The Amish Christmas Secret and The Amish Widow's Christmas Hope
Auteur
Vannetta Chapman
Lezers
17,4K
Hoofdstukken
32
Chapter One
Daniel Glick moved into his new place on the first Tuesday in October. The next day, the local bishop—an old fellow named Saul Lapp who looked to be in his eighties—gave him a ride to Tim Beiler’s place. Tim was apparently the go-to guy in Shipshewana, Indiana, if one was looking to purchase a buggy horse.
Daniel didn’t even attempt to negotiate down the price of the mare. Constance was dark gray along her mane and from her hindquarters to her hooves. The rest of her coat was nearly silver. She was more muscled and longer bodied than the horse he’d owned in Pennsylvania, standing fifteen hands high and weighing in at 825 pounds. An American saddlebred, she was three years old and presented a nice gait. More important, her name perfectly matched her disposition.
He’d purchased the worst farm in Shipshewana.
His buggy looked as if it might not hold together in a good storm.
But he wouldn’t skimp on the horse. The mare was fundamental to his new life in Indiana. She was the beginning of a twenty-year relationship. He’d gladly pay full price.
The bishop had dropped him off at Tim Beiler’s place, assuring Daniel he had the best buggy horses in the area.
Tim Beiler looked to be in his late forties. With a salt-and-pepper beard, he was built like a fireplug and didn’t even blink when he quoted a price several hundred above the high side for a good buggy horse.
“She’s the best mare I have.”
“I’ll take her.”
“Gut. You won’t regret it.” If Tim was surprised that Daniel didn’t haggle the price, he hid it well.
Daniel counted out the bills, thanked the man and told him he’d ride her home. It wasn’t often that he rode a horse, let alone bareback, but then again, it wasn’t often in a man’s life that he moved over five hundred miles to a place where he knew no one, and purchased a new horse.
He took his time on the way home, riding the horse along the side of the road, taking in the Englisch and Amish homes of Shipshewana, Indiana.
The October afternoon was bright with sunshine.
Fall flowers bloomed to his left and right.
Leaves crunched under Constance’s hooves. She seemed to enjoy the sounds of fall and the freedom of the afternoon as much as Daniel did.
Soon the Englisch neighborhoods gave way to picture-perfect farms. He turned west. Here the farms became smaller and noticeably poorer, largely because there wasn’t sufficient top soil for farming. Most of Shipshe was quite fertile, but this area would be a challenge for the best of farmers.
The property he’d purchased was four and a half miles from the center of town and was in a marked state of disarray. Its condition suited Daniel to a tee. He wouldn’t have to worry about Englischers pausing in their cars to take pictures.
Seclusion.
Peace.
Quiet.
Those things had been at the top of Daniel’s list as he’d sought a property far from home. The Realtor had tried to persuade him to look at more expensive properties with “livable” homes. He hadn’t shown the advertisements to his parents, but he could have guessed their reaction—surprise followed by disappointment. They expected him to make something of himself, especially given their situation.
“Unto whomsoever much is given, of him shall much be required.” His dat loved to quote the verse from Luke’s gospel. It was amazing to Daniel that he didn’t see the hypocrisy in that. The inheritance they’d received had literally destroyed their family, and yet he would dare to lecture Daniel on how he should live his life.
The inheritance was the reason he’d left.
Call it running away or deserting his family or starting over. The name of it didn’t matter so much as the fact of it. He was five hundred miles away from a life that had only yielded pain and betrayal. He hoped five hundred miles would be far enough.
He’d been looking for solitude when he purchased the place, and he had no doubt he’d find it here. As for the decrepit condition of his house and barn and fields, if there was one thing he didn’t mind, it was a challenge.
Once home, he brushed down the mare, put oats in a bucket and hooked the bucket to the fence. Then he set her loose in the east pasture, which was the only portion of his farm that had a fence in good enough condition to hold her. Walking toward his barn, he nearly laughed. He shared it with a neighbor he hadn’t met yet—the barn had been built directly on the property line. It was one more reason no one had been interested in the property. The structure looked as if a good wind would blow it down, and the house was no better.
