“I can imagine,” Mamm said, but she wasn’t smiling.
“They had a rope tied around her neck,” Betsy said. “I didn’t stand around laughing for long. I was soon yelling at them to get off. But a lot of gut that did. I think both of them were afraid to let go of the rope. They went around and around in the barnyard, the calf bucking for all it was worth.”
“Now that’s some young men!” Joe said. “How long did it take for the calf to get them off?”
“I don’t know.” Betsy covered her face with her hands. “I couldn’t stand to watch. When everything was finally quiet I dared look again, and they were both lying in the mud, the calf panting over on the other side of the barnyard like it was going to fall over from exhaustion right then and there.”
“My guess is you had some things to say,” Ada ventured.
“I sure did!” Betsy said. “After I was sure they were alive, anyway. I thought they were crying at first, but they were laughing, the two rascals. That’s when I really gave it to them. I don’t think they’ll be trying that stunt again.”
“I wouldn’t depend on that,” Ada said.
“It’ll be a whipping next time,” Betsy said, with fire in her eyes. “I don’t care how old they are. That’s just a bunch of nonsense.”
“That’s something we tried as boys,” Henry said, a sly grin on his face. “Only it was hogs.”
“Did you mud them down first?” John asked, laughing.
“Nee,” Henry said. “But mine ended up breaking out of the pen with me on it. The neighbors must have talked about it for days afterward. I had gone a quarter mile down the road before I fell off.”
“I’m sure your daett had something to say about that,” Esther said.
“I got a good whopping,” Henry said. “But it was worth it.”
“Only a boy would say that.” Betsy sighed.
“Now, now,” John said. “I don’t think you girls were exactly angels growing up.”
“Of course we were!” Betsy glared at him. “What makes you think we weren’t?”
“Oh, a little birdie told me things.” John had a twinkle in his eye. “You have sisters, you know.”
“We were all angels, weren’t we?” Betsy asked, looking around the room. “And we wouldn’t be telling anyway, now would we?”
“I didn’t mean your sisters told me,” John said.
“Then who did?” Betsy asked.
John didn’t say anything but shot a quick glance toward Mamm.
“Mamm!” Betsy exploded. “Why would you be telling him things?”
Mamm’s hands flew to her face, hiding her laughter. “I couldn’t help myself. You and Miriam were the funniest sight. It seemed a shame not to tell someone.”
“So is this what I think it is?” Betsy asked, looking at Miriam.
“I expect it is,” John said. “And it was funny.”
“So why aren’t we hearing the story now?” Joe asked.
“Because I don’t want it told,” Betsy declared.
“I think Mamm should tell the story,” John said. “That way we can stay on speaking terms tonight.”
“I think that would be wise,” someone said.
Betsy was glaring at John again.
Mamm laughed out loud now. “It’s really not much,” she said. “One day the two girls took it upon themselves to dress up in their daett’s clothing when they thought no one was around. The pants and shirts didn’t fit very well, which made for quite a sight.”
“How come I was never told of this?” Menno asked.
“They didn’t harm them,” Mamm said, waving her hand at him. “And no one saw them except an Englisha neighbor who stopped by for something… I can’t remember what, anymore. He came to the door and knocked while we were carrying on about how the girls looked. I told them afterward that he sees women in shirts and pants all the time, but they nearly tore the knob off the stair door getting out of his sight. I thought for sure they were going to break their legs on the stairs.”
“Oh, that was a horrible day.” Miriam groaned. “I was sure he thought about nothing but the sight of us in our daett’s clothing for days afterward.”
“And to think I forgot this,” Betsy said. “I must have buried the memory in the deep, dark corners of my mind, hoping it would never see the light of day.”
“Well, see what comes from hiding your sins?” her daett said. “They always come out in the end.”
“I guess so,” Mamm agreed. “But this wasn’t really a sin. They were just playing around.”
“I know.” Menno smiled. “I was just saying.”
John jumped to his feet. “Well, enough stories. I believe we need to gather our children up and get back home. It’s going to be late enough getting up in the morning the way it is.”
Betsy got up with him, followed by the others. They stood around talking for a few more minutes as they gathered their children’s coats and called the children indoors. The men went to the barn first, getting the horses out and hitching them to the buggies. The women followed with the children and helped the smaller ones up the buggy steps.
Teresa stood with Susan by the living room window, watching the buggies leave, their dim lights fading into the distance.
“Is it always this wonderful to have family around?” Teresa asked.
“I guess so,” Susan replied, staring at the darkness. “I haven’t really thought about it.”
“You have been given many things for which you can be very thankful,” Teresa said. “This evening was awesome.”
“I think Samuel is wanting attention!” Mamm called from her rocking chair.
Teresa went at once to pick up the baby, who was puckering up his face.
“I’m glad you enjoyed the evening,” Mamm said. “I hope all the ruckus the children made didn’t disturb you. I know you’re not used to that.”
Teresa smiled. “It’s something I could get very used to, believe me.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Yost Byler threw the last of the hay bale into the rack. His horse pulled the long strings of dried grass through the wooden slats hungrily.
