A Little Bit of Charm (25 page)

Second Saturday of November

“I'll make a deal with you, sweet birds. If you let me cross your pen without attacking my shins, I'll scatter extra dried corn besides
your regular feed.” Rachel held her gathering baskets in one hand while placing the other on the gate.

Most of the chickens paid no attention as they went about normal business. But two or three hens studied her menacingly. It was as if they knew she was about to steal their eggs. Fortifying her courage, she opened the latch and entered their sanctum as though walking on proverbial eggshells.

Rachel had promised to collect eggs before she left for work because she had extra time that morning. Instead of driving Isaac's horse and buggy to work, Jake was picking her up in his truck. She had finished two barns already, delivering the eggs to Sarah for washing and sorting. But this pen, flock number three, always contained a few members who resented her intrusion. She walked gingerly among the birds, careful not to step on toes or talons or whatever they were called. As she passed two of the three troublemakers, Rachel made soothing clucking sounds, with an occasional “that's a nice birdie” thrown in for good measure. Reaching the barn, she rushed inside and slid the door closed. Hens with evil intent would have to climb the narrow ramps and enter through small openings in the wall. Those led directly to their nesting boxes. Rachel worked as quickly and quietly as possible, gathering today's efforts to fill her baskets.

Twenty minutes later, she exited the barn like a thief in the night, but she didn't get far. One fat, red-faced, ruffled-feathered hen blocked her path. Other curious chickens clustered nearby to see if there would be bloodshed. Holding out her baskets as though they were shields of protection, Rachel advanced. “Look here, Henny Penny, these eggs haven't been fertilized, so they couldn't grow into a baby chick anyway.”

The hen marched toward her, pecking the ground with eager anticipation. Rachel ran for her life. Through the flock she hurried, shoving aside those directly in her path with her baskets. She didn't slow down until the latched gate was safely closed behind her.

“Why are you so out of breath?” asked Sarah in the sorting room. She peered at Rachel over her reading glasses.

“They came after me again in number three.” Rachel began carefully unloading her eggs onto the conveyor belt.

“Did you get pecked or scratched?” Sarah glanced down at her ankles.

“I outran them this time.”

“Are you sure this isn't all in your head?” Sarah appeared to be biting her cheek.

“I don't think so. I've made three enemies in that flock. If I had a say-so, those would be sent to market next. They would look good on somebody's dinner table up in Louisville.”

“
Nein
, those are all young laying hens in number three. You'll just have to make your peace with them.” Sarah focused on the quantity of eggs. “Thank you for your help.”

“You're
welcum
. Now I'll change for work.”

“Change? But you didn't get dirty. Why not just wash your hands?”

“I'll wear English clothes today, and because Jake is picking me up, I might as well put them on right now.”

Sarah switched off the conveyor belt. “Why is your boss picking you up?” Her expression rivaled that of the beady-eyed red hen.

“Because today is the Brady charity rodeo. This year they're raising money for the Juvenile Diabetes Association. People pay thirty dollars a ticket but see several shows, including one by professional riders, and eat their fill from a barbecue buffet.” She replaced her empty baskets on the shelf. “All the money collected goes to charity.”

“What does this have to do with mounted horseback tours?” Sarah ignored the dozens of eggs waiting to be sorted and washed.

“Nothing. Twelve Elms doesn't schedule tours during this annual event.” When she noticed Sarah's eyebrow arch, she quickly added, “But it's still a workday for employees. I will be helping Mr. Brady.”

“The young one?” Sarah's resemblance to Rachel's adversary increased.

“
Jah
.”

“Help him do what, exactly?”

The atmosphere turned almost as ominous as Rachel stiffened her spine. “I will sit with him and his blind riding students. We will describe the various events in the arena for the visually impaired.”

Sarah snorted, switched on the conveyor belt, and resumed sorting eggs.

Rachel knew her cousin had nothing against the blind, so she let the matter drop. “I'll see you after work.” She strode quickly toward the house wearing a smile triggered by only one thing—spending the day with Jake.

When he pulled into the Stoll yard in his shiny red pickup, Rachel was waiting on the porch. She wore brand-new blue jeans and a long-sleeved, peach-colored sweater beneath her flannel-lined, quilted Twelve Elms jacket. She'd purchased the jeans and sweater at the Charm discount store while running errands with Jessie late one Saturday. Her freshly shampooed hair was tucked under her ball cap. No bun or ponytail on such a special occasion.

“Hi, Jake,” she greeted, jogging down the walkway. Her pace rivaled that in the chicken pen.

He opened the passenger door with a gallant bow. “Your carriage awaits, my lady. It might not be as quaint as yours, but it's faster.”

As he turned around next to the house, Rachel spotted Isaac and Sarah in the doorway. They stood shoulder to chest, not smiling. She felt a twinge of guilt, followed by a spike of irritation. Wasn't she a grown woman capable of making her own decisions?

“I know we just saw each other, but tell me your news since yesterday at four o'clock.” Jake flipped back a lock of hair from his face.

Rachel relayed her egg collection drama and Sarah's assertion that she might be delusional. Then she detailed the contents of Amy's last letter, which had been waiting on her bed. “She thinks she might have news for me, but prefers to wait until her next doctor's appointment. Hmm, I wonder what
that
could mean?” She pressed her hand to her mouth and chuckled.