He had the skill and the time to repair both.
But the horse he would keep in the pasture until the structure was sound.
He’d walked into the barn and was putting the brush on a shelf when he heard a high-pitched squeal from the other side of the wall. With every fiber of his being, he wanted to ignore it. He would meet his neighbors soon enough, but he had no desire to do so on the second night in his new place.
“Get back!”
Definitely a female voice, from the other side of the barn. Poisonous snakes were rare in Indiana, but it was possible that his neighbor had encountered a copperhead or timber rattler. He’d never forgive himself if she was bitten while he stood on his side of the barn enjoying his solitude.
He threw one glance back toward his home, then sighed and walked around the barn. If someone had asked him to guess what he might find there, he wouldn’t in a hundred years have guessed correctly.
A young Amish woman—Plain dress, apron, kapp—was holding a feed bucket in one hand and a rake in the other, attempting to fend off a rooster. The rooster was a beautiful Brahma, over two feet tall, with a red comb and golden cape. At the moment, the bird was strutting and crowing and occasionally jerking to the right and left, trying to peck the woman’s feet.
“What did you do to him?” Daniel asked.
Her head snapped up, and her eyes widened. The rooster took advantage of her inattention and made a swipe at her left foot. The woman danced right and once again thrust the feed bucket toward the rooster. “Don’t just stand there. This beast won’t let me pass.”
Daniel knew better than to laugh. He’d been raised with four sisters and a strong-willed mother. Laughing was not the correct response when he saw a don’t-mess-with-me look in a woman’s eyes. So he strode forward, snatched the rooster up from behind, pinning its wings down with his right arm, and keeping its head turned away from him with his left hand.
“Where do you want him?”
“His name is Carl, and I want him in the oven if you must know the truth.” She dropped the feed bucket and swiped at the golden blond hair that was spilling out of her kapp. “Over there. In the pen is fine.”
The pen she pointed toward looked as if it had long ago held pigs. Given its current condition—it was as dilapidated as everything else—Daniel doubted whether it would keep Carl corralled for long. He dropped the rooster inside and turned to face the woman. She was probably five and a half feet tall, neither heavy nor thin, and looked to be around twenty years old. Blue eyes the color of forget-me-not flowers assessed him.
She was also beautiful in the way of Plain women, without the adornment of makeup or jewelry. The sight of her nearly brought a groan to his lips and reminded him of yet another reason why he’d left Pennsylvania. Why couldn’t his neighbors have been an old couple in their nineties?
“You must be the new neighbor. I’m Becca Schwartz—not Rebecca, just Becca, because I was the second born and my mamm decided to do things alphabetically. We thought you might come over and introduce yourself, but I guess you’ve been busy. Mamm would want me to invite you to dinner, but I have to warn you, I have seven younger siblings, so it’s usually a somewhat chaotic affair, and we’re probably having soup same as every night this week seeing as how the price of hay has dropped again and hunting season hasn’t started yet.”
It was a lot of words.
As she talked, Becca not Rebecca had stepped closer. Daniel took a step back.
“Didn’t catch your name.”
“Daniel... Daniel Glick.”
“We didn’t even know the place had sold until last week. To say we were surprised would be a huge understatement. Thought Jeremiah was fooling with us—Jeremiah is my onkel on my dat’s side. He’s a real prankster. So when he told us the place had sold, we didn’t believe him at first. Most people are leery of farms where the fields are covered with rocks and the house is falling down. I see you haven’t done anything to remedy either of those situations.”
“I only moved in yesterday.”
“Had time to purchase a horse, though.”
They were standing outside the Schwartz side of the barn. Becca stepped past him, crossed her arms over the top of the fence and whistled twice.
Constance raised her head as if to nod and say hello, then went back to grazing.
“Nice mare.”
“Ya.”
“Get it from Old Tim?”
“The man didn’t strike me as terribly old.”
“He’s older than Young Tim but not as old as Timothy.” Becca shrugged as if to say, you know how it is. “Hope you didn’t pay what he was asking. He always starts high.”
