Chapter Six

 

 

That May Sunday, the temperature was in the middle 60’s with a slight breeze. Mid-morning, Hal eagerly rushed out to the Lapp farm. John’s horse and buggy were sitting by the barn. He was home. She was so busy looking for John she didn’t spot Patches in time to slow down. He sprinted out of the ditch and raced at her front car tire. She braked hard and fishtailed in the loose gravel, narrowly missing him. Hal’s heart thudded in her chest as she fought to get straight in the road. By the time she stopped, her car leaned on the edge of the ditch. Hands shaking and stomach flip flopping with nausea, Hal put the car in motion and turned into the drive.

The ping of gravel flying and screech of brakes brought John rushing from the barn. Weak-kneed, Hal slid out and slammed the car door. Shaking from head to toe, she leaned against the car, holding her head in her trembling hands.

John trotted to her. “Are you all right?”

“Yes. Just a little unnerved. Patches ran at my car again. I was so happy to see you were home, I wasn’t thinking about him. He took me by surprise.” She paused, gave John a tearful look and predicted, “One of these days I won’t be able to stop fast enough.”

“I’m sorry this happened to you,” John said, pulling her to him.

She felt his strained breathing from running. She wondered if he was able to hear her pounding heart. “Ever since I hit that deer, the thought of hitting another animal and winding up in the ditch unnerves me. I certainly don’t want to hurt Patches.”

He patted her back as he looked over her shoulder at the happy go lucky dog trotting toward the barn. “Patches is all right. By the way, I am so glad you are here.”

Hal looked up at him. “Oh, so am I.” It was tears of joy that moistened her eyes this time.

“We should enjoy today. Right?” John asked, running a finger along her cheek.

Hal nodded at him.

With her hands on her hips, Emma stared down at them from the porch. “What happened? Are you all right, Hallie?”

Noah and Daniel peeked out the open door as Hal licked her lips and tried to sound normal. “Good morning, Emma. I’m fine. Patches just gave me a scare. Can I help you get dinner?”

“If you would like,” Emma said, motioning toward the door.

John gave her a peck on the cheek. “I have to finish up in the barn. I will be in shortly.”

Noah and Daniel sat back down at the table and resumed a game of Scrabble. As Emma headed past them, she said, “Brothers, go out and two fryers catch. We will have fried chicken for dinner.”

The boys frowned. They eyed each other and looked at Emma with a do we have to look. They didn’t want to stop their game.

Hoping to give them a reason to do as Emma told them so they wouldn’t get in trouble, Hal said, “Can I help? It has been a long time since I butchered chickens with my mother. I’d like to help you.”

Smiling at her eagerness for such a mundane task, Noah said, “Come with us.”

“We will give you a treat,” snorted Daniel.

Emma turned the chickens loose early each morning. Luckily, a few of the fryers had gathered back in the hen house. They were still young enough to be uncertain about the vast world outside their safe place. Noah took the catcher, a stiff wire with a hook on one end, off the wall. Daniel motioned for Hal to step inside. He closed the door. Spying humans, the mixture of hens and roosters crowded under the roost in a tight cluster. Noah slipped up slowly so he wouldn’t spook them. He eased the hook around the leg of a dark red and black rooster. With the precision of experience at this chicken catching job, he jerked back. The rooster protested with a loud squawk, flogging the floor with his wings. Hal could see by the window’s light the rooster stirred up particles of sunbathed dust that floated in the air. She wrinkled her nose at the stifling odor of ammonia. Small, fluffy feathers fogged up from the floor, fanned into flight by the rooster’s wings.

“You are a very good rooster catcher,” Hal complimented.

Noah nodded as he carried the rooster upside down by the legs and handed it to Daniel. Again he eased the catcher under the roost. The chickens were on the alert this time. They crowded each other for a spot within the center where they thought they would be safer. With the slightest touch of the cold wire hook, the chickens moved their feet up and down to avoid getting caught. Noah inched the hook into the cluster and snagged a hen’s leg. As he drew her out of the flock, she cackled an alarm to the rest. Noah jerked the hook forward so she could step out of it. Suddenly, a nice fryer tromped his way to the outside of the flock. Noah saw his chance, hooked the rooster and pulled the protesting squawker out from under the roost. He handed the chicken to Hal.

