Through the Valley (The Amish of Shepherd’s Hill Book #3)

Chapter 1

The fact that Old Tom Yoder had invited Miri Schrock to help him with his housekeeping during his final illness was a bit of a joke.

It wasn’t that Miri couldn’t keep house—she knew the basics as well as her sisters did—but no one thought of housekeeping when they looked at Miri Schrock.

They thought of horseback riding and cattle wrangling.

She’d even sewn a split into a few of her skirts so she could ride bareback or jump a fence and still stay modest. Of course, she could only wear her split skirts when working on the farm.

Just because the bishop hadn’t spotted them yet didn’t mean that they were exactly permitted.

Thankfully, no one had told on her, not Tom, nor Tom’s grandsons, who were working the farm for the elderly man, so for the time being, she was enjoying the freedom.

“I showed Tabitha the cattle that I suspect are ill,” Miri said, peeking into the sitting room, where Old Tom was propped up in a hospital bed.

His eyes were shut, and he looked papery pale.

He liked when she chatted to him about his cattle.

If there was one thing Old Tom cared about, it was his herd.

Her cousin Tabitha Schrock was the community’s veterinarian.

She was Amish by birth, had left the faith and gotten her education, then came back home again and rejoined the community after a painful divorce.

Miri had been assisting Tabitha on some of her cases, and she was hoping to do more of that after her duties with Tom were complete.

“She said it was a good thing I separated the cattle we suspected were ill from the rest,” Miri went on, heading into the kitchen and raising her voice to be heard.

“She wanted me to tell you that she had to take some samples to test at the lab to be sure what it is, but she thinks it might be contagious. I saw something similar when I was helping Tabitha at the Lapp farm last winter. Here’s hoping we don’t send anything home with your grandsons to their farm, right? ”

Silence from the other room.

Miri washed her hands thoroughly with a thick bar of soap.

Two months ago, Tom had asked her father for her help with housework and cooking because she was good with cattle too.

He’d wanted someone who could run out and check things for him and report back, someone who could follow his instructions with the herd as well as make him some soup.

Besides, Miri and Tom had gotten to be friends over the years.

Her family didn’t have a farm, but her daet used to help Tom when he needed an extra hand, and Miri had always begged to go along.

Tom had liked her inquisitiveness, and he’d let her do the boys’ jobs right along with them, which thrilled Miri to no end.

Her daet hadn’t been sure about his little girl joyfully mucking out stalls, but seeing how happy it made Miri, Mamm said there wasn’t any harm in it.

That had begun a lifelong friendship with Old Tom.

Tom’s grandsons Moses and Benuel took turns staying overnight to help their grandfather with his personal needs, and Benuel would be arriving in a couple of hours. Right now, Moses was out on the farm somewhere, doing chores and taking care of things.

“We should get Moses and Benuel to wash their boots off really well before they go home,” Miri called over her shoulder.

There was a tap on the screen door, and then it opened.

“Hello?” Tabitha called cheerfully.

“Come on in,” Miri said, and she went to meet her cousin at the door.

The shock of Tabitha’s return had worn off, and most people were used to seeing her for veterinary calls.

At first, Miri had felt uncertain about her cousin’s return.

Everyone did. Being divorced was unheard of among Amish folks.

And on top of having gone through years and years more schooling than anyone else, Tabitha was working a man’s job.

But the fact that an Amish woman could be a veterinarian—and do it well—gave Miri hope.

She wanted to make her work with Tabitha as a veterinarian assistant a full-time job.

It was a potential place to belong for a tomboy who’d likely never get married.

“Tom, Tabitha’s here,” Miri said, looking into the sitting room again. Tom hadn’t moved. “Tom?” She turned back to Tabitha with an apologetic smile. “He likes being included in anything to do with the cattle, but he’s sleeping. He’s been resting a lot more lately.”

“Yah, that’s understandable.” Tabitha looked into the sitting room thoughtfully. “I was going to tell him that the lab results will take a few days, but I also wanted to remind him to be careful to keep the sick animals away from the well ones.”

“Like the Lapp farm last winter.”

“Exactly.” Tabitha shot her a smile.

“I’ll let him know,” Miri said. “And I’ll tell Moses about it too. Did you see him out there after I came in?”

“Yah, I did. I told him what to look for.”

Miri had gone to school with Moses when they were young, and she’d nursed a powerful crush on him at the time. But Moses was a man now, and while she saw him daily when he showed up for chores, she was no longer a blushing girl.

“Tabitha, what about my cattle?” Miri asked, turning back to her cousin.

Miri had three head—a cow, a young steer, and a heifer named Bitsy, who was her particular favorite—and they stayed with Tom’s herd.

Tom’s herd was meat cattle, but Miri’s steer wasn’t old enough to butcher yet.

Her cattle could be recognized by their ear tags—hers being yellow, and Tom’s being white.

