Poppy linked arms with Rose, and they skipped down the porch steps together. “I think Tilly has stopped laying,” Rose said. “But don’t tell Aunt Bitsy. She’ll want to cook her for dinner.”
“That’s where she’ll end up eventually,” Poppy said.
Rose sighed. “I know, but I hate thinking about it.”
“It’s too bad it’s not Big Bertha who’s quit laying. She pecks my hands something wonderful every time I reach for her eggs.”
Rose used to collect the eggs by herself every morning, but ever since the first time their beehive had been upended, over a month ago, no one had felt completely comfortable letting Rose go by herself. They were all a little spooked by the mischief making.
Rose carried the egg basket because Poppy’s hand still felt sore. At least it wasn’t broken. Poppy smiled to herself through the pain. She loved that Luke Bontrager had been wrong about her hand. On her way home from the hospital two days ago, Poppy had been tempted to stop by Luke’s house, flex her fingers in his face, and gloat. But then he probably would have taken great pleasure in the fact that she had followed his advice and gone to the doctor in the first place, so she couldn’t see much of a victory in an unbroken hand. She hadn’t made Luke a thank-you pie. It hurt too much to even think of rolling out a crust yet.
When they strolled around to the south side of the barn, Rose caught her breath and pulled up short, almost yanking Poppy’s arm out of its socket. “Look, Poppy.”
Instead of being nestled safely in the coop, their eight chickens were on the ground huddled against the side of the barn, fast asleep. At the sound of Rose’s voice, Big Bertha stirred and squawked and flapped her wings as if the cat were chasing her. She made such a fuss that the other chickens awoke and disintegrated into a skirmish of feathers.
“What is this all about?” Poppy said. “Did Billy Idol scare you out of your coop?”
Billy Idol was their new cat. He was fierce enough to rid the farm of mice, but he also made the chickens quake in their boots—if chickens had boots. Lily’s fiancé, Dan, had brought Billy Idol last week as a gift to Aunt B, but Aunt B had never appreciated a gift less. She wasn’t all that fond of the cat they already had.
“Aendi Bitsy is going to get rid of Billy Idol for sure this time,” Rose said, furrowing her brow at the possibility of losing their new cat.
Poppy couldn’t share Rose’s concern. Billy Idol might have been a good mouser, but he was the orneriest cat alive, and he left his victims on the porch almost every day. Poppy could just as well do without the sight of a dead mouse greeting her first thing in the morning.
“Let’s go see,” Poppy said.
Tiptoeing around the agitated chickens, they went behind the barn. If Billy Idol had cleared out the chicken coop for a place to sleep, he’d be in big trouble.
“Oh no,” Rose whispered as they came around the corner.
Poppy took in a sharp breath.
The chicken coop was gone.
Well, not exactly gone. Nothing remained of it but a tangled heap of straw, wire, and splintered lumber. It looked as if a tiny tornado had blown by and reduced it to a pile of kindling in the middle of the night.
The troublemaker had returned.
Fear and anger tightened in Poppy’s chest. Could someone truly hate them this much? What had any of the Honeybee Schwesters ever done to warrant chopping down their chicken coop or painting threatening messages on their barn? Aunt Bitsy wore earrings occasionally and hid money between the pages of their Bible, but surely no one could be this angered by her eccentric behavior. Lily read books to the schoolchildren once a week, and Rose was so timid and sweet that people were afraid of offending her, not the other way around.
Poppy nibbled on her bottom lip. She had socked more than her fair share of boys in primary school. Could one of them still be angry after all these years? At the moment, it was the only explanation that made sense. This whole mess could very well be her fault.
Tears slowly trickled down Rose’s cheeks. “Why would he chop up our chicken coop? What did the chickens ever do to him?”
Poppy put her arm around her sister. After this, they’d be fortunate if they could convince Rose to leave the house. “The important thing is that he didn’t hurt our chickens. That means he has a little kindness inside him.”
To Poppy’s surprise, Rose’s expression brightened considerably. She wiped her eyes and sniffed back new tears. “That’s true. He cared about the chickens. He must not be all bad. Jesus can still touch his heart.”
