October song (14 page)

He rushed to the barnyard. A handful of Amish farmers had already responded to the continual ringing of the dinner bell; some of them were coming up the lane on mules, others on horseback, the fastest way to arrive.

“Help us get the cows out!” Zook’s wife and daughters called, waving their arms.

He and several other men ran into the barn, holding their breath against stinging smoke, untying one cow after another. The

loped out of the barn door,

toward the pasture, bawling Mules and draught horses were

Zook’s teenage sons and a growing army of men grabbed whatever small pieces of barn equipment they could salvage, drag ging them away from the flames. Zook’s youngest son continued ringing the bell, summoning even more Amish neighbors. A dozen or more came on foot. Already, there were three men on the roof, a precar ious spot, Philip thought, though no one

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showed any alarm as buckets of water were hoisted up by rope. On the ground, old Grandfather Zook shouted commands, as though he’d witnessed a number of barn burnings, knowing precisely what to do.

“Has anyone called the fire depart ment?” asked Philip, working feverishly with the others. Power hoses could douse a fire of this magnitude in no time.

Moses Raber shot him a severe look. “Phones are all out . . up and down the road.”

“Lightning took out the Englischers’ phone lines,” said another farmer.

By now one whole side of the barn leaned dangerously, tilting toward the center. If fire trucks didn’t come in short order, Zook’s barn would collapse.

Philip hauled an armful of small hand tools out of the barn and dropped them on the lawn. That’s when he spotted a blue pickup parked near the house. Dashing across the barnyard, he looked inside the small truck. The keys were hanging in the ignition! He looked around, trying to de termine who the owner might be, to ask permission to drive to the fire station.

He saw only Amishmen. And the gaping hole in the barn’s side. He felt the heat, too, and the pitiful whinny screams of a

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stray mule. The farmers’ jaws were rigid in their determination, fighting a losing battle. Zook’s enormous barn was being eaten alive by an unbeatable blaze.

Without thinking, Philip jumped into the pickup and started the engine. “I’ll get help!” he shouted to no one in particular.

Moses Raber heard and cast a glaring eye his way.

Philip backed up the pickup, then headed down the lane and out to the road. He sped to Route 340, turning west at the junction, toward the fire station.

En route back to Zook’s farm, the fire truck wailed its boisterous siren. Red lights flashed, alerting motorists as it screamed down the highway. Philip followed close behind in the borrowed pickup.

At the intersection, the fire truck ran the red light. Philip, not trailing through, was stopped momentarily. Waiting for the light to change, he happened to glance over at the car on his right. The driver and a car load of passengers were gawking and pointing at him.

The fire siren had certainly called atten tion to him anAmishmandriving a pickup truck! Groaning, he realized what a spectacle he was, with straw hat and

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cropped hair, behind the wheel of the sleek blue pickup. A reporter’s heyday. And he should know, having chased hundreds of sensational stories over the years.

Attempting to ignore the ridicule coming from the car, he found himself impatient for the green light. When the light turned, he stomped on the gas pedal.

But the mocking driver trailed too close to his bumper, following him down the long road to Zook’s lane. The car scarcely slowed, swerving around him, just as he made the turnoff. “Stick with a horse and buggy, why don’tcha!” the driver hollered, laying on the horn and making a general ruckus. The car sped on, dust clouds bil lowing up.

Chagrined, Philip drove toward the house and parked the pickup exactly where he had found it, leaving the keys in the ig nition once again. The firefighters were al ready using the hoses, combating the flames. He ran to watch, hoping against hope the barn, or a portion of it, might be spared.

After a time Zook himself seemed to give up hope. The farmer came and stood near Philip, face smudged, his thick brown hair now gray with soot. “There was just no savin’ it no matter.” Zook shook his

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head solemnly. “An act of God.”

After the firefighters left the scene, the men scattered out to survey the charred timbers, though from a safe distance. Smoldering blue-black smoke continued to billow high into the sky. “We did all we could,” Jacob Stoltzfus said finally.

“Jah,” agreed John Zook, glancing back at Philip. “That, we did.”

” ‘Twas the wrath of God on this community of believers,” another farmer said gravely.

Moses eyed Philip critically, as if to point a finger. Was he judging Philip, questioning whether or not the outsider’s life measured up?

