The man who emerged from the truck looked exactly like Jonas Pryde, except he wore a denim jacket, flannel shirt, and a dark blue cap with a red 'B' stenciled on it. Otherwise he had the same stern face, gray eyes, and shoulder-length gray hair. But it couldn't be Pryde. She had seen him disappear into the Fountain of Youth nine years earlier. Who could this man be?
At the sight of Pryde, Wendell sagged to the ground next to Prudence, who whimpered like an injured puppy. Samantha reached to her waistband for the hammer. Whoever this was, she wouldn't let him hurt Wendell and Prudence, not without a fight. The man flicked a cigarette from his mouth and blew out a cloud of smoke. "You kids shouldn't be playing by the road," he said in the same gruff voice as Pryde.
"We're not playing. We're on our way to town," Samantha said, her voice trembling.
"In that case, why don't I give you a ride? If your friends don't mind riding with my tackle."
"Thank you for the offer, but we'll be fine."
"It's five miles to town. It'll take you all day to get there." The man reached into a pocket for a red-and-white package with the word 'Marlboro' printed on it. He took out another cigarette and lit the tip. "I ain't going to hurt you."
Something told Samantha she could believe this man. She couldn't explain it, but something in his eyes seemed different from Pryde. Softer. "All right," she said. "Thank you."
Prudence leapt to her feet and took Samantha by the shoulders. "Samantha, we can't go with him!" she said.
"He's not going to hurt us. If he wanted to do that, he could have run us over already." Samantha motioned to the hammer in her belt. "Everything will be fine. Trust me."
Prudence considered this a moment and then nodded. She helped Samantha carry Wendell to the bed of the pick-up truck. Prudence rode in the bed with Wendell while Samantha climbed in the passenger's seat next to the man. He stuck out a calloused, greasy hand and said, "Judah Pryde."
"Samantha Young," she stammered in disbelief. Judah Pryde put the pick-up truck in gear and started down the road. When he reached out, Samantha's hand went to the hammer, but he only snuffed out his cigarette.
"What's the story with your friends? They Amish or something?" Judah Pryde asked. Samantha looked at him blankly. "Those old-fashioned clothes. They in one of those religions that don't believe in technology and all that?"
"Oh, Amish. Right. Yes, that's what they are."
"Thought so. Don't remember seeing any of them around here before, though. What happened to their buggy?"