Second Chances (18 page)

Whistling, Jonas seemed impressed. “That's a lot of apples!”

“I think Linda said she bought six bushels!” Rebecca told him. “Although we didn't
quite peel all of them, did we now, Anna?”

“
Nee
, not quite all.”

“Curious that Linda seemed to know Anna was coming,” Rebecca remarked as she shook
out the dish towel over the sink and hung it on the side. “Didn't she make that comment,
Anna? That she had heard you were coming?”

Before Anna could reply, Freman cleared his throat politely before he spoke. “
Ja
,
we stopped by on the way out to let Linda know that Anna would be joining you.” He
didn't look at her as he said this, but Anna caught the inflection in his voice.
Clearly stopping by the Kings' farm had been his idea, not Benjamin's, for she couldn't
imagine Benjamin being so inspired or thoughtful.

“That was good of you,” Rebecca said. “I should have thought to ask you to do that.”
She smiled at her nephew, clearly pleased with his attention to such details.

Anna too was moved—not just that he had gone out of his way to alert Linda but that
he had done so on her behalf. While the men continued talking, she remained in the
kitchen, half listening to their conversation and half thinking about how Freman
seemed so attentive to what most men wouldn't even consider more than a triviality.
Even now, as she contemplated this, his attention to include Leah in the conversation
was admirable.

Once again, Anna had a fitful sleep, confused by the seconds of concern Freman showed
for her well-being that seemed to live in the shadows of the minutes of intense focus
on Leah.

For a moment she pondered if Freman was focusing his attention on Leah as a way of
testing whether or not there would be some apparent reaction on her part.
Mayhaps
a reaction of regret, or even jealousy? And
mayhaps
the fact that he still showed
some obvious concern
for her well-being indicated that his interest in her was not
a thing of the past but merely needed to be rekindled? Yet as soon as these thoughts
crossed her mind, Anna immediately felt ashamed, the heat coming to her cheeks.
Am I letting myself believe that he would actually play Leah and me against each
other
, she pondered? Immediately, she chastised herself for entertaining such a thought.
Freman simply was not capable of such a ploy. While not overly talkative during the
trip and in the days preceding it, he had been a perfect gentleman so far.

It took Anna a long while to fall asleep, disconcerted by the fact that, if only
for a moment, she had actually entertained the thought that his intentions and attentions
may have been less than honorable.

Chapter Ten

T
HE
S
ATURDAY MORNING
drive to the horse auction, which took almost thirty minutes
by van, wound through a series of small scenic back roads toward the south of Strasburg.
Rows of Amish buggies filled the parking lot, and toward the back, Anna saw the trucks
with long, metal trailers that had transported the horses to the auction and that
would deliver them to their new owners' farms later on.

As they approached the main building, two young Amish boys, no more than fourteen
years of age, led a brown horse toward a wide door. The horse lifted its head. With
wild eyes and twitching ears, it looked around nervously, appraising the unfamiliar
surroundings. One of the boys tugged on the blue lead rope that was clipped to the
tie ring on the halter. Immediately, the horse stopped walking and jerked its head
backward in a defensive gesture.

Anna looked away.

When she was younger, she had always wanted to go to a horse auction. Her father,
however, never took her. Later, after her mother died, he often took his three daughters
to equipment and farmers' auctions, but never to an actual horse auction.

As she grew older she often heard whispers about these auctions, as if discussing
an ugly secret. Indeed, she soon learned that some of the auctions were nothing more
than places for meat suppliers to buy unwanted horses. From that point forward, her
desire to attend one vanished. The idea of a “kill auction” brought a terrible ache
to her heart, and years ago she had once confessed to Freman that she could never
attend such an event.

This auction, however, surprised her. Instead of being filled with
Englischers
who
intended to purchase old, lame, or ill horses to sell to the slaughterhouses, the
seats were filled with Amish. She breathed a sigh of relief and felt the muscles
in her shoulders relax. Despite the fear in the eyes of the horse she had just seen
outside, she could immediately tell that these horses were to be purchased by other
Amish people for practical purposes.

To her further surprise, Freman noticed the change in her demeanor. As she passed
by him to sit down, the other women already seated on folding chairs near the side
of the room, he leaned over and, with a low voice, said, “I would never take you,
or anyone else for that matter, to one of
those
auctions, Anna.”

She stopped walking and looked at him, noticing that he stared directly into her
eyes. “I . . . I didn't know what to expect,” she admitted, stumbling over her words.
Regaining her composure, she glanced at the horse, the same brown one she had just
watched. One of the young Amish boys led the horse for all the people to view, running
up and down a fifty-foot track surrounded by metal
fencing. “I am pleased, though,
to see that these animals look healthy and well-cared for.”

No further words were spoken. He merely gestured toward the seats, indicating that
she should join the others. Without waiting for her to move, he turned and walked
in the direction Jonas and Benjamin had disappeared.

Settling into her seat, Anna watched as the horse, calmer now, ran back and forth,
lifting its front legs high in the air. Two men were bidding on the horse, indicating
their bids by lifting up a paper with a red number printed on one side. On the other
side of the track, four men sat at a table on a platform.

