by B. J. Hoff
“Well, lookit here,” the boy standing directly in front of Fannie said. “It’s a little Amish piggie.”
He was a heavyset boy with red cheeks and yellow hair sticking out below his dark cap.
“Where are you going, little piggie?” he said, grinning at her.
The other boys snickered and crowded in closer. Fannie wanted to look away. She wanted to run away, but she kept her head up and looked directly at him. “I’m going to see Captain Gant, who lives right down there.” She pointed in the direction of Dr. Sebastian’s house, where the captain was staying.
“Oh,” the boy said, drawing the word out, still grinning. “This little piggie isn’t going to market. She’s going to see Captain Gant!”
Without warning he reached over and grabbed Fannie’s bonnet as if to yank it from her head. When he found it tied, he tugged it forward and pulled it free, dangling it by the strings in front of her.
“Give me that!” Fannie cried, reaching for the bonnet. “It’s mine!”
He held it higher, swinging it back and forth, laughing at her.
Fannie felt the first burn of tears in her eyes but blinked against them.
“Say ‘please,’ ” he taunted her.
She almost choked on the word, but Mamma would be upset if she came home without her bonnet. “Please!”
Without warning he pushed it in her face, temporarily blinding her. Someone shoved at her back, making her stumble forward, and the boys on either side of her began to push her, first to one and then to the other.
She tried to break away and run, but they circled closer, trapping her in their midst. Each time she lunged forward, they moved in on her, shoving her, laughing at her.
Fannie thought she would strangle on the fear lodged in her throat. She was crying in earnest now. She tried butting her head against the boy with the yellow hair, hoping to push him out of the way, but he was like the trunk of a tree, unyielding and rooted in the snow.
“Aw, now look what you did, Hank. Made the poor little Amish piggie cry,” one of the others sneered.
Fannie’s breath was coming in painful stabs now. She shouted one long shriek, but even as she did, she knew no one would hear. There was nothing along this part of the road on either side except a few farm houses, all of which were set too far back for anyone to hear her call for help.
They kept shoving her, jeering and laughing at her. In desperation Fannie covered her face with her mittened hands. Her tears felt like frozen rivers on her cheeks.
Suddenly someone planted a vicious kick to the back of one knee. She stumbled and went down, face forward into the snow. She tried to push herself up, but one of them kicked her, hard, in the back, knocking the breath out of her.
A blow to her head was the last thing she felt as the world went white and totally silent.
23
WAITING FOR FANNIE
Lord, give me faith!—to leave it all to Thee,
The future is Thy gift, I would not lift
The veil Thy love has hung ’twixt it and me.
JOHN OXENHAM
Rachel went to look out the side window of the kitchen again. She wasn’t exactly worried about Fannie—at least not yet. At the moment she was more impatient with her.
Her sister knew she wasn’t supposed to be out in such cold weather for very long, especially in rain or snow. Fannie seemed to have what Dr. Sebastian called a “predisposition” toward pneumonia and bronchitis. She could get sick so easily—and stay sick for such a long time. Then it would take weeks, sometimes even months, for her to make a full recovery.
Fannie was a good child, ordinarily obedient and thoughtful. But she was still a child. And at nine years old, who could claim a great deal of self-discipline? No doubt she’d either gotten involved in talking with Gant and lost track of the time—she had taken quite a liking to him from the beginning—or else she was having herself a good and lengthy play in the snow.
Most likely it was a little of both.
But it was still snowing and simply too cold and wet for her to stay outside any longer. Rachel was beginning to wish they hadn’t given in to the child’s coaxing to invite Gant to dinner.
Truth was she felt an uncomfortable pinch of guilt. If Fannie got sick again, it would be as much her fault as her sister’s. She’d given in too easily to the girl’s urging—because she was also missing Gant and wanting to see him again.
Mamma came up beside her just then, and Rachel saw, at a glance at the tight lines around her eyes and mouth, that she was more than impatient. She was worried.
“If your sister doesn’t show up in a few minutes,” her mother said, “I’m going after her. It’s been nearly two hours now.”
“I’m sure she’s just visiting with Captain Gant, Mamma. She’s been missing him. No doubt she’s forgotten the time.”
“That might be, and I hope you’re right, but I gave her to understand that she was to come right back. You and Gideon talked me into letting her go, so one of you can just go with me to bring her home if she isn’t here in the next few minutes.”
“Well, I’ll be the one to go, then. Gideon is still over to the Esches’ having a look at the new foal.”
Mamma frowned and pressed her lips together. “Well, isn’t this just fine, now? Christmas Day, and my children are everywhere but where they ought to be, which is at home. I should have put my foot down with both of them.”
Rachel put a hand on her mother’s arm. “Gideon will be back soon, Mamma, and I’m sure Fannie will too. We’ll all be here for Christmas dinner.”
Her mother cast one more look out the window and then turned and went to check the oven.
Having seen her mother’s concern, Rachel felt her own apprehension grow even darker.
Gant thought it was about time to help himself to some of the leftover treats from the food basket Gideon had delivered the day before. But first he went to throw another log on the fire.
