Things were quiet for exactly thirty seconds of the meal, while the entire family joined hands and silently prayed. After that, the chaos quickly returned. Her dat loved to tell jokes during dinner. She couldn’t imagine where he got them from, but he seemed to have an endless supply and delighted in sharing them.
“What did the baby corn ask the mama corn?” He grinned mischievously as he spread butter on Hannah’s corn bread.
“I know,” Hannah declared.
Isabelle shook her head, causing her kapp strings to bounce and nearly land in her soup. “No, you don’t.”
“I could guess.”
“Then guess already.”
“I don’t know, then. I forgot.”
Hannah and Isabelle were at the age where they were either arguing or sitting with their heads so close together that they appeared to be physically joined. Theirs was a tumultuous relationship, but Mamm declared that was normal for twins, especially five-year-old twins.
“The baby corn leaned close to the mama corn and asked...where’s popcorn?” Her dat laughed at his own joke, oblivious to the fact that Becca had rolled her eyes, and Clyde and David had both groaned quite loudly.
The twins giggled, though, and soon her siblings were discussing what corn would say if it really could talk. Dishes were passed back and forth, three different spills were cleaned up, and in general, pandemonium was once again the word of the day.
To be honest, Becca didn’t mind too much.
She’d learned to tune most everyone and everything out when she was focusing on something, and at the moment she needed time to ponder her new neighbor.
Who was Daniel Glick?
Why had he bought that tumbling-down excuse for a farm?
Assuming he couldn’t afford a better farm—because who would buy something terrible if they could afford something good—how did he have enough money for the mare? The mare was a real beauty. Becca planned to go back over the next day and take a closer look.
She mulled several possible scenarios in her head through dinner. Before she knew it, everyone was darting off to finish chores or spend a few minutes outside as the sun set. She washed and dried the dishes by herself, which she preferred because it gave her time to think. Kitchen cleanup was one of the very rare quiet times in their home, since everyone scattered rather than get dragged into the chore. Becca dried the last spoon, hung the dish towel on the hook and stepped out on the front porch to enjoy the end of the day.
The sun was just beginning to set, casting long shadows across the fields. She could almost pretend that they lived on a beautiful farm, with rows of flowers surrounding their vegetable garden, a large new barn and at least three buggies.
Their farm wasn’t beautiful.
They’d not been able to afford flowers again this year, and their vegetable garden had been harvested weeks ago.
As for the buggy, they had exactly one and it seemed to be on its last wheel.
Her quiet assessment of their living conditions—something her mind insisted on turning to, time and again—was interrupted all too quickly.
“You were quiet during dinner tonight.” Her mamm was sitting in the porch rocker and hemming a dress, probably for Hannah or Isabelle, by the size of it.
Becca wasn’t sure she’d ever seen her mother just rest. She always seemed to be sewing or darning or knitting or cooking or cleaning.
“I was?”
“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”
“Talk about what?”
“Whatever’s on your mind.”
“You’d think that in a family as big as ours, some things would go unnoticed.”
“Is that what you want? Not to be noticed?”
Becca sighed and turned from the porch railing to face her mamm. “I met our neighbor today.”
“Did you, now?”
“Have you met him?”
“Nein. Your dat told me he saw a young man moving in yesterday, or rather he saw Bishop Saul drop him off at the place. Apparently, the man didn’t come with any furniture.”
“A mystery wrapped in an enigma.”
“It is hard to imagine who would have bought it—that place has been empty a very long time.” She shifted the garment on her lap and continued hemming. “It will be gut to have neighbors again.”
“Oh, I’m not sure you’ll feel that way about Daniel Glick.”
“And why would you say that?”
Becca walked over to the adjacent rocker and perched on the edge of the seat, lowering her voice as if to share a secret—though there was no one else on the porch and she didn’t actually know any secrets about Daniel. “He’s not very...how do I say this? He’s not particularly friendly.”
“How so?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Usually, people tell you something about where they came from or why they moved to an area. I talked to the man for ten minutes, and I can’t tell you anything more than his name. Oh, and he bought a mare—a beautiful mare—from Old Tim.”
“I hope he didn’t pay too much.”
“Probably he did, because I said the same thing and he got all stiff and put-out-looking.”
“Hmm.”
“Also, I invited him to dinner, but he said he had unpacking to do.”
“Curious.”
“Where’s he even staying? You know as well as I do that the house is about to fall in on itself. I’m sure there are holes in the roof, and the floor was rotten in places last time I walked through it.”
“You walked through the Coblentz place?”
Becca waved away her concern. “Years ago. Abigail and I were playing hide-and-seek on that side of our property, and I thought it would be super smart to hide in the old house. I’m lucky a rat didn’t bite my ankle.”
“You two girls certainly did know how to get in trouble.”
“The boys were just as bad.”
“You’re not wrong.” Her mamm tied a knot in her thread, then snipped it with a tiny pair of scissors. “Perhaps Saul will schedule a workday.”
