by Marta Perry
“He’ll come around,” Mam said. “I’ve got a good feeling about him.”
“How many chickens shall I kill for dinner?” Anna asked. “If they’re all sharing nooning with us, we’ll need to start now.”
“Three, I think,” Mam said. “The jam-making can wait until afternoon. We need to put a meal together for the men. Ruth can do the green beans and potatoes, Miriam can whip up a pan of baked macaroni and cheese, and I’ll make some coleslaw.”
“I’ll get the pickled beets and applesauce from the root cellar,” Susanna offered, bouncing up and down. She loved company, and she loved helping.
“I think corn bread,” Anna said. “That can go in the oven with the macaroni and cheese, but we’ll need more meat. Maybe Miriam can take the horse and buggy, drive to the chair shop and bring back five or six pounds of those thick pork chops we froze last week.”
Mam had a big chest freezer, but since they had no electricity on the farm, they kept it at the shop. Ruth saw no conflict in that, but she’d once heard Dat in a serious discussion with Johanna’s husband about why electricity was forbidden in their homes but not businesses.
“Our faith instructs us to be apart from the world,” Dat had explained. “But since we don’t live at our businesses, and telephones, copy machines and electric lights are needed to run a business, they’re allowed.”
Johanna’s husband hadn’t agreed. He felt that the bishops were wrong to permit the use of electricity anywhere, so he adamantly disapproved of the use of freezers. But then he could sometimes be a difficult man. Johanna had been a happy bride, but sometimes, Ruth wondered if her sister had found satisfaction in her marriage. Certainly, she didn’t laugh or sing as much as she used to before she’d become a wife. Maybe that was the way it was when a woman subjected her will to that of a husband. And maybe her own choice to remain single wouldn’t be as much of a sacrifice as it seemed now.
Between the five women, they soon had dinner preparations well in hand and found time to start a big kettle of strawberry jam on the back of the stove. Mam and Anna made their jam the old-fashioned way: an equal amount of crushed fruit and sugar. And they always made certain that some of the fruit was green to add natural pectin. The jam took a little longer to cook, but it used less sugar than if you were using commercial pectin, and Ruth thought the taste was better. Timing and stirring were critical, but by the time the first batch was ready, Ruth had rows of jelly jars out of their boiling water bath and ready for the jam.
Whenever Ruth stepped out on the back porch, she could hear the sound of hammering coming from the milk house. As she worked, Ruth tried not to think about Eli, but she couldn’t help it. He was right there in her milk house. Any bookshelves he fashioned would be done with care and careful craftsmanship. And whenever she went to the new library to take a book, she’d lift it from a shelf that he’d made. Would they be properly Plain or, somewhere on the farthest back corner, would there be the carving of a saucy wren?
The clock on the mantel had just chimed twelve-thirty when Ruth went to the steps to ring the dinner bell. Laughing and talking, the men walked up from the milk house.
“What’s your mam and Anna got good for dinner?” Samuel asked passing. “Is that macaroni and cheese I’m smelling?”
“Ya, it is. Have you seen Irwin?” She searched the wet barnyard with her gaze.
“He went to look for the twins. They walked over a little while ago, after they finished their chores at home,” Samuel said. “Don’t know where they got to.” He and Roman walked up onto the porch as Eli came out of the milk house.
Not seeing Irwin, Ruth called out. “Peter! Rudy! Time to eat!”
Eli looked at her and then glanced away. “Maybe they’re in the barn,” he said.
“I’ll go.” She went down the steps and brushed past him. “You go to the table. You don’t want to keep the others from their dinner.”
Eli didn’t listen to her. He followed her to the barn, and when they reached the door, he put his hand on her arm. “Ruth,” he began, “we have to talk. I’m sorry for what happened but—”
“Not now, please,” she said. “They’re waiting for us in the kitchen.”
His jaw tightened as he stepped around her and swung the stable door open.
The moment he opened the door, Ruth knew there was something wrong.
“I smell smoke!” Eli said.
“Irwin!” Ruth shouted, running into the barn with Eli. “Boys, where are you?”