“Now you have to take the roosters behind the chicken house,” Noah said to Hal. “There is a block of wood back there. I need to get the hatchet from the tool shed to cut their heads off.”

After they stepped out into bright sunlight and fresh air, Daniel said, “Come on, Nurse Hal.” He sprinted for the back of the building.

As Noah disappeared toward the tool shed, Hal’s nose began to burn. She sneezed, getting rid of what chicken dust she’d inhaled. That sneeze might have been what scared the rooster into action, but Hal figured him to be a noisy fighter anyway. She held her catch at arm's length to keep the rooster from flogging her with his flapping wings. He emitted a squawky, threatening growl and suddenly doubled his body up like a contortionist. Rearing his head back, the rooster pecked Hal’s hand. Surprised, she squealed and dropped the rooster. A spot of bright red blood oozed from under the broken skin at the base of her thumb. With a triumphant squawk, the rooster took off low and fast across the yard. The last Hal saw of him, he disappeared around the house.

Fudge! No way was she going to catch up to that chicken. What was she going to do? She hated to tell the boys that she wasn’t able to do something as simple as hang onto a rooster after she invited herself along to help. They would be sure to tease her. Besides she let part of dinner get away. Now Noah had to catch another chicken. Emma would be waiting on them, expecting to get those fryers in the skillet soon. Noah and Daniel might think she was too much bother to let her ever help again. The last thing she wanted to do was make the boys think she couldn’t do such a simple job.

A loud, long crow came from behind her. She turned just as a rooster flew up and perched on the corner fence post near the chicken house. Maybe she could catch him before the boys spotted she was empty-handed. She edged toward the rooster with her hand out.

“Nice rooster,” she said softly. “Stand still.”

Cocking his head sideways, the rooster kept his black beady eyes on her, watching her slowly move in his direction.

Dancing nervously from one bright yellow foot to the other, he flapped his wings, ready to take flight.

Hal stopped. “Don’t leave,” she pleaded softly, still holding her hand in midair.

The rooster flew off the post, but instead of running away, he landed on the ground a few feet from her.

“Nice rooster. Don’t move. Nice rooster,” Hal cooed.

With proud strutting steps, the rooster actually moved slowly toward her. What luck. He must think she was going to feed him. Maybe he liked the sound of her voice. Who knows what a chicken was thinking. She certainly didn’t nor at this point did she care. She had to catch him before Noah came back, or Daniel peeked around the chicken house to see what was keeping her. She squatted down, still holding her hand out.

“Come to me, rooster. Please come to me,” Hal said softly.

The rooster strutted sideways with one wing dragging on the ground. He danced in a circle just out of her reach. Suddenly, Hal remembered how she had been chased and flogged by her mother’s mean roosters when she was a kid. She noted the long spurs protruding on the back of this rooster’s legs. She decided to slowly stand up. No way did she want that rooster to attack her face. A spur dig at her jean covered legs wouldn’t hurt nearly as much.

The rooster pranced toward her. He was so close now. She could almost touch him. Hal took one quick, long step and grabbed. Her fingers clamped around the rooster’s long, curved, black and red tail feathers. She pulled the squawking bird off the ground just as Daniel called, “Nurse Hal, what’s keeping you?”

Throwing a handful of long, arching tail feathers on the ground, Hal replied, “Just slow, Daniel. I’m coming.” She was proud of herself. She had caught a rooster by herself without the boys helping her. Too bad she couldn’t brag about it, but at least now they need never know she lost the other one.

After lunch, as Hal put a handful of silverware away, she asked, “Emma, what are we going to plant in the garden?”

“This family likes many different vegetables,” Emma said. She opened a drawer and took out a worn, frayed notebook. She handed it to Hal.

“What is this?”

“Turn to the last page that is written on. You will see where I have drawn lines for rows. Beside each row is the vegetable or flower’s name we will plant this spring.”

Hal opened the book on the table. The two of them leaned over it as Emma pointed out rows labeled peas, beans, beets, carrots, turnips, potatoes, lettuce and more. Around the edges, she planned to plant orange cosmos and yellow marigolds. The very back row nearest the house, Emma saved for her tall green cannas that bloomed a red flower. She had a basket of dried bulbs stored in the basement.

“I didn’t realize a garden took so much planning,” Hal said, mystified by the thought Emma had put into her garden.

“It is important to rotate the crops so I do not grow a vegetable in the same spot too long. If I keep track each year, I know that will not happen,” Emma told her.

