Sarah's Orphans (7 page)

That was Andy's logic. To teach Luke the futility of arguing and also for using inappropriate language in school. Apparently, he'd had quite a row with one of the other boys. Had it all been over football, or was there more to the story? Isaac was still looking for hens. Andy was mending the wire around the coop, trying to make it coyote-proof. Sarah looked up to see Henry walking back across the pasture. He'd let Dusty out for some time in the field and had walked the perimeter to check the fencing.

“Problem with the fence?” Andy asked as he hammered more goat fence to the south side of the pen. They couldn't afford a new chicken coop. He was doing his best to mend the breaks in the board with old materials he'd found in the barn.

“No problem. It looks
gut
.”

“Did you forget that you're supposed to be cleaning out Dusty's stall?”

“I didn't forget,
bruder
. But I thought you'd like to know someone is looking at old Leon Fisher's place.”

Sarah had been attempting to coax one of the hens out of a tree. Andy was hammering the fencing. Isaac was adding a spider to the collection in his pocket, and Luke was scrubbing the last muddy boot. Everyone stopped and turned to stare at Henry.

“Fisher's place?” Andy readjusted his grip on the hammer. “It's been for sale a long time.”

“
Ya
. I know.”

Henry leaned against the chicken coop, and Sarah had the absurd notion the entire thing might fall over under his weight. But it didn't. It was sturdier than it looked, sort of like her family.

“Amish or
Englisch
?” Andy asked.

“They're in a buggy.”

“Could you tell who it was?” Sarah asked.

“
Nein
. Too far away.”

“Fisher's place is a mess.” Sarah stood up on the tip of her toes, as if she would be able to see the old, dilapidated house, but it was on the opposite side of the adjacent farm. She couldn't see a thing except for fields. “I remember going with
Mamm
once to take Leon some fresh bread when he was ill.”

“
Mamm
made bread for neighbors?” Isaac squatted down to study something under a rock.

“Actually, I made the bread, but it was her idea I take it over there. Then she didn't want me going alone and all you boys were helping
Dat
in the field, so we went together.”

“What was the house like?” Henry asked.

“Falling in, practically.”

“If it's that bad, whoever is looking won't be buying.” Andy returned to mending the coop. “There are plenty of other places that wouldn't require repairing the house.”

Sarah finally succeeded in coaxing the hen out of the tree. She gently set it down in the coop, warned Isaac to leave his critters outside, and hurried into the house to work on their Sunday clothes. Andy was probably right. It was unlikely anyone would want the Fisher place with its rickety house and rock-strewn fields.

But she rather liked the idea of having a new neighbor. Maybe it would be a young family, including a woman her age she could be friends with. Not that she didn't love her brothers, but sometimes she could use a little female companionship.

Her mind slipped back to her mission trip, sharing a room with Becca Troyer, now Becca Kline since she'd married Joshua. Sarah still visited with her after Sunday services, but their place was on the opposite end of the district. She couldn't run next door and borrow a cup of sugar.

As she sewed, she hummed, and she prayed for whoever their new neighbor might be, that they could be a blessing to each other.

CHAPTER 12

P
aul put out a hand to stop Rebecca. “Don't step there. Wood looks rotted. Best to walk around.”

She skirted the sagging portion of the porch, which was no easy feat because the entire thing looked about to collapse.

“The real estate agent said the place was unlocked,” Joseph offered.

“No need to lock it. There's nothing here for anyone to steal.” Rebecca followed Paul through the front door.

Paul noted the small size of the rooms, the major repairs that would have to be done if he bought the place, and understood that he would be living in the barn for the first few months.

Water pooled on the floor where snow had drifted through the roof and landed in piles. The cabinetry work looked good, but apparently mice had the run of the place. The windows were intact—that was a plus. At least he wouldn't need to put out money for new glass.

“I thought it might be bad, but I had no idea…” Rebecca turned in a circle. She reached out and touched her brother-in-law's shoulder. “I'm sorry, Paul. It wasn't well maintained when Leon lived here, but it's in much worse condition than I imagined. I guess a year with no one living here didn't help.”

Paul walked to the back door, which had slipped off one hinge and was hanging at an angle. He stared out at the fields. They were nearly as decrepit as the house. The snow had melted, revealing rocks throughout the field. The fences would need mending too. He saw all those things with his eyes, but his heart was seeing something else entirely.

He smiled at Joseph and Rebecca. “Let's go check out the barn.”

The walk across the yard showed that the parking area would have to be graded. There were holes in some areas, made by burrowing animals, and piles of dirt in others.

But the building in front of them was in surprisingly good shape. They stepped out of the sunlight and into the barn.

“This is where we always had church service,” Rebecca said.

“Looks like he lived in here.” Joseph was standing in the doorway of an office. Most farmers had a room in the barn where they could take care of paperwork, make out their supply orders, and catalog the crops and the seed—what was planted versus what the land was able to yield.

Paul moved past him into the room. It was larger than he expected. More importantly, there was a potbellied stove, a cot, and a bathroom.

“I could live in here.”

“But, Paul…” Rebecca allowed her hand to trail along the windowsill, thick with dust. “Where would you bathe? Where would you cook your food? I couldn't bear the thought of you living here in this little room.”

Paul grinned.

Joseph grunted.

And Rebecca stared at them in amazement. “Tell me what I'm missing here.”