The last thing Daniel wanted was to get into a conversation about how he’d overpaid for the mare. What he wanted to do was walk away. He’d purchased eggs, bacon and bread when he was in town the day before, and his stomach was beginning to growl.
Then he glanced back at the barn.
The Realtor had explained that he owned half of it, which he hadn’t taken the time to question. He stared at it now, wondering how to broach the subject or if Becca would even know the answers to his questions.
How did one own half a barn?
As if she could read his mind, she said, “The Coblentz bruders built it this way back when Shipshe was barely a dot on the map.”
“It’s barely a dot on the map now.”
“They came from Ohio, purchased what they thought was two pieces of prime real estate that shared a property line. Built the barn so that each could use half and planned to build their houses in sight of one another. George Coblentz built your house, and Clarence had just begun to plan out his on what is now our side when they had their fight.”
“Fight?”
“Over a woman, of course.” Becca smiled broadly as if she found the whole story amusing. No doubt she’d told it a dozen times before. Her blue eyes literally twinkled.
If he were honest, she looked like an Amish woman that you might find on the cover of an Englisch tour brochure. Her hair was golden blond, prettier than wheat in the fields—not that he could see more than an inch of it. She had a button nose, the lightest dusting of freckles and a smile that should have been able to charm the bad-tempered rooster, Carl.
“Don’t know the woman’s name—”
“What woman?”
“The one the Coblentz bruders fought over.”
“Ah.”
“Don’t even know if she was interested in either of the bruders, but the old folks will tell you that she left town before Clarence managed to lay the foundation for his house. Each bruder thought the other had driven her away. Clarence built the fence because he wasn’t speaking to George and didn’t want his cattle crossing over. The next year he built his house.”
She tilted her pretty head toward a single-story home that looked as if it had been added onto with each additional child. “Neither stayed long. Clarence moved on to Wisconsin and George went back to Ohio.”
“So the barn...”
“Is half yours, half ours.”
“I’ve never owned half a barn before.”
“Too bad Carl’s on this half, as he’s the most foul-tempered rooster I’ve ever encountered. Gut thing I brought him over to this barn, though. I don’t believe my hens are ready to meet him yet.”
“Your parents have another barn?”
“Ya, up past our house.”
Daniel could just make out a structure that looked to be in no better shape than the one they were standing beside.
“Why are you and Carl here and not in the...uh...newer barn?”
“My parents said I could use this one for my projects.”
“Projects?”
Before Becca could answer, someone stepped out onto the front porch of her house and rang the dinner bell. “Sounds like the soup’s ready. Care to come and meet the folks?”
“Another time. I have some...um...unpacking to do.”
Becca shrugged her shoulders as if it didn’t matter to her whether he joined them or not. “Guess I’ll be seeing you, then.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
He’d hoped for peace and solitude.
He’d hoped to be left alone.
He’d prayed that he wouldn’t have to deal with women for a year or longer.
Instead, he had half a barn, a cantankerous rooster, and a pretty neighbor who didn’t mind being a little nosy.
What kind of projects did she have?
And how much time did she spend in the barn they shared?
None of which was any of his business. He’d come to Indiana to forget women and to lose himself in making something good from something that was broken. He’d moved to Indiana because he wanted to be left alone.
Meeting the neighbors was way down his to-do list.
Becca barely thought about the tall, handsome and largely silent Daniel Glick for the rest of the evening. She didn’t dwell on his dark brown hair, brown eyes with a hint of gray, muscular frame or serious demeanor. Instead, she spent her time trying to figure out exactly what he was doing in Shipshe.
Unfortunately, her unruly family gave her little quiet for thinking. Dinner for ten was no easy affair. Clyde, David and Eli had to be reminded to knock the mud off their shoes before coming into the kitchen. Francine was mooning over a boy at school and burned the corn bread. Georgia had her nose in a book—Georgia always had her nose in a book, even when she was supposed to be stirring the soup, which had resulted in a nice crust on the bottom where it had stuck. As for Hannah and Isabelle, they’d tried to sneak in two of the barn cats in their apron pockets.
