An Amish Harvest. Patricia Davids

Чтение книги онлайн.

       Chapter One

      “Don’t do this to me now!”

      Samuel Bowman yanked his chisel away from the half-finished table leg rotating on the lathe in front of him as it spun to an untimely stop. Laying his tool aside with care that belied his frustration, he brushed away the loose ribbons of wood shavings to make sure he hadn’t marred the piece. It was the last leg for a special table. An intricate piece, it had to be finished this morning if he was going to have the set completed on time.

      “What’s wrong, brudder?” Timothy, Samuel’s second brother, paused on his way past. He held a cardboard box full of hand-carved wooden toys. Also a skilled woodworker, Timothy’s designs were simpler and more modern than Samuel’s.

      “The lathe quit.” A breakdown was the last thing Samuel needed. He murmured a prayer and held his breath as he flipped the machine’s switch off and then back on. Nothing.

      Timothy grimaced in sympathy. “Let me get these to the gift shop, and I’ll take a look at it. Mother has a lady who wants to see a few more of my samples. Can’t keep the Englisch customers waiting. Is that the table for the Cincinnati dealer?”

      “Ja, and it has to be finished today. I need the lathe working.”

      “Don’t worry. It will all get done on time. I’ll look at it when I get back.” Timothy went out the woodworking shop’s front door.

      It was all well and good that Timothy thought the table would get done. He didn’t have to do it. There was more than Samuel’s reputation for prompt work hanging in the balance. His father had invested the last of the family’s savings in this venture to expand their shop and add the showroom area now packed with Samuel’s finished works. The family badly needed the money a contract for future sales to the high-end furniture store would generate.

      Amish-made furniture was always in demand and Samuel was one of the most skilled carvers in the area. It was his God-given gift, and he put it to good use. Up until now, he’d only sold his work locally from the family’s gift shop. But their Amish community of Bowmans Crossing was off the beaten path. Few tourists ventured into the area. Samuel knew he needed to reach a bigger market if the family operation was going to expand. With five sons and only enough farmland to support one family, the woodworking business needed to grow, and quickly, or his brothers would have to look elsewhere for work.

      Samuel checked over every inch of the machine and couldn’t find anything wrong with it. He glanced across the shop and spied the second of his four younger brothers stacking fresh lumber by the back door. “Luke, did you put gas in the generator this morning?”

      “I told Noah to do it.”

      “And did he?”

      Luke shrugged. “How should I know?”

      Samuel shook his head in disgust. “Why do I have to do everything myself?”

      Luke tossed the last board onto the stack and slowly dusted his hands together. “Want me to go check?”

      “Never mind, I don’t have all day.” Luke’s lackadaisical offer rubbed Samuel the wrong way. Again. He loved all his brothers, but none of them had the drive that was needed to make the family business a success. Luke and Timothy would rather go out with friends than work late in the shop. Noah had his head in the clouds over a new horse. Joshua had up and married at girl from Hope Springs leaving them short a farmhand. Samuel had no time for such foolishness.

      Luke hooked his thumbs in his suspenders. “When is Father going to replace that ancient piece of junk? We need one of those new diesel generators to power this place. The bishop has already said we could use it in our business.”

      “Our engine may be ancient, but it will last one more year and then maybe we can afford a better one. Provided you stay out of trouble. You know why father doesn’t have the money to buy a new one.”

      Luke took a step forward, his face set in hard lines. “Because of me, is that what you’re saying? He didn’t have to pay for a lawyer. I had a public defender.”

      “That would have been okay if you hadn’t pulled Joshua into trouble with you.”

      Luke flushed a dull red. “No matter how many times I say I’m sorry, it will never be enough for you, will it?” He turned away and stormed out of the building.

      Samuel regretted his jab at Luke, but his brother’s attitude irked him. It always had. He knew Luke was trying to make up for his poor choices in the past when he’d rebelled against his strict Amish upbringing and left home for the big city. He’d fallen in with bad company and ended up using and selling drugs. When their brother Joshua went to try and talk sense into him, they were both arrested and jailed. It had been a difficult time for the entire family.

      Even so, it was wrong of Samuel to throw Luke’s failures in his face. What was forgiven should not be mentioned again. He would find Luke and apologize later. Now he needed to get the table leg turned. He could only put out one fire at a time.

      He grabbed the tool chest from the bench beside the back door in case a lack of gasoline wasn’t the issue. If the generator required more than a simple fix, he wouldn’t be able to finish on time, and this opportunity would pass him by.

      The engine was housed in a small shed at the back of the woodworking shop. The pungent smell of exhaust filled the small room. As Samuel suspected, the fuel gauge needle sat on empty. He should have filled it himself instead of depending on someone else.

      The red gas can was sitting on the floor beside the generator. He picked it up. The light weight and faint slosh revealed it was less than half-full. It would take precious time to go get more. He decided against it. Half a can would be enough to finish the job.

      He opened the generator’s gas cap and began pouring in the fuel. Strong fumes hit him in the face. Maybe he should’ve waited until the old machine cooled down a little more.

      It was his last thought before a blinding flash sent him flying backward into oblivion.

      * * *

      “Did you hear what happened at the Bowman place?”

      “I haven’t. Something serious?” Rebecca Miller glanced from the cake she was slicing to her mother, Ina Fisher. Ina was putting away the goods she had picked up at the local market on her way to Rebecca’s house. Mamm was always eager to share what news she gathered along the way when she came to visit. The Bowman family lived several miles away across the river. Rebecca seldom saw them except at church functions.

      “Well, I stopped at the Bowman gift shop after I left the market this morning. I wanted some of Anna’s gooseberry preserves. You know how much I like them.”

      “I СКАЧАТЬ