“That’ll have to do for you, old boy,” Yost muttered, noting again how the horse’s ribs showed. “The hay mow’s getting a little low already for this early in the winter.”
The horse bobbed his head as if it understood.
“I reckon I’ll go fix some supper for myself,” Yost said, moving away from the stall. He paused to check the level of water in the barrel before walking out the barn door and making his way toward the washroom door of his small, two-story home. The paint was faded on the wooden clapboard siding, the tall, sagging windows were covered with plastic for the winter.
His stomach growled with hunger, but Yost paused to look up at the sky. Thomas Stoll’s visit was still on his mind. He wondered again why Da Hah hadn’t seen fit to send him a wife by now. Someone who would have a fire glowing in the old kitchen stove, the house warm when he entered, and a decent supper on the table. Was he so different from other men that he could live without a wife?
Pushing open the washroom door, Yost entered, tossing his weather-beaten wool hat into the corner on the floor. Dust rose from where the hat landed. He coughed. That was another thing a wife could do—sweep the place once in a while.
The last time he had tried sweeping the house was a day early in the summer when rain interrupted his hay baling. What an awful experience that had been, watching one’s best crop of hay get soaking wet while he was doing housework. Now the sight of a broom was enough to bring back those sinking feelings. But a broom in the hands of a woman would be another matter entirely.
Yost sighed, splashing water into the dirty wash basin. Perhaps Thomas was correct, and Da Hah was finally remembering his years of distress. But an Englisha girl? How would she know how to cook? And she could not speak their language. But perhaps she could learn? Unless she was a total dummkopf, which Thomas said she wasn’t.
Sh
e was young from the sound of it, which could mean children well into his old age. But that couldn’t be helped and he must not let that bother him. Even if he couldn’t work, there would be enough food to go around somehow. As long as the girl was a decent wife to him.
Thomas claimed she was nice enough, but then Thomas could be stretching the truth. He did have his reasons. But who wouldn’t be tempted to stretch the truth when a girl like Susan Hostetler was on the line? How blessed some young boys were, and still they didn’t have the sense to act decently. From what he’d heard, Thomas had tried to mow two hayfields at the same time. Like any man could do that? But at least it sounded like Thomas was seeing his mistake and trying to correct it.
Yost rubbed his face down with the towel, taking the time to dry his lengthy beard. What would it be like, he wondered, to push open the washroom door right now and know a woman was waiting for him? He rubbed his beard a little longer before dropping the towel back on the countertop.
Yah, there must be something wunderbar about it. Too wonderful for him, but perhaps that was about to change. Impossible as the idea seemed, the chance simply couldn’t be passed up. Hadn’t he spent untold amounts of what little money he had on trips to far-flung Amish communities in search of a wife? Yah, he had, and it had been all for nothing. What could be wasted with a buggy ride down to Deacon Ray’s place? The horse was fed, and he could easily stand the trip and still be rested up for the Sunday morning drive to church.
Yost pushed open the washroom door and stepped inside. The kitchen table still had the breakfast dishes in place, with last night’s supper dishes pushed to the side. He picked up a handful, rinsing them under the faucet at the sink, scrubbing with his bare hands at the dried egg crusted on the plate. Sighing, he gave up, taking the plate back to the table. He found a meat casserole his youngest sister, Susie, had brought over last week and cut cold slices off with a table knife. Opening the bread bag, he took a piece out, placing the meat across the bare top. Getting a glass and filling it with water from the faucet, he sat down, bowed his head in silent prayer, and ate.
After he was done, he grabbed his coat from the hall closet and went outside. He took the horse out of the stall. It whinnied and snorted in protest, but Yost kept going. He threw the harness over the horse’s back. Leading the animal outside, he held up the shafts of the buggy. Making the swing with one hand, his beard snagged on the shafts. He jerked back, leaving a few hairs hanging on the wood.
Fastening the tugs, Yost rubbed his chin before throwing the lines through the open storm front and climbing in. The horse shook its head but took off when Yost tightened up the lines and clucked. Once he was on the road, the doubts and fears came rushing into his head.
How old was this girl? And what would Deacon Ray think about him? Not that it mattered, but still…the whole community could end up laughing when they found out. Well, let them laugh. He needed a wife even if she had once been an Englisha girl. Would not an Amish baptism, with a little training, and a decent dress make all the difference in the world?
He slapped the reins. Yah, it would, and Deacon Ray would even be thankful for his help if Thomas Stoll had things straight. Settling back into the buggy seat, Yost allowed the cool winter air to flow over his face. He pulled the buggy blanket up to beard level. The miles passed as he drove ever further south, turning left several times on the gravel roads. His horse’s head was drooping when he took the buggy into Deacon Ray’s lane and rattled to a stop by the barn.
Thankfully there was still a light in the barn, so perhaps this would be even easier than he’d imagined. He wouldn’t have to go calling at the house where everyone could hear him ask about the Englisha woman. Climbing out of the buggy, Yost tied the horse to the hitching post and shuffled toward the barn. Pushing open the barn door, he looked in and saw the surprised look on James’s face when the boy looked up from shoveling out the last of the gutters from the evening milking.
“Gut evening,” Yost offered.