Well, maybe. The best Poppy dared hope was that he’d get arrested for sneaking around people’s houses and quit bothering them.
“Let’s go break the bad news to B and Lily,” Poppy said. “We’ll have to buy some eggs at the market today.”
“Nae, look,” Rose said, gazing at the side of the barn where the chickens had been roosting.
Six eggs lay on the ground in a nice little row against the barn wall. Rose quickly snatched them up and put them in her basket. “It’s a chicken coop miracle,” she said, with an unexpected smile.
Maybe she wouldn’t shut herself in her room today.
Billy Idol strolled around the corner of the barn and mewed loudly. His voice was gravelly and deep, as if he’d been a smoker all his life. At the sight of the chickens milling near what used to be their coop, he crouched and crept closer, no doubt preparing for an attack.
Poppy folded her arms and gave him the stink eye. “Don’t even think about it, Billy Idol.”
Rose handed Poppy her basket of eggs and scooped Billy Idol into her arms. “Oh, you sweet little kitty. Did that man scare you too?”
Poppy’s lips curled into a reluctant grin. Only someone as pure-hearted as Rose could love a cat like Billy Idol. He had unruly black-and-white fur, lopsided whiskers, and one ear split right down the middle. One eye only opened halfway, and part of his tail was missing. But it wasn’t his looks that made him so unlovable. Billy Idol regularly hissed and spit at the members of his new family, as if he would have rather taken a bath than be picked up and snuggled.
Even in Rose’s loving embrace, he struggled and swiped at her as if she was choking him. Rose patiently ran her hand along his back and scratched what was left of his ears, until he gave up the struggle and sat quietly in her arms. He looked like a five-year-old enduring a haircut, but at least he kept still.
Rose nuzzled her cheek against Billy Idol’s fur. “There, there, kitty. It’s all right. You’re safe now.” Billy Idol frowned at the indignity of being babied, but Rose didn’t notice. “Maybe he saw our intruder last night.”
“I hope Billy Idol gave him a good scratching.”
Rose held the cat up so she could look him in the eye. “Did you scratch that mean man?” she said, in her most precious baby voice. “That’s naughty. No scratching or Aunt Bitsy will banish you from the house.”
It was a gute sign that Rose could talk about the incident, even with the cat.
Poppy couldn’t even think about it without the bile rising in her throat. She bit her lip. How dare someone leave their chickens homeless and scare everyone half to death? Who was the young man behind that rolled-up car window, with his shifty gaze and his face swollen with bee stings? If only she’d gotten a good look.
If Luke Bontrager hadn’t interfered, their chickens would still have a coop.
She pressed her lips together. Then again, maybe she wouldn’t still be in possession of her fingers. She gingerly flexed her hand. If the vandalism incidents were retaliation for something she’d done, she’d face twenty car windows to find out the truth, no matter what Luke Bontrager said.
He would surely scold her if he ever found out.
Well, he could try.
She’d give him as good as she got.
* * *
Luke, Dan Kanagy, and their friend Josiah Yoder stood behind the Christners’ barn regarding the woodpile that used to be the chicken coop. Dan had come by the Honeybee Farm ear
lier to see Lily. Lily had told him about the coop, and Dan had fetched Josiah and Luke after supper to survey the damage.
Luke was doing a valiant job of keeping his blood from boiling over. Whosoever was angry with his brother without a cause shall be in danger of the judgment. Well, a destroyed chicken coop seemed to be a pretty gute cause for anger. Why would someone spend several good sleeping hours reducing a chicken coop to rubble?
“Lily’s pretty upset about it,” Dan said, picking up a jagged piece of wood and turning it over in his hand.
“What about Rose?” Josiah said. “Is Rose okay?”
“They’re all shaken up,” Dan said. “Even Poppy, and her confidence isn’t easily rattled.”
“You’re telling me,” Luke muttered. She didn’t even bat an eye at a broken hand.
Josiah poked his foot around the splintered wood. “They didn’t hear anything in the middle of the night?”
Dan shook his head. “There was some wind last night. Those big trees blowing in the breeze would have covered up the sound. I wish I knew a way to stop him from destroying their entire farm piece by piece.”
