looked right at Ruth, laughed and roared away on his noisy machine.
Chapter Three
Ruth glanced at Mam and then turned her attention back to Blackie, their driving gelding, and eased him onto the shoulder of the busy road to allow a line of cars to pass. Blackie was a young horse, and Ruth didn’t completely trust him yet, not like she did old Molly, so she liked to keep a sharp eye out for traffic.
“So why did you wait so long to tell me about Irwin?” Her mother’s soft voice carried easily over the regular clip-clop of Blackie’s hooves on the road and the rumble of the buggy wheels. The rain, which had held off all day, was coming down in a spattering of large drops.
Miriam had gone ahead with Anna, Susanna and Johanna and her children to the quilting frolic at Lydia Beachy’s house in the big buggy, leaving her and Mam to follow in the smaller courting buggy. Dat had brought this single-seat carriage from Pennsylvania with him twenty-six years ago. It was just the right size for two, perfect for private conversation. Ruth had counted on being able to voice her concerns about Irwin, and she wanted to tell Mam about this afternoon’s incident with Eli Lapp and his ridiculous motorbike before anyone else did.
“Ruth?” Mam pressed.
“I meant to, but…” An ominous roll of thunder sounded off to the west, and she flicked the reins to urge Blackie into a trot as she pulled back onto the road. “But Samuel came last night and then there was no chance to talk with you alone and today we were both gone all day.”
“I see. Well, Irwin wasn’t in school today.”
“He wasn’t?”
“I asked three of Irwin’s cousins why he wasn’t there and got three different excuses,” Mam said.
Ruth sighed. “I don’t want to accuse him. I just thought it was strange that he’d run away like that. I suppose he could have seen the fire and been trying to put it out.” She hesitated. “But since Irwin is always making mischief…”
“Losing his whole family in a fire, coming to Delaware to live with people he hardly knows, it’s no wonder he acts out.” Mam folded her arms in a gesture that meant no nonsense. “I won’t judge him until we know the truth, and neither should you.”
Ruth didn’t want to argue with Mam, but neither was she going to hold her tongue when she had something to say. “He did set Samuel’s outhouse on fire last month. He gave Toby a black eye and you sent him home twice from school for fighting this month.”
Mam frowned. “The boy has a lot of anger inside. He needs love, not accusations and false judgments.”
“But if he makes a habit of playing with matches…”
“Where’s your charity? In my experience, the wildest boys turn out to be the most dependable men.”
Ruth winced. “You know I don’t mean to be uncharitable. I just thought you should know what I saw with my own eyes.”
“And rightly so.” Mam nodded. “Now that I do know, I’ll handle it.”
When Ruth didn’t comment, Mam continued. “The school can be repaired, but if people start talking about Irwin, the damage to a child’s soul may not be so easy to mend.”
“You’re right, but what if he’s a danger to others?”
“Have faith, Ruth. I’ll do my part, the Beachys will do theirs, and God will do the rest.”
“What will you do?” Her heart went out to the boy, as unlikable as he was, but they had to think of the other children’s safety, too. As much as she valued her mother’s judgment, she had to be satisfied that they weren’t taking unnecessary chances to protect Irwin.
“I’ll talk to him privately.” Mam pursed her mouth. “Last night, Samuel confided that he suspects his twins know something about the fire, something they were afraid to tell.”
“What made him think that?”
“Samuel said it wasn’t what they said—it was what they didn’t say.” Mam squeezed her hand. “We’ll get to the bottom of this. Not to worry.”
She glanced at her mother, wanting to believe her, wishing her own faith in others came as easily as it seemed to come to Mam. “You always say that.”
“And it’s always true, isn’t it? Things usually work out for the best.”
Her mother smiled at her, and Ruth was struck by how young and pretty she still was at forty-six. Tonight, she was wearing a lavender dress with her black apron, and her black bonnet was tied over her starched white Kapp. No one would guess by looking at Mam’s waistline that she’d given birth to seven children. “You must have been a beautiful bride, Mam.”
“Why, Ruth Yoder, what a thing to say. I hope I was properly Plain. Vanity is not a trait to be encouraged.”
Ruth suppressed a smile. Mam might not admit it, but she cared about her appearance. It was Ruth’s opinion that on her wedding day, her mother must have been just as beautiful as Leah. Hadn’t Dat always said he’d snapped up the prettiest girl in Kent County? “No one could accuse you of Hochmut, Mam. You never show a speck of self-pride.”
“Not according to your grossmama. It took a long time for your dat’s mother and family to accept me after we married.”
“Because you grew up Mennonite and had to join the Amish Church to marry Dat?” That was something of a family scandal, but once she had joined the church, no one now could ever accuse Mam of not being properly Plain in her demeanor or her faith.
“Maybe, or maybe it was that your dat was her only son.”
“And we were all girls.”
“God’s gifts to us, every one of you.” Mam squeezed her hand. “Believe that, Ruth. Your father never blamed me that we had no sons. He always said he got exactly what he prayed for.”
Ruth’s throat constricted as she turned Blackie onto Norman and Lydia Beachy’s long dirt lane behind the Troyer buggy. “I miss Dat.”
“And so do I. Every day.”
“Does that mean you’re not going to marry Samuel?”
Hannah chuckled. “If I were to consider such a thing, wouldn’t it be wiser to settle that matter with Samuel first?” She patted Ruth’s hand again. “Mind your own mending, daughter.”
As Blackie’s quick trot drew the buggy toward the house and barn, Ruth realized that she hadn’t had time to tell Mam about Miriam’s ride on the back of Eli Lapp’s motor scooter.
As the buggy neared the rambling two-story farmhouse, Ruth saw several of the Beachy children in the yard taking charge of the guests’ horses. As she reined in Blackie, she spotted Irwin coming out from behind a corncrib to take hold of the horse’s bridle. “A good evening to you,” she called.
Irwin winced and took a firmer grip on Blackie. The horse twitched his ears.
“We
