“I’m here.” He grabbed the bucket and ran inside. Seconds later he was back. “Fill it again. Hurry.” He coughed. “Where’s Henry?”
“I sent him for help.” Flames licked the inside of the dry barn wood.
“They won’t make it before it’s burned to the ground.” Her father bent over coughing. When he was able to catch his breath he handed her his kerchief. “Wet that and bring it with the next bucket. Lady Jane is still in there.”
She shuddered. Lady Jane was difficult on a good day. In a fire, who knew what the horse was capable of doing.
Unable to sleep, Pete Dent paced the Gibbons’ barn, where he slept. The rhythm of the rain didn’t bring its usual soothing. Storms didn’t bother him, but this one did. Too soon, too dangerous, after the one last month. He stood in the open door and noticed Roy standing on the porch. He jogged across the yard and up the steps. “Thunder keeping you awake?”
“Scared Frances. Alma’s taking care of her.” Roy said.
Crack. The lightening startled both men.
“That was close. Sounded like it hit something.” Roy ran to the edge of the porch.
Pete looked the other way, toward the Tucker place; Katie on his mind, again. He’d like to get to know her better. It had taken him a few months, but he’d managed to get her to smile at him at church anyway. Shy little thing. He’d been ready to pull up stakes and find another place to work when she’d caught his eye. Katie might be the one person to tip the scale and keep him in Trenton.
“Do you see that?” Roy pointed in the direction Pete had been staring.
“That’s a bright light. Too bright. Think they got hit with that last bolt?” Pete’s heart pounded. “I’m riding out. They might need help if it hit the house or barn.”
“Go. I’ll let Alma know and meet you.”
Pete wasted no time saddling Biscuit and urging him to a gallop. As he grew closer to the Tucker’s, he knew something was burning. Probably the barn with the way the flames were flicking the sky. Someone rode toward him. Katie coming for help? He slowed his horse.
“Hey, our barn’s on fire. Can you help?”
“Henry, is that you?”
“Yeah, Pete. Katie told me to get you. Hurry! Papa’s getting the animals out and. . . .” Henry stopped to catch his breath.
“I heard you. That’s where I’m headed. Roy’s behind me.”
Henry turned Starlight around.
Both horses stretched into a neck-to-neck race for the Tucker barn.
When they arrived, the smoke was thick, but the bright flames licked through, illuminating the night, revealing Katie lugging a bucket. Pete dismounted and tied Biscuit to the porch railing. He ran to Katie and pried her fingers from the handle. “Fill another one and keep filling. I’ll get them to the barn. Roy’s on his way.”
“Papa’s in there! I can’t get to him.”
Cold sweat tickled down his back. If Mr. Tucker was still in that barn, the odds were he wasn’t coming out. Please, God, let her father be alive. He ran inside, keeping low. “Mr. Tucker! Holler your position!” The roaring flames sucked his words into silence. He tossed the water on a bale of hay and ran out, gasping for air.
Katie waited with a pan of water. He took it and rushed back inside. He had to find her father.
Katie sat on the back steps, hugging Henry close to her. Waiting. Most of their church congregation either stood in the yard or were in the house. Katie and Henry sat alone. She couldn’t talk to anyone, not even Alma.
Pete Dent had been kind, explaining how her father probably inhaled too much smoke and couldn’t breathe. He’d seen it before, serving on the volunteer fire department. He told her to take Henry inside, but she couldn’t. If she left these steps, it would be real. So she clung to Henry and waited.
Tears rolled down her cheeks, bringing some relief to the sting from the smoke.
CHAPTER 2
A few weeks later, Katie walked head down to avoid speaking with anyone on the street. She only had to collect the mail and return home, nothing more. She’d fussed about coming into town at all, but Oma insisted, saying it was time for a letter from Katie’s sister.
The warm yeasty fragrance of fried dough and sugar drifted through the bakery door. The pleasurable scent slowed her steps. Those doughnuts sure smelled good. But were they enough to risk a conversation about that awful night? Her mouth watered, and she pictured the joy on Henry’s face when she gave him one. Even Oma might perk up.
