A Simple Winter: A Seasons of Lancaster Novel (20 page)

“You got a couple of reasons why a horse might shy away from the others,” Dat had said. He raised one finger. “Maybe it’s being bullied out in the field. That’s possible with Shadow, but I don’t think so. Thunder is our leader, and he doesn’t waste his energy on the shy ones.”

Dat had been right about Thunder. Simon had watched the two horses together, and the herd’s most aggressive horse did not bother with Shadow. So it had to be something else.

“Sometimes horses walk the fence because they miss their bosom buddy,” Dat had said. “But since Shadow was the Muellers’ only horse, that doesn’t seem right. So then we go to the third thing. Shadow never had a chance to learn the signals of the herd. She missed some important lessons and now she’s afraid of the other horses.”

Climbing the stepladder to comb Shadow’s mane, Simon thought of the other possibility, the one Dat didn’t want to mention. “You don’t have to worry about anyone hurting you here, girl,” Simon whispered as he ran the comb through the soft, dark threads. “Don’t be scared.”

He told her that every day, and every day she went to the fence, avoiding the group of horses out in the pastures. If Dat were here, he would know what to do. But maybe Shadow was just meant to be on her own.

“Creating a happy herd is not an easy task,” Dat used to say. “You need space, food, and the Lord’s blessing. And that goes for
horses as well as people.” That last part had brought a twinkle to his eyes.

“How did he know so much?” Simon asked the horse as he peered up into her black eyes. He reached up with a damp sponge to wipe one of Shadow’s eyes. When Simon was just five, Dat had taught him the basics of grooming a horse, a lesson Simon used every day of his life. Dat knew so many things; if Simon lived to be a hundred he didn’t think he could fill his mind with that much knowledge.

“There you go.” Simon put the sponge down and looked up at the mare. “You look wonderful good today. Now. Are you ready to go make friends with the other horses?” When Shadow didn’t answer, Simon opened the door to her stall and shrugged. “I didn’t think so, but you have to try.”

He hopped to the ground and looked over her fine spotted coat. Sometimes he saw objects in the white spots that curled in jagged shapes against the chestnut brown. The white marking that reached down from her withers was sometimes a ladle, sometimes a letter b. And the crescent on her rear end, that was always a sliver of moon.

If it were up to Simon, he would have named her Moonshadow.

As he led the mare through the stables, the voice of the Englisher girl carried through the cool air. Remy’s words were so round, like a rubber ball in the schoolyard. And always speaking English. He wondered if she spoke a different language when she went home to her family.

He didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but clear words crackled in the air. He heard them say “police” and “Mamm and Dat” and “Juniper Lane.” Hearing those words made him feel sick inside. He moved the horse faster, wanting to escape the bad feeling and the dark barn.

“Come on, Shadow.”

Once the mare was turned out, he turned toward the house. Mary would give him some chores to prepare for the visitors. That would take away the sick feeling.

But as he passed the barn door, he felt the pull of curiosity. Why were Sadie and the Englisher girl talking about that awful night?

Two steps more, and he was in the barn, facing the two girls who were both leaning on their shovels, looking sad.

“I heard you talking,” he said, “about the unspeakable.”

“So. You caught us.” Sadie cocked her head to one side. “I know we’re not to speak of it, but I confess, I think of it every day.”

Simon tipped his head down. He hadn’t expected such honesty from his sister.

Sadie rested her shovel against a rail. “Do you ever think about that terrible night? About what happened?”

He didn’t want to answer, but a word slipped out. “Ya.”

That was easier than he’d expected. “Sometimes I see it in my head,” he admitted. “I hear the shots.” His mouth puckered, confusion pulsing through his body. There … he’d said it. Was that a sin?

“Does it still scare you to think about it?” Remy asked.

He nodded. “Especially the bear. He was so very big and furry.”

“You saw a bear?” Remy’s brows went up, and he noticed her eyes were a soft green. Like the moss that grew on the side of trees. He wondered if those green eyes had ever seen a real bear.

