by Leigh Bale
The temperatures were still mighty cold. Although the sky was filled with leaden clouds, he didn’t think it would snow again. But it sure might rain.
Hurrying so he could get some work done in the fields before the weather turned, he used a metal bar to break the thin layer of ice that had formed over top of the water trough so the animals could drink. As he set the bar aside, he glanced toward the chicken coop, wondering if Sam had fed the hens and finished gathering the eggs yet. Stepping outside of the pigpen, he pulled the gate closed until he heard it latch, then walked toward the house with Patches at his heels. It was Saturday and they weren’t in a rush to get Sam to school but Jesse needed to get out to that field if he hoped to make any progress in clearing the overgrown brush before it rained. The previous owner of this farm had gotten old and had neglected the fields, which were now overgrown by weeds, shrubs and saplings. Spring was just around the corner and Jesse wanted to make the best use of his land.
“Sam! Waar ben jij?” he called to his son.
He gazed at the chicken coop, expecting the boy to come from there. When he heard the screen door clap closed behind him, he whirled around and found his son standing just in front of the back door to the house. Patches scampered toward the boy, jumping at his legs. Though Sam was fully dressed for the day, his feet were bare. The boy didn’t speak as Jesse walked toward him.
“What are you doing inside the house? Are you ill?” Jesse asked, feeling confused.
The boy shook his head and that’s when Jesse noticed he held a book in one hand. A bad feeling settled in Jesse’s stomach. Without asking, he knew what had happened. Instead of doing his farm chores, Sam had been inside the house reading.
“Did you feed the chickens and gather the eggs yet? Did you feed the cows?” Jesse asked, hoping his son said yes. If so, all would be forgiven.
Sam’s eyes widened and he hung his head in shame. Finally, the boy shook his head.
Jesse reached to take the book out of Sam’s hand. It was a library book that Becca had given him. “You’ve been reading when there are chores to be done?”
Grave disappointment filled Jesse’s chest. Sam hadn’t done his morning chores. Not a single one. Instead, he’d been languishing inside the house. He hadn’t even put on his shoes yet! As a parent, Jesse was outraged by his child’s disobedience. Though he longed for a quiet heart and wanted to retain his composure, he knew he must be strict and clear in his expectations.
“Why have you not done your work yet?” Jesse asked, forcing himself to speak calmly.
Sam didn’t answer but he shivered as a brisk wind blew from the east. The child stared at his bare toes, which were scrunched against the cold, wooden porch. Jesse knew his son loved to read more than anything else. But too much of anything was not good. And Sam had plenty of time to read. In addition to school and trips to the town library every two weeks, Jesse had been reading to the boy each night, regular as clockwork. Also, for the past two months, Becca had been coming here several afternoons each week to read and tutor the boy. The strategies seemed to work. Sam’s demeanor was happier and there was a bounce in the boy’s step that hadn’t been there for a very long time. But now, the books were getting in the way of Sam’s chores. And work must always come first on a farm. It was critical to their survival. As Sam’s father, Jesse had an obligation to teach his son how to work hard. To teach the boy how to farm and raise livestock. Jesse couldn’t just let this go.
“I’m very disappointed in you, sohn. You know what is expected of you. Did you start reading and lose track of time?” Jesse asked his son.
Sam nodded.
A wave of annoyance rose upward within Jesse’s chest and he couldn’t prevent a note of irritation from filling his voice. He didn’t have time for such nonsense. Not if he was going to get the fields cleared for spring planting.
“If you don’t do your chores, who will?” Jesse asked, his voice stern but not overly unkind. “Do you want our hens to stop laying eggs? And what about the cows? They need to eat too. Do you want them to stop giving milk? Then what will we eat? What will we have to sell so we can live?”
Jesse didn’t really expect a response and he got none. But he hoped his questions would make Sam think. After all, the boy was still young and learning his place in the world. This was a teaching opportunity. A time to reiterate Jesse’s expectations and let Sam understand that he needed the boy’s help.
