A Marriage for Meghan (8 page)

“I don’t recall being idle before this,” James muttered, but one corner of his mouth curved into a grin.

“Let’s eat breakfast. You can ride to gather some friends to help a little easier with a full belly. John and I will milk cows today.”

“
You’re
going to milk cows,
daed
?” John asked, laughing.

“I still remember how, young man. If you examine a heifer’s underbelly, it’s fairly self-explanatory.” They walked back to the house wearing smiles, but Gideon’s soul remained troubled.
First the mailboxes, now this? What is going on in our district?

Inside, Ruth and his daughters stood anxiously waiting for the news. Over breakfast he explained the few details they knew.

“Someone pulled down all the fences along the road?” asked Meghan.

“No, just ours. The neighbors’ fences on both sides are still standing,” John said while grabbing four strips of bacon.

“Maybe something spooked the cows and they broke out on their own.”

James stared at her over his coffee cup. “No, little goose.
All
the rails are down in every section. Our cows wouldn’t organize such an efficient work party.”

Meghan frowned, pushing away her plate of eggs. “Are you saying someone chose to pick on our farm and no one else’s?” The color drained from her cheeks.

“That’s the conclusion I would draw.” James took another helping of fried potatoes.

Gideon patted her hand. “Eat, daughter. The cows are fine. You’ll need your strength to help handle that classroom.” His girls seldom took much interest in livestock.

“I’m full,” murmured Meghan. “
Danki, mamm
. I’d better finish getting ready for work.”

“Meghan!” scolded Catherine. “It’s a long time until lunch. You’ve eaten almost nothing.” She scraped the rest of the eggs onto a slice of toast to make a sandwich for her.

But Meghan had already fled the kitchen like a scared rabbit.

G
ideon ate a heartier breakfast than his usual toast, oatmeal, and coffee. Because he’d worked up an appetite from the morning excitement, he would chance a bout of heartburn from fried potatoes and bacon. Besides, he loved his
fraa
’s cooking, especially her scrambled eggs with chopped sweet red peppers. Filling a travel mug with the last of the second pot of coffee, he headed outdoors. His sons had wolfed down their meal and already left. James had ridden off to gather helpers while John readied the heifers for milking.

Breathing in the crisp air, the bishop thought about his daughter’s question. Did someone pull down their fences and no one else’s? That was how it appeared to him. But trying to figure this out wouldn’t get their chores done, and with James gone he needed to lend a hand. It had been a while since he’d milked a cow, but like riding a bicycle, one never lost the ability.

The low winter sun had reached its zenith by the time they finished milking and filling feed troughs. They turned the horses into the small paddock by the barn before checking on the repair progress. Two enclosed buggies and an open wagon sat by the side of the driveway. A couple of dozen split rails stuck out of the wagon’s back end while a posthole digger, a snow shovel, and a bag of cement leaned against one wheel. James had returned with four strong pairs of hands.

With the milking done, John ran for his own tool belt to join the others. A shy boy, he loved the camaraderie of work teams even though he seldom spoke. The men had already put half the rails back in place, and they replaced the broken section with new rails donated by one of the neighbors.

Gideon opened the kitchen door to the smell of fresh-baked bread. Ruth pulled another two loaves from the oven to set on the cooling rack. She straightened up.

“How goes it? Was anyone able to come to help? How many sandwiches should I fix?” Her brown eyes sparkled. John certainly didn’t get his quietness from his
mamm
.

“It goes well. Only two posts needed to be replaced. And the Yoders had rails already split and sanded, ready to use. I will replace what we use next time I’m at the lumberyard.”

Ruth took lunchmeat and sliced cheese from the refrigerator, and then she sliced the first loaf of bread she had baked. “How will you replace uprights in January? A man can’t dig fresh holes in frozen ground.” She lined up twelve slices of bread on waxed paper to build sandwiches in a production line.

“
Ach
, James can pull out the broken wood and use the same holes as before. They were only set in dirt. Then they’ll put dry cement into the hole around the new post so it will harden strong by spring.”

Ruth slapped slices of bologna across the ham and cheese. “Aren’t you glad I gave you two clever sons as well as three smart daughters?”

“I count my blessings every day.” Gideon poured two glasses of milk while she filled a thermos with fresh coffee and packed the sandwiches into a hamper. After he had delivered lunch to the men, he returned to the kitchen for his own meal. Just as he took his first bite of ham and cheese, he heard the crunch of buggy wheels. “Sounds as though James will have more than enough help with the fencing.”

Ruth pulled back the curtain to peer out. “Two buggies. And these aren’t fence-fixers this time.” She dropped the curtain back into place. “Your two ministers and deacon have come.”

Gideon had barely taken a second bite when he heard boots stamping off snow on the porch. Ruth swept open the door. “
Guder nachmittag
. How about some lunch?”

“Good afternoon, Ruth. We’ve already eaten, but
danki
just the same. We’d like a word with the bishop,” Stephen said as the three men hung their hats on pegs by the door.