Many Old Order church members believed that such an act by the Almighty, which destroyed a staunch member’s property, signified divine wrath on the entire group. Consequently, each person in that church district was morally bound to offer assistance to the hapless neighbor.

Jacob called out loudly from the crowd, “We’re our brother’s keeper. We’ll raise a fine barn for John Zook.” At the mention of reconstruction, the men nodded in agreement.

In the midst of all the talk, a stocky dark-haired man came out of the crowd and

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sauntered overto Philip.“Was ityouwho drove my pickup?” he demanded.

Recognizing the man as Vern Eisenberger, a feed salesman, Philip replied, “I see that it may have been a mistake. I only borrowed your pickup for —”

“Youborrozvedwithout asking, which in my book is stealing.” Vern was breathing fast, eyes wide. “What sort of Amishman drives anyway takes a truck that doesn’t belong to him?” His scowl grew more severe. “How is it you can work a clutch.., unless maybe you stripped it but good?”

Philip considered telling Vern that he’d owned a number of vehicles standard shift and automatic alike. None of that was relevant now.

John Zook’s youngest son spoke up. “Philip was only tryin’ to spare Pop’s barn.”

“Jah, and he almost did, too,” said the boy’s friend. “Didn’tcha see them firefighters goin’ after it? Come near to salvaging at least some of the big timbers.”

Just then Moses came and stood shoulder to shoulder with Vern, as if choosing sides. “You wanna know what

sort of Amishman takes things into his own hands?” he retorted. “I’ll tell ya who!”

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Moses was stopped, if momentarily, by Zook himself, who came rushing over with several others. “Just what’s goin’ on here?” John eyed both Vern and Moses.

Vern bellowed, “One of your church members walked off with my pickup.” He pointed an accusing finger at Philip before turning to inspect the truck’s exterior.

“Well, now, he returned it, didn’t he?” John insisted.

Moses shot back, gray eyes flashing, “Philip shouldn’t have driven at all, according to our ways.”

Philip was embarrassed. By acting impulsively, he had put himself-the whole group — at risk for ridicule. Everything he had endeavored to be, all that he wanted to do in this community of friends and neighbors — was it now in jeopardy because of one careless deed?

Moses continued to rant and rave, asking Philip point-blank if he had a license to drive and if not, said, “You’re breakin’ the laws of Godandman both. Too worldly, you are!”

At that declaration, John slipped his arm into the crook of the taller man’s elbow, leading Moses to one side of the house.

The feed salesman tapped the hood of his pickup. “Good thing there aren’t any

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nicks or scratches.” He opened the door on the driver’s side, slamming it shut. The engine roared to life, and he backed up too fast, swaying from one side of the narrow lane to the other, then spun recklessly back onto the dirt road at the end of Zook’s lane, tires squealing as he went.

“Mad as a hornet,” Philip muttered.

” ‘Tis no need for anger such as that,” said Jacob Stoltzfus, gripping his straw hat in front of him.

“Jah, no need,” echoed Zook’s youngest boy. The lad turned, looking toward his father and Moses, who were still talking heatedly beside the house.

I’ll tell ya why Vern’s fumin’,” Zook’s oldest son spoke up. “Pop was out in the field, telling Vern that he’d thought it over and decided to change to a different brand

of feed just minutes before the lightning

hit.”

“That explains the tiff,” Philip said, wondering what was causing Moses to be so disturbed. He went around talking with the men gathered there, several individually, others in groups, explaining his motive for driving the pickup. They assured him there was no ill will. But by the way Moses was behaving, waving his arms and raising his voice, Philip knew he had of

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fended at least one of the brethren.

“We learn from mistakes and try nottorepeat ‘em,” said astout farmer,a deep frown on his brow.

“When it comes to fellas like Vern Eisenberger,” said Jacob Stoltzfus, “it’s best to be on the safe side and not offend.”

“Ain’t such a good testimony,” said an other.

“Just remember, Vern’s bark is worse than his bite,” said Jacob, his hand on Philip’s shoulder. “Be in prayer for him.”

Feeling only slightly encouraged, Philip headed down the road, going home for the second time in a day.