“Maybe we should call the sheriff,” Josiah said. “I don’t like the idea of the four of them being here alone.”
Josiah must have been really worried. It wasn’t the Amish way to involve the police in anything.
Luke tended to agree with him. Four women living alone on a country farm needed more protection than a shotgun could provide—even if the community frowned on calling the police. Bitsy used to be Englisch. She colored her hair and wore tattoos. Surely she wouldn’t mind calling the police.
Dan nodded as his brows inched closer and closer together. “Bitsy’s already talked to the sheriff, but there’s not much he can do except keep a closer eye on the place. I’m here almost every day, but that doesn’t keep things from happening in the middle of the night. All we can do is keep fixing what’s broken.” He poked a piece of wood with his foot and glanced at Luke. “Could you help me rebuild it?”
“I’ll help,” Josiah said, “but I’m no carpenter.”
“I’m a dairy farmer,” Dan said. “I can hammer nails, but it won’t be done right unless you’re the one in charge, Luke. I know it’s a lot to ask.”
Luke folded his arms across his chest and grunted his displeasure. “I’m insulted you even think you have to ask. Of course I’ll rebuild it.”
“And we’ll do whatever we can to help,” Josiah said.
Luke raised an eyebrow. Josiah couldn’t hammer a nail straight even if someone drew a line for him. “You can hold my lunch box.”
Josiah’s lips twitched sheepishly. “Ach, I’m better than I used to be.”
Luke glanced sideways at him but didn’t argue. “Monday is the Fourth of July. The Johnsons don’t want me working on their floor anyway. And I can’t lay their floor until I get those planks. I can take Monday and Tuesday to build a new coop.”
It was certain Dan hadn’t expected anything less, but relief flooded his expression. “I’ll come as soon as I finish milking on Monday.”
Josiah cupped his hand around the back of his neck. “I can come after nine o’clock.”
Luke raised an eyebrow. “At night?”
“Jah. I feel really bad about not being more help, but I’ve got to make hay while the sun shines.”
“Literally,” Luke said. He thumped a hand on Joe’s shoulder. “I know how laden you are right now with the farm. Don’t worry about coming. Dan and I can manage without you.”
Josiah narrowed his eyes in mock indignation. Luke had never seen him truly angry in his life. “You just don’t want me touching your tools.”
“That too,” Luke said.
“I want to come, just in case I catch a glimpse of . . .” Josiah turned bright red and lowered his eyes. “Well . . . you know.”
Luke smirked. “You’re pathetic, Joe. Just go knock on the door and talk to her. She won’t bite you.”
Josiah gave Luke a friendly shove. “I’ve got a plan,” he said. “And it can’t be rushed. Unlike you, I don’t knock girls over like a freight train.”
Luke shrugged and flashed a smile. “It’s not my fault I knock girls over with my good looks.”
“Don’t fool yourself,” Dan said. “You haven’t knocked Poppy Christner over yet.”
“And thank the gute Lord for that. I like my nose just the way it is.”
Dan stuffed his hands in his pockets and leaned against the barn. “Poppy isn’t prone to hit people anymore.”
Luke rolled his eyes. “So she told me.”
“She’s wonderful pretty,” Josiah said. “Don’t you think she’s pretty?”
“Who cares if she’s pretty? If you haven’t noticed, she’s a little hard to get along with.” A lot hard to get along with. “And stubborn. And contrary.”
Dan rubbed the whiskers on his chin. “Sounds like someone we know, doesn’t it, Joe?”
Josiah’s lips curled upward. “Except for the part about being pretty.”
Luke squinted at his two friends. “Are you talking about me?”
“You’re as hardheaded as they come,” Dan said.
Joe nodded. “But we like you anyway.”
Dan held up his hands as if to stop traffic. “Well, we put up with you. Besides, Poppy isn’t contrary. She’s feisty. I would think you’d like someone with some guts yet.”
“I want someone sweet who understands what a good catch I am and adores me for being a wonderful-gute man,” Luke said.
Dan twisted his mouth into a funny grin. “I don’t think that girl exists.”
