Kappy King and the Puppy Kaper

by Amy Lillard

  Jimmy’s tears spilled down his cheeks. “My mamm is gone.”

  Samuel’s lips pressed together and he nodded, his gray-streaked beard billowing in the wind. “I know, Jimmy.”

  “I don’t know what I’m going to do,” Jimmy wailed.

  As far as Kappy knew, Jimmy was at least twenty. He was old enough that he had bowed to his knees and joined the church, but he had never lived anyplace other than the home that sat behind them.

  “Don’t worry, Jimmy. The church will take care of you.” She murmured the words, not really absorbing their meaning; they were just something she had been told her entire life. Had the church taken care of her after her parents’ death? She supposed they had.

  “You’ll need to take care of him, Kappy.”

  “Me?” She looked from the bishop back to the crying young man. What was she supposed to do with him?

  “Jah,” the bishop said. “Spend the night here so he doesn’t have to be alone.”

  “But—” Kappy protested. “I have a business to run.”

  Which was true. Because she was the only kapp maker in the valley, all the women came to her for their head coverings. She needed to be at her house in case someone came by to purchase a new kapp. Well, maybe not in case they wanted to buy a kapp, but how was she going to sell kapps if she wasn’t home making them?

  “Then let him stay at your house.”

  “My house?” Her voice was strangely akin to the squeak of a mouse.

  The bishop shrugged. “You have plenty of room.”

  It was true, but she still wanted to protest, to tell the bishop no, but she knew—no one told Samuel Miller no. And someone had taken her in. Her maiden aunt had, just after Kappy turned ten.

  “Samuel—” she started, but he interrupted before she could say anything more.

  “My wife has gone to her sister’s in Lancaster. When she gets back, Alma can help. Until then, you need to rise to your Christian duty.”

  She couldn’t take total responsibility for Jimmy. She wouldn’t. But perhaps it was time to give back.

  “Jah. Okay. Fine.” She tried to make her voice sound gracious and caring, but she was afraid it just came out annoyed. If the bishop noticed, he didn’t comment.

  “You hear that, Jimmy? Kappy is going to let you stay with her for a while.”

  A while? Maybe she should have asked when Alma was due back.

  Kappy was accustomed to being on her own. “A while” sounded way too long for her comfort.

  Jimmy looked up, something akin to horror on his face. “Stay with her? You mean at her house?” He started shaking his head even before he stopped speaking. “No-no-no-no-no-no.”

  “Jimmy, you can’t stay here alone.” Kappy was surprised the gentle words came out of her mouth. She’d never been much good at the softer side of things. She blamed the death of her mother and then being raised by her crazy maiden aunt. No one was so bold as to actually call her aunt crazy, but she was. Kappy knew it, as sure as she knew her own name.

  He continued to shake his head. “I can’t go. What if Mamm . . . what if she comes back and I’m not here?”

  Kappy wished she could take his hands or something, anything to get his attention off the ground and on to her face. That way she would know that he was listening to her. “Look at me, Jimmy.”

  He did as she commanded.

  “I’m sorry. Your mother isn’t coming back. Not until time for the funeral. You understand, don’t you?”

  He sniffed, but gave a small nod.

  “You can stay with me at my house, or”—she took a deep breath and wondered why she was even going down this road—“I can stay here with you.”

  Jimmy seemed to think about it for a moment. “Do you have any dogs?”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  “What about rabbits?”

  “No. No rabbits.”

  “Do you have any gerbils?”

  “No.”

  “Don’t you have any pets at all?”

  Not unless she counted her horse and the stray cat that came up from time to time. “Uh, not really.”

  “Then can we stay here?”

  Kappy tried not to frown. “Of course,” she said. But tomorrow morning, first thing, she would have to go back to her house and leave a note on the door in case anyone came by for a prayer kapp. And with the way her luck was going, everyone in the valley would need one while she was babysitting the neighbor.

  Chapter 3

  Kappy taped the note to the front door and stepped back to inspect her work. Go around back. Leave your money in the jar by the door. Write special orders on the notepad on the table. Thanks.

