The Amish Wonders Collection

by Ruth Reid

  Something clanged. Voices murmured. Clanged again. After a moment, he identified the voice in the distance. Toby. Ben flipped to his other side. Toby’s blankets lay neatly folded. Ben shuffled to his feet, shoved on his hat, and shimmied down the ladder. The cold cement floor seeped through his socks and sent a chill through his body.

  “You might want to put your shoes on.” Grace walked past him with a pitchfork of hay.

  Ben glanced at his feet. Dummkopp.

  Toby entered the barn, a bucket of water sloshing over the rim. “Okay, who’s next to be watered?”

  “Jasper, he’s in the second stall,” Grace replied.

  Ben wasn’t about to look like deadweight compared to Toby. But he would heed her advice and put his shoes on first. He scaled the ladder, then kicked around the hay next to his bedding until he located his shoes. Then, without taking time to lace them, he descended the ladder, skipping the last two rungs.

  He scanned the dimly lit area, but they were nowhere in sight. It hadn’t taken that long to find his shoes. “Grace? Toby?” Ben peeked into a stall. A chestnut horse lifted its head from the water trough and snorted.

  Ben called out again. “Toby?”

  No response. Grace didn’t seem like someone who would play hide-and-seek, but he’d play along with Toby. Ben checked the goat pen, then sucked in a breath and quickly passed by the pigs. Usually he was the one hiding with the maedel. Finally, he found Grace in a small tack room in the center of the barn. He snuck up behind her. “Great place to hide. Is Toby in here with you?”

  She pivoted around, eyes large. “Excuse me?”

  “I, ah . . . I thought you two were playing a joke on me.”

  She cocked her head and squinted at him as if the idea of playing a joke were something foreign. “There’s nay time for childish games.”

  He grimaced. “What would you like me to do?”

  Grace reached for the harness on the wall hook, removed it, and slung it over her shoulder. “First, lace your shoes. Then go eat.”

  Ben followed her to the stall. “Don’t you need help?”

  She stopped at the stall and turned to face him. “Can you hitch a buggy?”

  “I’ve never tried.”

  Grace unlatched the gate and slipped inside with the horse. She shut the gate before Ben could enter. “It would be safer if you don’t kumm in.”

  Ben bent to one knee and laced his shoes. He glanced up as the horse stuck its head out of the stall opening. The creature knocked Ben’s hat off and nuzzled his neck, whiskers tickling his skin. Ben shooed him away so he could finish tying his shoe. “Ouch!” Ben grasped his shoulder. “He just bit me.”

  The horse jerked back. “Sorry, I should have warned you, Jasper nips.” Grace reached out and stroked the animal’s neck. “It’s okay. Ben didn’t mean to frighten you.”

  “You’re taking the horse’s side? That was nay nip. I think he took a chunk out of mei shoulder.” He twisted, trying to get a better look.

  “Are you bleeding?” The crease between her brows softened. She stepped toward him and stumbled, but her hand caught the stall door, stopping her short of falling.

  He leaned closer and when she straightened, they were inches apart. A pink glow covered her cheeks, but when he started to smile, her piercing russet eyes quickened his breath—not in a good way either. Her pin-sized pupils were a bit nervy.

  Her lips tightened for a moment. “So, are you bleeding or nett?”

  “Nay.”

  She redirected her attention to readying the equipment. Grace placed the bit in the horse’s mouth and adjusted the noseband. “Gut boy, Jasper.” She gave the beast a fond pat on the neck.

  A door clanked shut. Toby rounded the corner, his shirt soaked and rain streaming off his hat brim. He carried the bucketful of water to the stall next to them where an even larger horse shifted on his hooves.

  Ben sidestepped. He wasn’t sure how far the horse could stretch his neck and he wasn’t willing to test him.

  Toby moved into the stall without hesitation. A moment later, he came out with the empty bucket. He leaned over the stall gate where Grace was harnessing the horse. “Anything else you need?”

  “You could feed and water Rusty. His dog food is in the bin next to the oat barrel.” She flashed Toby a smile that made Ben feel invisible. “Afterward, you two should eat. Mei aenti Erma will have breakfast ready.” She guided her hand down the horse’s leg as if needing it to steady her squat. Reaching for the dangling strap under the animal’s belly, she winced.