Hal heard the restless shift of feet. She looked up to find John leaning against the doorway with his hands in his pants pockets. He had been listening to them. The smile on his face and the beam in his eyes told Hal he was proud of his daughter’s friendship with the woman he planned to marry.

He said, “Are you two about done planting garden in here?”

“Yes, for right now. We are going to continue for real soon enough.” Emma said, putting her notebook back in the drawer.

“Gute. Hal, how about going for a buggy ride with me? We should enjoy this good afternoon,” he invited.

“I’d love to go for a ride,” she exclaimed, giving him a hug. When she rode with him during the winter, she’d just had the car accident with the deer. She was hurting all over and had a concussion. That day, she wasn’t about to enjoy anything, especially the jarring buggy ride.

“Gute, I did not leave the buggy hitched to the horse for nothing,” John said, keeping an arm around her shoulders as he headed her for the buggy.

Everything about the countryside was springing to life. Hal enjoyed being outside in the fresh air. Best of all she liked spending this rare leisure time alone with John. As they headed down the road away from John’s farm, Hal asked, “I’ve never been this way before. Where are we going?”

“No where in particular. I just like to see how far along my neighbors are coming with their spring work.”

Me too, thought Hal. Maybe if John can find one of the farmers about done, I can suggest he ask about getting help with the Miller chores. “Spring is such a relief after winter, isn’t it? The grass is greening up. Trees are leafing out.” Hal took a deep breath. “Smell. The air is so fresh.”

“The air is cool. Are you warm enough?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” she said, laying her head on his shoulder. “How soon do you start to plant corn?”

“I am about ready. I plant corn when the leaves on the oak trees are the size of a squirrel’s ear,” he told her. “We are passing Elton’s farm.” John nodded off toward her side.

The large, two-story house in a neat yard with a garden by the road, a chicken house, a tool shed, an outhouse, a large barn and a windmill nearby reminded her of every other Amish farm. As Hal studied her feet, she reflected on the thought that in the Amish look-alike list of clothes and horses she could add farms.

She was about to reply that the Bontragers had a nice farm when a hunkered down mouse streaked over the toes of her tennis shoes. Hal screamed. She didn’t think it was a big scream, just a long, shrill eek. Not that the type of her outcry made a difference to the horse. His ears swiveled back like radar, trying to detect where the danger was located. The startled horse’s head flew up. He stretched his long neck out and bolted.

John sawed the lines back and forth. He yelled repeatedly, “Whoa, Ben.”

Hal braced herself against the back of the seat. With one hand, she held onto the seat. With the other, she covered her mouth so she wouldn’t repeat the same mistake again. The enclosed buggy must have hit every pothole in the horse’s path. Hal had to take her hand from her mouth and place it on top her head to cushion the blows when she connected with the buggy top.

Moving fast by blurred farmland and buildings, Hal wondered what Emma would think of the view on this ride. A quick glance at John’s clamped jaws, with a twitter of tension in his cheeks, told Hal he wouldn’t think her comment funny. The thought struck her that if the horse didn’t turn the buggy over and dump her out, once John got the horse stopped, he just might do it himself. She edged to the end of the seat and braced herself in the corner.

The horse slowed down. He was tired out and breathing hard. John kept up the see-sawing on the lines. Ben was paying attention now. Finally, he stopped.

“Gute. We will sit here a minute. Give the horse a breather.” John said, looking irritated. He cocked an eye at Hal. “Why did you scream like that? Have you never been around horses?”

Hal said in a tiny voice, “No, not really. But, John, a mouse scared me when it ran over my feet.”

“A mouse.” John gave her a nonplus grimace. That wasn’t a good enough excuse for her scaring the horse.

That look was enough for Hal to find her voice. “Didn’t you see it? An icky, nasty creature. You know how I hate mice. Oh, John, I’m sorry. Right this very minute that mouse is under your side of the seat. Can you please catch him before he comes back over here by me?” She stopped when she realized she was babbling.

With a twitch at the corner of his mouth, John said, “I will try. Not for you but for the horse’s sake. He will not want to go for a hard run again today. Here.” He handed Hal the lines.

She stared at her hands wrapped around the leather lines. “What --- What am I suppose to do with these?”

“Drive while I look for the mouse,” he said as if he saw nothing wrong with that idea.

“How?” Hal gasped.

