All was quiet. I didn’t see Beatrice peering out the window, and I hoped she hadn’t noticed us. An idea took shape. I marched over to the back porch, climbed the steps, and rapped on the door. Missy and Minnie barked, and Beatrice appeared to let me in.
“I’m going for a short walk, and I would like to take Missy with me.”
“Have you ever walked a dog in your life?” Beatrice’s voice got lost amid the barking. “On leash, I assume.”
“Yah. Would you please clip one on her? She needs to go out every evening anyway, doesn’t she?”
“Yes, but why now?” She glanced over to Jake and greeted him with an unenthusiastic nod. “What’s going on in that noggin of yours?”
“She might pick up Heath’s scent,” I said. “Please? I’ll take good care of her.”
“You’d better.” Beatrice’s words came out a threat. “Here, take this.” She handed me a flashlight.
Missy’s body sprang to life when Beatrice snapped on the leather leash and I took hold of it. Her tail beat against my leg. She nearly tugged me off my feet as she pranced down the porch steps.
I jerked on the leash and lowered my voice as I’d heard Stephen do when the dogs became rambunctious. “Missy, if you want to come, you must behave.” She looked up at me, her ears perked, as if she understood I was the boss. For now, anyway.
I sensed Beatrice watching as I ushered Missy across the road and onto a path toward the barn. I heard Jake’s footsteps behind us, praise the Lord. He walked ahead and opened the gate to a low fence. “I hope you know what you’re doing.” He closed it behind us.
Missy’s tail wagged with expectancy, and she pawed the ground. She dragged harder on the leash the closer to the barn we got. She barked. Two woofs emanated from the depths of the dark barn.
“Heath, are you in there?” I called, but the air turned silent. Missy tugged on the leash, and it slipped from my hand. Jake leaned down to retrieve it, but he was too late.
THIRTY-TWO
By the time Jake and I caught up with Missy, she was at the barn and sniffing under the door. I couldn’t get it open. “Jake, help me.”
“Are you sure you want to go in there?”
“Yah, we have to now.”
He shouldered it open. Exuberant Heath came barreling out.
Jake said, “Good boy!”
As the two dogs danced in jubilation at our feet, the barn remained quiet except for the sound of horses shifting in their stalls. Jake clicked on the small flashlight he always carried with him and stepped inside. He shone the light’s beam around the interior and located one Holstein—an old gal, in my estimation—two mares, and the stallion, his ears flicking back and forth and his tail swishing. The horse held his head high, closed his mouth, and snorted, reminding me of Dat’s gelding when he thought he was in danger.
“Maybe the dogs are spooking him,” I said.
“Sniff the air,” Jake said.
I inhaled. “Cigarette smoke?” We both turned our flashlights to the hayloft above.
“No one would be stupid enough to smoke up there.” I hoped not, anyway. “A hayloft is a tinderbox waiting for a spark.”
Heath let out a throaty growl that made the hairs on my arm prickle. But I was grateful for his protective instincts. Maybe having a big dog around was a good idea after all.
“Who’s up there?” Jake placed his foot on the wooden ladder rung. “Show yourself or I’m climbing up to find out for myself.”
“Be careful, Jake.”
I hoped no one was there, but the floorboards in the loft creaked. Bits of hay floated down like feathers.
“Ralph?” I called. “Is that you?”
“What of it?” Ralph’s words were garbled and sloppy. “I sleep here all the time, and the Amish owner has never complained.”
Jake scaled another rung. “He would if he knew you smoked.”
Ralph belched an expletive. “You stupid idiot, you made me spill my whiskey.”
“Ach, that’s almost as flammable as lighter fluid!” Jake scrambled up the ladder as Ralph revealed himself, arms extended.
“I’ll show you.” Ralph rushed at Jake, who teetered, but regained his balance and brushed past him.
“Look, your cigarette butt started a fire!” Jake’s voice emanated panic. I could hear him trying to stamp out the flames, without success. He leaned over and tossed me his cell phone. “Call 9-1-1!”
From the hayloft, crackling erupted. “Go down,” Jake told Ralph. “Hurry.” But Ralph ignored him.
“Please come down, Jake,” I said. “I can’t get the phone to work.” I wanted him safe, and maybe Ralph would follow him.
Jake scaled the ladder as nimble as a cat. He snatched the phone and pressed some buttons. “Barn fire at the Schmuckers’, across the road from Yoder’s Nursery.”
The stallion pawed the ground, his head raised and his nostrils flared. Ears back and the whites of their eyes enlarging, the mares snorted and kicked against their stalls.
The crackling, burning straw gained momentum, sounding like an oncoming locomotive.
“Evie, let the mares and cow out.” Jake ran to the stallion and opened his stall. The horse reared up and refused to leave. The mares had much the same reaction. I was flabbergasted that they wanted to stay in their stalls.
I pulled off my sweater and covered one of the frantic mare’s heads. I felt a metal shoe gouge into my leg—but no time to look. I led the blinded mare out of the barn, and the other followed. Both galloped into the descending darkness.
As Jake struggled with the stallion, I unclipped and led the bawling cow outside, but I had nowhere to tie her. “Shoo!” I clapped my hands and she trotted away, disappearing into the field.
The sky lit up from the flames. The heat increased.
I ran back into the barn in time to see snarling Heath dash into the stall and nip at the stallion’s legs, further enraging the
