pulled close together to take care of one another.

  As Tabitha finished wrapping the leg, she looked up at the bull. His eyes were half closed, and he had given no resistance, which confirmed he wasn’t feeling pain. Bulls, like a lot of people, didn’t suffer discomfort quietly.

  “I think I could be good at this,” Amanda said, tucking the roll of gauze back into the medical bag. “Helping you with the veterinary cases, I mean.”

  Her sister brushed a stray wisp of hair out of her eyes. She had a streak of dirt across her cheek. Then whip fast, Amanda reached out and smacked Tabitha’s arm with a stinging slap.

  “Mosquito,” she said.

  Tabitha rose to her feet and shot her sister a smile, rubbing the spot where the mosquito had bitten. “You definitely are good at working with cattle, Amanda. I think we’ll make a great team.”

  Two single Amish sisters—one incapable of marriage again and one who’d been passed over for some prettier girls in the community. Maybe they’d never marry, but their lives could be full, and they could support each other. Dr. Fuller had no problem with Tabitha arranging her own helpers for her calls, and she could even pay Amanda an hourly wage for her contribution. So together, the sisters could serve Tabitha’s veterinary clients and settle back into the quiet, peaceful cycles of Amish life.

  “Can you open that roll of fiberglass?” Tabitha asked. It was time to layer on the cast, immobilizing the leg so that it could heal.

  Yah, Amish life came with fewer freedoms and more rigid restrictions, but perhaps, like a cast on a broken limb, it could give her the support Tabitha needed to heal too. Her Englischer years had provided her with an education that would build her future, but those years had also broken her heart.

  2

  After getting the bull back into a stall in the barn, Amanda and Tabitha stopped by the horse stable to check on Fritz. Amanda used to be nervous around the big gelding. He’d been nippy, and while it was only because he was sick, a horse’s teeth could leave a nasty bite. Her sister had been doing wonders with their draft horse, who had gut issues. Daet had been intent on getting rid of him until Tabitha arrived and took over with him, though it was likely that Fritz would never be used for farmwork again.