An Amish Miracle

by Beth Wiseman

  Hope’s eyes widened. “You lost another one?”

  She drove the shovel hard into the mound of dirt and left it standing. “I still can’t believe I slept through the ruckus. The first full nacht of sleep I had in weeks, and this happens.” Rosa shook her head. “That dog won’t kill another one. Even if it means camping outside in the henhouse with a shotgun.”

  Hope shifted Faith to her opposite hip and bent closer to the chicken. “Are you sure a dog got it?” She stepped back. “I’ve seen an injured chicken pecked to death by other chickens.”

  Rosa hadn’t considered that possibility. But the other chickens wouldn’t have attacked if they hadn’t seen blood on her. “I suppose when I finish here I should check all the chickens closer.” She grabbed the shovel and scooped a load of dirt. Tossing it into the hole, the dirt landed on the dead carcass with a thud.

  “I can make some of your deliveries if you want,” Hope said. “I told Mamm I would kumm over and make apple cider, but that can wait until the girls are out of schul.”

  “Could you deliver to Byler’s Bakery? Their recipes are dependent on eggs. I don’t like to keep them waiting.” Rosa finished filling the hole, then patted the top of the grave with the backside of the shovel.

  “Sure.” Hope bounced Faith to her other hip. “I wanted to ask Becky about babysitting anyway.”

  Rosa smiled at chubby-cheeked Faith. “I would hold you,” she told the infant in Deutsch, “but I’m all dirty.” She held up her smudged hands and wiggled her fingers, which triggered a drooling smile from Faith. Rosa chuckled. “She’s certainly a gut-natured boppli.”

  Hope kissed her child’s cheek. “I’m blessed.”

  “Ya, you are, Hope Bowman.”

  Her friend frowned. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize. God had a different plan for mei life.” Rosa couldn’t remember how many times she had recited those words. She and Uriah had wanted children. He’d even built a kitchen table large enough to seat ten. But her body rejected every baby she conceived. Four miscarriages left her heartbroken, and she had shared the depth of those pains only with Hope.

  Rosa motioned toward the henhouse. “I suppose people are waiting for their eggs. I better get them gathered and washed so I can get on the road.”

  Hope gasped when Rosa swung the door open to the coop. “It’s a wonder the chickens have any feathers on them at all.” She scanned the floor.

  “Thanks to the dog.” Rosa reached into the nesting box and pulled out a brown egg. Hope added the one she collected to the basket and moved to the next nest. It didn’t take them long, since there weren’t many eggs to gather. Rosa rechecked each box for any missed but found none. She didn’t have to count them to know she wouldn’t have enough to fill all the orders.

  Hope elbowed Rosa’s side on their way to the house. “You’re awfully quiet. Is something wrong?”

  “I don’t have enough.”

  “You can use eggs left over from yesterday to fill the orders, ya?”

  Rosa shook her head. “I sent them with Eunice Bontrager to take to the widows.”

  “You’ll just have to short someone. At least it isn’t the holiday season where everyone is baking more. I’m sure it won’t be an issue.”

  The issue was the lack of income, but Rosa wasn’t ready to confess her tax problems to anyone, including her best friend. She twisted the doorknob and bumped her hip against the back door. She placed the basket on the counter and turned on the tap water as Hope lowered Faith to the floor.

  After the eggs were washed, they packed them around a piece of muslin to prevent breakage during transport. Rosa walked Hope to her buggy. “Danki for taking these to the bakery.” She handed the basket to Hope once she and Faith were seated on the bench.

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to make any other stops?”

  “Nee. I’m still not sure who I’m going to short.”

  Rosa watched Hope drive away, turning over the problem in her mind. She didn’t want to inconvenience anyone, but it would certainly be easier for one of her Englisch customers to drive into town. The Amish seldom went into town—some only once a month.

