You critters are sure messy, you know that?” Martha clicked her tongue, as she hosed out the unpleasant debris that had accumulated on the concrete floor of the dogs’ outside run.
Heidi and her pups ran around one side of the kennel, and Fritz occupied the other side with a partition between them. Bo and Flo shared another section of the kennel, which would also be divided once Flo got pregnant. Dad had built the kennel against the back of the barn and connected it to an outside run through a small door Martha could open whenever the dogs needed fresh air or exercise.
Martha thought about Freckles, the pup Donna and Ray had bought from her, and how well the dog seemed to be doing. When she’d gone over to the Larsons’ the other day, she’d been pleased to see how much the pup had grown and how well-adjusted it seemed.
Martha had brought Donna and Ray up to date on the attacks at her home. They seemed shocked and promised to keep an eye out for anything strange going on, and Ray had said he would notify the sheriff about the attacks that had already occurred.
Martha felt some measure of relief knowing the sheriff would finally be told, but it wouldn’t set well with her father if he thought she’d had anything to do with it. Hopefully, the Larsons wouldn’t mention her visit.
As Grace left the doctor’s office, her heart swirled with emotions. What she’d suspected had been confirmed—she was definitely pregnant. She was pleased to learn that she was carrying Cleon’s baby, but she was worried about how well she could cope with having another child when everything in her life was so mixed up.
The odor of horseflesh assaulted her senses, and she glanced to the left. Two buggies waited at the stoplight, the horses both pawing at the pavement as though they couldn’t wait to go. A car down the street tooted its horn, and an English boy heading up the sidewalk with his mother sneezed. A world where everything seemed normal was going on all around her, while Grace’s world had been turned upside down.
When she approached her buggy, parked in the lot next to the doctor’s office, she spotted Gary across the street, entering the restaurant where she used to work. How much longer would he be hanging around? Every time she saw him, she was reminded of her past and of her concerns that he might be responsible for the attacks. She wondered if she should confront him again—ask him to stop harassing them, plead with him if necessary.
Grace shook her head. What good would that do? When she’d confronted him before, he’d denied knowing anything about the attacks. Maybe he found pleasure in knowing she and her family were frightened. If she ignored him, he might leave them alone.
Roman had just begun sweeping up a pile of sawdust when John Peterson entered his shop.
“What can I do for you, John?” he asked, setting the broom aside.
John moved closer to Roman and pulled his fingers through the back of his hair. “You’ve … uh … probably heard that Luke Freisen has come to work for me.”
“Jah, I heard.”
“Well, I came by to make sure there were no hard feelings over me hiring him.”
Roman leaned against his workbench and folded his arms. “’Course not. It’s not like you lured Luke away or anything. He only went to you because I fired him.”
John blinked. “Really? I thought—” He shook his head. “Luke said you’d had a difference of opinion and that he figured he’d do better working for someone who used modern equipment.”
“What’d you say to that?”
“What could I say? I wouldn’t be happy doing the kind of work I do without the electricity and updated equipment I have in my shop.” He glanced around the room. “Not that you do poor work with what you use here.”
“I hope things go okay between you and Luke,” Roman said with a shrug. He didn’t want to make an issue of it, but if he were a betting man, he’d bet Luke Friesen wouldn’t last more than a few weeks working for John.
“Luke seems like a pretty smart fellow, and from what I’ve seen, he’s a good-enough worker.”
Roman grunted. “He likes to do things his own way, and I’ll give you a little warning: He tends to be late to work pretty often. Leastways, he was when he was workin’ for me.”
“I appreciate the tip, and you can be sure that I’ll be keeping an eye on him.”
Roman glanced at the fancy pair of sunglasses he’d set on the shelf across the room—the ones Judith had found on the ground near the clothesline. He was tempted to mention that he thought Luke might have something to do with the attacks that had been done at their place but decided against it since he had no proof. He supposed he could mention the sunglasses and ask John to take them and see if they belonged to Luke. On the other hand, if they were Luke’s, it might be best to let him come and claim them himself.
John moved away from the desk. “I’d better get back to my shop. I left Luke working on a set of cabinets for Dave Rawlings, and I need to be sure he knows how many coats of stain it will take.”
“Jah. Thanks for dropping by.” When John closed the door, Roman reached for his broom and gave it a couple of hard sweeps across the floor. Now Dave, one of his steady customers, had taken his business elsewhere. Could Luke be saying bad things about Roman’s work in order to lure more customers to John?
Roman grabbed a dustpan and pushed the pile of shavings into it as he thought about the conversation he’d finally had with their bishop the other night. “I’ve got to quit stewing over things and put my trust in God like Bishop King said I should do.”
“I’m glad you’re home, ‘cause I didn’t know what to do about all this.”
Cleon grimaced as he and Ivan stood in the middle of the clearing where his beehives had once been. “Not a one left, is there?”
“Nope, and I’m sure sorry about this.” Ivan shook his head. “I didn’t want to make things worse by tellin’ you all the details when I spoke with you on the phone the other day, but the shed where you kept your beekeeping equipment was burned, too.”
Cleon huffed. Things seemed to be going from bad to worse for him these days. “It wasn’t your fault. This could have happened if I’d been here. It isn’t possible to keep an eye on the hives all the time.”
Ivan touched Cleon’s shoulder. “Have you seen Grace and told her about this?”
Cleon shook his head. “I had my driver bring me here as soon as I got off the bus in Dover.”
“I’ll bet Grace will be happy to know you’re home. She looked awful mied and bedauerlich when I saw her in church a few weeks ago.”
Cleon shrugged. Grace wasn’t the only one who felt tired and sad. Finding out about her secret had made him feel like he’d been butted in the stomach by a charging bull. Now that his beehives were gone, he didn’t even have a job he liked to do.
“You going home soon, then?”
Cleon winced. Was his brother trying to make him feel guilty for being gone so long? Didn’t he realize the way things were with Grace?
“Guess I’ll have to since I have no other place to go.”
Ivan opened his mouth as if to say something more, but Cleon cut him off. “Think I’ll speak to Grace’s daed and see if he’d be willing to hire me in his shop. I’m not the best carpenter in the world, but I believe I can give him a fair day’s work.”
“Sounds like a good idea.” Ivan made a sweeping gesture of the open field. “You planning to get some more bees soon?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.” Cleon sighed. “Guess that all depends on how things go when I talk to Roman. I’ll need some money in order to buy more bees and boxes, not to mention all the equipment that was burned in the fire.”
“I’m sure Pop would loan you—”
Cleon held up his hand to halt his brother’s words. “I’d rather do this without Pop’s help.” He nodded toward their folks’ house. “Guess I’ll get the horse and buggy I left here and head over to the Hostettlers’ place. May as well get this over with.”
Ivan’s eyebrows lifted high on his forehead, but he said nothing. Truth be told, he probably knew Cleon was in no hurry to see Grace.