“I will help you get started.” John took the lines from her and shook them over the horse’s back. “Get up, Ben.”

The horse started off at a slow walk.

“Oh, I think this is a bad idea,” Hal warned him.

John handed the lines back. “Ben is too tired to be much trouble. Just do not scream again and change his mind.”

“Oh, I won’t,” Hal vowed, staring at the plodding horse. “Not as long as I’m driving but hurry and catch the mouse.”

As he sank to his knees, John said over his shoulder, “Just hold the lines. Let the horse do the driving.”

Hal had no intention of doing any different since she hadn’t had any training for this. She sure hoped the horse knew what to do on his own. She put one of the lines in each hand. Unconsciously, she drew the left line tighter than the right line as she watched her feet, worried she’d see a streak of gray again. Worse yet. What if that awful creature ran up her pant leg. She’d just have to bail out and leave the driving to Ben for sure. She would depants in the middle of the road and hope no one came by.

John’s back moved up and down as he stretched his arm under the seat. He groaned and grunted as he squeezed into the small space. Hal prayed the mouse stayed on John’s side. She glanced at the gravel road to see where they were. It was a four-way intersection with farm fields on all sides. The horse decided to make an about face. He trodded docilely back toward home. If that was what Ben wanted to do, it was all right with her. She wasn’t about to mention the horse turned around to John. She wanted him to concentrate on catching that mouse.

They passed an Amish man in an enclosed buggy as he pulled up at the stop sign. He waved at her. She nodded back. Since her hands were full, she couldn’t wave. She hoped he didn’t consider her unfriendly. Searching the floor around her feet, she inquired, “How are you coming, John?”

“He is a quick one. I keep missing him,” came the stoic reply.

“Oh, no,” groaned Hal softly so as not to scare the horse.

She looked through the buggy’s front opening. The horse made another turn in the middle of the road, heading back the way they had been. Ben pulled the buggy past the other intersection. At that stop sign, a farmer, in a blue and white GMC pickup, gave her a one finger farmer wave. She acknowledged by nodding at him before the horse turned and crossed the road again. Now they were passing the Amish man and headed back toward home. The man was laughing so hard his straw hat slid off his head and disappeared from sight. Hal looked out around the enclosed buggy. For the life of her, she didn’t know what he found so funny. She saw nothing to laugh at. If that man had a mouse in his buggy, he wouldn’t be such a happy fellow.

Ben turned the buggy again and headed passed the pickup. The farmer pushed his cap bill up with a finger. He bent his head toward one shoulder and gave her a nonplussed look. What was his problem? Maybe he thought it strange to see an English woman, with bushy, red-gold hair, driving an enclosed buggy.

The horse plodded along slowly, following the narrow groove of buggy tracks he’d made in the road. Hal was getting tired of Ben’s choice of routes when he made another turn and headed back past the pickup. Enough with the circles. For Pete Sakes, why can’t this horse go straight?

John, in action, rocked back and forth on his knees. He swiped faster with his hand under the seat. The silence was broken by a series of squeaks.

Hal watched her feet as she asked through clenched teeth, “John, what’s happening down there?”

“I got him,” he cried.

“Thank goodness.” She relaxed back against the seat.

Pleased with his catch, John pulled himself up and sat back on the seat. The mouse dangled, trapped by his back legs between John’s two fingers. He continued his nonstop squealing. John held the mouse toward Hal so she could see the creature to prove he caught it. As if she couldn’t hear the protesting, nasty, little varmint.

They passed the farmer in the pickup. Forgetting about the mouse, John took in what was happening. His attention was on the horse’s turning again for the umpteenth time. John’s mouth fell open. They rolled by the enclosed buggy parked at the stop sign. The flushed Amish man had his head cocked back against the seat, laughing hard enough that he held his stomach.

“That is Samuel Nisley,” John said in a surly tone, waving at the Amish man.

Eying the mouse which was now too close for comfort, Hal decided she had her own problems. The critter pawed the air with its tiny feet, trying to reach Hal. She sputtered, “K- k - keep that creature away from me.”

At the sound of Hal’s voice, John focused on her. He said flatly, “We are going in a circle.”

“Oh, that. Yes,” she answered meekly, looking out the window.

“How many circles have we made?” He asked.

Hal wrinkled her nose at him. “I – I lost count.”

“Why are we going in a circle?”

