Amish Circle Letters (16 page)

“So you looking for a regular buggy then? Or open top?” Samuel Esh certainly didn’t waste any time before he got right down to business. Steve wasn’t certain if that was good or bad.

“Regular, I reckon,” he said. “Won’t be needing no courting buggy for long, anyway.” Either she said yes or she didn’t. But he wasn’t about to be driving around in an open top buggy, regardless of her answer.

Samuel studied Steve for a moment as if making up his mind regarding some detail about the buggy. Finally, he clucked his tongue as if he had come to a decision. “Reckon this is your first buggy. Must be using a driver for most of your travels but you have an intention to take on a family now, ja?” He didn’t wait for Steve to answer the question as he turned around and walked toward the back of the shop, motioning for Steve to follow.

“See what I have,” he continued. “Back here.”

Steve stepped around a beautiful new buggy with shiny black shafts and maroon interior. He wondered who was buying that beautiful buggy. But Samuel Esh led him to the very back of the shop and stopped before another buggy that wasn’t quite finished.

“Young man was going to buy this one here, but cancelled the order,” Samuel said, shaking his head disapprovingly. “Right
gut
buggy, too. Solid. Has those new fancy wheels that recharge the buggy battery while you drive. No need to be hauling the battery to the diesel machine to recharge it.”

“You don’t say?” Steve liked that idea, but realized that such a convenience also sounded expensive.

Samuel scratched at his beard. “Don’t imagine he’d mind if I sold it to you instead, seeing that he cancelled the order and lost his deposit.”

“He cancelled it?” Steve asked, wondering why anyone would do that.

“Ja, cancelled it. Seems his brother was buying a new one from Strasberg and sold him his old one.” It was evident that Samuel Esh didn’t think too much of that decision. “Take a look and see what you think.”

Steve took a deep breath, not certain what he was looking for in a new buggy. After all, to him, most buggies were the same. They had four wheels, two doors, and windows that opened in the front for the reins to come through and a pair of shafts to hitch to the horse. But he pretended to know what he was doing as he circled around the buggy. He slid the door open and peeked inside, pleased to see a dark, navy blue fabric over the seats.

“Nothing wrong with that buggy,” Steve said. “When will it be finished?”

“If I have a buyer? Next week. Just need to paint the wheels and shafts, ja?”

“How much?” Steve asked.

“Was $6000,” Samuel said.

Steve caught his breath at the figure. He hadn’t expected it to be that much.

“But I’m willing to drop it to $5500,” he said. “Want to get it out of my shop. Coming on fall time…not as many new buggies to be sold. I’ll even throw in a new biothene harness for the horse.”

Steve looked over at the buggy again. It was well made, that was for certain. And he knew that a well-taken care of buggy could last the best part of thirty years. It might be the only buggy that he’d ever need to buy, especially with that second seat in the back.

“Next week?” Steve asked, scratching at his neck.

“Ja. Just needs about six coats of paint on the wood there,” Samuel said, pointing with his finger at the unpainted places. “Maybe by Friday if I get a deposit today.” He winked at Steve. “Could start on the first coat this afternoon.”

It was a tremendous amount of money but Steve knew that it was also a good investment. An investment in his future, he told himself. And Samuel Esh had one of the best reputations in the area. Certainly he was an honest businessman or else word would have circulated.

Just as quickly, he thought back to the previous Tuesday when he had picked up Mimi Hostetler in his brother’s borrowed buggy. For the first time, he had actually felt a wave of shame in the fact that he had never purchased a buggy of his own and had to court his girl in someone else’s. What message did that send, he wondered, to her parents who certainly were aware that their daughter was being courted by a man who didn’t own his own horse and buggy? Would they wonder that he couldn’t provide for Mimi, should it come down to that decision? The memory caused Samuel to feel a wave of guilt and remorse. Yes, he thought, buying a buggy now was truly an investment in tomorrow. That “sealed the deal” as the Englischer often said.

“All right then,” he said and turned to look at Samuel, holding his hand out to shake the older man’s. “Let’s try for next Friday then, ja?” And with that, the deal was made.

Katie stared at the pony. It was cream colored with a fluffy white mane. Its large, dark brown eyes seemed to stare back at her, as if the two of them were quickly and quietly assessing each other. It was hard to see those chocolate colored eyes as its forelock hung over its face. But the pony seemed to be staring at her, watching her every move with great curiosity.

