A Child's Christmas Wish. Erica Vetsch
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lost in this fire.”
He wrapped the lines around the brake handle and climbed down, reaching up to help Grossmutter. Kate began to descend the other side of the wagon, but before she could step on the high wheel, Oscar was there, reaching up for her and lifting her gently to the ground. He looked sober and wary.
“You should be careful. You wouldn’t want to fall.” He stepped back. Liesl waited in his wagon, but the dog had jumped down, already nosing around the edges of the devastation.
“Come, Kate,” Grossvater said, holding out his hand. “We need to pray.”
She rounded the wagon and joined the old couple. She needed to hear Grossvater pray, to lean on the strength of his faith, because hers was feeling mighty small this morning. Tucking her hand into his work-worn, age-spotted clasp, she sucked in a deep breath and bowed her head. A smile touched her lips as Liesl’s hand slipped into hers.
“Our Father, we give You thanks for this day and that we are here to praise You. We thank You that we still have our cows and our barns and our land. Our hearts are heavy, but we are trusting in You. You are sovereign. You are good. You have a plan to bring good out of something we see as a tragedy today. We are weak, and we need Your strength.
“We give You thanks for Oscar Rabb and Liesl, and for their hospitality. We ask that You bless them and help us to be a blessing to them as they have been to us.
“Please give us the peace that is beyond our earthly understanding. Make Your will plain to us. We are trusting You to provide. Dein Wille geschehe.”
Liesl tugged on Kate’s hand and whispered loudly, “What does that mean?”
Kate bent as far as her rounded belly would allow. “It means ‘Your will be done.’ Sort of like ‘Amen.’”
“Oh, amen, then.” She grinned, then sobered. “It’s sad about your house. Are you going to live with us now?”
Oscar made a noise that wasn’t really a word but wasn’t exactly a grunt, either. Kate shook her head. “No, sweetling. We aren’t going to live with you. Your father was kind enough to offer us a place for the night until we could decide what to do.”
Inge put her arm through Martin’s. “This is our home. We will rebuild.”
Kate looked at Grossvater over the old woman’s head, noting the strain in his eyes. Where would the money to rebuild come from?
Martin patted his wife’s hand. “For now, we need to milk the cows. They are setting up their chorus.”
Down by the barn, the herd of ten Brown Swiss bovines stood near the door, and from time to time a plaintive moo sounded. At the gate on the other side of the barn, four crossbred heifer calves nosed one another, tails swishing, ready for breakfast.
“Climb aboard, Poppet.” Oscar shouldered his way into the contraption Liesl had brought to him in the house, and it arranged itself into a sort of pack. He crouched, and the little girl grasped the straps and threaded her legs into the correct places, facing backward and sitting in a little webbed seat on her father’s back. Oscar stood carefully and looked over his shoulder. “All set?”
“Yep.” Her small boots swung, and she grinned.
Kate stared.
Oscar shrugged, gently, so as not to unseat Liesl. “She’s been riding in this since she was two. I couldn’t leave her alone in the house while I worked, so I made this.”
Grossvater let the cows into the barn, and creatures of habit that they were, they each went to their own stall. Kate took her milking stool from its peg on the wall, and Grossmutter gathered the buckets they had cleaned and put away before going to church last night. While Grossvater fed the cows, Kate started at the far end with the milking.
All the cows were named after Swiss cantons and towns—Grossvater’s choice. Saint Gallens, Zug, Geneva, Lucerne, Berne... Kate knew each one well. The barn smelled of hay and cows and milk and dust. Light came in the high windows and the open door at the end, and she rested her cheek against Jura’s warm side, falling into the steady milking rhythm, hearing the milk zing into the bucket, the tone changing as the level rose. Soon, Grossvater began milking the cows on the other side of the aisle, and farther down, she heard Liesl’s voice, chatting with her father as he, too, milked cows.
Grossmutter patted Kate on the shoulder. “I will go to the cheese house and brush and turn the cheeses.”
“We won’t be long here. We’ll put the milk in the springhouse. I won’t worry about cooking another batch of cheese today.” Kate finished with Jura and picked up the heavy bucket of warm, foamy milk.
She took it down the barn to where clean, empty milk cans sat on the handcart Grossvater used to take milk down to the springhouse. The cows were giving less milk now. In high summer, each cow gave several gallons of milk every day, and Kate made a new batch of cheese every couple of days throughout the summer. But now they gave less than half the summer amount, and she could store the milk for a few days before making a batch of cheese.
“Let me do that. You shouldn’t be toting such heavy things.” Oscar took the bucket, lifting it easily and pouring it into the open can.
Liesl twisted over his shoulder and waved. “Daddy, can I get down?”
“Not just yet, Poppet. Wait until we’re done in the barn.”
“Mr. Rabb, I appreciate your help, but I’m not helpless.” Kate took the bucket to go to the next cow.
“No, you’re not helpless, but you are in a delicate way.” His face reddened a bit, and Kate’s warmed.
“The work must be done.” Not that she had always been the milkmaid. Making cheese was one thing, but barn work another. Johann hadn’t liked her in the barn doing what he considered a man’s chores. He had always been the herdsman, but after his death, Kate had needed to do more work about the farm. Grossvater couldn’t do it alone.
She’d been feeling overwhelmed with the farm work already. In a couple of months, after the baby was born, how would she be able to get everything done? At least the baby was coming in the winter, when farm work slowed down, but Martin and Inge weren’t getting any younger, and there would be another mouth to feed. Would they be able to keep up with all that the farm required? And how could they get the money together to rebuild the house? Everything was so costly, and their savings were meager. Last spring, Johann had spent a fair amount of their savings buying a Brown Swiss bull to improve his herd.
It was that bull that had caused the accident that had cost Johann his life.
Now the bull was gone and so was the money.
Kate’s shoulders bowed under the burden, and she tried hard to hold on to Grossvater’s faith-filled prayer.
God, help me find a way.
* * *
Oscar let Liesl climb out of the carrier. “Stay where I can see you, and don’t go near where the fire was.”
“Yes, Daddy.” She went to the gate where the calves had their heads down munching the hay Martin Amaker had forked over the fence. Rolf, her shadow, went with her, tail wagging gently, eyes alert.
A wagon rolled into the yard, and Per Schmidt climbed down from the high seat. “Guten Morgen.” He surveyed the charred remains of the house, sweeping his hat off his head when the Amaker ladies came out of the barn toward him.
“Morning.” Oscar began a slow circuit of the burned-out area, but he could see nothing in the ashes to salvage. Bits of bent metal, puddles of melted glass, bricks fallen from the chimney, but nothing worth saving.
“Dere is not much left.” Per followed him. “Vat are dey going to do? Do dey haff family to help?”
He didn’t know. Oscar glanced over to check on Liesl and found that Kate had helped her climb the gate to look over at the calves. Kate stood behind the little girl,