Brush of Angel's Wings (18 page)

“Wait for him,” Nathaniel whispered. “Wait.”

“You don't need to wait,” Tangus said, moving back and forth behind Nathaniel, trying to get his words to move around the angelic being. “You're a strong, capable girl. Go ahead. He'll be proud.”

“Forget it,” she said, patting the horse's muscular neck. “It's just you and me, Clyde. We can get it done.
Daed
will be proud.” She untied him from the post, took one more look at the house, then moved toward the fields. Clyde marched alongside, head bobbing with each step, his heavy feet making solid
whumps
against the ground. The chains clanked against each other but stayed where she had put them. She patted his neck again. “
Daed
will be very impressed if we can get one stump pulled before he gets here. Can we do that, boy? Sure we can.

“Here's the first, Clyde. It's not so difficult looking, is it?” With a lot of noise and clumsy movements, she got the chains down from his back. Although they were heavy and difficult to manage, she wrapped them around a dry, gnarly tree root.

Nathaniel stood behind her. “Be careful, child.” Tangus just smirked and waited.

“Pull!”

Clyde strained against his harness but didn't seem to be putting in much effort.

“Pull, Clyde!” He put a lot more force into his forward motion and his quick spurt of energy caused the chain to jerk, then slide off the wood. “No! Clyde! This is not how we do it.”

She fastened the chains once again and hoped she had them more secure this time. She stepped back to check her work, dusting the dirt from her hands. She looked up when she heard
Daed
plodding across the field.

“I wasn't expecting you to start without me,” he called. The look on his face was one she'd seen him give James. Her entire being warmed.

“Is this
gut
?” She pointed at the chain and steadied her eyes on her father, waiting for his approval.

He nodded, but the look of pride faded. He put his thumbs behind his suspenders and moved them up and down—a habit she knew meant he had something difficult to say. “I have to have a word with you.”

She tugged the chain, pretending to check for tautness. “Maybe we should work first.”

Daed
laid his hand over hers. “It'd be best
nett
to put off our talk.”

When he didn't lift his frown, Rachel drew a deep breath and reluctantly agreed.

“
Kumm
fall, you'll turn twenty-one.”

“
Jah
,” she agreed cautiously.

“Your sisters had marriage promises before they turned twenty-one. They had their hope chests filled.
Mamm
tells me you haven't made one article for yours yet.”

Rachel chewed her bottom lip. Hadn't her parents figured out she was different from her sisters? She knew she wasn't a good cook—which was reinforced when people avoided the dishes she prepared. She didn't sew well. She left important things in pants pockets when she washed them. She would not make anyone a good
fraa
.

“Don't go past your time, daughter.”

Did he really think having a hope chest stuffed with house-wares would make her marriage material? Did he not see she was a lost cause? If she wasn't asked home from a singing, how could she find a husband? There had been promise until she beat the boys in that buggy race on Morley Bridge Road. And then James . . . Peter would have driven her home if Jordan hadn't interfered. She put her hands on her hips and studied her father stroking his suspenders. “
Mamm
was twenty-six when you married her. Was it because you took pity on her?”

“Nay!”
He cleared his throat. “God took pity on me.” His tone softer, he continued, “I couldn't ask for more. She gave me four
wundebaar
daughters and a s
ohn
.” He smiled. “I have the greatest blessing. A
gut fraa
and children who love the Lord.”

“Then maybe approaching, and probably passing, twenty-one isn't too bad after all.”

Clyde whinnied, giving her a perfect opportunity to end the conversation. She stepped toward him. “He's going to get restless just standing here.” She gave the horse's rump a hard slap. “
Geh
on!”

Clyde's sudden, powerful, double lunge forward jerked the slack in the chain so hard it snapped. Spooked by the noise and sudden slack in the line, Clyde began to step ahead more quickly. The chain attached to his harness rig whipped back and forth with great force. And before
Daed
could react, it wrapped around his leg and yanked him off his feet.

“Rachel—” His bloodcurdling cry for help cut off as Clyde plowed the field with his body.

“Daed!”
Rachel ran to catch Clyde. Her heart thudded. The pulsing beats deafened all other sound. “Clyde! Whoa! Whoa!” In a surreal sense that time had slowed, the clods of mud kicked up from Clyde's hooves seemed to float in the air.

Nathaniel instantly changed locations. Appearing in front of the beast, he spread out his wings.

By the time the horse stopped, her father lay moaning quite a ways from where he'd stood. Rachel ran to him and sank to the ground beside him.

Nathaniel chanted orders from the Master in a language only the beast understood. The horse obeyed and stilled.

Rachel covered her mouth and forced the hot liquid seeping up her throat back down.
Daed's
right leg, mangled and twisted in an unnatural direction, still had the chain wrapped around it. Without hesitation she tried to wiggle her fingers between the constricting chain and her father's traumatized leg.

He yelped and she yanked her bloodied hand out from under the chain. “I'm sorry . . . I'm so sorry.” Her eyes welled.

“Rachel—”

She tried to search his face, but through her blurred vision, his anguished expression grew more distorted.

He ground out instructions through gritted teeth. “Get . . . the chain . . . off . . . the harness.”

