A Wedding Quilt for Ella (13 page)

“For every creature of
Da Hah
is good, and nothing to be refused, if it be received with thanksgiving,” Stutzman quoted. “We don’t need any self-righteous, religious do-gooders, even if they be Amish people, speakin’ out against what
Da Hah
has made. Tobacco was good enough for our forefathers, and it’s good enough for me, even if I use none.”

“I thought you might be lookin’ for an
Ordnung
change,” Bishop Mast had said, teasing.

Stutzman apparently didn’t think the remark funny even when everyone else laughed. “I see no reason to be changin’,” he said. “One change is as bad as the next one.”

Daniel opened the barn door and saw his dad at the back of the barn, his lantern hung on a nail in the ceiling. His own chores were at the other end of the barn where the horses were kept when they weren’t outdoors. Aden’s horse, as well as his own, needed to be looked after.

What would they do with the horse? Although they didn’t need to make the decision this morning, it was just one of the many decisions—some of which were not yet apparent—that needed to be made in the days ahead. Great voids were left by his brother’s death, voids that would have to be filled by someone.

Aden’s horse would be easy to sell if that’s what they decided to do. It was still fairly young, a fast buggy horse, and yet safe—sort of like Aden. He was steady, quick, sure, and dependable. Many of the young boys would jump at the chance to make the purchase.

If he could afford it, he wouldn’t mind buying the horse himself. He certainly couldn’t just take the animal—even if Aden was his brother—without payment to Aden’s account at the bank in Randolph. That was the problem. He didn’t have an abundance of money, and marriage to Arlene was somewhere in the future. They had dated for two years already, but he just hadn’t gotten around to bringing the subject up. Their relationship was comfortable like that, no pressure. As far as he could see, Arlene belonged to him, and she seemed to feel the same.

His attention was distracted by an open stall door.
How did that happen?
The stall doors were always kept securely fastened, double-checked if necessary, yet the door was open and bent completely back on its hinges. A horse stood inside, and Daniel moved closer for a look.

The horse was Aden’s. It stood on all four legs but in a sprawled out fashion as if to get its stomach into a lower position. When Daniel stepped closer, the horse stayed where it was but turned its head repeatedly toward its flank. Daniel stroked its neck, and the next time the head came forward, he grasped the halter. The horse curled its upper lip and pawed the ground.

His own horse, one stall down, stuck its head over the divider and neighed.

“What’s the problem with you?” he asked.

Obviously the horse was in distress. With the stall door open behind him, his mind quickly jumped to a conclusion.
The horse must have gotten into the bag of oats stored on the barn floor just outside its stall.

“Daett,” he called toward the other end of the barn, “you’d best come over here.”

Daniel stroked the horse’s neck again and backed it to the rear of the stall.

“We’ll take care of you, young fellow,” he said softly.

“What’s wrong?” his dad asked. He had come up to look through the stall slats. “Heard you talk worried back here.”

“Horse got into the oats, I’m afraid,” Daniel said, walking over to the bin where the oat bags were kept and glancing in. One bag was torn open roughly, and much of the contents were gone.

“How did the stall door get left open?” his dad asked. “I thought I checked them all last night.”

“I was out here myself yesterday afternoon,” Daniel said, searching his mind. “Who knows with so many people around all day.”

“The horse is definitely foundering and bad too,” Albert said. “You’d best be callin’ the vet right away.”

“On a Sunday mornin’?”

“Yah, we can’t take any chances, not in the condition it’s in.”

“Should I walk it a bit first?”

“I’ll be doin’ that while you run and call. Stop in at the house and tell your mamm we’ll be late for breakfast—maybe by a half an hour or so. That will give me time to take the horse around the barnyard for a few walks. We might have time to eat after that while we wait on the vet.”

“Yah, I will call, then,” Daniel said, leaving.

He stopped at the house to tell his mamm the news.

“It’s bad, then?” she asked.

“I think so. I’m going for the vet now.”

“Seems we’ve had enough tragedy,” she said, moving the pan of eggs toward the back of the stove. “Maybe the horse’ll get over it soon. I’ll keep breakfast warm for you.”