A dozen steps into the shadows proved that it wasn’t just the gloom of the day that made the barn so dark. Black smoke curled along the wide boards over her head and made her cough. “Fire!” she cried. “The barn’s on fire!”
Chapter Fifteen
“Get help!” Eli waved her back. “Get out of here, Ruth!”
“But the children might be in here! And the horses! I have to get the animals out.”
Ahead of them in the box stalls, Blackie and Molly were snorting and stamping in fear. Ruth’s hands were icy, her heart hammering against her ribs as she ran for the horses. “Irwin! Rudy! Peter! Where are you?” she screamed. Her last words were lost in a fit of choking.
Eli closed his hand over her shoulder, stopping her. “I’ll let the horses out.”
“I’m not leaving you.” A white barn cat streaked past them, its high-pitched screeching adding to the frantic neighing of the horses.
From the gloom ahead came a frustrated child’s cry. The stall door banged open, and a horse reared. Iron-clad hooves lashed out, colliding with thick oak planks. Suddenly Blackie loomed out of the smoke, a small boy clinging to his halter.
Eli snatched hold of the child and smacked the horse’s rump. Blackie shot forward, lunging toward the open door. “Where’s your brother?” Eli demanded, crouching in front of the shirtless little boy.
“Hayloft,” Rudy managed amid a torrent of coughing. “With Irwin.”
Eli gave him a push. “Run to the house! Get your father and Roman!”
A frantic whinny came from Molly’s box stall. The sound chilled Ruth’s blood. The old mare had survived a fire years ago before Dat had bought her. She still bore the scars on her rump and one hind leg. The slightest hint of smoke had always frightened her. Now she squealed in terror.
“The mare!” Rudy cried, running for the barn door. “I couldn’t open her stall door.”
“We’ll get her,” Ruth promised as she ran for the stall. “Fetch the men. Keep low. It’s easier to breathe near the floor.” Smoldering stems of hay were drifting down from the open hatchway at the top of the loft ladder, stinging Ruth’s face and arms.
“Help!” came a muffled plea from the loft above. “Dat! Help us!”
Eli sprinted for the ladder. “I’ll get them. You let the mare out,” he shouted to Ruth.
“Wait!” She seized a water bucket standing by Blackie’s stall and dashed the contents over Eli, soaking his hair and clothing. “Be careful,” she warned. She didn’t want him to go up there, to risk his life in the fire, but she knew that there was no stopping him.
Eli started up the ladder, and Ruth ripped off her apron and held it over her mouth and nose as she felt along the front of Blackie’s stall until she reached Molly’s. The air was better here, and she spoke soothingly to the mare as she undid the latch. It wasn’t stuck, but there was a trick to opening it that Rudy didn’t know.
“Come on, come on, girl,” she urged. Snorting, tossing her head, Molly bumped against Ruth’s shoulder, and she caught hold of the halter. “Shh, shh,” she murmured as she wrapped her apron around the mare’s eyes. Tugging on the halter, she led the frightened animal out the back door and into the paddock.
There was no way to tie the horse, so Ruth unwound the apron and let Molly loose. Taking a deep breath of fresh air, she ducked back into the barn, closing the door behind her. The big door was open at the far end of the passageway, and leaving this one open would create a draft that would only make the fire worse. �
��Eli!” she cried, hurrying toward the ladder. “Have you found them?”
She could just make out a figure climbing down. Not Eli, too small for Eli. “Peter?”
Coughing. A child’s sobs. “I’m…sorry…I didn’t mean it.”
Ruth yanked the boy off the ladder. He was shirtless, too, and covered in smudges of soot. “Peter? Are you all right?”
A flood of tears followed. Not waiting to make sense of his blubbering, she dragged him toward the front of the barn and pushed him black-faced and weeping into the yard. Choking, Peter fell to his knees and began to retch.
A quick look told her that the boy was more frightened than hurt. Again she returned to the smoky barn and hollered up the ladder. “Eli! What’s happening? Are you all right? Is Irwin up there?” Was it her imagination, or was the smoke clearing a little?
Eli’s face appeared at the hatch opening. “We’re all right. Irwin is with me, and the fire’s out.”
