law of God.”
Jacob leaned on the press and folded his arms. “I know I’m going to hate the answer, but how?”
“Women are meant to raise children and serve their husbands needs, not to break the laws of nature by doing men’s work.”
“So if Rachel were a man, printing a newspaper would not be against God’s laws?”
“The entire concept is an abomination. If God meant us to … to—”
“Read … he would have given us eyes and minds?” Jacob said.
“Explaining to you is a waste of time. You cannot leave the dratted machine there. That is where I repair the buggies.”
“But you can repair them where they sit. You don’t need this spot.”
“I do. The light is better here.”
“It is better for Rachel’s printing too.”
“If I have anything to do with it, there will not be any printing.”
“Why does this not surprise me?” Jacob asked. “All right. Ruben, let’s put the machine back on the wagon and move it to the corner where the thresher is. We’ll put the thresher here and when Simon needs to repair a buggy, once or twice a year, he can move the thresher outside for a time.”
“I do not want the thresher outside. It will rot.”
“I wish to hell you would rot, you sorry excuse for a—”
“Levi,” Ruben shouted toward the upper floor where they could see him through a ladder door repairing a flailer. “This is your barn, where can we put Rachel’s printing press?”
Levi muttered a string of sharp, though unintelligible words.
“What did you say?” Ruben called, brow furrowed.
Levi came down the ladder. “I said, ‘muzzle you, Ruben Miller.’” He raised his eyes to the heavens, seeking patience. “For bringing my attention to my children’s bickering.”
“Datt—”
“ Mein Gott, Simon, shut up! A decision I have made and you need to hear it, the both of you,” he said encompassing all three in his disgruntled look. “Ruben, you ask whose barn is this? Well I have an answer. Jacob is home and as youngest, the farm is his by rights. But Simon has worked it four years without Jacob’s help. Without Simon’s hard work, the farm would be worthless.”
Jacob saw his Datt’s look narrow and land on Ruben. “Like your farm is, Ruben, and my friend, Zeb Miller, your poor Datt, weeping for looking down at it.”
Ruben closed his mouth tight, a look of patient respect for Levi on his face, as he waited for the end of the reprimand.
Three chastised children, they stood, Jacob thought, resisting the urge to smile at Ruben because he had been included in the scold.
“... and when you meet him at the pearly gates, you bet Zeb will be harder on you than I am. But this farm. This is my right to decide. Though the farm is rightfully Jacob’s—”
“Datt, I—”
Levi raised his hand. “One more word, Simon, and I will thrash you.”
Simon stepped back and shut his mouth.
Jacob and Ruben chuckled and got a hand raised to them. They shut up too.
“I cannot take the farm from Simon,” Levi said. “So here is what we will do. We have the main house in the middle, and my house, the daudyhaus , on the left. We will put another small house on the right, a kinderhaus , for Simon and Rachel, and leave the big house for Jacob, Emma and Aaron. This way, the farm will be split equally between my two sons.” He narrowed his eyes and examined their faces in turn.
Jacob remembered the look. He was eight years old and had switched the fowl eggs. Geese, chickens, and ducks, squawked at strange hatchlings, and Datt was going to kill him.
“You will share the responsibility equally,” Levi continued. “Cost, income, work, the keeping of the ledgers. But until I get Nate McKinley to write up the papers, this farm is still mine. You leave the press there, Ruben, it is the best place.”
Jacob couldn’t believe that his father aimed that sorrowful look at him. Why was it that Datt was always most disappointed in him?
Levi shook his head. “From you, I expect
Jacob leaned on the press and folded his arms. “I know I’m going to hate the answer, but how?”
“Women are meant to raise children and serve their husbands needs, not to break the laws of nature by doing men’s work.”
“So if Rachel were a man, printing a newspaper would not be against God’s laws?”
“The entire concept is an abomination. If God meant us to … to—”
“Read … he would have given us eyes and minds?” Jacob said.
“Explaining to you is a waste of time. You cannot leave the dratted machine there. That is where I repair the buggies.”
“But you can repair them where they sit. You don’t need this spot.”
“I do. The light is better here.”
“It is better for Rachel’s printing too.”
“If I have anything to do with it, there will not be any printing.”
“Why does this not surprise me?” Jacob asked. “All right. Ruben, let’s put the machine back on the wagon and move it to the corner where the thresher is. We’ll put the thresher here and when Simon needs to repair a buggy, once or twice a year, he can move the thresher outside for a time.”
“I do not want the thresher outside. It will rot.”
“I wish to hell you would rot, you sorry excuse for a—”
“Levi,” Ruben shouted toward the upper floor where they could see him through a ladder door repairing a flailer. “This is your barn, where can we put Rachel’s printing press?”
Levi muttered a string of sharp, though unintelligible words.
“What did you say?” Ruben called, brow furrowed.
Levi came down the ladder. “I said, ‘muzzle you, Ruben Miller.’” He raised his eyes to the heavens, seeking patience. “For bringing my attention to my children’s bickering.”
“Datt—”
“ Mein Gott, Simon, shut up! A decision I have made and you need to hear it, the both of you,” he said encompassing all three in his disgruntled look. “Ruben, you ask whose barn is this? Well I have an answer. Jacob is home and as youngest, the farm is his by rights. But Simon has worked it four years without Jacob’s help. Without Simon’s hard work, the farm would be worthless.”
Jacob saw his Datt’s look narrow and land on Ruben. “Like your farm is, Ruben, and my friend, Zeb Miller, your poor Datt, weeping for looking down at it.”
Ruben closed his mouth tight, a look of patient respect for Levi on his face, as he waited for the end of the reprimand.
Three chastised children, they stood, Jacob thought, resisting the urge to smile at Ruben because he had been included in the scold.
“... and when you meet him at the pearly gates, you bet Zeb will be harder on you than I am. But this farm. This is my right to decide. Though the farm is rightfully Jacob’s—”
“Datt, I—”
Levi raised his hand. “One more word, Simon, and I will thrash you.”
Simon stepped back and shut his mouth.
Jacob and Ruben chuckled and got a hand raised to them. They shut up too.
“I cannot take the farm from Simon,” Levi said. “So here is what we will do. We have the main house in the middle, and my house, the daudyhaus , on the left. We will put another small house on the right, a kinderhaus , for Simon and Rachel, and leave the big house for Jacob, Emma and Aaron. This way, the farm will be split equally between my two sons.” He narrowed his eyes and examined their faces in turn.
Jacob remembered the look. He was eight years old and had switched the fowl eggs. Geese, chickens, and ducks, squawked at strange hatchlings, and Datt was going to kill him.
“You will share the responsibility equally,” Levi continued. “Cost, income, work, the keeping of the ledgers. But until I get Nate McKinley to write up the papers, this farm is still mine. You leave the press there, Ruben, it is the best place.”
Jacob couldn’t believe that his father aimed that sorrowful look at him. Why was it that Datt was always most disappointed in him?
Levi shook his head. “From you, I expect
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