  “Ah . . .” Ben reached for the gate latch, but stopped when she shot a dagger over her shoulder at him.

  “I really don’t appreciate people staring at me.” She waved her hand dismissively. “Maybe you could offer to help Toby with the dog.”

  “Gladly.” Ben pushed away from the gate. The woman had no sense of humor unless rudeness was a game for her. Ben met Toby at the feed container, bending over and scooping dog food into an empty coffee can. “That woman got up on the wrong side of the bed.”

  “She’s been pleasant to me.” Toby handed him the can of dry food, then snatched an empty bucket off the floor. “You can feed him while I pump the water.”

  Ben walked along the side of the barn under the eave to avoid the steady rain. Even then, water running off the roof troughed at his feet. He heard the dog barking before he rounded the corner and met the hound eye-to-eye, raised up on his muddy hind legs, pawing the air at the end of a heavy chain. “Gut boy.” What did Grace say his name was—Red? The floppy-eared coon dog was a horse, and a horse had already bitten him once today. “Gut boy, Red.” He squatted just outside the dog’s reach and set the can down, then darted inside the invisible line to fetch the dog dish. The dog jumped on Ben, slinging drool as he barked and leaving his massive footprint on Ben’s chest. He grabbed the tin bowl, sloshing rainwater and food residue on his pant leg as he sped back to the safety zone outside the dog’s reach.

  Toby arrived with the water bucket. “Are you thirsty, boy?” He patted the dog’s shoulder, walked past him, and emptied the bucket into the dog’s water trough.

  Ben pushed the food dish within the dog’s parameter while it was sniffing Toby’s pant leg.

  “You’re nett afraid of dogs, are you?” Toby asked, giving the hundred-plus-pound dog another pat.

  “Only the ones that charge the end of the chain like him.”

  Toby laughed. “Dogs are gut judges of character. Man’s best friend.”

  Another dig. Ben took the blame for them being sent to Michigan, but he wasn’t so sure Toby yelling, “Cannonball!” wasn’t what alerted the police officer.

  “Let’s take these back in the barn, then go eat,” Toby said.

  Ben swept his hand over the muddy paw print on his shirt as he entered the barn, but smearing the mud made it worse. He tossed the coffee can into the feed barrel. “Why didn’t you wake me when you got up?”

  Toby shrugged. “Grace said farm life takes a little getting used to. She gets up before the rooster every morning.” Toby pushed the barn door open and took off running toward the house.

  Ben held his hat in place as he sprinted to catch up. “Sounds like you two are chatty ol’ pals nau.”

  “Well, you know what they say about the early bird.” Toby smiled and increased his speed.

  They clambered up the porch steps, reaching shelter at the same time. Ben bent at the waist and took in a deep breath. “So, you’ve become a farm boy?” Last night Toby didn’t think he would be able to sleep because of the stench, and less than eight hours later he was Grace’s right-hand man.

  The door opened and LeAnn greeted them with a warm smile. “Gudder mariye.”

  The scent of bacon caused Ben’s stomach to growl. “Mariye.” Ben swiped his muddy shoes on the doormat before entering. His and Toby’s personal belongings sat just inside the door. Loaded down with blankets last night, he’d forgotten to grab his on the way out to the barn.

&nb
sp; “Breakfast is ready.” LeAnn ushered them into the kitchen and directed them to the hand pump at the sink to wash up.

  Erma flipped the sizzling strips of bacon. “I hope you’re hungry.”

  “Always.” Ben dried his hands on a dish towel. He pulled out the same chair he’d sat in last night.

  “Sure smells gut.” Toby sat beside Ben.

  LeAnn placed two cups of coffee on the table, then slid the sugar bowl from the far end of the table over to them.

  The heaped mound of bacon Erma set on the table looked thicker than the store-bought bacon his mamm cooked. Ben sat up straighter, his mouth watering. A moment later, Erma placed a bowl of oatmeal before him and another before Toby. “Be careful, it’s hot.” She went to the window and peered outside. “Where is your sister?”

