A Widow's Hope (13 page)

“What about popcorn with lots of melted butter poured on top?” Hannah asked as she passed the bowl of pickled beets to Leah.

“My corn is sweet enough without drowning it with butter, Hannah. That’s just an excess I won’t have in my house.” Simon’s brows beetled together over the bridge of his nose.

“
Jah,
of course,” Hannah agreed, “but we must not forget about corn relish, corn muffins, and, of course, corn bread stuffing in our Thanksgiving turkey.”

Seth saw the light from the kerosene lamp dance in her green eyes as she spoke.

Henry rubbed his stomach in a circular motion, but Simon’s expression turned thunderous. “Why don’t we just concentrate on the bountiful food set before us and not worry so much about meals yet to come?”

With that, the family finished dinner in silence. Even Julia’s
cheery demeanor faded. Hannah didn’t take her eyes off her plate and seemed to be clenching down on her back molars.
What is wrong with Simon?
Seth wondered. Why was he acting like a burr had gotten in between his shin and sock? Most of his wrath seemed directed at the widow, yet Seth couldn’t imagine Simon would still be angry over her mistake yesterday. Correcting someone who misinterprets the Bible or questions Amish ways was everyday business for a deacon. Seth ate his plate of beef, beets, and potatoes but found he had lost his appetite for second helpings.

“If you’re finished,
bruder,
I’d like your help in the pump house. That well of mine is acting up again.”

“But you haven’t had your coffee,” Julia protested. “And we’ve got apple pie for dessert, made by Emma all by herself.”

“We’ll have coffee and dessert later,
fraa.
I want to see why we’re not getting enough water before it gets too dark.” Simon rose from the table with a weary sigh. The last few months seemed to have aged him by years.

“Emma, save a piece of pie for me—a big piece,” Seth said. “I can’t wait to try your creation.” His niece blushed prettily. He glanced at Hannah as he left the table. She resembled a hapless moth caught in a spider web. He would try to talk to her before heading home and thank her again for Phoebe’s gift.

Matthew followed them to the shed that housed the pumping apparatus. Their windmill used an intricate system of valves and pulleys to provide water to the kitchen sink and bathroom. Simon had added onto the house many times since accepting it from his parents and had changed how the water lines ran. Nothing worked right forever, so Seth was glad he’d learned about mechanical things at an early age. Matthew appeared to share those interests. He hovered nearby with a can of lubricating oil.

“What do you say about planting every tillable acre in corn this year?” Simon asked while Seth took apart the pump housing. “That’s what many men in the district are planning to do.” Simon stood
with his hands clasped behind his back, peering curiously over Seth’s shoulder.

“If
all
of us double our production, what’ll happen to the price of corn when we flood the local market?”

“David Brower at the Farmer’s Exchange says he’ll buy every bushel brought in this year at a fair price. They’ll load it into boxcars and ship it out of state.”

“
Jah,
that so?” Seth tightened each bolt he could get his wrench around, hoping that would increase the amount of water pressure. He was eager to finish the task and see if Hannah might want to join him for a cup of coffee and piece of pie.

“He’ll sign a contract committing to a certain price if a farmer meets a minimum,” Simon persisted. Matthew leaned his head in so far Seth couldn’t see what he was doing. He gently backed the boy up with his elbow.

“How can you promise a set number of bushels with seeds barely in the ground? What if there’s another drought? I’ve seen corn come up fine in the spring only to wither right down to the roots. And do you remember that year we got so much rain we could have raised rice or cranberries?” Seth found a particularly loose bolt and gave it a few twists with the wrench. “There, I think I fixed the problem.”

“Maybe you have another idea for a cash crop this year? I thought you said you wanted to save money to buy the land adjoining your English neighbor?”

“Well, because you asked, I do have something under my hat brim.” Seth straightened his back and clamped a hand on Matthew’s shoulder. “
Danki
for your help, Matty. That grease went a long way in tightening everything up.”

His nephew beamed while Simon clucked his tongue. He didn’t approve of nicknames, especially not ones shortening the name of a Bible book.