Daniel grabbed some coins out of the drawer where they kept change for such emergencies and walked down to the pay phone shack. It was a good half mile away and tucked off the road among some driveway trees. A sign on top read
Pay Phone
so it was accessible to anyone who wished to use it—not just the Amish. This was an important distinction to Preacher Stutzman. He believed no Amish person should solely own any portion of a phone, even if the phone was kept in a shack.

Daniel flipped through the pages and found the vet’s number in Randolph. There was one in Little Valley, but he charged higher fees. On a Sunday morning like this, there would likely be an even greater difference.

A woman’s sleepy voice answered, “Hello, veterinary services.”

“I’m Daniel Wengerd,” he said. “We have a horse that foundered. Would it be possible for the doctor to come out?”

“Certainly. I will let him know,” the woman said. “Just leave me directions.”

Daniel spoke slowly, mapping the roads from Randolph in his mind as he talked.

“I will have him come right away,” the woman said, the faint scratch of a pencil on paper coming over the phone line.

“Thank you,” he said and hung up. The last of the coins in his pocket had been used, but would help arrive in time? Aden’s horse seemed to be in bad shape. How strange that a horse might die the day after its master was buried—an accident, perhaps, a curious coincidence and no more. Still, it was an awful thing.

Sixteen

D
aniel jumped onto the front porch and opened the front door.

“The horse doesn’t look good at all,” Albert said from his seat on the old rocker.

Daniel stopped in his tracks, “Can’t we do anything more? I can’t let that horse die. Not after Aden’s passing.”

“You two, come in and eat your breakfast,” Lydian said from the kitchen doorway.

Albert nodded and got up. “I don’t think there’s much we can do. That horse has eaten a lot of grain, and it looks to me as if it got to the water trough earlier. Sometimes you can save ’em in time if you can keep ’em away from water.”

“Shouldn’t we stay with the horse?” Daniel asked.

“I think walkin’ it right now seems to make it worse,” his dad said. “This is a matter for the vet, I’m fearin’.”

“There’s nothing you can do,” his mom said firmly this time. “No sense in starvin’ yourself about it either.”

“I’m so sorry about this,” Daniel said, sitting down heavily at the kitchen table. “I should have been paying more attention last night. What with all the people around, I should have known this could happen. Any one of the little boys could have left the latch open.”

“They should all know better,” his dad said, “but there are small ones who don’t. Now let us pray for the food.”

In silence they bowed their heads and then ate slowly. How empty and heavy the still house was without Aden.

“When do we decide what needs to be done with Aden’s things?” Daniel finally asked. “My signature’s on the checkbook. The bank told him it would be a good idea, and so he had me sign up for it.”

“Is there a lot of money involved in this?” his dad asked.

“I haven’t looked, but I think so.”

“We shouldn’t talk about this so soon,” Lydian said quietly. “It’s not right. It isn’t. This was too sudden—all of this is. If there had been time, we could have talked with Aden. I don’t think any of us should go into his things for a while. Just leave the money alone, wherever it is. I’ll even be leavin’ his room as it is for a few months, other than pick up his dirty clothes. We’ll know when the time is right to do otherwise.”

“Your mamm is wise,” Albert said, nodding. “Aden never told me what he would want done. How could he have? He had no thoughts of dying. Daniel, did he ever tell you anything?”

Daniel shook his head.

“Then we’ll have your mamm look through his desk upstairs—just to be sure. Sometimes people know and leave notes. Perhaps
Da Hah
lets them feel somethin’ ahead of time. If that was the case, Aden wouldn’t have wanted to say anything, but he could have left something, a little scribble perhaps. I once heard tell of a man who went grocery shoppin’ the night before his heart attack. His wife said he never shopped for her before. Yet that evenin’ he brought home bags of groceries and placed them all carefully in the cupboards before they went to bed. When she asked him what he was doin’, he only smiled and said he wanted to take care of her.”

“I will check today, then,” Lydian said reluctantly, “but if I don’t find anything, we will leave his things be for a while.”

“I’ll take the business on,” Daniel said. “I think I can do that. Maybe if I hire someone else on, we can manage. There should be plenty of boys available who would be willing to help.”