  “Grace said to start without her.” LeAnn approached the table holding a glass jar between two potholders, then eased the jar down on the table.

  The sweet aroma of maple teased Ben’s senses.

  LeAnn pulled out one of the wooden chairs and joined them at the table. “How did you sleep last nacht?”

  “Gut, danki,” Toby replied.

  What little rest Ben got after the scratching noises stopped wasn’t bad for his first night sleeping in a barn.

  Erma folded her hands, and everyone at the table did the same. After the brief blessing, Erma took one of the potholders and slid the jar closer to Ben. “Have you had homemade maple syrup?”

  Ben shook his head.

  “Tapped from the trees out back,” Erma said.

  Ben poured some on top of his oatmeal, then passed the jar to Toby. “Is it hard to make?”

  LeAnn shrugged, unenthused. “It takes forty gallons of sap to make one gallon of syrup, by the time you boil it down.”

  Ben sank his spoon into the hot cereal and took a bite. Sweetness melted in his mouth. “This syrup is gut. You should think about selling it.”

  “We do.” LeAnn sprinkled sugar over her oatmeal.

  Ben lifted his brows. “You don’t like syrup?”

  “Nope. Too sticky for me.” LeAnn sipped her coffee. “So, what do you do in Florida?”

  “I work for Toby’s daed. He owns a landscaping business. We plant trees all day. Mostly shrubs.”

  “Sounds interesting.”

  “It gets hot,” Ben said, “working in hundred-degree heat.”

  “Still, it sounds better than working in a lumberyard—or mud camp,” she muttered.

  “God has richly blessed this district,” Erma said. “What started off as a handful of families going together to purchase land has grown into a thriving development. We have over a thousand acres combined, most of which are wooded, and our settlement is surrounded by hundreds of acres of national forest, so even the nearest Englischer is several miles away.”

  “In other words,” LeAnn chimed, “we’re isolated.”

  Ben ate as Erma carried the conversation. She told about the lumber mill’s products and the different places where shipments were sent. Other than an occasional nod, he just listened.

  The door opened and Grace entered. Without removing her wool cloak, she went to a wooden desk at the far side of the kitchen and sifted through a stack of papers.

  “There’s more oatmeal,” Erma said. “Would you like me to fix you a bowl?”

  “I’ll eat later. I want to go into town for supplies before the weather gets worse.”

  “If you’re looking for the shopping list, it’s on the counter.” Erma retrieved the paper and handed it to Grace.

  LeAnn tapped Ben’s hand. “What type of work do the women do in your district?”

  “Normal stuff. They cook, clean, do the laundry, garden. Sometimes they get together and sew.” Ben’s thoughts shifted to his mother. She worked hard both inside the house and outside in the garden.

  “That’s it? No cows to milk or chickens to feed?”

  Ben smiled. “We have a small yard, and it isn’t zoned for farm animals.”

  “I want to live somewhere like that. Somewhere that I—”

  “LeAnn,” Grace said sternly. “You need to learn to be content. God has you where He wants you.” Grace turned to him and Toby. “Are you two about ready to go?” More a summons than a question, she strode to the door, still cranking out orders. “Don’t forget your bags.” She disappeared outside.

  Ben drained his coffee cup and stood. “Danki for the meal.”

  “Jah, danki,” Toby echoed, scrambling to his feet.

  Bags in hand, they darted outside into the driving rain. Ben climbed onto the bench and slid next to Grace, making room for Toby. Ben’s arm bumped hers and rainwater dripped from his hat onto her shoulder. His eyes met and held hers. Something within them tugged at his soul.

  She inched closer to the door, leaning awkwardly away from him. “It doesn’t take long to reach town, but since it rained all nacht, I thought we should get going before the road gets too bad.” Grace tapped the reins and the horse lurched forward.

  They hadn’t traveled far beyond the long driveway before the road disappeared underwater. The horse stopped, lowered his head as far as the reins allowed, and snorted.

  “Maybe this isn’t a gut idea,” Ben said. “Your horse seems to know something we don’t.”

  She clucked her tongue. “Geh on, Jasper.”

  “Can you tell the road from the ditch?” Ben couldn’t.

  “I know to stay in the middle.”

