Missing Your Smile (18 page)

“Now go and play,” Miriam said to her two youngest sons. “Go out in the barn, but stay away from the sow in grandpa's spring wagon. Okay?”

They both nodded solemnly and took off running.

Joe led his horse forward as Menno held the shafts to keep them from slamming into the ground.

Menno put them down and turned to help Esther and her husband who had just driven in. “
Gut
morning,” he said again, nodding to the children as they tumbled out. Esther had five children, all well behaved. His daughters except one were all doing fine. That made it even harder to accept that Susan was acting the way she was. She had always been his favorite, which might explain her actions. Wasn't that how children became spoiled?

“
Gut
morning,” Esther replied, the last one out of the buggy. Her husband nodded to him, not saying anything. Henry was a
gut
man for Esther, he just didn't talk much.

“Anyone else coming?” Menno asked.

“It's just the five families,” Esther said. “I think everyone's here.”

“I've only helped unhitch two buggies,” Menno commented.

“Edna and Jacob's buggy is out by the barn,” Esther said, motioning.

“So it is,” Menno replied after turning to look.

As Henry led the horse forward, the banging of metal on metal in the yard drew Menno's attention. John was getting the water trough ready to heat in the yard. He had the trough turned upside down, dumping out the dried debris he had knocked loose. He set the trough back up, this time on supporting metal I-beams. The beams held the trough off the ground, the wood for a fire piled near the old oak tree. John shook the trough into place, dropping the water hose in as Menno walked up.

“
Gut
morning,” Menno said. “Looks like you're ready to go.”

“Just about.” John shouted toward the barn, “Turn on the hose!”

Water suddenly spurted, jerking the hose in the trough. John fed more hose inside and then grabbed some wood. He stacked it underneath, ready to light.

“I see you still have your hog on the wagon,” John said.

“She can stay there for a while,” Menno said. “At least until we're ready for her.”

“Then we'll do the other three first,” John said. “We should get started soon.” John lit a match, stuck it under the kindling, and moments later a crackling fire was going.

“Do you need more wood?” Menno asked.

“The boys can get more with the wheelbarrow if we run out,” John said. “Let's get this fire good and hot for now. The sooner the better.”

It's confession time, and now is as
gut
a time as any
, Menno thought. John might not laugh quite as hard as some of his sons-in-law. “We had a fire at the barn this morning.”

John jerked his head up. “A fire? In the barn?”

“
Yah
, but we got it out. Actually Anna did. She brought her quilts out and used them to smoother the flames.”

John doesn't look satisfied
, Menno thought.
I was dreaming to think I'd get off easy
.

“Was it an accident?” John asked. “The lantern perhaps? They can be tricky sometimes. A cow kicked one out of my hands when I was a youngster, but that ended up on the concrete floor. Thank
Da Hah
it didn't explode.”

John was a nice man. He was trying to make things easier. “I didn't shake the match out well enough. It landed in the straw,” Menno said.

“It could happen to any of us,” John said.

“There are still no excuses,” Menno said. “We teach our young boys better than that.”

Just then a shout rose behind them, coming from the direction of Menno's spring wagon. It was followed by the piercing screams of a young child.

“Oh no!” John yelled, the first to turn around. His hat flew to the ground as he took off running.

Menno tried to keep up with John, straining to run, his blood running like ice in his veins. Someone must have opened the crate! Now there were boys standing around, beating the sides of the crate with their hands.

Miriam and Joe's oldest boy, Jonas, was next to the crate, his arm between the bars. The sow had the boy's hand in her teeth and was jerking up and down. Slobber and blood were flying right and left.

A
s Menno hurried toward the spring wagon, he saw Jonas's body. His head was thrown back and his face was contorted.

“He's caught! He's caught!” one of the cousins was shouting, jumping up and down beside the wagon.

“What were you trying to do?” John shouted, not waiting for an answer. He slid to a stop and grabbed Jonas from behind.

“Don't pull!” Menno ordered, bracing his hands on the side of the crate. “Just hold the boy until she lets go.”

Jonas whimpered, tears streaming down his face

A stick! We need a stick!
Menno thought.
Where is the stick I used as a prod this morning? Didn't I put it in the wagon?
Yah
, here it is!
He grabbed it from the bed of the spring wagon and poked it through the crate slats, jabbing it hard into the sow's stomach, shoving as hard as he could. He yelled at the top of his lungs, “
Yah heee!
Let him go!”

The sow gave a great snort and released the boy's arm. She jumped to the far side of the crate. John held the sobbing Jonas as the sow contemplated them with beady eyes.

“What where you doing here?” John demanded.

“We were just trying to unload the sow,” one of the cousins said, his voice trembling. “We wanted to help.”

“You were told to stay away!” John lowered Jonas to the grassy lawn, cradling his head in his arms.

Menno heard running feet behind them and then gasps as the women approached. They formed a circle around John and Jonas, a few running back toward the house, their skirts pulled up nearly to their knees. They would be going for water and soap. Hog bites needed to be cleaned quickly.

