“Come out of there!” I yelled to Heath. He ran to me. I dashed over to close the stall’s gate.
A thunderous noise above reminded me of a jet flying too low. Flames leaped and danced. Sparks flew. The heat grew unbearable.
Jake grabbed a rope halter and maneuvered it onto the stallion’s head. He seized control of the frantic horse and forced it out of the barn, and then gave its rump a whack. It bolted into the darkness.
The multiplying flames were hypnotizing me. I tried to breathe, to fill my lungs. I gulped for air and put my hand in front of my face to ward off the heat.
“Come out, Evie.” Jake grasped my hand and pulled me to safety.
A moment later, the blazing loft collapsed, as loud as a stick of exploding dynamite. I thought my eardrums would burst.
“Thank you, Lord,” I said, knowing no one but God could hear me.
Sirens screamed in the distance, traveling our way. The whole barn was a blistering furnace, illuminating the sky.
Three fire trucks careened to the farm—two stopped in the barnyard, and one screeched to a halt in the lane from the road, spewing up gravel. Several dozen firemen—both Englisch and Amish clad in gear and helmets—descended upon the scene like an orchestrated team. I’d heard most firefighters in the county were volunteers, but each brave man was well trained. Minutes later, water gushed from the trucks’ hoses, fighting to subdue the crackling flames consuming the blackened timbers. Hissing like serpents filled the air, the black flames raging, refusing to submit. Sparks rained down.
Cars stopped by the side of the road. Ach, I wondered if one belonged to a reporter. If not now, soon enough. Amish neighbors—men dressed in black, wearing hats, rubber muck boots, and leather gloves—arrived on foot or in buggies. Several offered to help locate and care for the missing horses.
Police cars, their blue lights flashing, crunched to a halt at the side of the road.
The smoke continued to billow, and the gushing water sent steam into the sky. Finally, the smoke turned gray. The uniformed fire chief wearing a badge and carrying a clipboard approached us. “This your barn?” He appeared to be in his midfifties.
“No. It belongs to the Amish farmer here, Jeremiah Schmucker.” Jake pointed to the small clapboard house. A woman stood on the porch, crying with her husband’s arm around her shoulder. Other Amish and Englisch had gathered. Knowing the Amish community, women were already preparing food and gathering supplies for the family and workers who would arrive to clear away cartloads of debris and ruined timber, preparing for the upcoming barn raising.
“Hey, you look familiar.” A uniformed fireman stopped. “You Jake Miller?”
I knew where he was headed with his line of questioning. “We came looking for our dog,” I said.
Heath and Missy were milling nearby, sniffing the tall grasses. I wished they could talk.
“Aren’t these Glenn Yoder’s Labs?” the fire chief asked.
The smoldering wet ashes made me cough. “Yah, they are.” I cleared my throat. “We think Ralph Hastings stole Heath, and we came looking for him.”
“Oh, yeah? Then where’s Ralph?”
“Dear Gott, what happened to him?” My words burbled out. “He was up in the hayloft drinking whiskey and smoking when we came in.” My mind spun with the gruesome possibility he’d fainted from smoke inhalation and burned to death. “He tried to push Jake off the hayloft. That’s the last time I saw him.”
“You mean there was an altercation?” The man started writing on a tablet. “The two men were fighting?”
“Not really,” Jake said. “Evie and I smelled cigarette smoke coming from the hayloft, and then Ralph started swearing and yelled that he’d tipped his bottle of whiskey over. When I climbed the ladder, Ralph rushed at me, but he was so snookered he missed his chance to push me off the loft. Then I saw the hay had caught fire, and I lost sight of Ralph. I tried to stomp out the flames, but I was too late. Sparks had started flying.”
“Jake tossed me his cell phone to call 9-1-1. I couldn’t get it to work, so he came down and made the call.” My hands cupped my cheeks. “The fire spread so quickly that all we could think about was freeing the livestock.” I was proud of Jake’s courage and thoughtfulness. Other men might have turned tail and run rather than risk their lives to save the frantic horses.
The fire chief called to several firemen. “Did you find anyone in there?”
Their faces grim, they shook their heads. “The next shift had better sift through the debris in the morning when it cools down. And call for the arson squad. This barn didn’t torch itself.”
I bent to snatch up Missy’s leash. “May I take the dogs home now? I’m afraid Heath might wander off.”
“This woman is innocent of any wrongdoing.” Jake had tied some twine around Heath’s neck to serve as a leash and made a loop at the end. He handed it to me.
“Yah, you can ask Officer Wayne Grady or review his reports,” I said. “And Stephen Troyer might still be looking for Ralph and Heath.”
“Okay, but I’ll need a signed statement from you. Can you come by the office tomorrow?”
“I have to work in the nursery’s café all day.”
“Okay. Someone will stop by the café.”
I turned my face away as a photographer got out of his sedan and took pictures of the barn.
Stephen’s pickup zoomed to an abrupt stop at the side of the road. He jumped out. “Evie, what on earth happened?”
“Missy needed a walk, and it occurred to me she might lead me to Heath. Which she did.”
Stephen glared at Jake, who stood answering questions. I heard Ralph’s name tossed about, speculation on his whereabouts, and the words smoking in the loft.
“Can you
