Amish Country Arson

by Risner, Fay

  Amish Country Arson

  Nurse Hal Among The Amish Series

  Book 8

  Fay Risner

  Amish Country Arson published in 2015 by Fay Risner at Smashwords.com

  Cover Art

  Picture courtesy of Pat Brigode on front cover

  and author Fay Risner picture on back cover

  All Rights reserved 2015

  Copyright (c) 2015

  All Rights Reserved

  Fay Risner

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously, and any resemblance to the actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locals are entirely coincidental. Excerpts from this book cannot be used without written permission from the author.

  Love Your Enemies

  But I say unto you, Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you;

  Matthew 5:44

  Chapter 1

  A golden draft horse, with a white mane, tramped on the hard country road. The resounding thuds feathered the long, white hairs on his hooves, vibrated up the work horse's legs and through the rider's body. Amish riders were used to squeezing their legs into a horse's stomach to stay on when they rode bareback. This ride wasn't anything new for the skilled rider on this horse's back.

  This night near the end of September was dark, pitch dark. The rider purposely planned the excursion for such a night. Darkness was good for what was about to happen.

  The hour was midnight. Amish farmers were in bed, asleep until their alarm clocks went off at four in the morning. That's when they started their day in the barn, milking their cows.

  The buildings in the dark shadows off to the right of the horse were John Lapp's farm.

  I was told John Lapp is married to an English redhead who calls herself a nurse. If that woman, with a man's name, becomes a bother, she and her family will be next to be punished by me.

  In the still of night, the horse's tromps sounded like someone beating a drum. It wouldn't be good if the Lapp dog raced to the road to bark at the horse. That mutt would alert the Lapps someone was traveling on the road at a late hour.

  The rider relaxed. Gute! The horse is past the Lapp farm with no problems from the dog. Next farm coming up belongs to the old bishop and his wife, Elton and Jane Bontrager. They seemed to be kindly people. Even if they were not, it would not do to ever bother them. The Amish community would not stand for retaliation against their bishop.

  The horse trotted through the crossroads. Suddenly, the Stolfus cornfield was near. The dark shapes of corn shocks and silhouette of corn plants stood out against the night time sky. Harvest was under way in the Amish community but not near finished. With a tug on the reins, the horse slowed. A pull on the right rein made the horse turned into the cornfield driveway. The rider stayed in the grass along the fence and headed toward the back barn yard fence.

  Soon Chicken Plucker Jonah Stolfus and his family will be in for a rude awakening. I heard what he did to that young girl. Shot her in the head he did. He killed her and her with a baby to raise. He got away with that cruelty until now. No one should feel sorry enough to help a man that would do anything that mean.

  Work horses, carriage horses and milk cows milled together in the barn yard. Restless stock came out of the barn while others entered. The rider slowed the horse to a walk. One of the horses nickered a greeting. The draft horse lifted his head, threw back his ears and neighed back. The rider patted the horse's neck to silence him.

  I do not want the stock riled up by my strange horse. That could get me run over. “Whoa. Jack.” I will tie to a fence post so I can slide off on the other side of the fence. It will be easier to climb down the boards and back up to mount this tall horse.

  The rider stuck a leg over the board, searching for footing in the cattle panel.

  Ouch! The barbed wire along the top of the fence stuck my leg. When I come back, I need to remember to swing my leg wider so I miss the barbs.

  Now walk slowly to the barn. The horses see me. They have bunched up in the corner, snorting and stomping their hooves at me. Some of the cattle are lined up in the opposite corner, watching suspiciously while others ran into the barn to hide from me. That is gute. Gives me more space to work.

  The animals are sniffing the breeze. They cannot recognize my scent. They are not used to a stranger among them this time of night.

  It is too dark to see where I put my feet, but that is gute. I need the cover of darkness for this job. I will just have to be careful not to stub my toes on the unleveled, hoof pocked ground. I cannot afford to fall. I might get trampled if the horses and cattle bolt.

  A moment was taken to make a quick survey of the house from beside the barn. The windows remained unlit as every other house along the road had been. The far corner of the barn was partially hidden from the house.

  This is the spot. I am out of sight here. I will kneel and empty my jacket pockets so I can make short work of this job.

  A small, plastic juice bottle of kerosene and two scrap rags dropped to the ground. The other pocket bulged with matches. Fingers circled around one wooden match stem.

  It is always so easy to start a fire. Why not? I am an expert at this now.

  Thumb pressure popped the cap off the juice bottle. The stringent smell of kerosene caused the rider's nose to wrinkle.

  Drizzle the kerosene down the side of the barn and watch the run off soak into the rags. Now scratch the match head over a nail.

  A search in the dark by running finger tips over the barn boards found the rusty edge of a nail head. The match hissed and flared into flame.

  I need to stand up and at arm's length before I throw the match on the rags so I do not get burned.

  The burning match landed in the middle of the rags. The flame brightened by kerosene grew larger as it spread. Whoosh! The rags exploded. The flames flared, licking up the kerosene soaked barn boards.

  Almost too close to stand yet. I must remember how far back to stand when I throw the next match.