Katie was not very experienced with horses but she knew that they had the natural ability to sense the moods and intentions of their handlers and react accordingly. She tried to still her beating heart and stop her palms from sweating. Certainly she didn’t want to pony to sense how nervous she was.

“Mine?” she asked softly, refusing to tear her eyes from the pony to look at Eleanor who stood by her side.

“You bet,” the Englische woman answered, her voice cheerful and upbeat. “I’ll need to borrow her back next summer for a spell, but you take good care of her in the meantime and I promise to return her to you in the fall.”

Katie glanced over her shoulder at Eleanor. “What’s her name, then?”

“Butterscotch,” the woman said, reaching a hand out to stroke the pony’s white mane. “And she’s quite the good girl.”

For a long moment, Katie felt as if she was dreaming. For years, she had wanted her own pony to love. Two of her friends had ponies and they rode those ponies everywhere during the warmer months. Katie sometimes watched, fighting the urge to feel envy for her friends. But it was hard to be so good that she didn’t feel a touch of jealousy at their joy. Despite the fact that they let her ride their ponies, Katie knew it wasn’t the same thing. She wanted her own pony, one that she could groom and feed and ride when she wanted to, not when she was granted permission.

“Butterscotch,” she repeated softly. It was a right
gut
name, Katie thought. After all, the pony was the color of butterscotch ice cream, that was for sure and certain. “May I groom her?”

Holding up her hand, Eleanor waved a small bucket that she had hidden behind her back. “You sure can! I even brought you some grooming tools, Katie,” she said. “Just in case you didn’t have any to bring with you: A curry comb, a couple of hard brush, a body brush, a sweat scraper and a hoof pick. You may leave these here so you’ll always have them handy.”

A broad smile broke out onto Katie’s face. Eleanor had sure thought of everything, she reckoned. Timidly, she reached out to take the bucket then turned back to the pony.
Butterscotch
, she thought, her heart racing with excitement.
My Butterscotch.

There was a rattle in the driveway of the farm and Katie looked up in time to see a grey-topped buggy driving down the lane. It stopped outside of the open barn door. She squinted and tried to make out who had arrived. When she recognized Melvin climbing out of the buggy, she laughed and waved her hand. “Over here,” she called. “We’re inside, Melvin. Come see the new pony”

He greeted her with a big grin, quickly assessing the pony. “Wow,” he said, whistling under his breath. “That’s one nice looking pony.”

Katie beamed.

“Does she drive at all?”

Not knowing the answer, Katie looked over at Eleanor who was leaning against the stall door. The Englische woman with long brown hair and frosted spice colored lipstick smiled at her. “I’m not quite sure,” Eleanor admitted. “But you are welcome to give her a try on a pony cart.”

A deep voice joined the discussion. “Try what?”

Eleanor glanced over her shoulder at the tall man that entered the barn. Beside him was Mary Ruth who looked even more petite next to the man. “Well, hullo there, Mary Ruth! What brings you here?” Smiling, she moved away from the stall door and quickly embraced her friend. “Come to check the ponies?”

“Oh ja,” Mary Ruth nodded. She hadn’t a choice in the matter. Melvin had been anxious all week, checking the calendar each morning to see when Thursday was coming. It was all that he could talk about. “Melvin wanted to see Katie’s new pony,” she explained. “His daed here was kind enough to give us a ride.”

For a moment, Eleanor looked at Menno, taking in the sight of the man standing beside Mary Ruth. She had heard about the awful accident that had taken his wife’s life and left him a widower, a few months ago. He was a tall man with thick black hair and sad eyes. Yet, despite the sorrow, he was a good-looking man. “I’m Eleanor Haile,” she said, reaching her hand out to shake his.

He hesitated then grabbed her hand awkwardly. He was clearly uncomfortable meeting the young Englische woman. “Menno Yoder, Melvin’s father” he said, his voice strained and stiff.

Mary Ruth turned to Menno and forced a smile. “
Danke
, Menno,” she said. “I’ll be certain to pick up the girls from Leah’s when we walk back.”

He nodded then turned, disappearing out the open barn door as he headed for his buggy without another word.

Eleanor frowned and looked at Mary Ruth who merely shrugged and turned her attention back to the pony.