“Yours are healthy so far. If you make sure to keep all the healthy cattle separate, they should stay that way,” Tabitha said. She looked into the sitting room again, then frowned. “Is Tom okay?”

Miri headed into the sitting room and tiptoed up to his bed.

Tom was always feeling too cold lately, and she had pulled a hand-stitched quilt over him earlier at his request. His German Luther Bible lay on the top of the blanket.

His eyesight didn’t allow him to read it anymore, but a man’s Bible was as personal an item as was possible, and Tom liked to have its worn leather cover and well-thumbed pages close by.

He always said he’d memorized enough of it for it to be a comfort without having to read a word.

The front window was propped open, and a family of songbirds twittered just out of view. A gentle breeze wound its way into the room, carrying the scent of freshly cut grass, while Tom lay still and quiet.

“Tom?” Miri said softly. “Tabitha is here, and . . .”

His chest wasn’t rising and falling with his breaths like it usually did. There was no flutter of his eyelids, no twitch in a finger. Miri’s heart hammered to a stop.

“Tom?” she said more loudly. She reached out and caught his hand. It was cool to the touch. Her breath caught. Tom had been declining for a while, and Miri was here to help out during his final days, but had the moment actually come?

Tabitha put her fingers against Tom’s cheek and then pulled out a stethoscope.

She put the earpieces into her ears and touched the chest piece to his sternum.

She moved it to a different spot once, twice, three times.

Then she lowered the stethoscope and shook her head.

Another gust of warm breeze came in through the window and lifted a stray tendril off Miri’s neck.

“He died?” Miri whispered.

“Yah. He died.”

How long had she been chatting away with a dead man? And yet it was a good day to die—quiet, fragrant, filled with birdsong and summer wind. This was the kind of day that Tom loved most, and it was only appropriate that he have this last taste of earthly beauty before passing on to glory.

Tears misted Miri’s sight, and she swallowed against a lump in her throat.

“I didn’t know he’d passed. I was talking to him from the kitchen,” Miri said.

“It’s okay.”

“Even if he was dozing, he liked it when I talked to him about what was happening on the farm,” she explained. “He said he preferred to know what was going on, and he liked to hear me prattle.”

Miri leaned over Tom once more, watching for breath, for movement. She touched her fingers to his wrist but felt nothing.

“Are you certain?” Miri asked. Mistakes could be made.

“There’s no heartbeat, Miri.”

If only he’d passed when his family were present. They would have wanted to be here, she was sure. But there had been no knowing how long he might have. Days, weeks, even months. His daughter-in-law would often stop by during the day to see him.

“I’m a veterinarian,” Tabitha replied. “I can let you know that he’s passed away, but the government needs to know, too, and that’s where a death certificate comes in. They need it for his will as well. A medical doctor needs to provide that.”

“Right.” Miri nodded, her mind spinning to catch up. “I have the doctor’s number. It’s with the medication.”

She was relieved to have something useful to do, and she hurried into the kitchen and opened the cupboard where Tom’s medication was stored.

She stood on a stool to see past the bottles and pulled out a business card for the doctor.

Should she have noticed something was wrong?

Should she have called the doctor earlier?

She stepped down from the stool, the card in her hand. “I missed something, didn’t I?” Miri blurted out. “There must have been some sign that he wasn’t okay, and I didn’t see it.”

Tabitha’s eyes welled with sympathy, and she folded her stethoscope over, holding the tool gently. “No, sweetie, Old Tom knew he was dying, and he passed quietly. That’s a blessing. No one was going to be able to stop this.”

The dear old man with his passion for his herd, sage advice, and patience for Miri’s unique way of seeing the world was gone.

Most older folks expected Miri to conform to the Amish ways—to find a husband and devote herself to her home and handcrafts.

But not Old Tom. Tom had encouraged her and taught her a whole lot about taking care of cattle and running a farm.

He had given her access to a world she’d never have known without him, and they’d had a connection over their mutual love of cattle. And now he was gone.

“It’s okay,” Tabitha said. “It’s just one step at a time. I’ll help you. First, one of us has to go call the doctor and get him to come out. Then we need to contact Tom’s family.”

“Moses is here somewhere,” Miri said. “He’s probably in the west field today.”

“Why don’t you go find Moses and bring him back to the house?” Tabitha suggested. “And I’ll go up to the phone hut and call the doctor.”

Miri nodded. “Okay. Danke.”

“Are you going to be okay?” Tabitha asked.

“Yah, I’ll be okay.”

All Miri really wanted was to get out of the house, away from these walls, and out into the sunshine and fresh air. She was better in a barn or a field. She felt more like herself, and that was where her talents waited. She’d go find Moses. As Tom’s grandson, he could take over from there.

Miri was only the family friend helping out with the housework, after all. And it looked like their need for her was at an end.