  A nervous peek around the barn corner found the house still dark, but it wouldn't be for long.

  I am standing in a lit area now. This is not gute. Listening to the racket the livestock is making has me nervous.

  The Stolfus horses panicked at the sight of fire. They whinnied and bucked when they heard the crackling noises and smelled the flames. The cows bellowed and coughed as puffs of smoke surrounded them.

  I've got to get out of here before the household wakes up.

  The figure ran to the fence post where the draft horse waited and clambered up the boards. Sensing danger, the Stolfus horses skittered, bucking this way and that. They wanted out of the pen in the worst way. They bunched together for safety and stampeded in a circle along the fence headed toward the fence climber.

  The arsonist was almost safe. With one leg over the fence and sliding along the draft horse's broad back and inching down the horse's far side.

  Before the rider's other leg was safely out of the way, the rushing horses hugged the fence. The nearest horse pinned the rider's outstretched leg and foot to the board. The foot turned sideways stressing the ankle the wrong way and causing the grating snap
of the ankle bone. The horse's weight pushed against the leg, rubbing it along the barbed wire. The barbs bit into the calf flesh and ripped a furrow from the knee to the ankle. The arsonist's anguished cry resulted from the sensation of horrific leg pain. Agony brought on a sick stomach, whirling eyesight and then dimmed vision. In an instant, the herd of horses had raced past, and the leg came free from the wire.

  I've got to get out of here. My scream surely was heard above the ruckus of the livestock. I feel like I might have a black out spell. If I did, I would fall off Jack. I better be far away from here if that happens.

  The obedient draft horse had shied at the rider's scream. Once the reins were unwrapped from the top board, it took a second for the rider to calm the skittish horse. Jack smelled the smoke and heard the ruckus the frightened livestock in the barn yard made. He shuddered as his senses told him he was in as much danger as the other livestock.

  The increasing night breeze cooled the rider's body of its feverish heat and made it easier to think.

  I have to let my leg dangle no matter how much it hurts. I cannot think about the throbbing pain in my leg and ankle. I have to get away quickly.

  The rider rubbed the thigh of the injured leg and made teeth gritting sounds as the action didn't help the discomfort.

  Given his head, Jack trotted in the grassy strip back to the road as if he knew where he had to go. The rider stopped, used both hands to grip the injured leg and shifted on the horse's back. Just a quick glance back to see what had happened so far. The blazing barn lit up the other building sites. Horses and cows milled frantically in the lighted heat. Some still rubbed the fences to find a way out of the pen. The din of noise added to the animals panic.

  Disappointment went through the rider regarding the leg injury. What bad luck that the accident prevented a closer viewing of the fire. A surge of relief followed. In the darkness, no one could make out the rider and horse this far away from the Stolfus barn.

  Dashing hopes of a successful burn came with the sight of someone already in the barn yard, opening the back gate to free the livestock into the cornfield. How was it possible the fire had been noticed so fast before more than one side of the barn was aflame?

  The disgusted rider laid down on the horse's broad neck. “Go, Jack. Nothing more that I can do here. Run for home.”

  The ride back home wasn't going to be nearly as enjoyable as the journey to the Stolfus farm. The leg pain was greater and becoming more unbearable with each hard step of the horse's hooves. Passing the Bontrager and Lapp farms, the rider uttered soft groans, hugging tightly to the horse's neck.

  The rider slowed Jack and straightened up to check out the landmarks. On the highway south of Wickenburg, the red and blue lights of fire engines whirled against the dark sky. No sound of sirens yet from that far away, but the fire equipment sped with urgency toward the country road. The bitter taste of poor timing formed in the rider's mouth.

  Help is coming much too quickly. That is too bad. A phone shed must be close to the Stolfus farm. The barn would have burnt to the ground before the fire trucks arrived if more time had gone by. Next time I'll torch the phone shed first.

  The black shape of uneven tree tops stood out against the sky. Bender Creek dirt road turn off was coming up. The peepers and crickets were singing up a storm. Across the road along the banks of Bender Creek, bull frogs competed to see which one could croak the loudest. In the distance, the sudden high pitched yap of coyotes on the run made Jack shudder. It took a gentle hand rubbing his neck to quiet him.

  Here is my turn off. I will get behind the tree line in the clearing where I can hide. There I can rest a minute. It is fun to watch the parade of fire trucks going so fast. I hear the sirens now. What a joyful sound!

  In an instant, four fire trucks and an ambulance sped by and were quickly out of the arsonist's view. For only a moment, the area was a kaleidoscope of swirling reds and blues. Now all that remained was the fading sirens. The timber had become silent. The peepers and frogs music ceased while they tried to figure out if the reverberating noises they heard was dangerous to them.

  Might as well go home. With the way my leg hurts, I will not walk much for a few days. I need to get off this horse and into bed. The rider nudged the horse with the good knee. “Go, Jack. Pick your way through the timber back the way we came.”

  Jonah Stolfus woke with a start to find his bedroom illuminated by an eerie, orange glow flickering up and down the walls. He heard the panicked cries of his livestock and feared the worst before he knew for sure what happened.