  It would have to do. The door was still blue, but that couldn’t be helped, either. Unfortunately, Jimmy needed her. And then she had needed him. The dogs had to be fed—along with the gerbils, the rabbits, and the ducks. Kappy had no idea there were this many animals on the property. But Jimmy had known just what to do. Still, she didn’t have any doubts that he wouldn’t be able to live on his own now that his mother was gone. It was such a tragic, tragic day. But she knew that God had a plan for Jimmy.

  She started across the road back toward the Peacheys’ place. She had left her buggy at Jimmy’s, figuring she would be able to take care of her horse easier if she was in the barn closest. At least for the time being. She had no idea how long she would have to stay with Jimmy. Hopefully, just until the bishop’s wife returned. Or someone got in touch with his sister. Surely, Edith would take him to live with her. After all, it was important to be surrounded by family.

  She stepped cautiously along the edge of the fields, careful not to smash anything important. The man who farmed the land would surely not appreciate it if she took out a couple of rows of corn because she wasn’t paying attention to where she was walking.

  She had heard who had leased the farmland from Ruth, but she couldn’t remember the name now. An Amish farmer, but the first year she had leased it to an Englisch man. Kappy wasn’t sure why she remembered that. She had just come to live across School Yard Road with her aunt Hettie. Kappy couldn’t have been more than ten, but it was as fresh in her mind as if it had happened just last week. A group of neighbors had gotten together and protested to the bishop. Preacher Sam had been newly chosen and had taken the side of the neighbors. Ruth was allowed to lease her land but only to Amish farmers. That decree had started the following year. Aunt Hettie had sold most of her farmland to Amos Peachey years before that, so Ruth’s available acreage was larger than most in the valley held, just another reason why the neighbors wanted an opportunity to lease.

  Farmland had been in short supply for quite some time. The Amish of Kishacoquillas Valley, or Big Valley as it was often called, prided themselves on being self-sufficient. But the less land there was to go around, the more the young Amish men from all three Amish sects in the area were having to turn away from farming and do their best to find other means to support themselves and their families.

  She stopped and cupped one hand over her eyes to shade against the mid-morning sun. The farm just behind Ruth’s was owned by Jay Glick. Jay was a farmer through and through, but his eldest son had to take up cabinetmaking and the next to the oldest had moved closer to Lancaster. Not that there was much more land in Lancaster. That son had lucked out and found a piece of property, and an Englisch farm was converted into an Amish one. Jay had two more sons. The youngest would inherit the family farm when the time came and the other son hadn’t chosen a profession, instead working odd jobs around the district. Kappy wondered if the dwindling amount of land had contributed to his indecision. It was both a blessing and a curse that Blue Sky was nestled there between the two mountains. A blessing in the picturesque landscape and the close-knit communities, and a curse since no one could expand. The land was all gone.

  “Kappy!” Jimmy stood on the front porch waving at her, his arm high in the air. “Kappy!”

  She waved in return and started walking once aga
in. Last night she had looked through Ruth’s desk for some sort of phone book or even a scrap of paper with Edith’s number written on it. Or even an address for the wayward Peachey daughter. Aside from the fact that Edith needed to know of her mother’s passing, someone had to come take care of Jimmy. And the sooner that happened, the sooner Kappy could get back to her own life.

  “It’s time to feed the dogs again,” Jimmy said when she got within earshot.

  “Again?” Hadn’t they just fed them the night before?

  Jimmy nodded in his exaggerated way. “Food in the morning and after four. Fresh water twice a day.”

  Maybe he was a little more capable than she’d first thought.

  “Do you know where everything is?”

  “Jah.” He motioned for her to follow behind him as he jumped off the side of the porch. “I’ll show you.”

  Kappy trailed behind Jimmy as he led the way to what had originally been a horse paddock. Now it had been enclosed with wire fencing to keep the tumbling puppies inside. A row of neatly maintained doghouses lined the far fence. Kappy counted eight in all, all painted pale blue like her door. At least she knew how Jimmy had come by the blue paint.