“Come in,” greeted Gideon. “At least have some coffee.” He pushed aside his plate and took three mugs from the cupboard. Once they were seated at the battered oak table, Ruth left the kitchen to sew in the front room.

“I take it you’ve heard about my predawn stampede. Word travels fast, even in the dead of winter.”

“
Jah
, James came for Paul Jr. this morning.” The older of his two ministers, Paul Sr., sipped his mug of coffee. “He said only your fences had been destroyed.”

“True, not like that incident of mailboxes a couple roads over.”

“Do you suppose it was the same culprits?” asked Stephen.

Gideon leaned his head back. “Could be. I figure we have some youths on
rumschpringe
with too much time on their hands until spring planting.”

“That was a lot of damage to do from a buggy,” said Paul.

“I’ve seen some open buggies fly down this road as though their standardbreds never left the racetrack.”

The other elders nodded sagely. “Any idea who did this?” asked David, the younger minister.

“My three boys were home in bed,” said Paul unnecessarily.

The bishop laughed. “Your boys would never do such mischief, especially because they knew they would be asked to help with the repair in the frigid cold.”

Stephen smiled. “I have five daughters, and none of them has ever held a baseball bat in her life.”

David and Gideon chuckled, but Paul scowled. “I hope we’re not taking this matter lightly,” he said. “And I wouldn’t describe this as mischief. We’re talking about every mailbox on two county roads, Amish and English alike. Now this today. Your livestock could have caused a serious accident.”

The bishop sobered. “True enough. If we can find those responsible, I will speak to their parents. The boys will replace those mailboxes, paying out of their own pockets. And if they’re the same vandals who pulled down my fences, they’ll be splitting logs, debarking, and shaving off ends to replace every rail we used today.”

Two gray-haired heads nodded, but Paul’s scowl only deepened. “That’s it? That will be their sole punishment?”

Gideon walked to the stove for the coffeepot. Paul, a dozen years his senior, usually took the hardest line in disciplinary matters. “What would you have me do?” Gideon asked.

“Everything you said,
jah
, but if these are boys from our district, I say we march them before the congregation for a thorough dressing-down.
Rumschpringe
or not, this kind of property destruction shouldn’t be tolerated.” Paul’s tone sharpened and his eyes turned dark and angry, while his face flushed to an unhealthy hue.

The bishop topped off their cups. “I don’t mean we should tolerate these pranks. But getting ourselves worked up will do no good. We don’t even know if they’re from our district.” He settled himself into the chair, eyeing his forgotten sandwich on the counter as his stomach growled.

Paul grew more incensed. “They’re not pranks at all, I say. One fence rail or one mailbox might be a prank, but this is much more serious. If they are from another district, I say we go speak to their bishop and brethren and demand action.”

Gideon looked to the other two. David and Stephen nodded in accord. “Agreed then, but finding out won’t be easy. Let’s ask our sons to nose around at socials and while they’re in town. Kids have a habit of talking to each other when adults aren’t around.”

Stephen slicked a hand through his poker straight hair. “And our daughters too. My girls have the ability to solve any mystery. And they usually hear plenty of gossip to share at quilting bees, much to their
mamm
’s dismay.”

Paul struggled to his feet and carried his empty mug to the sink. “Good idea. I’ll ask my daughters to do the same.”

The bishop rose too. “We will get to the bottom of this.” He sounded far more confident than he felt.

After two of the elders donned boots and coats and walked outdoors, Paul lingered behind. His once tall frame had grown stooped over the passing years. “I hope you’ll treat this as a grave matter, Bishop.”

Gideon stared at him, surprised. “They were
my
fences and livestock in danger, Paul. Of course I’ll treat this seriously.” His rumbling stomach tightened into a knot.

The older man met his gaze. “You went off on your own during that mess with Abigail. You took action without seeking our counsel.” There was nothing accusatory in his tone, merely a statement of facts as he saw them.

“It was my farm to mortgage to raise her bail. I jeopardized no district money for my choices. I could not abide my girl sitting in a jail cell with common criminals.”

A muscle jumped in Paul’s jaw as he gripped the chair back. “It’s not just a question about raising the money. Our
Ordnung
must be upheld. You were ready to provide bail for Abigail, ignoring the fact that she behaved recklessly and broke the English law.”

Gideon chose his words carefully. He did not wish to rehash those dark days following his daughter’s arrest.
Let that sleeping dog lie
, he thought. “We need to focus on the matter at hand, Paul.”

“
Jah
, true enough, but I hope you won’t be too soft with these vandals. When we discover the identity of these boys, they must be held accountable,
rumschpringe
or no.”

“Agreed.” The bishop attempted half a smile, but his minister had already settled his hat over his ears and lumbered out the door with a decided limp in his stride.

They had discussed the mischief and come to a plan of action. There was no dissension regarding how to proceed. So why did the bishop feel as though his narrow path traversed the edge of a slippery slope?