“Gut evening,” James said, continuing his work. “What brings you all the way down here?”
“I need to speak with your daett,” Yost said, stepping inside. “Is he still out here?”
“Nee, he’s gone into the house,” James said, pausing to look at him. “Shall I tell him you’re here? Or do you wish to speak with him in the house?”
“Ah, if you could call him, that would be nice,” Yost said. “I wish to speak with him in private.”
“Then I’ll finish this and head into the house,” James responded with a smile.
“That would be gut,” Yost said, his hand on the barn door.
James was still looking at him. “Is one of your cows down?” he asked.
“Nee,” Yost said.
James knew good and well his cows weren’t down, but the boy would just have to remain curious. James wasn’t even dating a girl, so what did he know about marriage? And this was none of his business anyway.
“I see,” James said, placing the manure shovel against the barn wall. “I’ll go call Daett then.”
Yost watched James stride across the lawn. At the house, the outside door slammed, followed by silence. Yost stayed by the door, listening to the soft stirring of the barn life around him. He kept an eye on the faint outline of the house. A rat poked its head out from under the manger, looked in his direction, its long whiskers casting dark shadows across the concrete floor. When Yost stamped his foot, the creature dashed out of sight, only to appear on the other side of the manger before scurrying off into the darkness.
The door slammed at the house, and Yost jumped, moving away from the barn door. It would not be gut if Deacon Ray thought him too eager, like a young boy taking his girl home for the first time. He took a deep breath and waited.
Moments later, Deacon Ray stepped into the barn.
“James said you wanted me,” he said, closing the door behind him.
“Yah,” Yost said. “I need to speak with you about a matter.”
“I see. Have you been breaking the Ordnung?” A smile played on Deacon Ray’s face.
Yost ignored the tease, rubbing the toe of his shoe on the concrete floor.
“Nee, it is about the Englisha woman,” he said.
“I see.” Deacon Ray’s voice was hesitant. “And how does the decision the ministers made concern you?”
“Oh no,” Yost said. “I would not be speaking against the ministers. I was thinking you might be looking for an easy way out of this problem, as the Englisha woman apparently has no plans to leave anytime soon.”
“Really?” Deacon Ray said. “So now you have instructions for the ministry?”
“Well, it’s like this,” Yost said. “Will you be able to keep her away from the meetings for years to come? And how will this look to the people? Menno and Anna are quite up-building members, you know. Their word might begin to have an effect.”
Deacon Ray shrugged. “I see you have a point, but we already knew this.”
“And have you men come up with a way of solving this problem?” Yost probed.
“Nee. But we’re still talking.”
“Then perhaps you would be willing to listen to my way of taking care of this problem,” Yost said.
“You have an answer?” Deacon Ray said, astonishment on his face.
“I wish to marry the woman,” Yost said. There was no sense in beating around the bush. He might as well just come out and say the words.
“You wish to take this woman as your wife?” Deacon Ray gasped.
“If she is willing to have me,” Yost said, his shoe circling in the dirt on the floor again.
“Then you have spoken to her of this?” Deacon Ray was staring at him now.
Yost shook his head. “I have come to speak to you first. And you know why.”
“Yah.” Deacon Ray ran his hand over his beard. “I see that you are a wise man, even if you cannot find a wife.”
“Da Hah has not seen to bless me now for these many years,” Yost p
rotested. “Am I to be blamed if I take what He does offer?”
“So you see this woman as a blessing from Da Hah?”
“If I choose to see it so, would you hold it against me?” Yost shot back.
“But what if she leaves you, even after the vows have been said? Have you thought of this?”
“I had not thought of that,” Yost admitted. “But I have thought of other things, and my mind is made up. If you approve of this, I will speak with Menno about this matter, and he can speak with the woman.”
“If the Englisha girl leaves you, do you understand what that means?” Deacon Ray asked, wanting to make sure his point was made. “You could never marry again, Yost.”
“Is that worse than what I have now? Do you see a woman who wishes to live with me?”
Deacon Ray chuckled. “Nee, I do not. And I am sorry for laughing. I guess it is not that funny,” he said, noting the look on Yost’s face.
“Nee, it’s not funny,” Yost agreed. “Not to the one living without a wife.”
“You know I will need to speak with the ministers on this matter,” Deacon Ray said. “This is a grave question and may take some consideration.”
Yost shook his head. “There will be no speaking on the matter. We all know that when it comes to such hard things as this, Bishop Henry depends on you. He will agree with what you decide.”
“But he has a mind of his own. Surely you know that,” Deacon Ray corrected.
Yost nodded. “Yah, but I have said enough. Do you agree to allow me to speak with Menno at least?”
“I must think on this,” Deacon Ray said. “You are catching me by surprise. But what if we should agree to this and the girl agrees to marry you, and then she changes her mind after she has been baptized? What kind of shape would that leave us in? An unwed Amish woman living in the community with no one to wed—at least no one she finds acceptable.”
Yost scratched his beard. “I hadn’t thought of that,” he admitted. Seconds later his face lit up. “Perhaps she would agree to marry me on her baptismal day. That would solve your problem, would it not?”
Following Your Heart Page 9