“Unless you are at school, you will do your farm chores first and read only in the evenings after all the work is finished for the day. Except on Sunday, we have no time for reading during daytime. Do you understand?”
Sam didn’t look up but he nodded. The boy’s back was ramrod straight, his shoulders tensed. Jesse sensed the child was upset by the situation but he offered no argument.
“Gut. Now, go and get your shoes and coat on. Then, finish your work. After that, come and join me in the south pasture so we can clear the field.”
Expecting his son to obey, Jesse turned and headed toward the barn without a backward glance. Because he hadn’t purchased any draft horses yet, he harnessed Blaze, his road horse, to the wagon and headed out to the field with his hand tools.
Using a sharp spade to dig around the roots of small trees and shrubs, he worked alone for almost two hours. Even though the day was quite cold, he wiped the sweat from his brow. He dug, hacked and pulled up a number of slender saplings and tossed them into the back of the wagon. He could turn them into wood chips for use around the farm. Marvin Schwartz had a gas-powered wood chipper he could use for a minimal fee.
Resting for a moment, Jesse leaned against the wooden handle of his tool and reached for the jug of water he’d placed in the back of the wagon. He looked toward the house, wondering where Sam was. Surely the boy was finished with his chores by now. He wouldn’t dare go back inside the house to read some more. Would he?
Stowing the water jug behind the wagon seat, Jesse continued his work. He wasn’t pleased to see thistles growing in the field and knew they’d be stubborn to get rid of. As an experienced farmer, he knew it would take two or three years to clear them out completely and even then, he’d still have to watch out for new seedlings. But over time, he’d weed them out entirely. A variety of other obnoxious grasses and thug plants would sprout up as well. But effective farming was a patient man’s chore. And Jesse was an effective farmer. Within a few years, his farm would be tidy and in optimal working condition. He’d work hard and build a fine place for Sam to inherit one day.
Speaking of which, where was the boy? He looked toward the house again, wondering if he should tromp back to the barn to search for him. He’d never known his son to be so recalcitrant. What had gotten into him?
Setting his tools aside, Jesse stepped over the uneven ground and headed toward the house. It was long past lunchtime and he needed to take a break. Before they returned to the field, he’d fix him and Sam some sandwiches. While they ate, he’d explain the merits of hard work to his son and encourage the boy to do better. If he found Sam reading again, he’d have to punish him. It was his duty as an Amish father to correct poor behaviors. He’d reprimanded Sam once but the next time would require harsher action. And Jesse didn’t look forward to that. No, not at all.
“Sam! Are you here?” he called when he stepped inside the kitchen door.
No answer. He shouted again but still no response.
Turning, he walked out to the chicken coop and then to the barn. A large plop of moisture fell from the sky and struck him on the cheek. Yes, it was definitely going to rain.
He yelled again and again, to get the boy’s attention. But he couldn’t find him. Patches was missing too. Now that was odd. Where had Sam and the puppy gone off to?
Again, Jesse searched every room of the house. He peered into every stall in the barn, the shed and chicken coop. Where was his son?
And then, a thought
occurred to him. Sam hadn’t spoken but Jesse knew he’d been upset by the scolding he’d given him that morning. Was it possible Sam had run away? And if so, where would the boy go?
Several heavy raindrops struck Jesse on the face and hand. Soon, the sky would open up its waterworks. And Sam would be caught out in this storm.
Jesse ran to the field, a surge of panic rushing through his veins. He unharnessed Blaze from the wagon and led the horse back to the barn where he hitched him up to the buggy. By the time Jesse steered the horse out of the farmyard, a light mist was falling steadily from the sky.
As he reached the county road, Jesse noticed the rain increased in intensity. Great, heavy drops of water smattered against the windshield of his buggy and he was grateful to be inside, away from the damp and the wind. But his son was out in this storm somewhere. Possibly frightened and cold.
