A Little Bit of Charm Page 3

  “Our eggs and hens are finally fetching a decent price now that we’re certified organic. We grow our own feed with no pesticide or herbicide residue on our crops. No tight cages where a poor bird spends its whole life unable to turn around or get any sunshine. Who would want to stand on wire mesh all day? Our way creates a challenge to keep the farm clean, but that’s why we move the flocks around between pens. We can clean up properly and let the grass recover in certain areas.” Pausing, she crossed her arms and gazed over a particularly active flock of chickens. “Have you ever seen prettier or happier birds?”

  Rachel laughed. “No, cousin, I have not.” She decided not to mention that her favorite view of a chicken involved celery, onions, and dumplings.

  “Isaac and I have built quite a business for ourselves. I’m not saying that to brag, but merely to express sheer surprise over our good fortune.” Sarah went to a chicken pen, opened the gate, and motioned for Rachel to follow her. “Step lively now, before they stage the great escape. You must come with me if you want to see inside. And don’t worry. We use highly efficient fans. It’s not hot at all in our barns.”

  Heat wasn’t high on Rachel’s list of fears. It seemed that half the hens were eyeing her slyly from one of their tiny eyes, as though she were a fox come to steal their eggs or babies. But because she knew of Sarah’s vocation before arriving in Charm, Rachel bravely marched into the pen and closed the gate behind her.

  “That’s better. At first we concentrated on selling cage-free eggs.” Sarah resumed her narrative. “We built up a customer base at local stores. Many people who truly like eggs are willing to pay extra for the superior taste of organic. Plus our browns are higher in omega-3 and folic acid, and they have less saturated fat. Nothing bad is hidden in our yolks, ready to do a person bodily harm in old age, except maybe a little cholesterol.”

  Rachel gingerly moved through the flock, careful where she stepped to avoid scat. Midway to the barn she noticed the birds opening a path for Sarah, like the Red Sea parting for the Israelites, but then they closed ranks behind her. Again, several pairs of eyes contained an evil glint. Rachel hurried to stay on Sarah’s heels to prevent separation from her source of safety. “I love omelets and fried egg sandwiches,” she said, eager to make conversation. “And I’ve been known to take deviled eggs to potluck socials many a time.”

  Sarah turned on her heel, causing Rachel to smack into her. “Do you mix sweet pickle relish and horseradish in with your egg yolks?”

  “Of course,” she said, grateful their grandmother had taught their mamms the same recipe.

  Sarah slid back the steel barn door. “In that case, we’ll get along just fine.” She gestured inside. “Welcome to my world.”

  Because Rachel wanted nothing better than to stay in Charm, she stepped inside a noisy barn that, despite an odd odor, was surprisingly clean and orderly. Hens clucked contentedly atop nests, keeping eggs warm until they could be collected and refrigerated. “Where’s the rooster?” she asked, surveying the area.

  “Not with this flock. I’m not interested in fertilized eggs. In another barn, where we have brooding hens, it’s a different story. Don’t worry; we’re not that high-tech. You’ll still be awakened at dawn by the crow of roosters, in case you miss home.” Sarah giggled and then explained about their egg sorting machine in detail.

  Rachel’s sinuses began to run, but she listened attentively and tried to ask appropriate questions. “When did you expand the business from organic eggs to free-to-roam chickens?”

  “A few years ago, when horror stories hit the newspapers and television about antibiotics, growth hormones, and whatnot in the food industry, a lot of folks became interested in natural meat, especially for their children. Louisville, Lexington, Bowling Green, and even Somerset grocery stores started selling free-range meat. We took out a farm loan, enlarged our facilities, and never once regretted the decision.”

  Rachel sneezed.

  “Gott segne dich. Let’s walk outside.” Outdoors, Sarah continued her saga. “Now restaurants are jumping on the bandwagon. I suppose if those upscale places dare to charge twenty bucks for a chicken breast with a few roasted spuds, they had better have something special to say on the menu. We can’t keep up with the demand from Louisville.” Sarah rested her hands on her hips. “I’m sorry if I sound prideful. I’ll return to my humble self tomorrow.”