Instead of heading for the kitchen, he went back to the window. The snow was coming down harder than ever, and the wind was blowing, moaning down the chimney. The winter sky had darkened. An involuntary shudder seized him, and not for the first time, he was grateful for the large fireplace in the front room and the generous supply of wood Doc had laid in before leaving last week.
Something caught his eye up the road. He couldn’t see all that well through the blowing veil of snow, but there was something dark against the white bank of snow at the side of the road.
He stood watching for a moment, but seeing no movement, he left the window and went to punch up the fire. He chilled easily ever since he was shot, and he stood for a few minutes more, letting the warmth of the flames seep through his bones.
Finally he again crossed the room to the window. It was still there. Something about the size and shape of it stirred an uneasiness in him. He went to the door, thumping the snow away from the threshold with the head of his cane as he looked up the road, hooding his eyes a little with his hand to block the wind.
What was he seeing? An animal that had been hurt, more than likely. Probably dead since there appeared to be no movement.
Any other time he’d have been out on the road by now, having a look for himself. But even with boots, he’d never make it through this snow with a bum leg and a cane. There was nothing for it but to leave it alone, but the thought twisted a knot of anger in him at his helplessness.
Frustrated he slammed the door and limped back to the fire.
Clearly Gideon wasn’t going to convince Phoebe Esch he could go home the same way he’d come—by walking.
“No, and you will not walk home in this, Gideon Kanagy! Malachi has to hitch up the wagon anyway. I’m sending some food down to Captain Gant, as I’m sure he’s all alone, and another basket to Sarah Bender as well. I packed them both some nice baked ham and an apple cake. Neither of them is strong enough to venture out of the house yet, I’m sure. Malachi can drop you at home afterward.”
“Actual
ly Fannie was going down to invite Captain Gant to dinner with us,” Gideon put in. “I’m to pick him up later.”
“Oh, that’s good of Susan! She has such a kind heart. But I’ll send his basket with you all the same. He can always use it tomorrow.”
She turned to look at Malachi. “From the looks of things out there, husband, I’d say you’d best be going.”
Malachi nodded, grinning at Gideon as he started for the kitchen door.
“Here, Phoebe,” Gideon said, “I’ll take the baskets and go on out to the barn with Malachi, so he won’t have to come back inside.”
He had stayed quite a lot longer than he’d intended. The whole Esch family had gathered for Christmas dinner, and after seeing the foal earlier, he’d gone back inside to visit with everyone, quickly losing track of time. Mamm was most likely going to give him a piece of her mind when he got home.
But she wouldn’t be too put out with him. Not on Christmas Day.
As they trudged down the lane to the barn, he wondered if Fannie had talked Captain Gant into coming for dinner. “Hey, Malachi—if Gant is planning on coming to dinner at our house, do you mind if we just pick him up now and take him along?”
“Ja, sure, we can do that. No need having to make any more trips out in this snow than you need to.”
It looked as if it were about to stop snowing, but in the meantime Mamma was pacing the floor, stopping every minute or so to look out the window.
“It’s so bad out,” she said. “Fannie wouldn’t stay out so long in this. And I can’t think your bruder would either. I don’t know what to do.” She looked at Rachel. “Something’s happened. I know it has.”
Rachel went to her mother. “You can’t know that, Mamma. But you do know how Gideon will take on over that new foal. And he’ll visit with the Esches. We should have talked him out of going in the first place.”
Her mother turned from the window to look at her. “As if we could talk Gideon out of anything, once he’s set his head to doing it.”
Her mother was right. Her brother had a mind of his own, and it was a right stubborn mind most of the time.
“I’ll get my coat and boots and stop at Phoebe’s for Gideon. We’ll go find Fannie. And I have a feeling we’ll find her playing in the snow.”
Rachel did her best to sound positive for Mamma’s sake, but she was worried too, even frightened. She could just shake Gideon for not coming back sooner. It was bad enough to worry about Fannie, but they didn’t need to be fretting about Gideon as well. He was a man now. He ought to be more responsible.
“No, I don’t think you should go out in this alone, Rachel,” her mother said. “At least wait until Gideon gets back, so he can go with you.”
Shaken by the tremor in her mother’s voice, Rachel tried to think what to do. Mamma simply didn’t get rattled. She and Gideon were a lot alike that way—steady and thoughtful, practical and not easily excited. But there was no mistaking the fear in her mother’s eyes. Moreover, Rachel thought it probably mirrored her own growing apprehension.
If Gideon didn’t come soon, she would go.
Gant kept going back to the window to look out, straining to see up the road. Something pressed in on him, clamping about his chest like a vise every time his gaze settled on the dark form in the snow.
He was no stranger to dread, had felt its icy fingers on his spine more than once. And now, in this instant, he felt its chilling touch again.
He had to do something. He had to find out what was out there.
Something was wrong. He could feel it. He knew it. Something was very, very wrong.
His decision made—foolish though it might be—he struggled into his boots and coat, glanced down at the cane in his hand. No, that wouldn’t do any good at all.
He still had the crutches in the other room, but they’d be next to useless in this snow.
He went to the kitchen pantry in search of something sturdy enough to use as a support.
Nothing.