“It's like a man cave, dear. You've heard of those?”

“I've seen them on the covers of magazines. A foolish way to spend money if you ask me.”

“
Ya
, I agree, except it might make sense in Paul's case. This could be his Amish man cave.”

“It wouldn't be forever,” Paul rushed to assure her. “Just until I have time to care for the fields, bring in what animals I need, mend the fences, and get this place up and running again. Hopefully within six months—”

“More like a year,” Joseph murmured.

“Within a year I could begin remodeling the house.”

“You might want to just start over.” Rebecca stood there with her hands on her hips, a frown creasing lines across her forehead.

Paul loved her for that look. He'd been a young lad when his oldest brother married and moved to Oklahoma. Because there was a good twenty years between them, he didn't know Joseph very well, and Rebecca had been a distant memory. But the woman in front of him was kind and hardworking, and she was plainly concerned about his welfare.

“We have a few things in our storage area,” she admitted. “An old couch—”

“And that small icebox we used when we first moved into the apartment.”

“Twenty years ago.”

“Still works if you put ice in it.” Joseph pulled out the sheet of paper he'd been figuring on the night before.

“This number?” He pointed to the asking price. “We all know it's too high. With what you save, you could hire someone to help you with the house.”

“If I offer him twenty percent less, I wouldn't need the money you were going to pay me.” He held up his hand to ward off their arguments. “You've provided me a place to stay and fed me for the last few months. I appreciate that.”

“But you worked for us.”

“Maybe you could give me some of that stored furniture for free. As far as the money, I'd rather you…” he crossed the room and pointed at another line on the sheet of paper. “Give that amount back to the benevolence fund. Someone may need it.”

He left them then to wander the length and width of the barn. It was a good, solid structure, and it would serve him and any animals he would get well.

They were walking back to Joseph's buggy when he saw the horse in the adjacent property. Something about the tired gelding looked familiar.

“Who's the neighbor?”

“Yoder family.”

“Yoder?” There were several Yoder families in their church district. He was trying to place the horse. He'd seen it recently.

“I believe you've met Andy Yoder. He's running the place since his
dat
died.” Joseph climbed up into the buggy, a grin on his face. Plainly the day spent away from the store had raised his spirits.

Rebecca held up the hem of her dress to avoid the mud as Paul helped her into the buggy. She patted his hand, fighting a smile. And now he was convinced there was a joke he wasn't getting. But his attention was split between the house that might fall down, the barn that held his future, and the fields shining in the February sun.

Old gelding.

Andy.

Father died.

Rebecca laughed when understanding dawned on his face. “Yes, that Yoder family. You helped young Sarah just last week when she came in and restocked her pantry.”

It would seem as if he was about to buy a piece of property next door to a farm full of orphans.

CHAPTER 13

M
ateo had no choice but to break into the dry goods store. He'd watched the two men and woman leave earlier that morning. A teenager was minding the store. Mateo spent the rest of the day planning how he would do it. That evening, he bundled Mia in her ragged pink coat and carried her over to the barn. From there he had a better view of the dry goods store. He waited until all of the lights went out, though this seemed to take longer than the nights before.

Maybe because he really needed in that store. Mia's cough was worse, and he was now sure she had a fever.

One final light remained on over the store for hours after the other lights went out. But Mateo was patient. He knew how to wait. After all, he'd been waiting in the abandoned trailer behind the rickety old barn for more than a week now.

Waiting wasn't the issue. The real issue was his conscience. He knew that stealing was wrong, but he also knew that Mia needed some medicine for the fever. She hadn't even eaten the cupcakes he'd found in the Dumpster. Still wrapped in plastic, Mateo couldn't imagine why someone would toss them. Why did people throw away good food?

He'd wondered that question a hundred times in his life. It made no sense to him.

The light winked out.

He checked on Mia one last time, and then he slipped from the building, little more than a shadow creeping through a cold February night.

CHAPTER 14

P
aul turned out the light, but he didn't go to sleep. His mind was abuzz with details. They'd called the real estate agent from the shop's phone as soon as they'd arrived back home. Paul had made an offer, twenty percent less than the asking price.

The agent had whistled. “I'm not sure I can convince the family to agree to that.”

“I thought the owner was a widowed man living alone.”

“He was, but the property was willed to some distant relatives in Pennsylvania. You know what land is like there. I'm not sure they understand the difference between their land value and ours.”

“Make them understand. This is a
gut
offer and you know it.”

The agent's answer was a sigh.

“The longer they wait, the worse the place will look. I hear that your spring weather can be unpredictable. One good storm, and the house will fall over.”

“I'll call you back on Monday.”

Paul thought the family would take the offer. Obviously, they weren't interested in moving to Oklahoma or they would already be here. The price he'd offered was fair. Also, it was what he had. If his staying in Oklahoma was
Gotte's wille
…

He should have been able to go to sleep on that thought, but instead he tossed and turned. Thinking of the barn, making a mental list of what repairs to tackle first, remembering Sarah Yoder struggling under a large sack of flour.

But just because he lived next to the family didn't mean he had to adopt them. He would help when needed, of course. The Amish helped one another. However, his days would be full trying to carve a living out of the ramshackle place. He would need to focus on the task at hand and not allow himself to become distracted by a pretty girl raising four brothers. Or was she only raising three? Seemed he remembered that Andy was nearly as old as Sarah.