The Rescue by Suzanne Woods Fisher Page B

and hopped off the porch. “You’d have to yank off the trellis and knock down the roses. Mammi Vera would singe our tail feathers if we did it, but she might not be as mad if you were to do it.”
    Will grinned. “Maybe we should ask first.”
    From the surprised look on Luke’s face, it was obvious such a thought never occurred to him. Will recognized that kind of thinking. “Is your mother around?”
    “No. Mom and Mammi Vera are over at Windmill Farm. They’ll be back before dark.”
    “Well, then, I’ll have to take responsibility for this rescue. Can you bring me a hammer and a clean rag? And a flashlight. And nails, too, to replace the trellising.”
    The boys ran to the barn, Luke galloping ahead of Sammy, as Will looked for a place to pull off the trellis without disturbing the rosebushes that lined the porch’s foundation.
    Windmill Farm, Luke had said. Will’s thoughts drifted to the months he had spent there as an intern for the game commissioner. He was sent to babysit a nesting falcon pair and ended up mostly flirting with Sadie Lapp, Amos Lapp’s middle daughter. He had heard that Sadie had married the bumbling schoolteacher, Gideon Smucker. Will shook his head, amazed at Sadie’s choice, though he knew his own nascent romance with Sadie was over before he left Windmill Farm. Too much separated them—Sadie loved being Amish, and while Will admired the Amish, he could never fully embracethe Plain life. He liked his creature comforts, his many choices, and he believed in higher education. He could never give up his car, Sunday afternoon football games, electricity, air travel. No—fond as he was of Sadie, and as much as he had learned from her about the important things in life that spring, he wasn’t ever going to convert. If he were completely honest, deep down, he knew Sadie had a bond with Gideon that went deeper than the one she had with Will. He knew that from the start.
    The two boys came roaring back from the barn, one with a hammer and flashlight, the other with a rag and a fistful of nails, startling Will back to the crisis at hand. With the claw of the hammer, he pulled and yanked the trellis off the porch. He peered underneath and saw the bird, a pigeon, huddled near a support beam. He scooted toward the bird and covered it with the rag, then grabbed it and scooted back out into the light. Will found the bird’s feet were stuck together with black, hard tar that also covered its legs. “How did this happen?”
    Luke peered anxiously at the bird’s feet. “Workers were tarring the road yesterday.”
    “It must have landed where some warm tar had been put down and then the tar dried,” Will said. “If you have a place where I can work, I’ll try to get the tar off.”
    “There’s an empty stall in the barn,” Luke said.
    “Good idea. Then it won’t try to fly away.” Though there was tar on some feathers too, so it couldn’t fly. He would need to cut some feathers in the process, but if he would get the tar removed, it had a chance of survival.
    The barn door was slightly open—about a foot or two. Will gave it a shove and it rolled open. It took a minute for his eyes to adjust to the dim lighting. Dust particles floated through a beam of hazy sunlight coming in from a window. Soft nickering began from the horses in their stalls as he walked down the main aisle to an empty stall.
    “Can you boys bring me dish soap from your kitchen? And a bucket of warm water? And get my medical kit out of the back of my car.”
    Will proceeded to gently work until he had removed almost all the tar that glued the bird’s feet together. It was a slow job, too slow for the younger boy, who brought a bucket of warm water, watched for a moment, and then lost interest. But the older boy, Luke, stayed right by Will’s side during the entire process. Will was able to freeits feet and get most of the tar off its feathers. He had to cut a few feathers in the process. “I think that’s all it