Almost at the same time, Rudy, Samuel and Roman came running, carrying buckets of water. Close behind them were her mother and sisters, all carrying containers of water. Ruth stepped aside and let the men scramble up the ladder to the loft, buckets in hand.
“What happened?” Anna demanded, putting down a soup pot of water. “Are the children safe?”
“Is Molly out?” Miriam asked. “Blackie’s running loose, but I didn’t see Molly. Is she—”
“There’s Rudy and Peter. Safe.” She pointed at the twins entering the barn. “Molly’s fine,” Ruth assured them. “Irwin is with Eli in the loft.”
“Was there a fire?” Susanna asked, her eyes huge and frightened.
“There was, but it’s all out now,” Ruth assured her. “Everything is going to be all right.”
“Where’s Molly?” Miriam demanded, putting down her dishpan of soapy water. “She must be scared half to death.”
“Out back.” Ruth pointed.
“I’ll go talk to her,” Susanna said, wanting to help as always. “I’ll tell her everything is all right. She likes me.”
“And I’ll catch Blackie before he gets in the road.” Miriam took off.
“What happened?” Mam asked Ruth. “How did the fire start?” Her voice cracked. “Please don’t tell me Irwin…”
“I’m not sure how it started,” Ruth answered. “But…” She caught Rudy’s arm. “I think this young man can tell us.”
Peter began to blubber. “We didn’t mean to,” he wailed. “We was just…” He turned and dashed for the doorway. “And…and Irwin said…and we…”
“Samuel!” Mam called up to the hayloft. “Is everything—”
“Under control, Hannah.” Samuel came down the ladder, empty bucket in his hand.
“Then I think we’d best get to the bottom of this,” Mam said. “If Irwin—”
“Ne,” Ruth said. “Wait, Mam, until we can talk to the three of them together. I don’t think Irwin may be the cause of this, after all.” Her pulse was still racing. She wanted to see Eli, to make certain he hadn’t been burned, but she sensed that this was the moment to find out exactly what had happened.
“How can you say that, after the school fire?” Anna asked.
“Peter and Rudy, come here,” Ruth ordered, as the women gathered outside the barn door. The rain had stopped and the sun was trying to peek from beneath the dark clouds.
“And Samuel’s outhouse,” Anna continued. “You admitted setting fire to that when you did it.”
“I didn’t,” Irwin protested, coming down the ladder behind Samuel and following the women out into the barnyard.
Mam’s eyes narrowed. “But you said you did light the fire at Samuel’s. Were you lying then or now?”
Irwin stared at the ground. He was a sight. His hair, face, chest and arms and face were smudged black, his bare feet and trousers filthy. He was shirtless, like the twins. Small, indignant red-rimmed eyes peered out beneath a shock of stringy hair. His eyelashes and brows were singed, his hands blistered. “Set fire to the outhouse,” he muttered. “Not the school.”
Peter and his brother looked nearly as bad, and tears streaked both round faces. Peter was trying to hide behind his twin. Both were sobbing.
“Hush, both of you,” Ruth said. “Now, someone tell us exactly what happened here.”
“Matches,” Peter blubbered. Rudy nodded.
“Told ’im not to,” Irwin said. “They don’t listen. Spoilt.”
“You two were playing with matches in the loft?” Ruth looked from one boy to the next. “Not Irwin?”
Rudy shook his head. Peter stared at his knees.
“Atch,” Mam said softly. “So. The truth at last.” She glanced up to meet Ruth’s gaze.
“And which one of you started the fire under the schoolhouse?” Ruth demanded.
“Him.” Peter pointed at his brother.
“Ne,” Rudy protested, pointing at Peter. “Peter did it. He wanted to build a campfire like the Indians in our history book.”
Ruth used her dirty apron still balled in her fist to wipe some of the black off Irwin’s pinched face. She leaned down to speak to him at eye level. “When I saw you come out from under the porch that day, you weren’t the one who had set the fire?”
“Ne.”
“But you ran away when I called out to you.”
Irwin studied the blister on his left big toe.
Eli walked up behind Ruth. She glanced at him, and when he started to say something, she put a finger up to signal him to wait.
