Lost on the Prairie by MaryLou Driedger

Author:MaryLou Driedger
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Heritage House
Published: 2021-10-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

THE CHURCH SERVICE SEEMS TO last forever. I was sure when Mr. and Mrs. Schmidt shared their suspicion that the dead body in their barn might be Mr. Schmidt’s brother Ben we’d all head right on back to the farm. But no such thing!

“The body will still be there after the service,” the sheriff comments. “And we might need a little divine help getting to the bottom of things. Won’t hurt for you to stay here for some praying and singing. I’ll be waiting right outside.”

“I agree,” Pastor Kraybill says. “Henry, I’ll meet with everyone after the service about a barn raising for you come next Saturday. The snow could fly any day now. You never know. And those animals of yours need to be sheltered.”

“Thanks, Pastor Kraybill,” Mr. Schmidt says. “I’ll order the lumber for the barn first thing Monday morning before I open the mill.”

“Do you need us to have a special offering this morning to help you pay for that lumber?”

“No, thank you, Pastor,” says Mr. Schmidt clearing his throat and adjusting his bow tie. “I think we can manage, but you might want to think of taking up a collection for Martha and the kids. If Ben is really and truly gone, they are going to be suffering some.”

Mrs. Schmidt lays her hand gentle-like on Mr. Schmidt’s arm and says softly, “It’s not like you haven’t helped them out plenty in the past, Henry. You did your best. You know Ben wasted most of the profits from his farm, and that’s why his family is in the poor house the way they are. Your father did the right thing leaving you the mill. Ben just couldn’t have handled it.”

Mr. Schmidt puts his hand over his wife’s. “Now, Euphemia, there’s no good comes speaking ill of the dead.”

“We don’t know for sure he is dead,” Mrs. Schmidt says. “Maybe the man in the barn is someone else.”

I sit between Ettie and Eudora during the service, but it is hard for anyone to really listen to the pastor because Martha, Ben’s wife, is sobbing the whole time. Quiet-like, mind you, but still everyone can hear her.

Her two sons sit on either side of her. They seem a little older than me and they look straight ahead, their faces as empty as the blackboard at the end of the school day. They don’t even seem to notice their mother is crying.

I’m not sure I could sit still in a church service if I thought my Papa was dead, but then my Papa is hardworking and has always looked after our family, and the only time he takes a drink is to have a glass of Grandpa’s homemade wine at Christmas. Would you still love a parent that drank too much and couldn’t put food on the table or keep a job? I suspect you might, but I reckon it would be harder than loving a parent who took care of their family proper.

Growing up in Newton, I don’t recall anyone’s father being like that.

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