Things were quiet for exactly thirty seconds of the meal, while the entire family joined hands and silently prayed. After that, the chaos quickly returned. Her dat loved to tell jokes during dinner. She couldn’t imagine where he got them from, but he seemed to have an endless supply and delighted in sharing them.
“What did the baby corn ask the mama corn?” He grinned mischievously as he spread butter on Hannah’s corn bread.
“I know,” Hannah declared.
Isabelle shook her head, causing her kapp strings to bounce and nearly land in her soup. “No, you don’t.”
“I could guess.”
“Then guess already.”
“I don’t know, then. I forgot.”
Hannah and Isabelle were at the age where they were either arguing or sitting with their heads so close together that they appeared to be physically joined. Theirs was a tumultuous relationship, but Mamm declared that was normal for twins, especially five-year-old twins.
“The baby corn leaned close to the mama corn and asked...where’s popcorn?” Her dat laughed at his own joke, oblivious to the fact that Becca had rolled her eyes, and Clyde and David had both groaned quite loudly.
The twins giggled, though, and soon her siblings were discussing what corn would say if it really could talk. Dishes were passed back and forth, three different spills were cleaned up, and in general, pandemonium was once again the word of the day.
To be honest, Becca didn’t mind too much.
She’d learned to tune most everyone and everything out when she was focusing on something, and at the moment she needed time to ponder her new neighbor.
Who was Daniel Glick?
Why had he bought that tumbling-down excuse for a farm?
Assuming he couldn’t afford a better farm—because who would buy something terrible if they could afford something good—how did he have enough money for the mare? The mare was a real beauty. Becca planned to go back over the next day and take a closer look.
She mulled several possible scenarios in her head through dinner. Before she knew it, everyone was darting off to finish chores or spend a few minutes outside as the sun set. She washed and dried the dishes by herself, which she preferred because it gave her time to think. Kitchen cleanup was one of the very rare quiet times in their home, since everyone scattered rather than get dragged into the chore. Becca dried the last spoon, hung the dish towel on the hook and stepped out on the front porch to enjoy the end of the day.
The sun was just beginning to set, casting long shadows across the fields. She could almost pretend that they lived on a beautiful farm, with rows of flowers surrounding their vegetable garden, a large new barn and at least three buggies.
Their farm wasn’t beautiful.
They’d not been able to afford flowers again this year, and their vegetable garden had been harvested weeks ago.
As for the buggy, they had exactly one and it seemed to be on its last wheel.
Her quiet assessment of their living conditions—something her mind insisted on turning to, time and again—was interrupted all too quickly.
“You were quiet during dinner tonight.” Her mamm was sitting in the porch rocker and hemming a dress, probably for Hannah or Isabelle, by the size of it.
Becca wasn’t sure she’d ever seen her mother just rest. She always seemed to be sewing or darning or knitting or cooking or cleaning.
“I was?”
“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”
“Talk about what?”
“Whatever’s on your mind.”
“You’d think that in a family as big as ours, some things would go unnoticed.”
“Is that what you want? Not to be noticed?”
Becca sighed and turned from the porch railing to face her mamm. “I met our neighbor today.”
“Did you, now?”
“Have you met him?”
“Nein. Your dat told me he saw a young man moving in yesterday, or rather he saw Bishop Saul drop him off at the place. Apparently, the man didn’t come with any furniture.”
“A mystery wrapped in an enigma.”
“It is hard to imagine who would have bought it—that place has been empty a very long time.” She shifted the garment on her lap and continued hemming. “It will be gut to have neighbors again.”
“Oh, I’m not sure you’ll feel that way about Daniel Glick.”
“And why would you say that?”
Becca walked over to the adjacent rocker and perched on the edge of the seat, lowering her voice as if to share a secret—though there was no one else on the porch and she didn’t actually know any secrets about Daniel. “He’s not very...how do I say this? He’s not particularly friendly.”
“How so?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Usually, people tell you something about where they came from or why they moved to an area. I talked to the man for ten minutes, and I can’t tell you anything more than his name. Oh, and he bought a mare—a beautiful mare—from Old Tim.”
“I hope he didn’t pay too much.”