One of the auctioneers held a microphone and spoke into it, uttering a staccato of
words in a singing tone, practically impossible for Anna to decipher. His hands moved,
gesturing towards the two bidders, enticing them to raise their stakes against each
other, as he chanted a litany of numbers followed by “going once, going twice” only
to be followed by a resounding “yup” as he turned, alternately, towards each of the
two men. The longer she listened, the more she became mesmerized by his fast-paced,
songlike words.

“Who'll give me a six hundred dollars? Six hundred dollar bid, beautiful mare, six
hundred dollars, six, now seven, now seven, will ya give me seven? Seven hundred
dollar bid!” He pointed to another man. “Now, eight, now eight, now eight hundred,
will ya give me eight? Even your women can drive that eight-year-old! Eight hundred?
Seven and a half, seven-fifty. How about seven-fifty? Fifty? Fifty? Fifty? I got
it!” The original bidder had lifted his paper and the auctioneer pointed in his direction.
“How about eight hundred? Eight? Eight? Will ya
give me eight? I've got seven-fifty.
Eight? Eight? I got eight! Eight hundred!”

This continued until the bidding stopped climbing, each man outbidding the other.
The auctioneer slammed the gavel down on the table and yelled, “Sold! Nine hundred
and fifty dollars to Abe Stoltzfus, here, bidder number 107!” Within seconds, the
Amish boy led the brown mare off the track, someone crossing off the number on the
horse's croup with a thick red marker, while another horse was led in.

Hannah leaned against Anna's arm. “I can't understand one single word that he said!”

Anna laughed. “You need to really listen. It's rather interesting, I think.”

Mary was quick to offer her opinion. “Sounds like jibber-jabber to me!”

There was no more time for talking as the auctioneer began again, describing the
horse, a black Morgan cross with a flowing mane and easy gait. Once again, the rhythmic
chant began, and within seconds, white card-boards began to signal bids.

Enthralled, Anna watched the gorgeous horse as it pranced along the track, neither
pulling on its lead rope nor pushing against the boy. Its muscles rippled as it moved,
and a thin layer of sweat made its coat shine. Anna thought it was the most gorgeous
horse she had ever seen.

“Sold!” The gavel slammed down once again and the auctioneer pointed toward an Amish
man seated in the front row.

When the men returned, six other horses had already been auctioned. Jonas handed
each of the women a thick
package of papers, each stapled in the corner. It was the
listing for the horse numbers and descriptions.

Thanking him, Anna accepted it before she eagerly looked up at the horse that was
currently pacing the track.

“Enjoying yourself, then?”

Anna smiled at Jonas. “Oh
ja
!” Her eyes flickered back to the auctioneer. “It's like
listening to and seeing poetry in motion all at the same time!”

Jonas laughed at her words as he sat in the row behind the women. Benjamin took the
seat directly behind her while Freman moved farther down the aisle, sitting behind
Hannah. Cris, however, had not returned with them.

Mary scanned the crowd, searching for her husband. “Where did he go?” she asked,
irritation showing in her voice. Her eyes continued searching, but to no avail. As
for the others in the group, no one responded to her inquiry, wisely choosing to
pay attention to the auction and not her complaints. When she realized that she was
being ignored, she huffed and quickly got to her feet, her quest to find Cris more
important than the activity around her.

If anyone noticed or minded Mary's departure, they did not comment about it. Instead,
Freman explained to Hannah about how the auction worked while Leah talked with Benjamin
about the list of horses.

“A Dutch Harness horse!” Benjamin exclaimed. “Number two thirty-seven!”

His excitement caught Anna's attention. “Is that a special horse?” she asked.

Turning his attention away from Leah, Benjamin nodded, leaning over the back of the
folding chair so that she could hear his words over the din in the large room.
“A
fine breed of horse, indeed! They are high steppers and quite smooth under harness.
Even under saddle.”

Anna smiled at his enthusiasm. “I should like to see that one, then!”

“Ah, high steppers,” Freman said. “I should not be so affected by a horse's gait,
no matter how poetic it may look, especially when the manufactured gait can often
lead to issues with the hooves at a later stage. Their temperament is much more
important to me.”

Anna tore her eyes away from the prancing horse that was currently being auctioned.
“Manufactured?”

Freman nodded. “
Ja
, manufactured. Some trainers use painful chemicals on their hooves
to teach the horses how to lift their front legs. A horrible practice called soring.
It's been outlawed but . . . ” He hesitated and looked at the other two women. “It's
still being used, no doubt.”

Benjamin nodded, then added, “Others simply attach chains or put really heavy shoes
on the horses' hooves to force them to lift their legs higher, something they eventually
do out of habit, then. It's a bit more humane, don't you think?”

Anna thought no such thing. “Oh, how awful!”

Both Hannah and Leah nodded in agreement with Anna, expressing their own dismay at
the description of such a practice. For such a fine animal, one of God's creations,
to be purposefully put in pain, strictly in order to have a pretty gait, was a horrible
thought for all of the women. Anna doubted she would ever again look at a high-stepping
horse without thinking about what Freman and Benjamin had just told them.