  She finally decided on the Thompsons, who lived closest to town. At least that was the best reason she could find to short their order. Rosa went into the vacant barn and glanced around. It seemed odd not to run into Adam. He spent most of his day either outside in the fenced area training horses or inside the barn cleaning stalls. But it was probably for the best that he sold his horses so quickly. He would no longer need her barn. Unless she could figure out a way to come up with the money to satisfy the tax lien in time, she might not have a barn to share.

  She had already considered selling her plow team. But most buyers waited until spring to purchase livestock to avoid the costly winter feed bill.

  And she didn’t have until spring.

  Her barn should already be stocked with enough hay to last the winter, and it wasn’t. The supply in the barn belonged to Adam. He probably sold it along with the horses and it just hadn’t been hauled away yet.

  Rosa tried not to dwell on dead chickens and revenue loss as she headed down the country road to make her deliveries. She loved Paradise for its towering, leaf-covered canopies along the road and the rich hues of the rolling fields during the different seasons. She drew in a lungful of crisp fall air as Blossom picked up her trotting pace.

  Spending a few moments at each stop for a cup of coffee made the morning pass quickly. By the time she knocked on the Thompsons’ door to make her last delivery, her heart raced from caffeine jitters.

  Camille Thompson sniffled as she answered the door.

  “Is everything all right?” Rosa didn’t normally pry, but her Englisch friend was obviously upset.

  Her friend dabbed a tissue against her puffy eyes. “I know I owe you for the last two weeks, but I don’t have the money to pay you.”

  “We can settle up another time.” She lifted up the basket. “I only had enough to fill half the order anyway. I’ll bring the other half tomorrow.”

  Camille’s eyes watered more. “Rosa, I won’t be able to pay you tomorrow either.”

  Out of all her customers, the Thompsons probably needed the eggs more than anyone. Rosa smiled. “Like I said, we’ll settle up another time.”

  “Thank you,” Camille said. “You don’t know what a blessing this is.”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow.” Rosa returned to her buggy. It was satisfying to know she was a blessing to someone else. It put her hard times in perspective. At least she didn’t have to worry about having food to eat. Had Uriah left her broke and with a houseful of children, it could have been so much worse. As it was, she only had herself.

  She clucked to Blossom and pulled out of the driveway. “Lord, forgive me,” she whispered, “but I don’t want to move in with Aenti Lilly.”

  Rosa scanned the countryside, and her mind scrambled to formulate a plan. If she was going to stay in Paradise, she had to pay the back taxes and buy enough feed for her livestock to get through the winter. She had no intention of telling any of the members in the district about her delinquent taxes. She didn’t want anyone to think Uriah hadn’t supported her well. Had they not lost their dairy cows, things wouldn’t be so grim. “Please, God,” she prayed, “show me a way to save mei farm.”

  But when Rosa pulled into the barnyard, the sight that greeted her made her physically sick. One. Two. She scanned the ground and eyed the third dead chicken.

  Rosa stopped Blossom at the hitching post and jumped out of the buggy. Feathers littered the lawn. Dog prints. More slaughtered chickens near the corral. Another one next to the icehaus.

  Rosa searched the cloudy sky. “Why?” she cried out—to God, to herself, to no one in particular. She turned a circle, staring upward. “What nau?”

  Adam paid the cashier at the auction house for the horses he purchased. Unlike the horses he’d just trained and sold, this stock was much younger and would ta
ke longer to train. But once they were buggy broken, they would fetch a good profit.

  “Can you give me an idea of how long it will be before they’re delivered?” he asked the woman behind the counter.

  “Mack said to give him a couple of hours.”

  “That’s fine.” It would take him more than an hour to get home by buggy.

  She picked up her pen. “Do you have a contact number you wish to leave for him?”

  Adam shook his head. “I don’t have a phone. But I’m less than ten miles up the road. If he has problems following the directions, tell him to stop at any Amish farm and someone will direct him to my place.”

  “I’m sure he won’t have a problem.” She set the pen on the paper and pushed it aside. “Next,” she hollered as Adam moved away from the pay window.