“Probably he did, because I said the same thing and he got all stiff and put-out-looking.”
“Hmm.”
“Also, I invited him to dinner, but he said he had unpacking to do.”
“Curious.”
“Where’s he even staying? You know as well as I do that the house is about to fall in on itself. I’m sure there are holes in the roof, and the floor was rotten in places last time I walked through it.”
“You walked through the Coblentz place?”
Becca waved away her concern. “Years ago. Abigail and I were playing hide-and-seek on that side of our property, and I thought it would be super smart to hide in the old house. I’m lucky a rat didn’t bite my ankle.”
“You two girls certainly did know how to get in trouble.”
“The boys were just as bad.”
“You’re not wrong.” Her mamm tied a knot in her thread, then snipped it with a tiny pair of scissors. “Perhaps Saul will schedule a workday.”
“What would that accomplish? Unless you’re saying we should pull down Daniel Glick’s house and start over. Now, that might make sense.”
Which seemed to sum up all they could think of to say about their new neighbor.
Becca was about to get up and check on her hens when her mother asked about the new rooster. Sighing and sinking back into the rocker, she described how the beast had tried to attack her, and how Daniel had come to her rescue.
“Now you know why the Grabers gave him away.”
“Molly Graber told me as much, but I didn’t believe her.”
“You didn’t really need a rooster. You’re making gut money with the eggs from your hens.”
“Not really, only $3.50 a dozen.”
“What made you think you wanted to raise chickens?”
“Because I read this book...”
“I should have guessed that.”
“The book said that Englischers will pay for organically raised chickens.”
“Meaning what exactly?”
“You know—organic. Natural. Like pretty much everything around here.” Becca tapped her fingers against the arm of the rocker, trying to remember exactly what the book had said. “Let’s see...no chemicals or steroids...”
“We definitely don’t have any of that.”
“No GMO.”
“I don’t even know what that is.”
“There was a bunch of other stuff.” What had the book said about natural breeding and raising? She might have to check it out again because suddenly she was drawing a blank. “I do know that they said I could get $10 to $25 a chick, and that I could also sell the manure and the feathers.”
“All you need is for Carl to cooperate.”
“Exactly. He’s a Brahma, and they’re supposed to be docile.”
“You don’t say.”
“Apparently no one has told Carl that. He’s an ornery creature. I don’t dare let him out of the pens in the old barn.”
At that moment there was squawking and crowing, followed by Carl strutting into the yard and proceeding to chase one of the barn kittens. Hannah and Isabelle were chasing the rooster, and Cola the beagle was circling the entire group, barking with a loud voice that seemed to say, “Hey, hey, hey.”
“Sounds as if your rooster escaped the old pens, dear.”
Becca didn’t bother to respond. She was already running down the porch steps and across the yard, wondering what she could use to catch Carl and what she was going to do with him after she did catch him.
Roosters were definitely more challenging than they’d described in the book; at least this rooster was. The book had definitely said that he’d be gentle and attentive to the hens. Ha! Her hens would lose all their feathers after one look at Carl.
Maybe the book was wrong.
Maybe the author didn’t know what she was talking about.
Or maybe the author had never met a rooster quite like Carl.
Regardless, Becca’s plan to make pockets full of money from selling organic chickens seemed to fade before her eyes. There had to be a way she could help her family financially. There had to be something she could do that would allow them to set a little bit of money back instead of simply getting by from week to week. That never seemed to bother her mamm—who stayed too busy with her daily chores to notice—or her dat, who would simply wink if she brought it up, and go on to tell another joke.
Becca hurried after Carl-the-bad-tempered-rooster. She thought that should be his full official name. The rooster wouldn’t be her first project that didn’t work out, but she wasn’t going to let that stop her. She vowed for the hundredth time that she would find a way to lift her family out of abject poverty. But she might have to come up with a better idea than organic chickens.
Perhaps Daniel would be willing to go in on a project with her. By the looks of his situation, he could use additional funds as much as they could. The only problem was, he’d been quite standoffish.
She’d have to think of him as one of her projects.
All she needed to ensure his help was a good plan.