“Go on up to the house, son, and tell your
mamm
we’ll have that coffee and pie now,” Simon said.

Seth tried to hide his disappointment. If Simon were present, the widow would probably hide in her room if not run all the way to Wooster. “I’m thinking of adding a flock of sheep. I like what I see of Mrs. Brown’s operation. I can sell off the lambs and sell the wool sheared from their backs. There’s always a market for wool.” He replaced the protective housing around the pump carefully.

Simon looked as though he’d eaten a wormy apple. “You’re pulling my leg! Trying to get my goat.” Great blotches of crimson flushed his cheeks.

Seth laughed. “No one tries to kid you,
bruder.
You should know that,” he said, wiping his hands on a rag.

Whatever additional comments Simon had on the matter were drowned out by the uproar outside. “Dad! Dad! Uncle Seth!” yelled the boys.

Both Henry and Matthew burst through the door looking as though they’d spotted an approaching tornado. “Come quick!” demanded Matthew.

Simon reached for his son’s shoulder, alarm replacing his annoyance. “What it is, son? What’s happened?”

“It’s Aunt Hannah’s sheep! Two of the rams got into a tussle, and the whole flock started stampeding. They broke down the fence on the far end of the pasture and then kept running. There’s not one critter left in the paddock you put them in.”

Matthew and Henry stared at their father, waiting for the significance of this to sink in. It took only a few moments. “The north end? They broke through the fence on the
north
end? That’s where I got my crop of wheat coming up!” Simon shouted at no one in particular as they hurried into the yard.

Despite his shorter legs, heavier frame, and elder years, Simon ran pell-mell for his newly planted field with Seth close on his heels. Matthew and Henry wisely hung back a few paces. Seldom did their
daed
yell without restraint.

Seth uttered a quick prayer that the damage wouldn’t be severe.

This was one prayer not to be answered.

Simon and Seth stared where just that morning acres of waving green shoots had broken the soil and stood at least six inches tall. One could hardly imagine a flock of animals, fewer than a hundred, could possibly wreak such havoc.

But if there was a plant still standing upright in the field before them, the two brothers did not see it.

W
ith the dishes done and the kitchen floor mopped, Hannah thought she and Julia might be able to enjoy a cup of sassafras tea while Hannah read aloud Thomas’ letter. Leah had given it to her after bringing up the afternoon newspaper and mail. As Hannah slipped into a chair, sudden commotion in the backyard postponed catching up on news from home.

“What on earth?” Julia asked, hurrying to the window.

“What’s happened?” Hannah felt a shiver of dread snake up her spine.

“Oh, my goodness. It’s your sheep. They must’ve broken through the fence and escaped.”

Hannah jumped to her feet, shrugged into her cape, and fled out the door in a flash. Knowing her animals, a rambunctious ram had probably spotted better grass on the other side and led his friends to tastier eats. She ran as hard as she could toward the pasture where Simon, Seth, and the boys were shouting and waving their hats furiously.

By the time Hannah arrived, her heart was pounding like a locomotive, blood throbbed in her ears, and her chest felt gripped by a tight fist. Speech was impossible.

Not that she would have had much to say after surveying the
damage from the high knoll. Much of the pasture that only yesterday had sported new growth had been churned into muck. The remaining wheat sprouts were so widely spaced apart that the entire crop would have to be replanted. And many of the animals were still moving in the direction of the neighbor’s farm. Willing herself not to cry, she joined the men in trying to stop the stampede and turn back the flock. It was no easy task. Sheep had the habit of following other sheep rather than the commands of mere humans.

While Seth worked on repairing the busted fence rails, Simon, Henry, Matthew, and Hannah rounded up the confused and agitated animals. By full dark, almost two hours later, they had returned about two-thirds of the flock to their paddock. The rest would have to wait until daylight. The family could only hope no predators would take advantage of the situation tonight and cull the herd.

Hannah approached her muddy and exhausted brother-in-law as he closed the gate behind him. “Simon, I’m so sorry about your crop. I shall pay for your seeds from the proceeds from my farm, and I’ll help you replant. Please forgive me…and my sheep.” She hung her head and focused on one healthy wheat shoot apparently missed by the melee. When she finally glanced into his face, she saw more sorrow and fatigue than anger.