  Water sprayed the side of the buggy as the horse trudged through the ministream. Maybe she did know what she was doing. The water wasn’t as deep as Ben initially thought. He released his breath just as the front wheel on the passenger side dipped into a hole. Ben sprang off the bench like a heated kernel of popcorn, then plopped back down. He pitched forward but grabbed the edge of the bench and pulled himself into an upright position. His stomach rolled more now than the first time he boarded a fishing vessel. It had taken several hours to get his sea legs, but adjusting to being bucked off the bench might be different.

  “We can wait,” Ben said. Last night he and Toby waded through some muddy areas, but nothing like this.

  “Geh on, Jasper.” She clucked her tongue again and tapped the reins.

  Ben tightened his grip on the bench. “Maybe after it stops raining—”

  “It’s rained six days in a row. This is the best the road will be for a few weeks.” Grace slowed the horse as he came to where the road split. She leaned forward and peered out the window at what looked like a mere foot trail.

  Ben braced for the turn, silently praying she wasn’t crazy enough to take it.

  “It’s underwater,” she said. “Probably shouldn’t risk taking the shortcut.”

  Ben gasped. “I agree.”

  “Jah, me too,” Toby said.

  She hesitated, then signaled the horse forward.

  Ben studied the tree-lined area. In some places, the woods were too dense to see beyond a few feet. “Don’t you get scared living this far back in the woods?”

  “I find it peaceful.”

  “I think so too,” Toby quickly said. “It’s nice to be away from everything.”

  “Nice? The middle of nowhere?” Ben bit back reminding Toby he had been afraid of the bats last night too. “What if something happens and you need help?”

  “We send a message.”

  Ben snickered. “By pigeon?”

  “Nay,” she said smugly. “By smoke signals.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Nay joke. It’s true.” She kept a straight face but didn’t look him in the eye.

  In other districts, they alerted one another by clanging a cast-iron bell, so maybe sending a smoke signal wasn’t so far-fetched.

  They came to the section of the road where the uprooted tree roots made the ride bumpy and impossible to talk. The stretch wasn’t more than a few hundred yards, but by the time they reached the main road, Ben’s neck, shoulders, and back felt out of whack.

&nb
sp; Once on the smooth surface, Grace clucked her tongue, apparently determined to make up for lost time. She kept her eyes on the road and both hands controlled the reins.

  “Aren’t you afraid the horse will slip on the wet pavement?” Toby asked. He made a good point. In Florida, after a heavy rain, the roads were often slick from oil residue.

  “Icy roads are worse,” she said, as a matter of fact. A car sped past them and neither she nor the horse flinched.

  Ben blew out a breath. Riding a bike in traffic was nothing like this. At least he had the option of riding on the sidewalk or going into the ditch if a vehicle came too close. He wanted to ask what the roads were like in the winter, but didn’t dare break her concentration. Toby must have had similar thoughts because he remained silent as well. It wasn’t long before the outskirts of town started to look familiar. They were only a block or two from the bus station when Grace pulled into the parking lot of the IGA and stopped the horse.

  “I have some supplies I need to buy.” She collected her handbag and scooted off the seat.

  Ben climbed out behind her. “Looks like it might stop raining.”

  “It might.” She looped the reins around the light post. “You do remember where the bus station is, jah?”

  Toby got out from the other side and rounded the buggy as Grace was tying the reins. “We really appreciate everything you’ve done,” he said.

  Grace stepped toward them. She looked at Ben, then Toby. “If you’re nett here when I’m finished shopping, I wish you well.” She turned toward the store.

  Toby’s jaw dropped.

  “Wait,” Ben said, taking hold of her arm. “You’re nett leaving us here, are you?”

  She glanced at his hand on her forearm and narrowed her eyes.

  Ben released his hold and folded his arms across his chest. “Your Aenti Erma thinks you’re taking us to the bishop’s haus. What are you going to tell her?”

  “I’ll tell her the truth, unlike you two.”

  Ben uncrossed his arms. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Grace squared her shoulders. “I think you two have gotten yourselves in trouble and you’re fence-jumpers. Go back home where you belong.” She motioned to her left. “Take Pine Street one block. The bus station is on the right.” She turned and marched toward the store.