Hearing movement behind him, Luke turned to see Poppy, Rose, and Lily Christner walk around the side of the barn. They looked like a trio of angels by the light of the setting sun. Rose wore a light pink dress, and Lily wore yellow. Poppy’s dress was a royal blue that Luke liked very much. The blue highlighted the color of her eyes and made them stand out from her face like stars on a summer’s evening.
She also had a bandage wrapped around her hand. It had been only two days since the car incident, and it probably still hurt something wonderful. He hoped she didn’t wait too long to go to the doctor. The sooner she got it in a cast, the sooner it would heal.
“It was sort of rickety anyway,” Lily said, motioning to the pile of splinters that used to be the chicken coop. “Maybe he did us a favor.”
Rose and Poppy stood next to Lily with their elbows linked. Would it look too obvious if Luke suddenly switched places with Joe so Joe could stand closer to Rose? Probably. Joe said he had a plan. Joe tended to be too deliberate for Luke’s liking, but Luke wouldn’t court Rose for him. Joe could set his own pace, no matter how slow.
Joe took one step forward. “Hello,” he said, not even daring to look Rose in the eye.
A snail could have beaten Joe in a footrace.
“Wie gehts, Josiah,” Poppy said. “It’s nice to see you.”
Rose didn’t lift her eyes from the ground, so Luke had no idea if she even knew who Joe was.
Dan had focused all his attention on Lily the minute she walked around the side of the barn. Everybody else might as well have disappeared, because he acted as if he couldn’t take his eyes from her. Luke hoped a girl would look at him like that someday.
Come to think of it, Mary Schrock and Dinah Eicher both looked at him that way. The biggest challenge was choosing which of them would be the lucky girl to get his undying love.
“Luke is going to build you a new chicken coop,” Dan said, squeezing Lily’s arm with his free hand.
“That is so very kind of you,” Lily said. She nudged Poppy with her elbow. “Isn’t it, Poppy?”
Poppy nearly coughed out her answer. “Jah. Jah, very nice. Denki.”
Luke didn’t acknowledge Poppy’s existence. She didn’t like him, he didn’t like her. Theirs was a mutual understanding. Why rock the boat? “I have a couple of extra days without work next week. I’ll be here Monday morning. It shouldn??
?t take too long to put up.”
“All by yourself?” Lily said.
“Dan will be by after milking yet,” Luke said.
Josiah tried to glance at Rose without looking like he was glancing at Rose. “I’ll come by every night as soon as my chores are done.”
“Then our chickens will have a proper place to sleep,” Rose said. “Denki.”
Luke wasn’t sure if she was talking to Josiah or him, but since Josiah moved as fast as a turtle taking the long way around, Luke decided to answer for both of them. “We’ll do our best to make it comfortable for the chickens.”
“I can help in the mornings,” Poppy chimed in.
“No need,” Luke said, hoping with the lighthearted and pleasant lilt of his voice to kill that idea before it ever took flight.
Poppy pinned Luke with a no-nonsense gaze. “I want to help.”
Poppy was a gathering storm, and Luke did not want to get struck by lightning. He clenched his teeth and measured his words very carefully. Lightning or no lightning, under no circumstances would he let a girl wield a hammer. If Joe wasn’t allowed to touch his tools, Poppy certainly wouldn’t be. “I won’t need any help but Dan’s and Joe’s.” He remembered just in time to add that cheerfulness to his voice so Poppy wouldn’t suspect he didn’t want her near his tools.
The storm on her face got cloudier. “I want to learn how to build a chicken coop in case I ever need to build one of my own.”
“You’ll never need to build your own. I’m happy to do it.” He didn’t feel all that happy at the moment. Mostly he felt annoyance at Poppy’s hardheaded independence. Why couldn’t she accept that it was his duty to do what he could?
She pressed her lips together in a hard line. “Both you and my dawdi say I’ll never get a husband. An old maedle needs to know how to build her own chicken coop.”
Josiah raised both eyebrows. “You told her that?”
“It wasn’t like that,” Luke said, sputtering like an old gas generator. Why did he always stick his foot in his mouth? “I was only trying to talk her into seeing a doctor. I didn’t want her hand to fall off.”