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The sun was already above the tops of the trees as Samuel walked to the barn. As he shoved the big sliding door open, he scanned the building’s dusty interior, filled with equipment and clutter from days gone by. How would that Mary Hochstetter see Daed’s barn? Thinking about her coffee-brown eyes, so much like Mamm’s, pulled at something deep inside, something that reminded him of another time and another place.
A week, years ago, when he and his brother, Bram, had been sent to Grossdawdi’s farm in Eden Township. He must have been four or five years old. Grossmutti’s kitchen had been a wonder of cinnamon and apples and as much food as he could eat. Grossdawdi’s brown eyes crinkled when he smiled, and he had smiled often. The barn had been a wonderful place to play, with hay piled in the lofty mow.
Samuel relaxed against the doorframe, remembering Grossdawdi’s patient hands teaching him how to rub oil into the gleaming leather harnesses. His hand cupping Samuel’s head and pulling him close in the only hug he remembered.
He had never seen the old couple again, but he hadn’t forgotten the peace that had reigned in their home. And one quiet glance of Mary’s eyes had brought it all back.
Daed’s barn had never been as orderly as Grossdawdi’s, even now when it was nearly empty. There hadn’t been enough horses to fill the stalls since before Daed had passed on. Their driving mare spent her days in the meadow, too ornery for the girls to handle by themselves.
Samuel walked over to her stall and peered out the open side door to where the mare stood, one hip cocked and head down, drowsing in the afternoon sun as she swished flies with her tail.
Daed had left the barn a mess when he passed away two years ago. Broken harnesses still sat in a moldy pile in the corner and the unused stalls were knee deep in old straw. They had never been cleaned out when the work horses had been sold to pay off Daed’s debts. The cow was gone, too, and the bank barn’s lower level was empty except for the mash cooker.
Every time he thought about trying to bring order to the chaos, Samuel felt like he was drowning in memories and past sins. Soon after Daed’s funeral, he had started clearing out the old, moldy harnesses and had found one of the bottles Daed kept stashed away. The smell brought back sickening scenes of Daed trying to hide the bottles from him with clumsy motions. When he found another stash among the straw in one of the empty box stalls, he had given up. Let the old barn keep its secrets.
Walking on to the horse’s stall, he stopped at the stack of hay on the barn floor and pulled out a forkful. The mare poked her head into her stall, her feet planted firmly in the dried mud in the doorway between her pasture and the dim barn, watching Samuel. Her ears pricked forward as Samuel thumped the fork on the side of her manger to dump the hay off, but she didn’t move. The horse was right to be suspicious. Samuel had never been overly kind to the beast. He had never been cruel, but had only followed Daed’s example.
Daed hadn’t taken much time with the horses, using them until they were worn out and then buying new ones, and Samuel had always expected to do the same. He had never thought much about it until he saw the sleek horses in the pasture at meeting yesterday. His horse had looked sickly compared to them, and men judged a farmer’s abilities by the condition of his stock. Anyone looking at his poor mare would know what the rest of his farm was like without even having to see it. They would know how he had been neglecting his legacy.
Samuel pulled the carrot he had brought from the root cellar out of his waistband. Daed had bought the mare cheap at a farm sale the year before he died. She had been strong enough, but with Daed’s lack of care, she had never become the sleek, healthy animal the other men at church kept.
He turned the carrot over in his hand. Daed’s horse, Daed’s problem. Except that Daed wasn’t here anymore. Like everything else around the farm, the horse was his responsibility now whether he liked it or not.
“Hey there.” Samuel kept his voice soft, and the mare’s ears swiveled toward him. “Look what I have for you.”
He broke the carrot in half and her head went up at the crisp snap. She stretched her neck toward him and took one step into the barn. He opened the gate and let himself into her stall.
“Come on, girl.” He should give her a name, something Daed would never do. Searching his memory of other horse names, he decided on one. “Come on, Brownie.”
Not much of a name. He stretched the carrot out toward her, wiggling it between his fingers. She took another step forward.
“You’ll like this carrot.” He tried another name. “Come on, Mabel.”
She snorted.
“All right then. Tilly.”
She swiveled her ears back and then forward again.
“Have a carrot, Tilly.” The name fit. He took a step toward her. “Come on, Tilly-girl. You’ll like it.”
He held the carrot half on his outstretched hand and she picked it up, lipping it into her mouth. She stood, crunching the carrot as he grasped her halter. He gave her the other half.
She pulled wisps of hay from her manger as he brushed her lightly. She needed more than just grass to live on if he wanted her to become the kind of horse the other farmers kept. Sadie kept oats on hand and gave Chester a measured amount every day, rather than the hit-or-miss rations he gave Tilly. Sadie’s horse thrived on her care.
So he would need to buy oats for the mare. Samuel held up the old brush, inspecting the matted and bent bristles. And he needed to buy a new brush. And a currycomb.
Taking care of this horse was going to cost money.
When Tilly finished her hay, he turned her out into the pasture again and grabbed the manure fork. He hauled forkfuls of soiled straw out to the pasture and started a pile. Somewhere in the past he remembered a manure pile in this spot. Mamm had used the soiled bedding on her garden after it had mellowed over the winter.
By the time he finished emptying the stall and spreading it with the last of the clean straw he had on hand, it was time for breakfast. The aroma of bacon frying pulled him to the house.
The girls didn’t look up when he walked into the kitchen after washing up on the back porch.
“Good morning.” Samuel broke the silence, and Esther stared at him in surprise. He didn’t blame her. When had he ever greeted her in the morning?
Judith placed a bowl of scrambled eggs on the table with a smile. “Good morning, Samuel.”
He started to reach for the platter of bacon, then remembered. He waited for Judith and Esther to take their seats, and then bowed his head for the silent prayer.
He had never prayed during this time, but had always let his mind wander while he waited for Daed’s signal to eat. But this morning, as the aroma of the bacon teased his hunger, he felt a nudge of guilt. Did his sisters pray during this moment of silence?
After the right amount of time had passed, Samuel cleared his throat just as Daed had always done, and reached for the bacon.
“Some coffee, Samuel?” Esther stood at his elbow with the coffee pot.
Samuel nodded, his mouth full. She poured his coffee and then her own and Judith’s. Her wrists, sticking out too far from the sleeves of her faded dress, were thin. The hollow places under her cheekbones were shadowed and gray.
Esther had been keeping house for him since Annie got married and before that had taken on her share of the work, just as Judith did now. Her brow was creased, as if she wore a perpetual frown at the young age of twenty-one. He had never noticed that before.
Not before he had met Mary. Tall and slim, Mary looked healthy and strong. Compared to her, Judith and Esther reminded him of last year’s dry weeds along the fence.
Samuel shifted in his chair, the eggs tasting like dust in his mouth. The sight of the bacon on his plate turned his stomach. A sudden