She leapt off the ground. Clyde's head jerked up and she froze for a second before easing over to the trembling horse so he wouldn't spook again. “It's okay, Clyde. Good boy. Atta boy.” She spoke in the soothing tones she always used around the horses. “It's just me.” She wanted to rush but knew that could be a huge mistake. She had to take it steady. Slow. She unbuckled the strap that held the trace, but when she went to unfasten the trace from the collar, her fingers fumbled. Then, as though she had unseen help, the harness dropped to the ground. There was no danger that he would be dragged again.

“I'm going for help.”

Chapter Thirteen

T
ears streamed faster than Rachel could wipe them away. “Lord,
mei daed
needs you. He's in such horrible pain.” She raced up the steps and burst inside the house.
“Mamm!”

Mamm
and Sadie looked up from their sewing projects at the same time.
Mamm
shoved hers to the side, on her feet in a second. “What is it?”

“Daed
, he's
—
”

Sadie joined them. “Take a deep breath.”

Rachel took half a breath. “He's hurt. Bad.” Her lips quivering, Rachel covered her mouth and willed her tears to subside. Unable to communicate with words, she beckoned them to follow.

“Where?” Sadie demanded.

Rachel pushed out the message, “In the field—it's his leg.”
Mamm's
eyes brimmed with tears. “He . . . he needs . . . a doctor—right away.” Rachel's shoulders shook as sobs erupted.

Mamm
gripped Rachel's shoulders. “Which field?”

“East. Near the first stump. If Clyde hasn't moved, he's lying
nett
far from there.”

“I'm going to him,”
Mamm
said, already hurrying out of the house.

Rachel began to follow, but Sadie grabbed her arm. “Take
mei
buggy and get Mr. Thon. Ask him to bring his truck.”

Rachel preferred Ginger to her sister's horse, Dolly. Ginger was faster, but Dolly was already harnessed and would save time. She unfastened the horse from the post and snapped the reins the moment she sat on the bench.

Tangus inched closer to Rachel on the buggy bench. He enjoyed the hunt, the ensnarement, the prey's panic, but it was nothing compared to the thrill of their surrender when they became so entangled with dismay they didn't recognize they were being devoured. Tangus studied his victim. She blinked, and more tears rolled down her face. “Are you wondering how you can fix things?” he asked.

Silence.

Tangus never liked too much silence. He needed to keep their minds active. Silence could cause them to sink further into depression—which could be a very useful weapon—but sometimes they sensed their doom and called out to God for rescue. He spat.

He leaned eagerly toward her, waiting impatiently for her to spill her emotions so he would know what lies to feed her aching heart. He was the master, more equipped to manipulate the human mind than any other fallen angel in his ranking, and he celebrated his power.

Dolly trotted down the Thons' driveway until Rachel reined her in, set the brake, and jumped out of the buggy. She knocked hard, then closed her eyes. “Please let them be home.”

The door opened. Mr. Thon smiled. “Hello, Rachel. What brings—”

“
Mei daed
is hurt. Will you bring your truck?”

“I'll put my boots on and grab the keys.”

Rachel blew out a breath. “Thank you. He's in the far east field.”

She ran back to the buggy and got Dolly moving. Although she wouldn't be able to keep up with his vehicle, she wanted to get home as quickly as possible. She made a U-turn in the drive as he climbed into his pickup. Waiting for him to pull out, she closed her eyes and whispered, “Lord, forgive me. Please watch over my father.”

Tangus growled. “Do you really think God will forgive your carelessness and impatience that brought such great injury and pain on your daed? You were so busy trying to be prideful, and now you want God to help you? You reap the consequences of your own actions.”

“God, I don't deserve your grace . . .
Daed
needs you.” Her throat tightened. She knew if she hadn't been so full of pride and jealousy, this never would have happened. Her spirit lay deeply sad within her. Why should God want to help her? She'd have to make it up to her father somehow.

His cries of pain reverberated in her heart, causing a fresh outflow of tears. She replayed the scene over and over, looking at what she could have done differently.

Worse, she could see her father's bloody, mangled leg, angled in an unnatural position. Would he even be able to farm again?

“Your daed needs you more than ever, Rachel.” Tangus's accusing tone morphed into sweet and encouraging. “This is the time to show him you can do the work. Step in as a sohn would. You'll have to get up earlier and work longer hours, but that won't be too difficult for a strong girl like you. Just imagine how you'll win his favor.”

Rachel blotted her eyes with her dress sleeve. A plan was forming within. Her stomach still sick with dread over her foolish actions that caused her father's injuries, her mind whirled with possibilities. She'd wake before dawn and work until the work was done—even if it took her into the night. Thankfully the daylight hours were increasing, which would give her more time to work. She sat up straighter and gave Dolly a little snap of the reins. “I can do this.”

Tangus leaned back and smiled. As long as she continued in her own strength and didn't call on God's power to work through her, Tangus held her captive.

An eerie sensation crept over Rachel as she drove the buggy down her parents' empty driveway. She looked toward the field, void of activity. Clyde stood in the corral.

Rachel jumped out of the buggy and rushed into the house.