“Go to the house, Hannah,” said Simon. “Have Julia draw you a tub. We’ll not speak about this when we’re both tired.” He walked past her with the faltering step of a much older man.

Hannah turned her shoulder to the stiff wind and crossed her arms over her chest, hugging herself. It was too dark to see if the boys were still in the pasture. Goosebumps had risen on the back of her neck as she picked her way over the rutted earth. For the second time in a week the idea of sleeping on pine needles under a tree as opposed to inside the house crossed her mind. Shaking off the cowardly notion, she approached the welcoming light of the kitchen.

“What you need is a dog—a sheepdog—Mrs. Brown.” A disembodied voice drifted toward her from the darkness.

If the tone hadn’t been so warmly familiar, she would have jumped out of her laced-up boots. “I had a dog, Mr. Miller, back in Pennsylvania. My brother Thomas had grown so fond of old Jack I didn’t have the heart to take him when I moved.” She stepped up onto the porch. The creaking chains of the porch swing gave away Seth’s location in the complete darkness. “I’d planned to check the classified ads for a new dog once I’d settled in and had a chance.”

Seth stood and walked into the glow from the window. Despite having to be equally tired, he managed to look remarkably handsome. “I’ll find you a proper dog, Hannah, if not before then during our trip to Kidron next week. They’ve got a bulletin board hanging in the auction barn with just about everything under the sun for sale. A shepherdess shouldn’t be without a good herding dog.” His gaze held hers for a long moment, and then he touched the brim of his hat to her. “Good night, Hannah.”

His voice sounded so soothing she was tempted to run after him. “Wait, Seth!” she called. “What about Phoebe?”

The skin around his eyes crinkled into a web of tiny lines. “I haven’t forgotten about my daughter. She’s long asleep, and I only hope the odd way I smell doesn’t wake her.” He laughed as he headed into the house and up the stairs.

Hannah felt a pang of longing as he disappeared. True to Simon’s suggestion, a tub of water was waiting in the bathroom. Dropping her soiled clothes into a heap, she slipped into the bath. The warm water soothed her aching muscles and tired feet, but little would salve her troubled soul. A dozen questions danced through her head: Would Simon demand that she sell her sheep? What if he replanted his crop and the sheep broke out again? She couldn’t bear another night like this one. Simon and Seth had enough chores without having to do some of them twice. No easy solution came to mind as Hannah washed her long hair and then rinsed it with the pitcher of fresh water next to the tub. Julia had left her nightgown and a thick terry cloth robe on the chair. Hannah dressed and crept quietly into the kitchen.

Wrapped in a shawl over her dressing gown, Julia waited at the table with a teapot and two mugs. “Feeling a little better?” she asked when Hannah emerged from her safe haven.

“Much,
danki
for the bath,” Hannah said, blotting her hair with the thick towel.

“Come, have a cup of tea with me before bed,” Julia said. “And read our brother’s letter to me.”

“Tomorrow I will, sister. Right now I just want to go to bed and put this day behind me.”

Julia patted the chair next to hers. “No, read it to me tonight. You will sleep better with your mind on something other than your own woes.”

Too tired to argue, Hannah unfolded the letter as Julia poured tea into the mugs.

My dear sister,

Have you settled so easily into your new life at Julia’s that you can’t spare a single thought for those left behind?
Mamm
and
daed
send their love to you and to Julia’s brood. I send a plea for help. I might be in
lieb
or was bit by some nasty spring bug. Do you remember Catherine Hostetler? She is the fourth daughter of Isaac and Sarah over on Route 33. I saw her at a Sunday night singing and can’t get her out of my head. I asked to drive her home two weeks in a row, and she turned me down, preferring to go home with her brother instead. I asked her to take a ride in my buggy, and she said she needed to can the rest of the apples in cold storage before they turned brown. How can I talk to her? She seems so shy, and I am not a very forward man myself.