  Already Rachel loved her chatty, forthright cousin. “Folks are permitted to boast during a tour. It’s expected.” However, a sharp pecking on her tennis shoe was not. She glared down at an irate hen who apparently had an intense dislike for white leather footwear. Rachel moved back, giving the creature plenty of room to maneuver. But the chicken didn’t wish to scratch the dirt for fallen corn. Instead, she strutted forward with a mean glint and resumed pecking at Rachel’s foot. She even caught Rachel’s ankle bone and broke the skin.

  “Ouch!”

  “Mabel, stop that!” scolded Sarah. She swept the fat bird into her arms. “Mabel has never done that before.”

  “Have you named every single one of these chickens?”

  “Of course not. Just my favorites.” Sarah smiled fondly at the bird in her arms.

  “Watch those talons.” Rachel feared for her cousin’s eyesight.

  But the chicken immediately calmed and settled her feathers, mild as a lamb. She began to cluck softly. Sarah petted the tyrant like a cat. “Horses and dogs can sense when a person doesn’t like them. Apparently, that works for chickens too.” With one final stroke, Sarah gently set the bird down.

  “Hard to imagine with so small a brain.” Rachel watched her waddle back to her cronies.

  “Let’s wash that scratch and apply some antibiotic cream.”

  Once safely back in the Stoll kitchen, properly salved and bandaged, Rachel calmed her nerves with a cup of tea. “I want to thank you and Isaac for letting me visit, Sarah, but I must confess I would like to live here for a while if you’ll have me.” She held her breath.

  “I figured as much. Nobody comes this far to say how-do to a cousin. Lancaster County is not the same since your parents died, jah?” Stretching out her arm, Sarah dropped her voice to a soft whisper.

  “No, not the same.” Rachel clutched her cousin’s warm hand. “Living next door to where our house once stood is a sorrowful reminder. We hauled away the rubble but still need more clean dirt to fill the basement. Some mornings I can still smell smoke in the air.”

  Sarah patted her arm. “A change will do you a world of good. I must admit I got excited reading your letter and thought of offering you a job here. Isaac and I could sure use your help.” She pointed at Rachel’s bandaged ankle. “But you might not relish the idea of working around wild animals.”

  “It’s not that. I hold nothing against Mabel. And I certainly plan to do my fair share of chores, but I came because I want to work with horses.” Rachel released a sigh. “It’s been my dream forever.”

  Sarah’s smile filled her face. “I should have suspected as much. What exactly do you have in mind? You’re too tall to be a jockey.” She threw her head back and laughed.

  “Who knows? I would love to work around Thoroughbreds, even if it’s mucking out stalls to start.”

  “I have an idea. To celebrate day one of your new life, let’s take the buggy into Charm for lunch, just like the fancy English ladies do in their convertibles. We can even put the top down if you like.” Sarah rubbed her hands together. “Don’t think this is business as usual for the Stolls, but one of the restaurants in town has a bulletin board for customers. Folks thumbtack things for sale, houses or farms for rent, and available jobs in the area.”

  Rachel’s heart swelled inside her chest. “We can go today?”

  “Why not? It will be my treat. You can buy lunch the next time we go.”

  Rachel sprang from her chair. “If I do find a job, I’ll turn over my whole paycheck for room and board. Maybe it’ll be enough to hire someone part-time to help you out here
…a chicken lover.”

  “Don’t get too ahead of yourself, cousin. Jobs are hard to come by in Casey County, even for those with experience. You might end up buying metal shin guards and working for us after all. Now, let’s get our housework done. I can taste the fried chicken and cheese pierogis already.”

  Pierogis? But later Rachel had a little time to contemplate an unusual item on the delicious buffet of traditional country food and huge salad bar. After she and Sarah finished soft-serve sundaes, Rachel pored over the bulletin board at the Bread of Life Café. As Sarah had predicted, she wasn’t remotely qualified for any job offered in the area. Then one colorful flyer caught her eye: Twelve Elms Stables—boarding, trail rides, lessons in Western, English, and dressage riding. Tours of a working Thoroughbred operation. Adults—six dollars, children—one dollar, every Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday, in season.