“What would that accomplish? Unless you’re saying we should pull down Daniel Glick’s house and start over. Now, that might make sense.”
Which seemed to sum up all they could think of to say about their new neighbor.
Becca was about to get up and check on her hens when her mother asked about the new rooster. Sighing and sinking back into the rocker, she described how the beast had tried to attack her, and how Daniel had come to her rescue.
“Now you know why the Grabers gave him away.”
“Molly Graber told me as much, but I didn’t believe her.”
“You didn’t really need a rooster. You’re making gut money with the eggs from your hens.”
“Not really, only $3.50 a dozen.”
“What made you think you wanted to raise chickens?”
“Because I read this book...”
“I should have guessed that.”
“The book said that Englischers will pay for organically raised chickens.”
“Meaning what exactly?”
“You know—organic. Natural. Like pretty much everything around here.” Becca tapped her fingers against the arm of the rocker, trying to remember exactly what the book had said. “Let’s see...no chemicals or steroids...”
“We definitely don’t have any of that.”
“No GMO.”
“I don’t even know what that is.”
“There was a bunch of other stuff.” What had the book said about natural breeding and raising? She might have to check it out again because suddenly she was drawing a blank. “I do know that they said I could get $10 to $25 a chick, and that I could also sell the manure and the feathers.”
“All you need is for Carl to cooperate.”
“Exactl
y. He’s a Brahma, and they’re supposed to be docile.”
“You don’t say.”
“Apparently no one has told Carl that. He’s an ornery creature. I don’t dare let him out of the pens in the old barn.”
At that moment there was squawking and crowing, followed by Carl strutting into the yard and proceeding to chase one of the barn kittens. Hannah and Isabelle were chasing the rooster, and Cola the beagle was circling the entire group, barking with a loud voice that seemed to say, “Hey, hey, hey.”
“Sounds as if your rooster escaped the old pens, dear.”
Becca didn’t bother to respond. She was already running down the porch steps and across the yard, wondering what she could use to catch Carl and what she was going to do with him after she did catch him.
Roosters were definitely more challenging than they’d described in the book; at least this rooster was. The book had definitely said that he’d be gentle and attentive to the hens. Ha! Her hens would lose all their feathers after one look at Carl.
Maybe the book was wrong.
Maybe the author didn’t know what she was talking about.
Or maybe the author had never met a rooster quite like Carl.
Regardless, Becca’s plan to make pockets full of money from selling organic chickens seemed to fade before her eyes. There had to be a way she could help her family financially. There had to be something she could do that would allow them to set a little bit of money back instead of simply getting by from week to week. That never seemed to bother her mamm—who stayed too busy with her daily chores to notice—or her dat, who would simply wink if she brought it up, and go on to tell another joke.
Becca hurried after Carl-the-bad-tempered-rooster. She thought that should be his full official name. The rooster wouldn’t be her first project that didn’t work out, but she wasn’t going to let that stop her. She vowed for the hundredth time that she would find a way to lift her family out of abject poverty. But she might have to come up with a better idea than organic chickens.
Perhaps Daniel would be willing to go in on a project with her. By the looks of his situation, he could use additional funds as much as they could. The only problem was, he’d been quite standoffish.
She’d have to think of him as one of her projects.
All she needed to ensure his help was a good plan.
Chapter Two
Daniel spent Wednesday checking and mending the fence line in the east pasture. The last thing he needed was to see Constance trotting down the road without him. Spending time in the pasture with her also allowed him to get to know the mare. She was skittish at first, watching him out of the corner of her eye. By the end of the day, though, she was following him along the fence line—grazing within a few steps of wherever he was working.
Constance. He suspected that if he looked up the word in a dictionary, he’d find it meant steadfast or faithful. The mare seemed to be all of that and more. She was the exact opposite of the people who had been in his life up to this point. Animals could be trusted.
They didn’t deceive.
Didn’t pretend to feel something they didn’t.
Didn’t have ulterior motives.
With a determined effort, he pushed thoughts of the past away and focused on the moment in front of him.
“We’re going to get along just fine.” He ran a hand down the mare’s neck and felt her relax. They were becoming used to one another—him and Constance. They made a good team. He planned to spend an hour each evening with her—checking her hooves, brushing her coat and generally working to help her grow accustomed to his presence.
Much to his dismay, that same hour seemed to coincide with the time Becca puttered around in the old barn. He made a concerted point of staying in the field with the mare rather than bringing her into her stall. That didn’t succeed in keeping Becca on her side of the fence. She had no problem joining him and asking intrusive questions about his day.
Was he planning to redo the house? Yes, of course.
When? Soon.
Did he miss his family? Some.
Why wasn’t he married?
Yes, she’d actually asked him that. Instead of answering, he’d deftly changed the subject. “How are you doing with Carl?”
“I’ve renamed him.”
“Have you, now?”
“He’s officially Carl-the-bad-tempered-rooster.”