  She hadn’t had time to ask him about his intentions. Maybe he had been trying to do her a favor. After all, her door had needed a fresh coat of paint.

  As he had the night before, Jimmy set out the many stainless-steel bowls, then used a plastic cup to scoop the dog food from the large waist-high container.

  Dogs and puppies alike raced to the bowls, tails wagging as they devoured the food. Kappy couldn’t help but smile at the sight of all those happy dogs with their floppy ears and long snouts. Ruth had quite a business going for herself.

  After the dogs had been fed, Jimmy attached the hose to the spigot and filled the long drinking trough with fresh water. He wound up the hose and returned it to the barn.

  “Do we have to feed the rabbits this morning?”

  “Gotta pick up the poop first.” Jimmy wrinkled his nose and grabbed a hand-held scooper and a large green bucket.

  “Jimmy,” Kappy started as he walked the large cage, cleaning up after the dogs, “do you know how to get in touch with your sister?”

  He shook his head. “Mamm wouldn’t let me talk to her.” His tone nearly broke Kappy’s heart. She could tell from just those few words that Jimmy missed his sister very much. “She’s under the Bann, you know.”

  “I know.” Edith had left after joining the church, which made her subject to a Bann, but with as much as Kappy missed her family, she couldn’t imagine shunning any of her kin, Ordnung or no.

  Jimmy shrugged. “She’ll come back one day.”

  He said the words with such confidence that Kappy almost believed them to be fact. “We need her to come back soon.” Tomorrow would be good. Or tonight.

  “Jah.”

  “Do you know if your mother had a way to call her or write her?”

  Jimmy shook his head and placed the scooper on its hook by the back door. “She wouldn’t talk to Edie. She was under the Bann.”

  She had forgotten they had called his sister Edie.

  Jimmy brushed past her and on into the barn. On the far side, rabbit hutches had been constructed. Bunnies of all colors and sizes waited. They watched, some even braced on the side of their pens as they caught sight of Jimmy. Their tiny noses twitched. It was obvious that they knew him and also knew that with him came food and clean water.

  “Do you have a phone number for your sister?” She wasn’t sure what made her ask.

  Jimmy turned around from giving the rabbits fresh water. “Jah. It’s in the house.”

  * * *

  It might have been the hardest thing she had ever done, calling Edith Peachey and telling her that her mother had passed away.

  “What?” The whisper barely reached Kappy from across the miles.

  Kappy sat in the tiny room off to one side of the barn, surrounded by all of Ruth’s records and binders, as she delivered the news. Most of the church members had to rely on phone shanties for their telephone conversations, but Ruth had gotten special permission since she and Jimmy lived alone.

  “I’m sorry,” was all Kappy could say in return. “Would you like to talk to your brother?”

  “Jimmy’s there?”

  “Of course.”

  “No,” Edie finally said. “I don’t want to talk to him. It would just confuse him.”

  She didn’t see how. “But you are coming home, right? I mean, back to Blue Sky?”

  “I don’t—”

  Kappy couldn’t listen to any more. “Jimmy needs you. He can’t stay here by himself. And the funeral is the day after tomorrow.”

  “Day after tomorrow?”

  “Or, well . . . as soon as the coroner has her body back.”

  “The coroner? Why does the coroner have her?”

  Kappy shrugged even though she knew that Edie couldn’t see her. “The police wanted to make sure of the exact cause of death since no one was around. Well, except for Jimmy.”

  “Jimmy was there?”

  “Where else would he be?”

  He picked that moment to walk in. “Is that Edie? Can I say hello? Will you tell her hello for me? Will you, Kappy, please?”

  She handed the phone to him and tried not to be too interested in the conversation between them. She could only hear Jimmy’s side about the gerbils, rabbits, and the beagle pups. Finally, he had talked himself out and handed the phone back to Kappy.

  “Okay,” Edie said with a great sigh. “Day after tomorrow. I’ll be there.”

  * * *

  The blond-haired woman dressed all in black was nearly unrecognizable as the young woman who had left over ten years ago. Not that it was any of Kappy’s business. She was just glad that Edie Peachey had returned to Blue Sky.