Finally he opened the back door, his gaze skimming over a few random items tucked in the corner. Almost immediately his gaze came to rest on a big, heavy-looking shovel.
That ought to do it.
24
THE SUMMER CHILD
Hopes, fears, prayers, longings, joys and woes—
All yours to hold, O little hands!
LAURENCE BINYON
The shovel made a better support than Gant would have guessed. With the blade digging down into the crunchy snow, he was able to grip the broad handle with one hand, throwing most of his weight on it, and use the cane with the other hand. It was almost like having an extra leg—one that worked. He managed to make his way through the snow fairly well, so long as he ignored the pain that radiated up his bad leg with every step.
Too bad Mac wasn’t here to help. He would have used his nose as a plow and made a tunnel through the snow. He did miss the big hound, but Mac would do a lot more good on the road with Asa and the others than moping around here doing nothing. He was more than a dog and a companion—he was a guide and a guardian as well. If anyone tried to mess with Asa or his passengers while Mac was anywhere nearby, he’d bring a bucket of trouble down on himself.
The snow had almost stopped, except for a thin, icy drizzle. Gant hoped he wasn’t playing the fool by venturing out. As much help as the shovel had turned out to be, it wouldn’t do him all that much good on ice. But the urgency driving him was more than curiosity now. It was like an insistent buzzard riding his back, grasping at him and driving him forward.
It seemed an interminable length of time until he came close enough to realize what he’d seen from the window—a still, partly snowcovered form sprawled along the side of the road. His heart slammed against his chest, his pulse running thin and fast. He stumbled, managed to right himself without falling, and then stumbled again just before he reached the small, motionless bundle lying in the snow.
The big gray gelding had no problem clogging through the drifts, though he was taking his good old time. Surprised by how much snow had fallen since he’d first arrived at the Esch farm earlier in the day, Gideon was now grateful for Phoebe’s determination that he ride along with Malachi rather than walking home.
The afternoon was quiet, soft, and cushioned by the snow. Malachi wasn’t much of a talker. The only sounds were the chink of harness and the clomp of the big horse’s hooves on the road.
As they neared the crossroads, Malachi slowed the horse’s pace even more and turned. “It’ll be icy tonight, for sure and for certain. Already drizzling.”
Gideon nodded, his attention caught by something ahead, off the side of the road. If he didn’t know better, he’d think it was Captain Gant, out there huddled against a snow bank.
Malachi had seen too. “Who’s that in the road, I wonder? What’s he doing?”
As they drew closer, Gideon stood up in the wagon for a better look. “That’s Gant.”
“You sure?” Malachi strained to see. “What’s he doing out in this weather? Why, he’ll break his good leg in this snow.”
Gideon leaned forward still more. “You suppose he fell? Wait… he’s holding something…”
They were almost upon Gant now. He was sitting against the bank, his bad leg shoved out in front of him as he cradled a dark-clad figure in his arms. Incredibly the man didn’t even have a coat on. It was—his coat was wrapped around—
Gideon stared, his blood setting up a roar in his ears. “What—”
Before the wagon came to a complete halt, he jumped, slipping and skidding as he landed. “That’s not—”
But it was. “Fannie?” he choked out. “Is that Fannie? What happened to her? Is she all right?”
“She’s unconscious,” Gant told him. “I saw her from the window. What’s she doing out here anyway?”
It sounded like an accusation, but Gideon was too panicked to get his back up. “Malachi—we need one of those lap blankets from the wagon!” he shouted over his shoulder.
>
He dropped down to his knees. “She’s unconscious? But—she was coming to invite you to Christmas dinner. That’s been two hours or more. How long since she left your place?”
Gant gave him a look of surprise and then shook his head. “She hasn’t been at my place.”
Malachi appeared then and dropped the blanket around Gant’s shoulders.
Stunned, Gideon dragged his gaze away from Gant and passed a hand gently over Fannie’s face. Cold…she was so cold. A large, dark lump had risen on the right side of her forehead. Just below it was blood. Blood from a jagged cut.
“Fannie…Fannie, it’s Gideon. Do you hear me, little sister? Fannie…”
There was no response.
“I don’t understand,” Gideon said. His mind felt thick with webs. He found it nearly impossible to think. “She was supposed to go to your place…ask you to dinner. She wanted to play in the snow too, but she knows she can’t stay out in the cold for long. She gets sick…”
He stopped, shooting a look toward Doc’s house where Gant was staying. “Doc…”
“He’s not due back until tomorrow.” Gant’s voice was thin and tight.
They took her home and brought Gant with them after he asked if he might go. Gideon admitted that Doc’s house was closer but opted for home. Clearly the boy wanted to get Fannie to their mother and to Rachel as soon as possible.
It was a bad moment when they carried the lass inside. Gant hung back at the door, hugging the blanket around his shoulders. He was keenly aware that this was a family time. Yet he had a strong need to be close to the family, especially Rachel, in case he might somehow be of help.
He felt Rachel’s shock, her horror, and her pain as if they were his own. And when her eyes met his just before following Gideon down the hallway with Fannie, the raw fear Gant saw looking out at him cut into him like shards of glass.