  If he’d only bought one or two horses he would have tied them behind the buggy, but hauling eight would require too many trips. Besides, the three fillies barely weaned were not halter broken. He had no choice but to transport them by trailer.

  Adam looked forward to seeing Rosa’s expression when she saw the fillies. Since she named all of her chickens, he thought she might like to name the yearlings too. He crossed the vehicle parking and headed toward the grassy area sectioned off for buggies.

  “Adam,” a man’s voice called.

  He glanced over his shoulder. Stephen Bowman and his teenage lad, James, headed his way. “Bought up all the horses, ya?”

  “I left a few old hags.”

  Stephen nodded at his sohn. “See, it’s a gut thing we didn’t bid on any of them.” He turned back to Adam. “I told James we would start looking for a buggy horse for him.”

  A horse was important to a young man, especially once they reached the age to attend the singings. Adam remembered how long it took him to pick out his first horse. He bought a fast horse, but it didn’t help him win the maedel’s attention. Rosa only had eyes for Uriah.

  Heat had already started to crawl up his neck. He pushed aside the thought. He’d rather not rekindle that old attraction. As if he could avoid it.

  “I might have one for sale in a few months.” It wouldn’t take long to determine which horse of the eight had the best disposition. Someone as inexperienced as James would need a fully trained driver. Boys his age often raced their buggies.

  “How many horses do you own nau?”

  “Eight, but I hope to have twenty within a year or two.”

  Stephen nodded. “Is that why Rosa told Hope she’s selling her draft team? To make room for your new herd?”

  “What?” He hadn’t heard anything about her selling the team.

  “Ach, I thought you were still using Rosa’s barn.”

  “Ya, I am.”

  “Mei fraa said Rosa was looking for a buyer. I passed the information along, but you and I both know this isn’t the time of year to buy a draft team.”

  Adam agreed.

  “You should tell her if she waits until spring, she’ll fetch more money.”

  “Ya, I’ll be sure to.”

  Not that Rosa would listen to him. He’d trained stallions less stubborn.

  Rosa knocked hard on the neighbor’s door. She would have taken care of this earlier, but she had to clean and pluck the chickens. She hung them in the icehaus long enough to speak with the neighbor, and afterward she would cook and can them.

  She knocked again.

  No answer.

  Rosa muttered under her breath and knocked again, this time rattling the aluminum screen door with her fist. She planted her hands on her hips and turned, surveying the area. Determination stiffened her spine. She had no intention of leaving without speaking to the owner.

  Rosa marched across the yard toward the barn.

  By the sound of vicious barking, his dogs didn’t like visitors. Large cages were anchored to the back of the barn. She stopped abruptly as several liver-spotted brown-and-white dogs charged the caged run. The fence clattered as the dogs jumped against it.

  Rosa backed away, but not before noticing that one of the dog runs was empty. The missing dog must be the one that attacked her chickens. Tate Wade denied his dog’s involvement the last time. This time she would show him the empty cage.

  The dogs settled down once she was out of sight. She strode around to the front of the barn where she had seen the man working before. She knocked on the door, then eased it open.

  A dim overhead light illuminated the small workspace. Tools lined a pegboard on the wall and the bench held an assortment of electrical drills and saws.

  The dogs’ barking erupted once more. Only this time, instead of vicious protective barking, the yipping sounded excited.

  A voice rose over the din. “Can I help you?”

  She spun to face Tate Wade.

  “You’re the neighbor lady.” He cocked his head to one side. “What are you doing in here?”

  She eyed the double-barrel shotgun in his hand.

  “You didn’t answer my question—why are you in my barn?”

  Panic washed over her as the dogs barked behind her and Tate moved closer. She motioned in the direction of the kennel. “Did you know you have an empty cage? I think one of your dogs is missing.”

  He crossed the room with a few long strides and opened the door leading to the kennel.

  “The last cage on the left,” Rosa shouted over the shrill barking. She lifted to her toes and peered around his side.

  “They’re all there.” He closed the door, muffling the sound. “Now, will you tell me what you’re doing in here?”