At supper Philip described for Rachel what had transpired at Zook’s farm. She didn’t seem to be surprised at the feed salesman’s reaction. “Vern wouldn’t be any too happy ‘bout losing a customer, that’s for sure.” She said Mr. Eisenberger was “prob’ly ripe for an outburst. You just so

happened to get in his way bore the

brunt of his anger.”

“I hope nothing more comes of this.” Philip knew he must abide by the un spoken rules of the People, at all costs. Follow more carefully the example of the other men, particularly those established in

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the faith. Ignore his impulsive instincts. And, as best as he could, try to steer clear of Moses Raber, who was downright rude for an Amishman truly a rarity in this community.

Philip wasn’t deceiving himself; he did not comprehend everything in the society of the Plain or the way certain things were done or expected to be handled on occasion. But understanding fully had never been part of what had drawn him here in the first place.

He went to his knees in prayer in the quietude of the front room, asking the Lord first for forgiveness in the matter, and secondly, for wisdom and grace in further dealings he might have with the irate feed salesman-and Moses Raber.

The next day, thanks to the blessing of intense rains in the night, Zook hired heavy equipment to be used in raking out the embers beneath the scorched partial skeleton of their barn, silhouetted against a brilliant sky. Hordes of neighboring farmers came with wheelbarrows and shovels to help clean up and, later, to assess the damage, several of them commenting on other fires in the Lancaster area. That was the talk of the day-the frequency of fires, especially

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in hot summer months when lightning strikes accounted for most of the damage to barns.

A barn, after all, was a thing to be re vered. A safe haven for animals cows, mules, sometimes goats and a place to store hay during the winter months, as well as keep farm equipment and tools in an or derly manner. The barn was also a place where courtship rituals were encouraged and kept alive, the location of Sunday night singings, where Amish teenagers met to fellowship, sing, and pair off for the ride home.

In most cases a good, solid barn was built first, even before the farmhouse. The Amish saying that “a good barn built made many a fine house” wasn’t just an old adage; it stood for a life philosophy.

Jacob Stoltzfus stared at the spot where Zook’s barn had been. “Time we start planning a frolic,” he said, his voice grave but firm. “We’ll have us a new barn in a week or so.”

The other men, wide-brimmed straw hats grasped securely in hand, nodded so berly. And two days later, Obadiah King, the master barn builder, arrived in his old gray buggy to step out the new barn’s bor ders. Obadiah paced off the area several

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times, then stopped to drum his fists on the charredbeams, tosee if any might be utilized. A post-framed barn was already in the works-in Obadiah’s head.

“He’s raised many a barn,” Zook’s wife, Rebecca, said. “Doesn’t even need a blueprint. Now, how ‘bout that?”

“Jah, it’s all up here,” said Zook’s oldest son, pointing to his own head.

So there would be mortise-andtenon joints fastened by hickory pegs, an old system of construction, but one that would yield a most solid barn. The People’s way.

“What do you know about barn raisings?” Philip asked Rachel after supper.

Before she could speak, young Annie, blond and blue-eyed, had an answer for him. “Ach, frolics are ever so much fun, Pop. You’ll see.”

“Now . . now,” Rachel gently scolded the youngster, “you must surely be thinking ‘bout all the playin’ that goes on in the corncrib with the other children, and pulling the wagon round with your wee cousins, and whatnot.” Then, turning to Philip, she said, smiling, “Barn raisings make for a long and busy day. Back-breakin’ work for the men, for sure and for certain, but Obadiah gives each of the men

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a particular duty, so no one’s leftout.”

That’s what Philip wanted to know, whether or not he would be assigned a spe cific task. “According to a person’s skills?” he asked.

Rachel nodded, eyes bright. “Jah, Obadiah will team you up with a more ex perienced worker, prob’ly an older man. You’ll use your muscles; he’ll use his brain. But Obadiah will know best.”

How the elder man had any clue as to Philip’s abilities, he didn’t know, but evi dently word gets around in the community. People talk.

He reminded Rachel of his transgres sion, having taken the feed salesman’s pickup without the owner’s consent. “You made things right, though, jah?” she asked, waving her hand, then advising him to “keep workin’ on your Amish awareness . the Plain consciousness, so to speak.”