“Announcements from married couples usually mean one thing. I would start knitting baby blankets if I were you. And regarding the peculiarity of birds, I once had a crow stalk me every time I drove the tractor. He flew behind me squawking until I finished work. I never figured out if he liked me or hoped I would mire down in the mud.”

“Crows are very intelligent birds. He was probably trying to figure out what you were doing.” As usual, Rachel relaxed in Jake's company. He had a way of putting her at ease with his effortless conversation.

All too soon, however, they reached the overflow parking lot of Twelve Elms. Jake drove in on an access road and parked behind the house. Mrs. Ingraham and eight of her students were waiting for them under a large elm tree.

“Hi, Miss King. Thank you, Mr. Brady,” she called. “We're so excited about today's rodeo.”

Bethany waited to hear from which direction footsteps approached. Then she charged toward them at full speed, hands extended. The other girls followed on her heels. “Rachel, Jake! Will either of you be barrel racing or calf lassoing? How about riding the jumper course?”

Rachel was soon enveloped in a group hug by three little girls. “Not me. I get to spend the day with you!”

Jake received almost as enthusiastic a welcome from the boys. “No riding for me either. Rachel and I have the day off. Our only assignment is to see that you have a great time.”

“That shouldn't be too difficult.” Mrs. Ingraham pulled two knotted ropes from her bag. “We're already enjoying ourselves. And I can smell the barbecue cooking.” She pressed the rope into each girl's hand. “The girls will hold Miss King's rope while the boys will stick with Jake. I'll bring up the rear to make sure we're all together.” While she organized the children, Mrs. Ingraham asked Jake, “Don't you have to work this event?”

“My mother and her friends insisted on using volunteer staff, so the family gets to enjoy the rodeo. But I'm sure my dad will find something to do. He doesn't know how to relax.” Jake made sure each boy had a firm hold on the rope.

“Before we enter the arena, we'll stand in line for popcorn, cotton candy, or candy apples,” said Mrs. Ingraham. “But remember, only one treat per person. You don't want to spoil your appetite for the buffet later.”

Jake gave each child their own ticket to hand to the collector. As they passed into the show barn, a volunteer clown from a nearby church gave them free balloons that advertised their private school. Seats had been reserved for them in the first row so they could avoid climbing the bleachers. Rachel didn't know what to look at first.

“Step right up and take your seats, ladies and gentlemen.” A voice resonated over the loud speaker. “Our first show is about to begin—the Twelve Elms hunter-jumper class. You're in for a treat.”

Jake leaned over toward Rachel. “I recognize that voice! It's my dad. He must be helping the professional announcer.” The boys were sitting on his right, flanked by the teacher.

Rachel was on his left with the girls. “This probably isn't work for him. It sounds like he's having fun.”

While the children ate their treats, the loudspeaker announced each contestant. Rachel did her best to explain the pattern of fences for the jumper course and the riders' maneuvers to her girls.
Sighted or not, the children loved the show, clapping loudly for each performer. Afterward they stayed in their seats while workers set up for the professional rodeo. The kids chattered away while the fences were removed and barrels carried into the arena.

Jake decided to narrate the rodeo events to both the girls and boys because he was more knowledgeable than either Rachel or Mrs. Ingraham. With the boys on both sides of him and the girls sitting at his feet, he explained barrel racing, calf roping, team roping, and bareback riding in succession.

“Will there be bull riding?” asked a freckled-faced little boy.

“No, my mom doesn't like it or bronc riding either. She thinks both are too dangerous for man and beasts alike.”

The kids clapped enthusiastically during the nonstop action, wild with enthusiasm. But Rachel found herself watching Jake more than the contestants.

“Who's ready to chow down?” he asked after the final event. The chorus of replies nearly damaged their eardrums.

Rachel glanced at him during their supper of barbecue beef, corn, coleslaw, and pulled pork. He patiently wiped chins, poured lemonade, and cleaned up spills while never tiring of their endless questions. Even Mrs. Ingraham remarked what an unusually patient young man he was.

He's unusual in just about all respects
. The more time she spent with him, the fonder she became. That realization frightened her as much as it pleased her.

“May I have dessert, Rachel?” asked Bethany. “I've finished my supper.” She tilted her clean plate in Rachel's direction.

“Oh, course. Who else wants chocolate cake or cherry pie?” Rachel scrambled to her feet and then hurried to the dessert table with two requests for pie and two for cake.

“I hope you're not eating all those yourself, Miss King.” Jake appeared over her shoulder. She hadn't seen him leave the table.

“No, but I might sneak back later once my dinner settles, as long as no one is looking.” She grinned up into his handsome face.

“You and I can have dessert later, but Mrs. Ingraham said they're leaving after this.”

Rachel blanched at the news, secretly wanting the evening to go on forever. “But why?” she asked. “There's still the parade of show horses and dressage later. And what about winners of the silent auction gift baskets?”

“She said dressage would be too hard to explain to blind students, and none of her kids bought raffle tickets. Anyway, most of them are tired. She said that makes them accident-prone. Let's finish picking out desserts. My boys all want chocolate cake.”

Rachel couldn't hide her disappointment on the way back to the table. She distributed her pie and cake with forced gaiety.

“But I'll sit with you during the parade,” he said, over the children's heads. “And you can ask me any question you like.” He winked while no one else was looking.

“Sounds like a plan.” Without thinking, she winked in return.
Oh, goodness, what in the world am I doing?
But that was one question she didn't dare answer.