“You can do this without Aden’s checkin’ account?” his dad asked. Daniel nodded.

“Then we can decide a fair price later, when the rest of the matter is decided. Your mamm will know when the proper time comes.”

Outside a truck pulled into the driveway. Both Daniel and his father set their forks down and moved toward the door. They walked outside together to greet the vet who was just climbing out of his truck.

“Glad you could come out so soon,” Albert said, “especially since it’s a Sunday morning.”

“Sounded serious,” the vet said, glancing toward the barn. “The horse still up and walking?”

“Yah, at least it was thirty minutes ago.”

“Got to some grain, then, you reckon?”

“From the looks of the bag, yes.”

“Water? Did it have time and access?”

“All last night, I’m afraid. We didn’t find the horse till this morning.”

“Then let’s take a look,” the vet said, grabbing his bag. Albert led him to the barn.

Daniel swung the stall door open. Inside, Aden’s horse pawed the ground.

“Not good. Not good at all,” the vet said and brushed past in haste. He dropped his bag within reach, ran his hand down the horse’s side, and then went to the head to open the eyelids. A soft groan was the only reaction he got from the horse.

“Afraid we have a rupture already,” the vet said. “Sorry about that. Even if you’d called earlier, we might not have been able to save it. Tough when things like this happen. You want me to put it down? It might save it some suffering.”

Watching the horse slowly lower itself to the ground, Albert said, “I don’t rightly know. It’s my son’s horse.”

“That one?” the vet asked, motioning with his head toward Daniel.

Albert shook his head.

“You had a funeral out this way yesterday, I heard. Wouldn’t have been your son?”

“Yah,” Albert said. “He passed away right suddenly.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. I’ve never lost a child myself. It must be an awful thing.”

“You have children?” Albert asked him.

“Three—two boys and a girl. Just young, all three of them.”

“Only the Lord knows when their time will come,” Albert said. “Doesn’t make it any easier, but my son’s in His hands now. We had good hope for him.”

The vet crossed himself reverently and glanced skyward. “The Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. May he rest with God.”

“The Lord’s will be done,” Albert said, his voice hesitant at this display of piety.

“I’m Catholic,” the vet said. “Sorry again for your loss. I’m afraid it looks like his horse is gone too.”

The vet knelt to lift the horse’s eyelid again. He felt for a heartbeat with his hand and shook his head.

“It’s only a horse this mornin’,” Albert said. “My son was the great loss.”

“You want me to call the truck…to pick it up?”

Albert glanced at Daniel and then nodded. “That would be best. We really have no way of disposing of the body.”

“Will someone be around all day?”

“Yah, it’s our Sunday off.”

“That’s what I thought since I didn’t pass any buggies on the road coming in. I’ll have the truck come out, then, and send the bill in the mail. Is that okay?”

Both Daniel and Albert nodded.

The vet picked his bag up, waved, and left.

“You can pay the bill out of Aden’s checkin’ account,” Albert said when the vet’s truck had pulled out of the driveway. “Aden would want it so because it was his horse.”

“I will do that,” Daniel agreed. “The checks are in his desk upstairs.”

“I wouldn’t know, but you can be handling it next week. People ought to be arriving here soon.”

“I think I’ll be going over to Arlene’s place,” Daniel said as they walked in to the house together.

“Give us a few hours here—with your mamm and me,” his dad said with a weak smile, “and the rest of the family when they come. Arlene will still be there for you.”

Daniel grinned and agreed with a nod. A few hours spent in the living room in conversation with his married siblings and their partners was not that unpleasant. Conversation with Arlene would have been better, but that would come later.

Not long after, David and his wife, Saloma, arrived, and Daniel went outside to help unhitch. They had all six children in the surrey, and Saloma was expecting another child any week now. Daniel helped unfasten the tugs as Saloma climbed down, hanging on with both hands. She managed well despite her size.

I
wonder how it feels to have six children and another on the way?
David seemed to enjoy them all, and Daniel imagined he would too.
Arlene will make a
gut
mamm, the way she carries a peaceful attitude around with her. Whatever children God sees fit to grace our home with, we will manage.