Miriam pushed through the line, taking over for John, murmuring and stroking Jonas's forehead. The others backed off. Menno pushed in close enough to see the puncture wounds in the boy's arm—long lines of jagged teeth marks where the sow had crunched down and pulled. One of the boy's fingers went off in a crazy angle, and there was white slobber all over his hand and arm.

Menno glanced up as movement came from the house. Esther and Betsy, John's wife, were returning with two plastic water buckets, washcloths, and towels. They ran across the lawn, their faces red from the rush and the weight of the buckets. Setting the water down, they knelt on either side of Miriam. She held Jonas's arm as they dipped the washcloths into the soapy water and squeezed the liquid over the boy's injured arm.

“Will it hurt more?” Jonas asked between moans.

“No worse than it already does,” Miriam said. “We have to clean the cuts.”

“We'd better do something about this finger first.” Esther held Jonas's hand by the wrist. “It's going to hurt worse if we don't.”

“Is it broken?” John asked.

“I don't know,” Esther said, holding her hands over Jonas's eyes and whispering to the others. “It's definitely not right.” She stroked Jonas's hair.

“Should we leave that for the doctor?” Betsy asked.

That is a good point
, Menno thought, looking around the group.
Someone needs to call a driver, and the sooner the better
. Esther's husband, Henry, caught his glance and nodded. Without a word he ran to the barn. He'd take care of it. Few men were better at getting things done than Henry.

“Cleaning is the problem,” Miriam was saying. “But you'd better straighten the finger, even if it's broken.”

Jonas whimpered, burying his head in his
mamm's
chest.

“Just do it.” Miriam whispered as she held her hand over Jonas's eyes this time.

“The men had better do this.” Esther stood up. Betsy stayed down, holding Jonas's arm.

John grasped the boy's palm.

Jonas seemed to have stopped breathing.

John jerked the boy's finger hard.

Jonas screamed, digging his face deeper into his
mamm's
chest.

“There now. It's done,” John said, releasing the hand.

Betsy continued to hold the arm, lifting it for the others to see the straightened finger.

“It wasn't broken, I think,” John said. “Just out of joint.”

Henry's wagon rattled down the driveway past them. His hand on his hat, Henry clutched the lines with his right hand. He was likely heading for the nearest phone shack and would be back with a driver soon.

“Okay, here we go.” Esther knelt down again, dipping one of the washcloths in water and gently moving it over the punctured skin. Betsy did the same on the other side of the hand.

Jonas had his eyes open now as Miriam stroked his forehead. The two women worked, allowing the soapy water to run into the wounds and working the blood and slobber off. At times Jonas flinched, and they would pause, continuing with the task when his whimpers died down.

“We need fresh water,” Esther announced, looking around the circle.

Two of the older teenage girls took off running toward the house.

Menno fidgeted. There must be something he could do. He looked at the sow still in the crate. She was grunting, her nose in the air, seemingly satisfied with herself.

“You won't live long now!” Menno vowed with a glare. Several of the boys smiled but sobered when Jonas screamed again.

“That bite is pretty deep…and the one over here,” Betsy whispered. “I hope the driver gets here soon.”

“Henry will find one,” John said.

Betsy nodded.

Across the lawn the two girls came running back with fresh water, soap suds rolling over the top of the buckets. Menno smiled at the sight in spite of Jonas's continued whimpering. The girls must have dumped in extra soap in their haste, but that was better than not enough.

On the ground, Betsy and Esther exchanged the water buckets, and the cleansing continued.

A pickup truck soon rattled into the driveway. Old Mr. Davis, a neighbor from down the road, was driving. Mr. Davis jumped out of the truck and ran over to the circle.

They all turned to look at him.

“Henry found me in the field, and told me what happened. Where are we taking the boy?”

“You'd better take him to Louisville, to the children's hospital,” Miriam said. “He looks like he doesn't need more than stitches and cleaning up, but I don't know. These are hog bites. I'd feel better if we took him someplace other than Scott Memorial in Salem.”

Heads nodded.

The men lifted Jonas and carried him over to the truck. Miriam and her husband, Joe, spoke in whispers for a few minutes. Apparently the decision of who should go was made between them. Miriam walked with Joe to the truck. She climbed into the passenger's side and pulled Jonas tightly against her shoulder. Joe shut the door and said something before stepping back as Mr. Davis took off.

“Okay!” John shouted as the truck turned onto the main road. “Everyone back to what they were doing. We have a long day ahead of us. And boys, keep away from the hogs—even if they look harmless!”

Most of the boys hung their heads, their hats tipped low over their faces.

“Now,” John turned back to Menno, “it looks like you get to butcher your hog first.”

“
Yah
!” Menno said. He had no problem with that. Someone handed him the twenty-two rifle, and they all backed away. Walking up to the crate, he pushed the barrel close to the sow's head and fired. Vengeance of sorts—the kind that didn't belong to
Da Hah
, he figured as he handed the gun back to Edna's oldest boy.

“The water's hot,” John hollered from the water trough.