“ ’Twas a bear, all right,” he said.

“Some people think the bear is all made-up. That you got mixed up about what happened. That you thought you saw a bear.” Sadie sank down onto a bale of hay so that her face was level with his. “They think it’s not real.”

“He’s real, all right. And I’m not the one that’s verhuddelt. It was that bear who killed Mamm and Dat. He’s the crazy one. Growling at our dat. And Mamm wasn’t afraid to talk to him. She
spoke firm and gentle, like when she gives us chores.…” He had to stop talking because his lower lip was quivering. He wiped his nose with one fist, and a sob bubbled out.

“Ach, Simon …” Sadie folded him in her arms and pulled him against her.

For a moment he stiffened.

Mamm had pulled him close that night.

“Get down!” she whispered, pushing him to the floor
.

Her legs clamped over his back, and she spread the blanket over his feet and head
.

“Now stay put, liewi.” Her voice held the gentle warning of a gray sky swollen with a coming storm
.

Simon curled around the blanket that insulated the warming brick and clung to its lingering heat. The blanket blocked out the night, darkness muffled by darkness. It would have been cozy if not for the fear that swirled around them
.

“You must stop,” Mamm ordered the bear. Her voice was thick with authority, as if ordering one of the children to sweep the porch or fetch something from the pantry
.

“It will be all right, if you stop. Let me go to him,” she said. “Put that down. Please, put the gun away and let me—”

Simon jerked as the shots rang out
.

Above him, her body shifted. More weight on his shoulders and back, but not too heavy. Comforting weight. He could hold her up, his mamm
.

But then the awful sound started … a whistling breath, like a dry leaf rolling in the wind. A dead, dry leaf …

“Simon?” Sadie gasped, holding him by the shoulders.

His sudden movement had knocked his hat to the ground.

“The bear killed her.” He pressed his lips together, trying not to break down. He didn’t want to cry anymore. He just wanted people to believe him. “Why doesn’t anyone believe me? It was the bear.”

umm! You must kumm!” Ruthie called.

Remy swung toward the door of the stables, wishing the young girl hadn’t interrupted just when Simon was beginning to open up. This was the first time he’d even looked her in the eye since she’d arrived, but because he trusted Sadie he’d talked about that night.…

Of the bear that killed his parents.

As Ruthie called again, Remy’s mind quickly went back to the accounts she’d read—the brief mention of a bear or wild animal attack—though none of that added up to two people who’d been found murdered by handguns. And yet, Simon was set on what he’d seen.

How could a bear be involved and still add up with the facts of the murders?

Remy had been hoping he’d say more, but that window was closed now as Simon pulled away from Sadie and tugged his hat on so that the brim covered his face.

“You must see this with your own eyes!” Ruth raced to a halt before them, the grin on her face belying the urgency in her voice.

Sadie lifted her chin, her annoyance apparent. “What’s wrong?”

“Remy’s car is here, and you must come see it!”

“Why such excitement?” Sadie rose and brushed off her skirt. “You’ve seen cars before, haven’t you?”

“But this one is stretched out so very long.” Ruthie’s arms spread wide. “Like a piece of taffy that’s been pulled and pulled.”

“Oh, dear. Sounds like a limo,” Remy muttered as she moved to the barn door and looked at the sleek white vehicle parked in front of the house. “Yeah. Herb sent a stretch limo. That’s embarrassing.”

“Ah. It is a very long car. Is there something wrong with a limo?” Sadie asked as everyone gathered at the stable door, blinking from the winter sunlight.

“It’s just so showy, like my father.”

“We have all ridden in cars before, but none quite like a long noodle!” Sadie’s comment spurred laughter from the group.

“I think it was kind of your father to send you this long noodle car.” Ruthie took Remy’s hand and pulled her toward it. “Let’s go look at it together.”

“I’m glad you find it amusing,” Remy said.

“What she’s really saying is that she wants a ride,” Sadie said as they all scampered toward the car.

“Me too?” Simon’s voice was hopeful now, without a trace of the grief that had ravaged him moments ago.