  Taller and thinner than Kappy remembered, Edie Peachey had blown in the night before wearing skintight pants made of a material patterned after some sort of animal hide and a formfitting shirt with the shoulders cut out.

  Still, Jimmy had been so happy to see his sister. Kappy had gone to the room that she had claimed as her own to give them some privacy. But some part of her was reluctant to leave Jimmy alone with this stranger. Even if she was his sister.

  Kappy looked around the downstairs at all the strange and familiar faces. Most everyone at the funeral she had seen or met at one time or another, but there were a few faces she didn’t know. She could only speculate that they were some of Ruth’s customers, a theory backed up in fact as she overheard a couple of them talking about their dogs.

  But for the most part, everyone else was a member of their church. Alma Miller, the bishop’s wife, had returned in time to make sure that everyone did their part. Alma had sparkling blue eyes, steel-gray hair, and was as round as she was tall. She couldn’t sneak up on a soul for her shoes squeaked terribly with each step she took, a phenomenon that had been in place for as long as Kappy could remember.

  “Is there pie?” Edie asked, sidling up next to Kappy. She had been standing with her back against the wall hoping no one noticed her, no one spoke to her, no one asked anything of her. Not even a quick question about pie.

  Kappy waved a hand toward the table where the funeral pies had been laid out. “There’s plenty.”

  Edie shook her head. “Not the nasty raisin pie. A good pie, like chocolate cream or peach.”

  “They always bring raisin pie to funerals, or have you forgotten?”

  There was a stiff pie competition in Blue Sky. Raisin seemed to be the only flavor no one had claimed. Even then, everyone knew that Alma Miller’s pie was the best.

  Edie sniffed and tossed back her streaky blond hair. She had cut it so that it barely brushed the tops of her shoulders. “I remember. I just don’t like it, that’s all. And I really want a piece of pie.”

  Kappy sent her a chastising look, but managed to keep her thoughts inside. They were at a funeral, after all. She remembered, even
if Edie had forgotten.

  “What?” Edie shook her head. “I’m stressed out, and I like to eat when I’m stressed.”

  Kappy gave a small nod toward the table. “Then eat a piece of funeral pie.”

  Edie ignored that, so Kappy continued. “Why don’t you ask? Maybe one of the church women brought another pie or something.”

  Edie shrugged as if it were no big deal and let her gaze wander around the room. “No one will talk to me. Shunned and all that.”

  Kappy had almost forgotten. Edie was under the Bann. But surely those rules could be bent a little in light of the day’s circumstances.

  “Have you seen Jimmy?” Edie asked.

  “He doesn’t have any pie.”

  Edie rolled her eyes. “I’m just worried about him. There are so many people. He never was good with crowds. Even church bothered him from time to time.”

  He had gotten over that in the past few years, but there were a lot of people in the house, and coupled with the stress of losing his mother . . .

  “He’s in the barn.” A few of the male funeral goers had most likely overflowed to the large structure, but Kappy was certain a few was much better than the two hundred or so all milling around the Peachey household.

  “Pssst . . . Kappy.”

  She turned to find Jimmy standing half in and half out of the kitchen doorway, as if that were enough to hide him from all the commotion. “Jah?”

  “There are too many people here. I need to feed the dogs.”

  Kappy checked the plain wall clock over the mantle. “It’s only three o’clock, Jimmy. The dogs aren’t expecting to be fed for another hour.”

  Jimmy twisted his fingers together, unable to meet her gaze. “But what if we forget? There are so many people here. We might get confused.”

  “We won’t,” she said. “I promise.”

  “But—”

  “Jimmy.” She set her tone to low warning and he understood well enough.

  He dropped his chin to his chest.

  “How many people are out in the barn?”

  “A lot. Maybe a thousand.”

  There were nowhere near a thousand people in the district, much less that many in the barn, but Kappy didn’t bother to correct him. There were more than he was comfortable with and that was all that mattered. “Why don’t you go upstairs and lie down?”