Amish Country Arson

Amish Country Arson

Nurse Hal Among The Amish Series

Book 8

Fay Risner

Amish Country Arson published in 2015 by Fay
Risner at Smashwords.com

Cover Art

Picture courtesy of Pat Brigode on front
cover

and author Fay Risner picture on back
cover

All Rights reserved 2015

Copyright (c) 2015

All Rights Reserved

Fay Risner

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This is a work of fiction. Names,
characters, places and incidents are either the product of the
author’s imagination or used fictitiously, and any resemblance to
the actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events
or locals are entirely coincidental. Excerpts from this book cannot
be used without written permission from the author.

Love Your Enemies

But I say unto you, Love your enemies, bless
them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for
them which despitefully use you, and persecute you;

Matthew 5:44

A golden draft horse, with a white mane,
tramped on the hard country road. The resounding thuds feathered
the long, white hairs on his hooves, vibrated up the work horse's
legs and through the rider's body. Amish riders were used to
squeezing their legs into a horse's stomach to stay on when they
rode bareback. This ride wasn't anything new for the skilled rider
on this horse's back.

This night near the end of September was
dark, pitch dark. The rider purposely planned the excursion for
such a night. Darkness was good for what was about to happen.

The hour was midnight. Amish farmers were in
bed, asleep until their alarm clocks went off at four in the
morning. That's when they started their day in the barn, milking
their cows.

The buildings in the dark shadows off to the
right of the horse were John Lapp's farm.

I was told John Lapp is married to an English
redhead who calls herself a nurse. If that woman, with a man's
name, becomes a bother, she and her family will be next to be
punished by me.

In the still of night, the horse's tromps
sounded like someone beating a drum. It wouldn't be good if the
Lapp dog raced to the road to bark at the horse. That mutt would
alert the Lapps someone was traveling on the road at a late
hour.

The rider relaxed.
Gute! The horse is past the Lapp farm with no problems from
the dog. Next farm coming up belongs to the old bishop and his
wife, Elton and Jane Bontrager. They seemed to be kindly people.
Even if they were not, it would not do to ever bother them. The
Amish community would not stand for retaliation against their
bishop.

The horse trotted through the crossroads.
Suddenly, the Stolfus cornfield was near. The dark shapes of corn
shocks and silhouette of corn plants stood out against the night
time sky. Harvest was under way in the Amish community but not near
finished. With a tug on the reins, the horse slowed. A pull on the
right rein made the horse turned into the cornfield driveway. The
rider stayed in the grass along the fence and headed toward the
back barn yard fence.

Soon Chicken Plucker Jonah Stolfus and his
family will be in for a rude awakening. I heard what he did to that
young girl. Shot her in the head he did. He killed her and her with
a baby to raise. He got away with that cruelty until now. No one
should feel sorry enough to help a man that would do anything that
mean.

Work horses, carriage horses and milk
cows milled together in the barn yard. Restless stock came out of
the barn while others entered. The rider slowed the horse to a
walk.
One of the horses nickered a
greeting. The draft horse lifted his head, threw back his ears and
neighed back
.
The
rider patted the horse's neck to silence him.

I do not want the stock
riled up by my strange horse. That could get me run over.
“Whoa. Jack.”
I will tie
to a fence post so I can slide off on the other side of the fence.
It will be easier to climb down the boards and back up to mount
this tall horse.

The rider stuck a leg over the board,
searching for footing in the cattle panel.

Ouch! The barbed wire along the top of the
fence stuck my leg. When I come back, I need to remember to swing
my leg wider so I miss the barbs.

Now walk slowly to the barn. The horses see
me. They have bunched up in the corner, snorting and stomping their
hooves at me. Some of the cattle are lined up in the opposite
corner, watching suspiciously while others ran into the barn to
hide from me. That is gute. Gives me more space to work.

The animals are sniffing the breeze. They
cannot recognize my scent. They are not used to a stranger among
them this time of night.

It is too dark to see where I put my feet,
but that is gute. I need the cover of darkness for this job. I will
just have to be careful not to stub my toes on the unleveled, hoof
pocked ground. I cannot afford to fall. I might get trampled if the
horses and cattle bolt.

A moment was taken to make a quick
survey of the house from beside the barn. The windows remained
unlit as every other house along the road had been. The far corner
of the barn was partially hidden from the house
.

This is the spot. I am out of sight here. I
will kneel and empty my jacket pockets so I can make short work of
this job.

A small, plastic juice bottle of kerosene and
two scrap rags dropped to the ground. The other pocket bulged with
matches. Fingers circled around one wooden match stem.

It is always so easy to start a fire. Why
not? I am an expert at this now.

Thumb pressure popped the cap off the juice
bottle. The stringent smell of kerosene caused the rider's nose to
wrinkle.

Drizzle the kerosene down the side of the
barn and watch the run off soak into the rags. Now scratch the
match head over a nail.

A search in the dark by running finger tips
over the barn boards found the rusty edge of a nail head. The match
hissed and flared into flame.

I need to stand up and at arm's length before
I throw the match on the rags so I do not get burned.