“That’s a right sweet pony,” she said to her niece. “What’s its name?”

“Butterscotch,” Katie answered. Then, turning to Melvin, she waved him into the stall. “I’m going to groom her. Want to help?”

Mary Ruth stepped aside so that Melvin could open the stall door to join Katie. Eleanor motioned for Mary Ruth to move further into the shadows of the barn so that they could talk privately, out of the hearing of the two young children.

“Saw Anna today,” Eleanor said, her voice low but a smile on her face. “I heard that sister Sylvia was headed to Rachel’s today. Perhaps I could drive you over there after the children are finished?”

A smile broke onto Mary Ruth’s face. She hadn’t seen Sylvia in a long time. “Oh Eleanor!” she gushed. “That would be right gut. I don’t know when I saw her last and she missed the church service at Leah’s last weekend!”

“I thought as much,” Eleanor said. She turned back to look at the children. Katie was showing Melvin how to use all of her grooming tools and, together, they were rubbing down Butterscotch’s coat.

When Eleanor pulled her truck into Rachel’s farm, Mary Ruth immediately felt a strange chill going through her spine. Something was wrong, she thought. She could sense it. The farm was quiet. Too quiet. Yet there were four buggies parked in the driveway, the horses unhitched and tied to the posts by the barn.

Mary Ruth frowned and turned back to Eleanor. “This isn’t right,” she said. “No one is outside.”

At Rachel’s house, there were always children running around outside. Her farm was one that was always full of life and activity. Even if the children were playing out of sight, Elijah would be in the fields or barnyard with his older sons. After all, school hadn’t started yet for the younger
kinner
.

Leaving Eleanor with Katie and Melvin, Mary Ruth hurried toward the front porch. She stepped over a scooter that was carelessly left lying on its side, blocking the sidewalk. There was laundry in a basket on the front porch, still wet and in need of hanging. Just another sign that something wasn’t right, she thought.

“Hullo?”

She opened the side door and stepped into the mudroom. She could barely see inside the kitchen until she walked through the second doorway. There, seated around the table, Mary Ruth saw her sisters Rachel, Sylvia, and Leah as well as her mamm and Anna. For a moment, she was confused. She hadn’t heard that her mamm and Anna were coming over, too.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, moving quickly to the table and placing her hand on her mother’s shoulder. “Mamm?”

It was clear that they had been talking about something serious. Their faces were drawn and pale. It was Anna who spoke on Rachel’s behalf. “It’s Elijah,” she said softly. “The doctors think he has cancer.”

“Oh no,” Mary Ruth whispered. She felt as if the wind was knocked out of her. Elijah? How could something like this happen to such a wonderful,
gut
man? Cancer was serious, regardless of what kind. Cancer meant treatments and treatments meant he would be laid up and that meant fields and animals wouldn’t be tended. That spelled disaster for the entire family.

Mamm shook her head. “Just doesn’t seem right,” she said, taking the words out of Mary Ruth’s mouth.

Rachel wiped at her eyes. She had been crying. That was something that Mary Ruth hadn’t seen too often with her oldest and strongest sister. Tears? “Well,” Rachel said. “No use sitting here crying, I reckon.” She started to stand up but her knees buckled. Steadying herself by holding the back of the chair, she looked around the room. “We have a lot of applesauce to make, ja? Best get started. The apples won’t get peeled by sitting here worrying about what God has already determined and there is not anything we can do about it.”

Everyone glanced up when the door opened again and Eleanor walked in, followed by Katie and Melvin. She smiled brightly at everyone until she saw everyone’s expressions. Quickly, she realized that something had happened and the smile faded from her face.

“Everything OK?” she asked, her voice hesitating slightly.

Anna glanced at the
kinner
then looked back at Eleanor. “Ja, ja,” she said, standing up. “Right as rain. Even better now that you are here to help peel apples.” She tried to sound chipper and upbeat so that the
kinner
wouldn’t get scared. A sick parent for one always created fear in the others.

Within minutes, Anna had taken charge of the applesauce making, putting Melvin, Katie, and Eleanor to work peeling the apples while she poured water into the large black cauldron that Rachel had already placed on the brick cooking stove. Anna gave them each a task and fussed over the children, keeping them busy so that the emotions in the kitchen could be isolated from their young hearts.