“I take it things aren’t going well, then.”
If he’d thought he could aggravate her into leaving, he was sorely mistaken. She’d simply taken the horse brush out of his hand and begun stroking Constance. “Carl may not work out.”
“Tell me you’re not thinking of eating him.” He hoped she noticed the sarcasm in his voice, but if she did, she didn’t show it. In fact, her expression turned quite serious.
“Oh, I might. This is a farm, and I have no problem adding that rooster to Mamm’s pot. Nein. It’s more that I hate to give up on him. I keep thinking there might be one more thing I can try that will tame his unruly spirit.”
“Such as?” In spite of his vow to avoid Becca Schwartz at all costs, Daniel found himself pulled into the details of her crazy scheme. He’d already heard about organic chickens and how much money she could earn if Carl would simply settle down and cozy up with the hens.
“I’ve yet to teach Carl his spot in the pecking order.”
“Which is?”
“Below me!” Becca squirreled up her nose. “The problem is that he sees me as a trespasser.”
“In the chicken coop?”
“I can’t keep him in that thing. Did you see him earlier? He was chasing me across the field.”
He had seen that and couldn’t have held in his laughter if he’d tried. Fortunately, Becca had been too far away to hear him.
“I visited with Irma Bontrager this morning. If you haven’t met her, she’s our neighbor to the north. Anyway, Irma raised some prize-winning hens and roosters in her day.”
“And what advice did Irma give you?”
“Wear knee-high rubber boots.”
“Do you have a pair of those?”
“Of course not.” She raised the hem of her skirt enough to reveal her calves. “Kneepads—fortunately they’re a bit large on me and stretch nearly to my ankles. My bruder David—he’s easy to pick out of our brood because he’s always on his bike—he used to do quite a bit of in-line skating when he was younger. Said I could have them.”
She nodded toward the rake she’d been holding the day before. “Irma also said to keep a weapon handy, and I’m to stomp and stare if he attempts to attack.”
His mind flashed back on her running across the field, being chased by Carl. “Has that worked?”
“Not yet. Irma also said some roosters won’t train, so I shouldn’t be too hard on myself.”
“Are you? Too hard on yourself?” Daniel wasn’t sure why he was asking. He didn’t need to know every little detail of Becca’s life, but at the same time he was curious about what she’d say or do next.
“I don’t think I am. I want things to work out, but if they don’t, I always have a next plan.”
“A next plan?”
“Yup.” She looked as if she was about to say more, then clamped her mouth shut and continued brushing the mare.
Which technically was Daniel’s job.
* * *
Thursday he decided that work on the house could wait. He didn’t really mind sleeping outside on the back porch, and he probably had a couple of weeks before the weather turned cold.
Constance, on the other hand, needed a good solid stall.
He was on top of the barn’s roof, pulling off shingles and rotted boards, when a buggy pulled into his yard. A tall, middle-aged man hopped out of the buggy and stood with his head back, hand shading his eyes, assessing Daniel’s work.
<
br /> “Beautiful day to reroof a barn.”
“It is.”
“Mind if I come on up?”
Daniel was a bit surprised at the question, but he waved him toward the south side of the barn, where he’d propped the ladder. The man scampered up quick as a cat and was soon perched on the side of the roof next to him. He was tall and thin, with a brown beard that was only slightly tinted with gray. The eyes were what gave him away—blue eyes the exact same shade as Becca’s.
“Name’s Samuel... Samuel Schwartz. We own the other half of your barn.”
Daniel simply nodded.
Three days ago, that statement would have floored him, but he’d decided to accept the situation since he couldn’t change it. He was tempted to offer to buy Samuel’s half so he wouldn’t have to deal with chatty girls and crazed roosters, but he was supposed to be poor. It might start rumors if he waved a wad of money at his neighbor the first time he met him.
“I’ve been meaning to put a new roof on this barn for years, but every time I’d get a little ahead, another boppli came along...not that I’m complaining. Sarah and I have nine kinder, and I wouldn’t mind one more. There’s something about holding an infant in your arms...”
Daniel knew nothing of that, so he turned the conversation back toward the barn. “I thought I’d repair the whole roof since it doesn’t make much sense to patch half of it.”
“But...”
“It was something I planned for when I bought the place... Financially, I mean.”
“Roofing isn’t cheap. You’re sure you can afford this?”
He was going to have to think about how to explain things to folks without raising questions. From the look on Samuel’s face, he could tell that what he was saying made no sense to the man. He’d purchased a farm that hadn’t been productive in many years. The fences were falling down, pastures were overrun with thistles and weeds and rocks, and the house was plainly uninhabitable. Yet, here he was saying that he could afford to roof both halves of the barn.
When he’d first cooked up this plan to disappear, he’d promised himself that he would retain his integrity. He had vowed that he wouldn’t lie to anyone, but now he understood that was going to be difficult unless he was willing to disclose how wealthy he was.
The Amish Christmas Secret Page 2