Jesse wiped his brow, filled with trepidation. His six-year-old son was all alone. Hopefully, the boy had worn his hat and coat but it didn’t matter. Not if the child got wet. If Sam was out in this frigid air for very long, he could easily become sick. And that thought terrorized Jesse. Because he’d already lost the rest of his familye. He couldn’t lose Sam too.
Maybe the boy had walked over to the Fishers’ farm. Maybe he’d sought refuge with Becca. It wasn’t far. That’s where Jesse would check first. He hoped and prayed his son was inside her house, safe and warm. Because Jesse refused to contemplate anything less. He had to find his son. He had to find him right now!
* * *
Becca clicked her tongue and urged her cousin’s horse onto the county road. Driving the buggy, she’d left the town library and was eager to get home. It was late afternoon and several heavy raindrops thumped against the windshield. It was just a matter of minutes before it started pouring cats and dogs. Though she hadn’t wanted to go into town this Saturday, her trip had been fruitful. Sitting beside her on the cushioned seat was a terrific book on skits that would help augment the year-end school program. She’d also checked out several new books for Sam. Wouldn’t he be surprised when she gave them to him on Monday morning at school? He’d read all the other books she’d given him at least twice already.
More raindrops spattered the window and she blinked, thinking her eyes deceived her. Was that Sam walking along the side of the road? He was all alone, his shoulders hunched against the drizzling rain, his head bowed low beneath his black felt hat. Definitely an Amish boy. She couldn’t see his face clearly but knew Sam’s body build and the way he walked.
Tugging on the lead lines, she pulled the horse over onto the shoulder of the road. The boy sidestepped the buggy and looked up in surprise. She saw that he was carrying Patches, his little black dog, in his arms. He was trying to shield the pup from the driving rain.
What on earth was he doing out here all alone on this busy road in the freezing rain?
She opened the door and called to him. “Hallo, Sam. Where are you going?”
He shrugged and blinked in the rain as he scuffed his booted foot against a rock. Patches squirmed in his arms and the boy tightened his hold. His cheeks were rosy from the cold air and he hunched his back against the lashing wind.
“Do you need a ride?” she asked.
He hesitated, then shook his head. But that didn’t deter her. This boy was always quiet but she’d learned to read his mannerisms. He was cold and upset. From his red eyes, she could tell he’d been crying. And then, she noticed a little bag slung across his shoulder. A plethora of questions hammered her mind all at once. Was he running away? And why would he do that? Where was he going? Did Jesse know?
Regardless, a six-year-old boy was too young to be out in this rain all alone.
The deluge increased, beating against them like a drum. It gave her the incentive to force her hand.
“Sam, get in the buggy, please. You don’t want Patches to catch a bad cold, do you?”
Her reasoning got through to the boy. Thankfully, he did as she asked. If she was reading his expression correctly, it was one of relief. And no wonder. When she opened the door wide and he stepped inside and sat on the seat, he was shivering and his teeth chattered. Patches wasn’t in much better shape. The little dog gave a good shake to get the water off before curling next to her side.
“You’re both frozen clear through.” She reached for the warm quilt her cousin kept stowed on the back seat. After draping it over Sam and Patches, she tucked the edges around them both before rubbing the boy’s arms briskly.
“What are you doing so far from home in this storm?” she asked, not really expecting an answer.
He glanced up, his big, brown eyes filled with so much misery that she made a sad little sound in the back of her throat. Before she could stop herself, she pulled him close for a tight hug. After a moment, she released him and clicked to the horse to walk on.
“Ach, it can’t be all that bad, can it? Did you run away from home?” she asked as she drove the horse through the driving rain.
The boy sat close beside her and she was half-surprised when he gave a slight nod. Oh, no! She hated the thought of Jesse and Sam having trouble between them.
“Did you have a disagreement with your vadder?” she asked.
He stared down at Patches and gave another nod.
She hesitated, wondering what she could say to make the situation easier.
“Your vadder loves you very much. You know that, don’t you?” she asked.