“You said let Ben do the driving. That was the horse’s choice,” she said, shrugging her shoulders.

“From the looks of the tracks, he has been circling for some time. Hal, you did not notice we are holding up traffic?”

“I know it. Now make the horse stop it.” She thrust the lines at John.

John grinned. “All right. Here you hold the mouse while I drive.”

“You are joking! I hope. I don’t want that thing. I will not hold him,” Hal said indignantly, hiding her hands under her armpits.

With a glint in his eyes, John said, “All right, you make the enclosed buggy go straight then.”

“How?” They were passing the farmer’s pickup. He had his neck stretched out and resting on the steering wheel. His nose looked inches away from the windshield as he stared at them.

John shook his finger at Hal’s hands. “See how you are holding the lines. The left one is pulled tight. That makes the horse’s head turn. Where he looks is where he’s signaled to go. Loosen that line up to match the right one. The horse will quit turning.”

Hal’s lips flattened together as she did as he said. Fudge! She knew somehow this would all turn out to be her fault. The horse followed the wheel grooves down the road. Instead of turning, this time he headed for home. Hal just couldn’t keep her attention on the road. Watching the mouse double up just like the rooster did before she let it get away, Hal asked, “I suppose it was my fault we went in a circle. I tried to tell you letting me drive was a bad idea.”

“Yes, but I should have given you lessons before I asked you to drive. I did not think about you not knowing how,” John admitted.

“I’m so sorry, but you are right. Emma never lets me cook anything without showing me how first.” She felt absolutely hopeless. No wonder that man in the buggy had a laughing fit, and the farmer looked so bumfuzzeled.

“Do not worry. I can teach you what to do.”

“John?”

“Yes?”

“Could you get rid of that awful mouse and take over. I think I’ve had enough driving practice for one day. I’m pretty sure Ben has had enough of me,” declared Hal.

John chuckled as he threw the mouse out his window. He took the lines from her. The rest of the way home, Hal listened attentively as he gave her driving pointers. The lesson didn’t end there. Once John backed the buggy into the lean-to, he showed her how to unhitch Ben and lead the horse to the pen.

“Think you got all that?” He asked as they walked to the house.

“Maybe but I wouldn’t want to hitch up and drive anytime soon by myself,” Hal assured him.

Emma met them at the door. “Have a good ride?”

Hal said without enthusiasm, “It was fine.” She held her breath, waiting for John to spill to Emma her horrible driving experience.

All he said was, “Yes, a good ride.”

Emma’s eyes narrowed as she looked from her subdued father to Hal. “How are the neighbors coming with their field work?”

“Never noticed.” John headed for his rocker. “I think I’ll read my bible awhile.”

Avoiding Emma’s scrutiny, Hal wondered if John had to find a bible passage that would help him bolster his courage to take her as his wife.

“It is time to gather eggs,” Emma said.

“I used to help my mother,” Hal stated. She realized she had said that phrase a lot lately as if that qualified her for any job. Hadn’t helped her so far. She failed most of the simple everyday chores.

Picking up the egg bucket in the mudroom, Emma said, “Come along. I want you to meet my pet rooster, Zacchaeus.”

Following Emma, Hal asked, “Why did you name a rooster, Zacchaeus?”

“Because he always has to be up high to survey his surroundings and check on his flock. I named him after Zacchaeus in the bible. He was a short man who climbed a sycamore tree in order to see Jesus, because people in the crowd was so tall he couldn’t see over them,” Emma told her. “Here, Zacchaeus,” she called.

Not one of the roosters and hens that showed up seemed friendly. Cautiously, they stalked around at a safe distance, checking the ground to see if Emma scattered corn. The girl looked through the flock. She stepped inside the hen house. “That is strange. He is not here. He usually comes when I call. Maybe he is still out by the barn. After I gather the eggs, we can look there.”

Emma toted her filled bucket carefully as they walked by a wooden coop beside the chicken house. A long, burst of clucking came from inside.

“What is going on in there?” Hal wanted to know.

“That is a setting hen. She must of hatched. Hear her talking to her babies?” Emma opened the door. She hunkered down and looked in. “I see a little yellow head sticking out from under her wing.”

“That is good,” Hal said.

“Oh! Oh, no. It cannot be,” Emma moaned.

“It isn’t good?” Hal asked bewildered.