The burning match landed in the middle of the
rags. The flame brightened by kerosene grew larger as it spread.
Whoosh! The rags exploded. The flames flared, licking up the
kerosene soaked barn boards.

Almost too close to stand yet. I must
remember how far back to stand when I throw the next match.

A nervous peek around the barn corner found
the house still dark, but it wouldn't be for long.

I am standing in a lit area now. This is not
gute. Listening to the racket the livestock is making has me
nervous.

The Stolfus horses panicked
at the sight of fire. They whinnied and bucked when they heard the
crackling noises and smelled the flames. The cows bellowed and
coughed as puffs of smoke surrounded them.

I've got to get out of here before the
household wakes up.

The figure ran to the fence post where the
draft horse waited and clambered up the boards. Sensing danger, the
Stolfus horses skittered, bucking this way and that. They wanted
out of the pen in the worst way. They bunched together for safety
and stampeded in a circle along the fence headed toward the fence
climber.

The arsonist was almost safe. With one leg
over the fence and sliding along the draft horse's broad back and
inching down the horse's far side.

Before the rider's other leg was safely out
of the way, the rushing horses hugged the fence. The nearest horse
pinned the rider's outstretched leg and foot to the board. The foot
turned sideways stressing the ankle the wrong way and causing the
grating snap of the ankle bone. The horse's weight pushed against
the leg, rubbing it along the barbed wire. The barbs bit into the
calf flesh and ripped a furrow from the knee to the ankle. The
arsonist's anguished cry resulted from the sensation of horrific
leg pain. Agony brought on a sick stomach, whirling eyesight and
then dimmed vision. In an instant, the herd of horses had raced
past, and the leg came free from the wire.

I've got to get out of here. My scream surely
was heard above the ruckus of the livestock. I feel like I might
have a black out spell. If I did, I would fall off Jack. I better
be far away from here if that happens.

The obedient draft horse had shied at the
rider's scream. Once the reins were unwrapped from the top board,
it took a second for the rider to calm the skittish horse. Jack
smelled the smoke and heard the ruckus the frightened livestock in
the barn yard made. He shuddered as his senses told him he was in
as much danger as the other livestock.

The increasing night breeze cooled the
rider's body of its feverish heat and made it easier to think.

I have to let my leg dangle no matter how
much it hurts. I cannot think about the throbbing pain in my leg
and ankle. I have to get away quickly.

The rider rubbed the thigh of the injured
leg and made teeth gritting sounds as the action didn't help the
discomfort.

Given his head, Jack trotted in the grassy
strip back to the road as if he knew where he had to go. The rider
stopped, used both hands to grip the injured leg and shifted on the
horse's back. Just a quick glance back to see what had happened so
far. The blazing barn lit up the other building sites. Horses and
cows milled frantically in the lighted heat. Some still rubbed the
fences to find a way out of the pen. The din of noise added to the
animals panic.

Disappointment went through the rider
regarding the leg injury. What bad luck that the accident prevented
a closer viewing of the fire. A surge of relief followed. In the
darkness, no one could make out the rider and horse this far away
from the Stolfus barn.

Dashing hopes of a successful burn came with
the sight of someone already in the barn yard, opening the back
gate to free the livestock into the cornfield. How was it possible
the fire had been noticed so fast before more than one side of the
barn was aflame?

The disgusted rider laid down on the
horse's broad neck.
“Go, Jack. Nothing
more that I can do here. Run for home.”

The ride back home wasn't going to be nearly
as enjoyable as the journey to the Stolfus farm. The leg pain was
greater and becoming more unbearable with each hard step of the
horse's hooves. Passing the Bontrager and Lapp farms, the rider
uttered soft groans, hugging tightly to the horse's neck.

The rider slowed Jack and straightened up to
check out the landmarks. On the highway south of Wickenburg, the
red and blue lights of fire engines whirled against the dark sky.
No sound of sirens yet from that far away, but the fire equipment
sped with urgency toward the country road. The bitter taste of poor
timing formed in the rider's mouth.

Help is coming much too quickly. That is too
bad. A phone shed must be close to the Stolfus farm. The barn would
have burnt to the ground before the fire trucks arrived if more
time had gone by. Next time I'll torch the phone shed first.

The black shape of uneven tree tops
stood out against the sky. Bender Creek dirt road turn off was
coming up.
The peepers and crickets were
singing up a storm. Across the road along the banks of Bender
Creek, bull frogs competed to see which one could croak the
loudest
.
In the
distance, the sudden high pitched yap of coyotes on the run made
Jack shudder. It took a gentle hand rubbing his neck to quiet
him.

Here is my turn off. I will get behind the
tree line in the clearing where I can hide. There I can rest a
minute. It is fun to watch the parade of fire trucks going so fast.
I hear the sirens now. What a joyful sound!

In an instant, four fire trucks and an
ambulance sped by and were quickly out of the arsonist's view. For
only a moment, the area was a kaleidoscope of swirling reds and
blues. Now all that remained was the fading sirens.
The timber had become silent. The peepers and
frogs music ceased while they tried to figure out if the
reverberating noises they heard was dangerous to them.