Guilt squeezed her heart. Would people think it wrong of her to buy something so enjoyable so soon after the fire and her father’s death? Her desire burned and then settled into ash in her mouth. Maybe next time.
She took one last deep breath and then headed for the post office. She glanced at the bakery. It was almost as if Papa were with her. She could hear him laughing about her worrying about being judged by others again. She shook him away. He might be right, but he didn’t have to live with the upturned noses.
Settled with her decision, she made her way into the post office.
“Miss Tucker, it’s nice to see you in town again.” Mr. Rutherford, the postmaster, turned to the row of wooden boxes where mail was f iled. He pulled out a few envelopes and handed them to her.
“Danke. Thank you, sir.” She glanced at the top letter. It was from Kentucky. Grandmother would be pleased to hear news from her other granddaughter. She wanted to rip open the envelope, but it wasn’t addressed to her. Oma would share any news with her and Henry.
The other came from a bank in Lebanon, addressed to Papa. Why would they be sending him mail? This one she could open. Maybe Papa had an account there? That would be a blessing. They needed to rebuild the barn. She scooted through the door and smacked into Pete Dent.
“Whoa! Where’s the fire?”
Her breath caught, and in a flash, she was back there at the barn the night of the storm, listening to him say those awful words about Papa. Her lips moved but no sound came forth.
Pete’s face turned the color of rhubarb. “I’m sorry, Miss Tucker, that was—”
Not waiting for the rest of his apology, Katie brushed past him, stiff and broken as the charred beams that had collapsed in on themselves in her yard.
She headed for the bakery. People may talk, but her hope was that the sweet heaviness of a doughnut would fill the crater in her heart caused from Papa’s death and Pete Dent’s careless words. Shoulders straight, she marched inside and asked for three doughnuts.
The bank letter lay heavy on her mind. Last fall Papa said the farm was paid for, but what if he’d borrowed money? And why did he go to Lebanon when they had a bank here? Something wasn’t right. She could feel it. Weibliche intuition, Oma would say, a woman always knows. She’d stop at Alma’s on the way home. Then if the news were truly bad, she’d have someone to pray with her. Oma wasn’t strong enough to handle any more formidable news. “Please, could you wrap another half-dozen?” She didn’t want to arrive empty handed at the Gibbons’.
Pete was an idiot. He had been waiting to speak to Katie, and his first chance he’d reminded her of the one thing she wanted to forget. As it was, the memory of her sitting on the porch, hugging Henry that night, wouldn’t leave him. He knew the shape of her heart, felt it in his own. The freshness of being alone returned, almost bringing him to his knees and would’ve, too, if he weren’t a grown man. His mind told him it wasn’t the same as what had happened to him. Yes, both her parents were now dead, but she had a home and family. That had to make a difference, didn’t it?
“You here for the Gibbons’ mail?” Mr. Rutherford had already turned to the boxes behind him. “Just one, this time.”
“Thank you, sir.” Pete took the letter, a little sad there wasn’t one for him. Why would there be? He had no one. Even if he did, they didn’t know how to find him, since he’d shortened his name from Dentice. A clean break from the past. He’d given up finding his brother, sure by now he’d have a home and family of his own. Probably
didn’t even remember his old last name.
Outside, he walked to the Ginzel Mercantile, where his loaded wagon waited. Did he need anything else? The doughnuts smelled good but Alma had promised a rhubarb pie for dessert. He’d hang on to his money. Someday he’d have enough for a farm of his own. In Trenton, he hoped, if he could find someone willing to sell.
He climbed up on the wagon seat and set the horse to moving. The feeling that it was time to move on, that he didn’t belong here, snuck up on him last week. It wasn’t Roy’s fault he’d found a wife and now had time to work on his own farm. If Pete left this town, he’d sure miss those little girls, Elsibet and Frances. They had him thinking of settling down and having children, made him feel like this town could be his home.