  Jonah jumped up and ran to the window. Horrified, he saw the south side of his barn in flames. In the light from the fire, he spotted the dark forms of a horse and rider racing for the cornfield gate hole. At the moment, he didn't have time to wonder why anyone would be in his cornfield at the same time his barn was burning. He had more pressing worries.

  “Freda, get up,” Jonah said, heading for his clothes.

  His wife sat up in bed, wondering at Jonah's frenzied actions. “Was ist letz?”

  Jonah yanked on his trousers and pulled his galluses over his nightshirt. “Hurry! Get the children up and out of the house. The barn is on fire.

  As close as the barn is, it might cause the house to burn. I see sparks flying this direction, carried by the wind. Get the children as far away as you can to be safe. Tell Stanley to go to the phone shed as fast as he can run to call the fire department. Send Jason and Davie to help me get the livestock out of the pen.”

  In the next moment, Jonah entered the barn yard and darted in a zig zag out of the frightened animals way as he headed to the back gate. He opened the gate and called.

  The cattle and horses, blinded by the brilliant glow of the blaze, smoke and heat, milled into each other. Jonah edged around the fence to get behind them and joined his boys. Jason, eleven years old, and Davie, ten, spread out, waving their arms and clapping their hands.

  As fire shot up inside the barn, two horses bolted out the door and nearly ran over Davie. He hadn't been able to move fast since a riding accident broke his left leg and left him with a limp.

  One horse stumbled out of the barn and fell over dead. Jonah's stomach did a sickening roll when he saw the tortured animal torched by the fire. The bull staggered out the barn door. He appeared to be blind, badly burned and shivering.

  The livestock rushed away from Jonah. The boys yelled as loud as they could and waved their hands. The bull followed along with them. Finally, the cows and horses found the open gate hole and spread across the field to cool safety.

  “Should we check in the barn?” Jason yelled at his father to be heard above the roaring blaze.

  “Nah, it is too dangerous.” Jonah sucked in smoke. He had a coughing fit and took his blue work handkerchief out of his pocket to cover his nose to filter the air. “Let's get away from the smoke.”

  Jason and Davie walked out around the horse carcass. With tears in his eyes, Jason lamented, “Poor Slow Poke got roasted alive.”

  High pitched warbles brought John Lapp sat straight up in bed. Red and blue lights circled the room, bouncing from one wall to another. His heart raced as he leaped out of bed and ran to the window.

  Hal put her feet on the floor and lit the lamp. “John, was ist letz?”

  John ran his fingers through his dark brown hair as he stared at the darkness. “There is a fire somewhere, but not here. The fire trucks are going by Elton Bontrager's farm now.”

  From downstairs, Aunt Tootie yelled shrilly, “Fire! Fire! The fire trucks are coming. Get out quickly. The house is on fire.”

  Nora Lindstrom grumbled as she padded past Hal and John's bedroom door on bare feet. “I better get downstairs and calm Tootie down.”

  Noah and Daniel's low voices chattered in their room. Wide eyed, Redbird and Beth stood up, rubbed the sleep from their eyes and peered over the baby crib at their parents. Hal went to the crib to reassure them. “Can you see a fire, John?”

  “Jah, a
big one. Looks like it is at Chicken Plucker Jonah's farm. I can't tell which building is burning, but the blaze is high in the air. The fire trucks are just about there now.” John turned to Hal with worry in his dark brown eyes. “I'm getting dressed and go see if I can help.”

  “Wonder what time it is?” Hal walked back to the bedside table, and focused the lamp light on the alarm clock. “One thirty in the morning. I should go along. There might be need of a nurse. Should the boys go with us?”

  “Nah, they can stay here and milk if we are still gone by chore time,” John answered back as he shoved his shirt tail in his trousers. He left to hitch up the buggy.

  Hal dressed and pulled her prayer cap over her frizzy red hair. Out in the hall, Noah, eighteen years old, and Daniel, sixteen, leaned against the wall. Hal's father, Jim, stood beside them. Hal paused long enough to tell the boys they could milk if they didn't make it home in time.

  Jim offered to help the boys. With a yawn, he told Noah and Daniel, if he couldn't do anything else he was going back to bed, and they should, too.

  Hal stopped in the clinic to see about Aunt Tootie. Her night cap was crooked and gray curls spilled out around it. She sat up the bed, clutching a hand full of her light blue cotton night gown as she breathed heavily. Hal's mother, Nora, sat beside the elderly woman, propping her up. When Hal looked troubled, Nora rolled her eyes toward the ceiling.

  “Are you all right, Aunt Tootie?” Hal asked.

  Aunt Tootie patted her chest and took a deep breath. “I'm having a spell of the vapors, but I'm calmer now that I know the fire isn't here.”

  “Gute for you. The fire's a couple miles away at the Stolfus farm. John and I are going to see if there's anything we can do to help,” Hal told them. “Mom, I settled the girls down. You might check on them when you go back to bed. Dad says he isn't getting back up until milk time. The girls will want out of bed when they know you're up for the day.”