Emma clutched her apron in her hands and gave Hal the most disconcerting look. “We can let the hen out so you can see for yourself. She might as well go to the chicken house tonight. Stand back.”

“Didn’t the hen have a good hatch?”

“When the hen and chicks come out, you will see for yourself. Help me count to see how good her hatch was,” said Emma, sarcastically.

The hen slinked to the door and peeked out. She looked back at her babies, clucking all the while. When she saw Hal and Emma, she bristled up, warning them to stand back, before she stepped into the grass. Twisting around she called her chicks to come to her. The chicks darted out and zoomed under her. The hen wasn’t about to stay that close to the coop now that she had her freedom. She walked off the chicks, clucking to them to follow her and keep up. Peeping in protest, they scrambled along on shaky, newborn legs.

Pointing her finger at each to keep track, Hal counted seven chicks covered with reddish fuzz mingled with yellow. The top of their head had a dark brown stripe that ran down their backs. They reminded Hal of baby quail. Four others were larger, covered in downy, yellow fuzz. They had large, orange web feet and flat, wide, yellow bills.

Emma stared at the brood, shaking her head in disbelief.

Hal said, “I count eleven.” She pointed at one of the yellow babies. “Why are some of the chicks so much different looking from the others?”

“They are not chickens. They are ducks,” Emma said tersely.

“That can’t be. A chicken can’t have baby ducks. It’s not possible,” Hal protested.

“Oh, it is very possible, if duck eggs were put under my hen.”

“Did you do that?”

“No, but I am going to ask my brothers if they know who did?” Emma responded brusquely. She hustled to the house, set the egg basket on the table and headed out the front door to the barn. Still in his rocker, John looked up in surprise as Emma flashed by. He gave Hal a questioning look, but she just shrugged her shoulders. How would she know what had the girl so upset? Her intention was to trail along behind and find out. This afternoon had been bad enough for her. Now it didn’t seem to be going well for Emma.

The only consultation Hal had was whatever was wrong with Emma wasn’t her fault. “Emma, what’s so wrong with hatching ducks?”

The girl turned around. “They are bigger and stronger than my chicks. The ducks will crowd out the chicks when they need the mother’s warmth. If the chicks survive that, the baby ducks will steal all the little chicks food because they grow so fast. Grown ducks are nasty. They will murk up the chicken’s water. The yard will be full of nasty piles of poop.”

The screen door banged shut. John came down the steps with his hands in his pockets. “How do you know the boys are guilty of such mischief?”

“The ducks are wild mallards. Easy to find eggs in nests around the pond,” said Emma hotly.

As he stepped around Emma, John mumbled, “I had lost track of time, reading my bible. The generator is going. The boys started milking already. I need to help.” He opened the barn door and stepped in.

Looking one way than the other in the barnyard, Emma called, “Here Zacchaeus.”

No rooster in sight. Not even a hen. The flock had gathered around the chicken house, ready to roost.

“He’s not here, either. I’ll ask my brothers if they have seen him.” Emma waited for her father to clear the barn door. She stepped inside. “Have either of you seen my pet rooster today?”

Staying put outside seemed like a safe idea to Hal. She peeked past Emma. Noah was letting in a round of cows. Daniel was behind the stanchions, putting feed in the troughs. The boys yelled a loud no in unison, raising their voices over the generator motor.

Emma snapped, “You both say no so easily. Now answer this question for me. Do you know anything about my brood hen hatching ducklings?”

His eyes intense, John leaned on a scoop shovel handle, watching his children. Noah looked at Daniel. They shrugged their shoulders and gave their father an innocent look. Noah bent down to attach the milking cups to a cow. Daniel flew by Emma and opened the feed room door to get a bucket of pig feed. He rushed back by his sister to feed the cows.

“My sons should own up to a practical joke,” said John evenly.

Daniel’s scoop stopped on the way to the feed bucket.

Noah rose up, placed his hand on the bony flank of the cow and turned to his father. “Yes. We put the duck eggs under the hen. Emma, I am sorry we did that.”

John prompted, “Daniel, do you have something to say?”

Daniel emptied the scoop into a trough. “Yes, Dad. Emma, I am sorry we upset you.”

“All right. I should be fixing supper. You, my brothers need to finish your chores. We can finish this subject later.” She turned to

Hal. “One of these days, I will show you Zacchaeus after I figure out where my brothers have him hid.”