Pete hadn’t gone far when he spotted Katie, walking. Her shoulders were rounded as if she literally carried the death of her father on them.
She moved closer to the side of the road for him to pass. Instead, he slowed the horse, and then stopped beside her. “Miss Tucker, would you care for a ride?”
Her hat barely tipped up far enough for him to see her eyes before she looked away. “Yes, I’d—”
Pete climbed out of the wagon ready to help her board before she finished her sentence.
“Thank you. You won’t have to take me far. I plan to visit Alma.”
“I’ll be happy to see you home, after.” He glanced at her. She was studying a letter.
“Good news?”
She startled, grabbing the edge of the bench seat.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were lost in thought.”
Katie looked at him for a second. Her blue eyes were watery. What should did he do about that? Should he ask if she was crying or offer a hanky? Maybe it was dust in her eyes? There was enough of that floating in the air.
“No. It’s not.”
“Not what?”
“Good news. My father took out a loan and it’s due in August. I—I need to see Alma.” She sniffled.
Tears then. He guessed she didn’t want him to know how bad things were because she said nothing and kept her head turned.
How much had her father borrowed? Did that mean the Tuckers would have to sell the farm? It would be good for him. He could buy it and be close to the Gibbons. But where would Katie and her family live? She had a sister in Kentucky. Maybe she’d move there. And why did the thought of Katie living in another state bother him?
Katie couldn’t clamber off the wagon fast enough. She was out before Pete could help her down. She wouldn’t let him see her crying. If she didn’t hurry into Alma’s happy kitchen right now, he wouldn’t see just a few tears but sobs.
She managed a quick “thank you for the ride” and bolted up the stairs and into Alma’s arms. “I have to sell the farm. How am I going to tell Henry and Oma?”
CHAPTER 3
Katie slumped in the oak chair at Papa’s desk. His scent clung to the room she’d rarely entered. It seemed he’d walk through the door any moment and catch her snooping through the drawers.
The information had to be here somewhere. Papa was meticulous about what needed to be done. He must have been the same about his financial records. So far she hadn’t discovered this year’s ledger. She opened a drawer and took out a stack of papers. There had to be a reason he’d borrowed money. She and Oma had discussed it last night, and they couldn’t figure it out. Nothing new had been purchased, no livestock had arrived. Even the workman she thought was supposed to come hadn’t appeared.
“What are you looking for?” Henry climbed into the chair in front of the desk, as if he were at home in this room where children weren’t allowed.
“Papa’s ledger. I need to find out how much is in the bank and what bills are due.”
“The green book?”
“How do you know it’s green?”
“Because it’s like mine.”
“Uh huh.” She’d spent a lot of time teaching her brother and reading to him since he was small. She’d never taught him how to keep accounts. Probably Papa had given him an old book to play with. She pulled more papers from the drawer and set them aside.
Henry stood. “I know where it is.”
The authority in his voice made him sound older. She stopped pulling papers from the drawer and gave him her full attention. “I’m listening.”
“Papa kept our books together.” Henry opened the glass-fronted bookcase and removed several books. Behind them were the ledgers.
“Why did he hide them?”
“Papa said valuable information shouldn’t be left where it is easily found. He was teaching me how to write down expenses so I’d know how when the farm is mine.”
Which it was now. That’s what Papa always said, never intending Henry to be in charge at ten.
“Could I see Papa’s ledger, please?”
He held it tight against his chest then handed it to her. “Katie, I’m supposed to be the man of the house, but I don’t feel like one. There’s so much I don’t know how to do.”
She saw him fighting to keep from breaking into a sob. She had been his age when he was born, and their mother died. Over time she’d become more of his mother than a sister. She set the book on the desk and pulled him into a hug. “You have some growing to do. One day you will be in charge of this house, but for now, would you let me and Oma take care of the finances?”
Breaking away, he gave her a smile. “Does that mean I can quit school?”