“Oh, I would love a ride!” Ruthie exclaimed.

“Are we going for a ride?” Susie called from the front door of the house, where she and her twin spilled out to examine the vehicle.

The door opened again and Adam stepped out, a black silhouette against the white of the house.

He was back … back in time to say good-bye. Remy’s heart hitched at the prospect of stealing a moment alone with him.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“Look!” Simon pointed down the lane. “Remy’s big white car is here.”

Leah clapped her hands together. “And we want to go for a ride.”

“Just down the lane?” Ruthie begged. “Could we, Remy? Please?”

Gravel crunched under Remy’s muck boots as she crossed the driveway. “I think that would be fine, if Sarge doesn’t mind.”

Seeing Remy, the driver killed the engine and emerged in his white shirt and tie. A graying, dark-skinned gentleman, Sarge was one of Remy’s favorite drivers. His brusque, perceptive manner was refreshing, and she believed he was one of the few people who would tell Herb exactly what he thought when asked.

“Good afternoon, Remy. My stars in heaven, aren’t we a mess.” He eyed her from head to toe, taking in her rubber boots, apron, and mud-splattered dress.

When they were heading out to muck the stables, Sadie had insisted that Remy borrow one of the boxy dresses. “Or else you’ll ruin your fancy jeans.” Remy felt a little odd, being pinned into the gown by Sadie and Ruth, but she figured they knew what they were talking about. As it turned out, they were right.

But Sarge liked to run a tight ship. “What in the world happened to you?” he asked Remy.

“I’ve been doing chores, Sarge.” She smiled, despite the blisters that had formed under the borrowed gloves. “But I have a favor to ask. You’ve got some interested customers here, hoping for a short ride through the countryside.”

“I could handle that.” Sarge squinted as he scrutinized the group. “As long as we can shed the muddy boots.”

“Of course.” Sadie pulled off her oilcloth apron and turned to the house. “Anyone who wants to come for a ride must first find clean shoes.”

Susie gave a little leap, clasping her hands together. “Can I go?”

“I want to ride in the very long car, too!” Leah said. “May I come along?”

“Hold on.” Adam held his hands up, effectively stopping the moment. “There’s nothing sinful about riding in a car, but let’s remember that it’s the Sabbath, and—”

“That’s right!” Susie’s hands flew to her cheeks. “We should wear our Sunday bonnets.”

“I’ll get shawls and bonnets,” Leah said as she rushed back toward the house. “And what about a warming brick?”

“The limo is heated.” Sadie shot a glance at Sarge. “Isn’t that right?”

“A comfortable seventy-one degrees.”

“I’ll need a hat,” Simon said. “My Sunday hat. And shoes without mud.”

Sadie shooed them on, and the children raced back to the side porch to change. “We’ll just be a moment, finding proper shoes and all,” Sadie explained, backing away.

Sarge nodded, then turned sharply and marched toward Remy, who shivered in the cold, arms crossed in an attempt to hold some warmth in her body.

If Sarge felt the cold, he didn’t show it; he stood with his shoulders back, his head high. “That goes for you, too,” he said, staring down at Remy’s mucky boots. “I’m not in the business of importing cow patties into Philadelphia.”

“I might need a little more time to get cleaned up, but I’ll be ready when you get back. I’ll wait for you in the house,” she said, walking past the shiny white stretch limo. “And what’s with the stretch? Is the Lincoln in the shop?”

“Your father got tired of the underwhelming. His new mantra appears to be ‘Spend it like I got it.’ ”

“Sounds like Herb.” She headed up to the mudroom to get cleaned up. “Thanks for giving my friends the ride, Sarge.”

“No problem.”

On her way to the house, Remy noticed that Adam had vanished. Great. Throughout the morning she had wanted to talk with him, and now that there was a moment, he didn’t seem too receptive. Was he mad at her? Not that she’d defied his authority, but she had stirred up the kids’ enthusiasm. But really, they were so excited, and how often did they get to ride in a limousine?