He tossed her a doubtful glare and shook his head. Her heart gave a powerful squeeze. For some reason, it hurt her to think that Sam doubted his father’s affection.
“Sometimes it isn’t easy to honor our eldre but it’s a commandment from Gott. Your vadder knows what’s best for you and you must obey him in all things,” she said.
Sam’s forehead crinkled and he stared out the window, at the sheets of water blanketing the buggy. It wasn’t long before they arrived at Jesse’s farm but he wasn’t there. Maybe he was out looking for Sam.
Becca stowed her horse and buggy inside the barn, then hurried to the house with Sam and Patches. While she got a towel to dry off the dog, she sent Sam upstairs to change out of his damp clothes. Then, she built up the fire in the stove. Since it was late afternoon, she took the liberty of fixing Sam something to eat. She found a pound of ground beef in the refrigerator and made a quick casserole. The boy wolfed down the hot food, which told her he hadn’t eaten in a while. She also fed the puppy, satisfied when both of them were warm again.
An hour later, the rain let up and Jesse came home. The moment he stepped inside the kitchen, his gaze riveted on Sam. The boy still sat at the table, sipping a cup of hot chocolate. Patches lay on the floor beside the warm stove.
Without a word, Jesse knelt beside Sam and scooped the boy into his arms to hold him close for several long moments. This action alone told Becca he was beyond relieved to find the boy safe. It displayed Jesse’s fear and love for his son more than anything else could. But then, Jesse drew back and clutched Sam’s upper arms as he gazed into his eyes. Becca could see that Jesse was cold and angry. No doubt he’d been outside in the rain for quite a long time, looking for his son.
“I’ve been so worried about you. Where have you been?” Jesse asked, his eyes narrowed on the boy.
Sam stared at his hands folded in his lap, his cup of hot chocolate ignored.
“I found him and Patches walking alone along the side of the road. I was worried because they were out in the freezing rain, so I brought them home,” Becca supplied.
Jesse gave a stiff nod. “Danke for bringing them home.”
“You’re willkomm.” She spoke in a cheery voice, hoping to alleviate some of the tension in the air.
It didn’t help. Jesse rounded on Sam again, his face tense with annoyance. He swept his black felt hat off his head and tossed it onto the table before wiping his damp face with an
impatient hand. Like his son, his cheeks were pink from the cold and his heavy wool coat was soaked clear through.
“Do you know how worried I was when I found you missing? I had to leave my work and spent most of the afternoon searching for you. I don’t have time to go traipsing all over the valley looking for you because you’d rather read your books than do your morning chores. It is not right for you to throw a temper tantrum and run away.”
Standing in front of the sink, Becca held very still. Was that what this was all about? Sam had been reading instead of doing his work? Oh, dear. No wonder Jesse was upset. Any Amish father would feel the same way. A disobedient son who didn’t do his chores put the entire familye at risk. Jesse would be derelict in his parental duties if he didn’t reprimand the boy.
“Go to your room now and get ready for bed. I’ll be up to collect your books in a few minutes. Except for school and bedtime, there will be no reading in this house for a week,” Jesse said.
Something cold gripped Becca’s heart. Would Jesse really ground the boy from reading for an entire week?
Sam nodded in obedience as he slid out of his chair and left the room in a rush. Patches padded after him. When they were gone, Becca looked at Jesse, finding his expression grim and forbidding.
“Surely you won’t keep the boy from reading, will you? He’s been making such great progress. It’s his one true enjoyment,” she said in a quiet voice.
He looked at her as if he had forgotten she was there. “He’s got to learn that work comes before pleasure. He’s reading so much that it’s interfering with his chores on the farm. He didn’t do any of his tasks this morning. And when I chastised him for it, he threw a tantrum and ran away. I wasted an entire afternoon looking for him. He must learn to obey.”
“I’m sorry that happened, Jesse. But I’m certain, if you reason with him, he’ll understand and want to do better. He’s just seeking your approval. He wants your love so much.” She held out a pleading hand, her voice gentle and nonconfrontational.