  “Look at this.” Rachel pointed at the photo of a handsome stallion with her finger.

  Sarah peered over her shoulder. “That farm isn’t far from us. Would you like to take a tour tomorrow?”

  Rachel’s vision clouded with moisture. She nodded, not trusting her voice to speak.

  “What are you crying about? It’s just a tour.” Sarah pulled her away from the bulletin board. “Or are you still worried about Mabel lurking in the rosebushes, ready to attack when we get home?”

  Rachel couldn’t explain what she was crying about. It was just like her grossmammi always said: “Sometimes the soul knows when something really special is about to happen.”

  “Hey, Donna, don’t you live in Casey County?” A voice floated over the partition wall of her cubicle at the county Board of Health.

  Donna Cline pushed her glasses up her nose and sighed. You would think her boss would know where she lived after all these years. “No, I live in Russell Springs, Russell County.” She returned to her computer monitor.

  “But you’re close to the Amish settlement, right? Within twenty miles?” His voice again broke her concentration.

  Swiveling around, she pushed herself back from her desk. “I’m sure I wouldn’t want to walk, but you could probably spit that far.” Because Phil didn’t seem inclined to come to her, Donna walked around the partition and into his office. Once she approached his desk, she understood why. A box with a six-slice deluxe pizza was open next to his monitor. Five pieces were already gone, greasy outlines marking their former locations.

  “I thought your wife put you on a diet. Aren’t you supposed to be counting points or something? How many points did you just eat? Fifteen thousand?” Donna perched on the plastic chair in front of him.

  “You’re right. I meant to order a plain salad.” Phil offered a sheepish grin. “You gonna tattle on me the next time you talk to Julie?”

  Donna rolled her eyes. “Not unless she asks a direct question about your lunch habits.”

  “In that case, why don’t you finish the last piece?” He wiped his fingers on a paper napkin.

  “No, thanks. I had a salad. Why were you curious about where I live?” She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.

  Phil tapped his mouse a few times to bring up a certain e-mail. “I just heard from the Department for Public Health, Division of Epidemiology in Frankfort, who heard from the hospital administrator here in Charm. A case of polio has turned up in Casey County.”

  “Polio in the United States? How rare.” Donna walked around to read over his shoulder.

  “According to the report, the new case is a child who’s Amish or Mennonite or something like that.”

  “Don’t they vaccinate their children?”

  Phil pulled off his glasses to massage the bridge of his nose. “Doesn’t sound like it to me. What I’ve read about them on the Internet didn’t address the subject of inoculations, but the article said they don’t put lightning rods on their houses or barns or install smoke detectors. They believe those things interfere with God’s will.”

  Donna studied his face to see if any disparagement would follow. It did not. A long time ago he once called her a Bible-thumper. He’d asked why she went to church twice a week instead of only once. Do so many people fall asleep during the sermon that the preacher has to repeat his song and dance twice? She had promptly told him off. Afterward, they circled around like junkyard dogs for days until Phil apologized. Since then they had more or less been friends, but they avoided the twin topics of politics and religion like a plague.

  Like the plague that could be headed toward Casey County?

  “Do you think the Amish would feel the same about vaccinating children as they do about lightning rods and smoke detectors?” With the scents of pepperoni, sausage, and cheese calling to her, she closed the pizza box.

  “Don’t know. That’s why I’m sending you to find out.”

  “I thought all US schools required shots before students can start kindergarten.”

  “These kids go to one-room Amish schoolhouses. According to a Supreme Court decision years ago, their schools are exempt from our laws based on religious freedom.”

  Donna reflected for a moment. She often passed their black buggies on the road, charmed by towheaded youngsters waving from the back window. She loved to buy their fruits and vegetables because most had been grown without using chemicals. And she respected the Amish commitment to God and family. However, her contemplation had gone no deeper than that. “Sounds as though there’s not much we can do.”

