Chapter Twenty-Six

Danke for breakfast, Mamm.” Zeb placed the handmade napkin on his empty plate and walked to the door.

His daed turned around to see Zeb. “What time is the meeting?”

“Not until later, but I’m going into town early. Gotta take care of some business.” He still hoped he could take care of this without a long procession of Amish getting involved. Zeb had a knack for talking himself in and out of tight spots. The only part that bothered him was that Merv was involved. He could make things worse with his ignorance alone.

“Sure you don’t want me to go?” His daed’s gray hair and peaked complexion was an answer in itself. Daed didn’t have the energy or stamina to spend the day riding in the buggy and sitting in a courthouse all day, but he would be glad to get it behind him.

“Nee, Daed. Merv and I can handle it. We’ll need a hand with the milking, though.” They honestly did need assistance because they would need to start early to get to town in plenty of time. And it would give Daed something to do to feel helpful.

“You ready?” Merv ate the egg sandwich Mamm had made him and washed it down with a glass of milk.

“Here are a couple more for the road.” She handed each of them a jug of water and sandwich wrapped in a towel.

Zeb and Merv were silent during the drive to town as green fields turned to cottages that turned to business offices until they were in the heart of town.

They looked for a place to park that wouldn’t bother other drivers if the horse made a mess, and then found their way to the courthouse, waiting for Merv’s name to be called.

They sat on wood benches that were placed against three of the walls in the room with a long table of men facing them. As the time came to start the proceedings, more people started coming in, both Englishers and Amish. Zeb had expected some to show up, but not this many. But then the meeting he’d had with the deacons may have piqued more interest.

Reuben hadn’t been at the previous meeting, and that was no accident. Knowing he was away visiting family in Ohio, Zeb had taken advantage of the opportunity and called for a meeting with the deacons during that specific time. Gott help him for being so manipulative. At times he felt if Emma were there his conscience would take second place to hers. She had a rock-solid honesty about her.

He scanned the room, but didn’t see Reuben there today either. It seemed too much of a coincidence, but it was still early, and he could show up. Zeb sank down in his seat.

I’m being paranoid. If Reuben had a problem with our milk farm, it would have been brought up by now.

“Mervin Bowman.” An older gray-haired man looked through his bifocals at a paper as Merv moved forward.

“A police officer pulled you over for failure to use required towing equipment, failure to display a reflective device on a slow-moving vehicle, and having steel wheels.” He looked down over his glasses at Merv.

“Jah, sir.” Merv stood and twisted the brim of his hat, nervous as all get-out. Zeb had put him in this spot and wished he was the one standing there, not Merv.

“Permission to speak.” Zeb stood, not able to sit by and watch his brother go through this alone. He was representing the entire community, after all. “I’m Merv’s brother.”

“Yes, Mr. Bowman.”

“I came into town when we got the notice and explained to the officer that the wheels are a part of our religious beliefs, as is not using a slow-moving vehicle sign. We don’t have the privilege to change two of the three, but we will use a different towing device.”

The man took off his glasses. “And why do you feel the need to speak for your brother?”

“I should have been driving that day. I asked Merv to do a chore I should have done.” If that sounded genuine enough, Zeb may have swayed the group of decision makers enough to consider a lesser punishment.

“Would the outcome be any different?” The older man’s fuzzy brow furrowed with question.

“For the most part, no. But I have been attending the meeting over this matter and want to know what’s been decided. I’d like to help with anything to remedy the situation.” Zeb wouldn’t have used the towing device Merv used, but that didn’t need to be brought up unless necessary.

“It has been decided that steel wheels are not allowed due to the damage they cause. We spend millions every year on resurfacing highways in this area. The only option we can offer is rubber tires over the steel wheels. The other recourse is for you to challenge this in court due to your religious beliefs, according to the freedom of religion act.” The mediator grinned. “I hear you have a history of that.”

“May I add something here?” The bishop stood to face the group of men who oversaw the conversation. Zeb let out the air in his lungs, glad he was present to help move this in the direction necessary.

The gray-haired mediator grinned. “Ahh, yes, Bishop. Why is it that you have to use those blasted steel wheels?” They seemed to know one another. Zeb hoped it was in a good way, and not some other tussle the Amish had for the old ways.

“We’re not meaning to be above the law. It’s a sign of humility. Any advancement in our community can cause schism in the church. We can’t make changes without going against the mother church.” The bishop’s reddish beard and hair shone under the fluorescent lights as he waited for a response.

“The members of the Lancaster County Board of Supervisors want to take care of the roads. It’s our responsibility. If there are any damages from this incident or in the future, you will be responsible.”

“I will personally pay for any damages.” Zeb may have spoken too quickly and out of turn, but he wanted this off his back and everyone else’s. It would go against their principles to change anything they were doing, and if money could appease them, so be it.