  “Maybe you should put the gun down first.”

  He shifted the shotgun to his other hand. “Let’s go outside.”

  She followed, grateful to leave the barn. The bishop wouldn’t be pleased if he heard she spent any amount of time in a closed barn with an Englischer.

  Tate stopped near the door, squatted, and grabbed two dead pheasants by their feet.

  “You shot those?”

  He nodded and grinned proudly at the birds dangling from his hand.

  That explained the gun, the orange hat, and the whistle around his neck. It also explained why his dogs went after her chickens. Her Rhode Island Reds probably reminded them of game birds. Rosa straightened her shoulders. “Your dogs attacked my chickens, again.”

  “Not my dogs. The two you said were missing from the cage were with me.” He turned toward the house and started walking.

  She stormed behind him. “That makes eight they’ve killed.”

  He continued walking.

  “Mr. Wade, my chickens were mangled. What are you going to do about—”

  He pivoted to face her. “Two years ago I made your husband a fair offer to buy your property. That offer still stands.”

  “What are you talking about?” She shook her head. “My farm is not for sale.”

  He shrugged. “You would be smart to accept my offer now, but I can wait.”

  “You’ll wait a long time.”

  “Isn’t the auction less than a month away?” He grinned. “Twenty days, if I’m not mistaken.”

  A flash of heat traveled up the back of her neck. “You read my mail?”

  “Back taxes are public record.” He fixed her with a steady gaze. “All sales are final. You are aware of that, right?”

  Chapter Five

  Rosa suppressed her tears until she reached her house. Once inside, her knees buckled and she collapsed onto a kitchen chair in sobs.

  The heartless man wanted to take her farm. No wonder he wasn’t concerned that his dogs were killing her chickens.

  “God, do You see what I’m up against? He wants my land.” She brushed the tears away with the back of her hand. “Is this Your will?”

  It was the same question she asked when the dairy cows caught the respiratory disease. But she’d had Uriah then. Now she had no one.

  Anger flared toward her late husband. Had he really considered selling their home without telling her? At one time she
would have believed it unthinkable. But he had let the taxes go unpaid without telling her. He had left her unprepared. And alone.

  An image of Aenti Lilly flashed in her mind. Rosa didn’t have to be alone. All she had to do was leave everything she knew behind.

  She pushed away from the table and got to her feet. She wasn’t going to sit around feeling sorry for herself. If she lost the farm, it wouldn’t be because she hadn’t done everything in her power to prevent it. There were six chickens out in the icehaus that still needed to be cooked and canned.

  Rosa slipped on her cape and headed outside. The icehaus worked well in the middle of winter or when packed full with frozen foods. Otherwise, the insulated walls were not sealed tight and didn’t keep a consistent temperature.

  She opened the door and stepped inside, leaving the door propped open for light. Her teeth chattered as a chill passed through her. She snatched the stiff chickens, turned, and bumped into Adam who stood in the doorway.

  “Ach! You startled me.”

  “Sorry. I thought you saw me.”

  “I’m a little preoccupied.”

  “I see that.” He reached for the lifeless hens. “When did this happen?”

  “While I was out delivering eggs.” She glared at the neighbor’s house. “Do you know how many dogs he owns over there?”

  “Nee, and if you do, I’m nett so sure I want to know how you found out.”

  “Eight.”

  “It’s nett illegal.” He continued toward the house.

  “Do you know what he does with his dogs?” She didn’t wait for him to guess. “He hunts birds.”

  Adam climbed the porch steps and paused at the door. “Did you see the dog attack the chickens?”

  “Nee.” She pointed to the muddy paw prints on her porch. “But there’s the proof.” She nudged the door open with her hip, waited for him to enter, then closed the door and followed him into the kitchen. “You can put them in the sink.”

  Before going to Tate Wade’s house, Rosa had removed the gizzards and plucked the majority of feathers, but the chickens still needed to be washed more thoroughly and cut before she cooked the meat.