“No, it means you get to work hard on the farm and come inside and do your lessons at night.”
“Why? All the learning I need is outside.”
“No, it’s not. You have to know how to figure out how much grain we need to keep for the winter, how much to sell, and what to do with the money made.”
Henry’s lips twisted then his forehead wrinkled. “Do I have to start today? I wanted to go fishing.”
Too soon, responsibilities would weigh on his shoulders. “Bring back something for supper.”
He left so fast it was as if she’d imagined him. But she hadn’t. The answers to the loan sat between green covers on Papa’s desk.
Pete brushed Biscuit while waiting for Roy in the barn. He needed to pull away from this family before the pain of leaving created a scar that wouldn’t heal. What would it be like if he’d been adopted with his younger brother? Would they have a place of their own? Wives? Would he be an uncle? Maybe he was already. “What do you think Biscuit? Could I be some little one’s Uncle Pete?”
The curry comb moved faster, followed by the brush. He’d tried to locate Billy after he’d run away from the home he had been placed in. Some home. They gave him a room in the barn, and he ate his meals on the porch. Not much different than the way Pete lived now—except for here. He was invited in to eat with a family; two little girls followed him, always talking; even Alma had been kind, showing him how to sketch. She’d bought him a book and some special pencils to practice last winter.
He’d found himself trying to capture Katie Tucker on the paper. She was a hard subject. That’s what Alma called the kittens, even though they were soft as dandelion puff. They were precious but difficult to put on paper because they wouldn’t stop moving. Katie didn’t move a lot, but she wouldn’t look at him long enough for him to study her face.
“That horse ain’t going to have any hair left if you don’t stop.” Roy held out a piece of pie. “Alma sent this out for you. You hurt her feelings not wanting to eat with us.”
Pete closed the stall door. He set the grooming tools on a shelf and then took the pie. “I’m sorry. I’ll apologize later.”
“Yes, you will. Can’t have my Snow Angel with tears in her eyes.”
“I think it’s time for me to move on.”
“Why would you think that? Your home is here. My girls love you, and I need you.” Roy’s face turned red. “Did you get a better offer? If it’s a property you want or a house, I’ll sell you a piece of land and help you build.”
�
��Hear me out before you get a pitchfork.” He took a bite of the pie. He considered his words with care. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you about leaving, but until this week I hadn’t come up with the where to go.”
“Why don’t you start with explaining your need to leave?” Roy settled against the barn wall.
“You know it. I told you when I came to work for you that I never settle anywhere for long. I stayed as long as I have because of the girls.”
“You’ll break their hearts if you leave.”
“Just wait, here’s my idea. When I dropped Katie off at her farm last week, it wasn’t hard to tell nothing’s been done since the fire. The barn smoldered and died with her father, not a board has been moved. She said her father had hired someone, but he hasn’t shown up.”
“So you want to buy her place?” Roy straightened. “That don’t seem like you, Pete, taking advantage of two women and a boy.”
Pete shook his head. “No. I don’t think that’s what she wants. We know her father took out a loan, so she might lose the place if we—I—don’t help her.”
“What’s your plan? She won’t accept charity.”
“Thought I’d tell her you sent me to get the barn built.”
“How’s that not charity?”
“If Alma helps, we can do this. Katie will listen to her. Tell her you two want to loan her the money to buy the lumber and you’ll pay my wages—not that I’d expect that. I’ve got enough saved that I can work there for a while.” He kicked at some loose straw. “Besides, I think Henry needs a man around the place. Help him figure out how to run it.”
Roy laughed. “And his sister? Perhaps you think I haven’t seen you working up the nerve to talk to her all spring.”
“I wouldn’t be opposed, but I don’t think she approves of me, being a drifter with no family.”
“I found it’s best not to put thoughts into the minds of others.” Roy scratched his chin. “Let me talk to Alma. See what she thinks. She won’t want you staying over there at night.”
The 12 Brides Of Summer (Novella Collection Book 4) Page 6