The older man nodded. “Yes, Mr. Bowman, you will pay, or whoever is responsible.” He looked over at Merv.

Zeb treated him like a coddled child, but better that than Merv saying something that would get them in any trouble.

The group of Amish men gathered once outside the room, discussing the issue. Hearing their remarks made Zeb realize they’d opened a can of worms. The problem had only started to bubble up to the surface and would surely affect them all until things could be ironed out with the city and the gmayna board. Then the Amish pulled together.

The bishop walked over to Zeb before he left, pulling him to the side. “Take care of this, Zeb. We don’t want it turning into more problems. We’ll pay whatever fines come up as a community. You’re not alone. It could have been any one of us. But until we can work this out with the mother church, our hands are tied.”

“Nee, Bishop Bender. We have the money to pay what is owed.” Zeb wasn’t that out of the way. The dairy farm was doing well enough, it wouldn’t gouge their income.

The bishop leaned in closer. “I hear you’re doing well with your dairy farm.”

Zeb’s mind tingled, a warning that this might be a new set of problems. “Jah, it’s a change from growing crop, but it’s worked out for us.”

“Gut. It’s a good thing to have a dairy farm that’s done so well in our community. Doing well enough to give up growing crop, even?”

A flag went up. Knowing he’d been the topic of conversation in the presence of the bishop was not a good sign. Zeb’s throat went dry.

He waited long enough to reply that the bishop spoke up again. “Or are you still deciding?”

Reuben walked through the doors, scanned the room, and made eye contact with Zeb. As he began to make his way over to them, Zeb felt trapped by either side. There was no way out of this conversation. He had to tell the truth within the few seconds before Reuben told the bishop.

“That will only happen if I’m able to use gas pumps to speed up the process. We have too many cows to do it any other way.”

There it was, out in the open. He’d have the bishop’s blessing or be denied. But even if he was given permission, he’d have some explaining to do as to why he already had the equipment.

Ivan stopped Reuben, said a few words, and Reuben continued over to them. The bishop’s answer couldn’t come quickly enough.

“Hmm, sounds like we have another meeting to tend to.” He twirled his beard, a sign he was thinking, sizing up the circumstances and probably working out an answer as they spoke. “We’ll talk later.”

“Jah. The sooner, the better.” That wasn’t the closure he’d hoped for, but at least it was out there, and Reuben was no longer a threat. He wanted this over. It had been hanging over his head for too long. Between that and Emma’s distance, he was about at his wits’ end.

“How’s Emma doing? Have you heard?” Bishop placed his black felt hat on his head and tapped the top once.

“Not recently. Just one letter. I’m heading over to the post office, so hopefully there will be some good news.” Any news would be just fine about now. He’d been patient long enough.

Bishop made the soft humming sound again and then shook his head. “They always come home again. And I wouldn’t be worried about Emma. I’m glad she’s there. She’ll bring those young’uns back where they belong.”

“If anyone can, it would be her. I just hope it’s soon.” Zeb was antsy, now that the post office was open and the meeting was over. He tipped his hat to the bishop and told Merv to meet him at the buggy. He wanted to be alone this time if there was a letter, and for some reason, he felt sure there would be.

When he got to the mailbox, he looked through the glass window to see two letters. He pulled them out and noticed they were both from the same address—the Mennonite church address Emma had used. He ripped open her letter, hoping he was reading them in the correct order.

Dear Zeb,
I hope this letter finds you well. I’ve adjusted to the church where we’re staying. Everyone is friendly and helpful. I especially like a man named Alex. He has helped me learn how the Stock Pot runs and how to help. Mark seems to be enjoying his time here, which is good for him but hard for me because he’s difficult to keep track of and is fearless in this big city. He has made a friend here, a nice young man, but I worry Mark may stay because of this friendship. Regardless, I hope to be home soon.
Tell my family Mark and I are well and hope to see you all very soon.
Yours,
Emma

Zeb stuck out his lower lip in thought. This letter was more insightful than the last, but still not what he’d hoped for. There was another, though, so he couldn’t complain. He thought about whether she’d received the letter he’d sent to her. Maybe that explained her short message. He would send another one as soon as he got back to the farm.

He opened the second letter, but it was written in Caleb’s penmanship. His head snapped back in surprise. He read quickly and faster, completely still as he kept reading. His pulse pounded. Worry and fear engulfed him.

He walked quickly to the door, and when his boots hit the concrete he took off to the buggy.

Merv was in the buggy waiting. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m going to the bus station. Give me any money you have on you.” Zeb cut off drivers and urged the horse into a fast trot when he had the space.

“What’s going on?” Merv stuck a wad of bills in Zeb’s coat.

Zeb handed him the second letter, trying not to panic. “Emma is in trouble.”

“How do you know?”

“That letter is from Caleb.”

“What’s it say?”

Zeb swerved through the traffic as horns honked. “He wants me to bring Emma home.”