“What were you doing under the school, if you didn’t start the fire, Irwin?” Mam asked.
“Chased us,” Rudy said.
Peter nodded. “Tried to put out the fire.”
“He was mad at us,” Rudy added.
“Ya,” the other twin said. “Real mad.”
“But why didn’t you tell the truth?” Ruth raised Irwin’s bony chin and looked into his pale eyes. The sadness she read there brought tears to her eyes. “Why did you let us think you were guilty when you weren’t?”
Irwin grimaced, refusing to meet her gaze. “Who’s gonna believe me?”
“There’s more to it than that,” Mam said. “You were trying to keep the twins from getting in trouble, weren’t you?”
For long seconds, Irwin hesitated. Then his face flushed, and he gave a quick nod. “They’re just little kids.” He scowled at the twins. “Just kids.”
“I can see that you were trying to do the right thing,” Mam said. “But you should have told me. Because no one knew, Rudy and Peter got away with playing with matches. And because there were no consequences, they didn’t stop, did they, Irwin?”
He exhaled slowly.
“Did they?” Ruth persisted.
“Ne.”
“Irwin told us to use our shirts to put out the fire,” Rudy said. “But it didn’t work. So he threw a canvas tarp on it.”
“Too much smoke,” Peter explained.
“How did you know they were in the loft?” Miriam asked.
Irwin grimaced again. “Didn’t. Bell rang for dinner.” He shrugged. “Went to find ’em and smelled smoke.”
Samuel crouched and opened his arms. The twins ran into his embrace, and he hugged them tightly. Ruth glanced at Irwin. His lower lip was quivering.
“Did you hear?” Anna asked Samuel.
“Enough to know that these two won’t make the same mistake again.”
Irwin swallowed hard. “You gonna whip them?”
“Ne,” the big man answered, “but maybe they’ll wish I had.” He stood over his children and looked down on them. “You two go on home and tend to the chores now. We’ll talk when I get there.”
“What about their dinner?” Mam asked. “I’ve got all that food ready.”
“No need for them to eat with us,” Samuel said. “Children don’t belong at the table with working men.” He turned to Irwin. “But you need to wash up and come to dinner. You’ve earned your place there.”
Irwin’s ey
es glowed, and he straightened his shoulders.
“He is a big help to us,” Mam said. “I’ve been thinking of asking Reuben and Lydia if he could sleep here—for higher wages, of course. I think we’d all feel better with a man on the place.”
“Ya,” Samuel agreed. “The Beachys got plenty of hands to help, and I can see how you could come to depend on Irwin.”
“If he agrees,” Ruth said, looking to Irwin.
Irwin reddened beneath the soot-stained face. “Guess I could do that,” he said. “Too much work here for just you girls.”
Roman started toward the house. “Don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m starving.”
“Come,” Mam said, heading for the house. “Come and eat before everything gets cold.”
Eli touched Ruth’s arm. “Do you have a minute?” he asked her. “I still need to talk to you…”
“Mam needs me,” she said, folding her arms over her chest. “This isn’t the time.” She was so confused. She’d promised herself she’d stay away from Eli, but right now, she wanted nothing more than to wrap her arms around him and hold him so tight she could feel his heart beating next to hers.
“You can’t keep doing this to me.” Eli watched her, but she wouldn’t look up at him. “I don’t know what to think.”
She let her arms fall to her sides. “Can’t we be friends and leave it at that?”
He shook his head. “Not with you, I can’t,” he said. “Never with you.”
She kept her gaze on her muddy bare feet. “I wish things were different.”
“Ruth,” her mother called from the porch, “are you coming?”
“I have to go,” Ruth said.
“Me, too.” He nodded in the direction of the lane.
“No.” Panic fluttered in her chest. “You have to stay for dinner. If you leave now, Roman and Samuel will wonder why. Everyone will be talking about us again.”
“I don’t mean now. Tomorrow. I have to go to Pennsylvania, to Belleville tomorrow. That was part of what I’ve been trying to tell you. Why I needed to talk to you.” She could hear the exasperation in his voice.