  Phil rubbed his stubbly chin. “According to the Commissioner and the CDC in Atlanta, we have to try.” He grinned mischievously. “Didn’t you put yourself through college selling Avon door-to-door? I believe your fine husband once mentioned that to me.”

  Donna rose to her feet. “Remind me to issue a gag order for Pete before your next cookout. What specifically do you want me to do?” With the work she already had dancing through her mind, a headache began to build.

  “Go from farm to farm. Talk to the women of the household. Explain the horrors of polio. Show them file photos of crippled children from the nineteen forties if you must. Appeal to their maternal side. I know you can be mighty persuasive when you want to be.” He reached for the pizza box.

  Donna’s hand moved faster. She yanked it from his slippery fingers. “I’m staging an intervention for the sake of your arteries. If I must drive around on unpaved roads in Casey County, tracking down women in their cabbage patches, this piece is mine.” She grabbed the last slice and tossed the box toward his trash. Ignoring the fact that she missed the can, Donna smiled all the way back to her cubicle. The pizza tasted delicious. And any time away from the Board of Health offices would be time well spent.

  Jake tried to pray while cleaning water troughs and refilling hay bins. He tried praying while raking the indoor riding arena with the tractor. But his mind refused to stop wandering. When he thought about what he planned to ask his family—to go out on a limb in a still-weak economy—his anxiety ratcheted up a notch. His mother already worked long hours at a big chain drugstore as a pharmacist. She always looked dog tired whenever she had a day off. Soon Jessie would return to the University of Kentucky in Lexington, unable to help with the cooking, cleaning, shopping, or laundry. Keeley weeded their quarter-acre garden and picked ripe produce, but after the second deerfly bite, she retreated to the sofa to watch TV in air-conditioning. Twelve years old was twelve years old.

  Jessie had worked all summer giving tours. She had even agreed to come home weekends throughout the fall. But what if the vet school refused her application due to less than perfect grades? Jake could never live with himself if his sister was denied her dream. Virgil helped their dad with chores, but at fourteen he still had four more years of high school.

  That left him. Jake needed to generate more income. Plenty of stables already gave lessons and arranged overnight trail rides into Daniel Boone National Forest. Competition for boarders was fierce. A prize-winning colt in their stable would generate publicity. And a win all but guaranteed a rosy future from s
tud fees. Eager to Please was their best and only shot. The more Jake weighed the risks and rewards, the better that yearling looked.

  Unfortunately, his nightly prayers for divine intervention only numbered one before his father called a meeting for the next day. When he arrived at breakfast, he found his parents and Virgil waiting at the kitchen table. “Got the day off, Ma?” Jake asked, pouring coffee.

  “I traded with someone to work on Saturday.” Taylor Brady smiled over her bowl of Special K with sliced strawberries. The constant bombardment of medical and dietary information in her life usually made her meal choices healthy.

  Jake heated some pastry strudel in the toaster. His metabolism and long hours of physical labor would prevent weight problems for years to come.

  “Because your mom is home,” said Ken, “we’ll hold our family meeting as soon as your sisters come downstairs.” He poured a bowl of cereal to pacify his wife.

  “Today?” squawked Jake.

  “Is something wrong with today?” Ken leveled a cool blue gaze on him. “I thought you wanted to put this matter to rest.”

  “I do.” What could he say? I wanted time for God to take my side? Me, Jake Brady, a man who’s used every excuse in the book to avoid going to church on Sundays? By the time he finished a second raspberry pastry, Jessie and Keeley sauntered into the kitchen, sleepy eyed.

  “Hi, Mom. Will you be home all day?” Jessie pulled a carton of orange juice from the refrigerator.

  “All day and night. Catch me while you can.” Taylor Brady opened her arms to her youngest child as Keeley ran toward her at full speed.

  Once both girls sat down with bowls of cornflakes and berries, Ken called the monthly meeting of Twelve Elms Stables to order. He explained the recent cancellations of two of their boarding clients, stated Jake’s proposal to hire a professional trainer for Eager to Please, and reminded everyone that Jessie would leave for college over the weekend.