Free Fire in the Night by Linda Byler Page B

was better, especially the diesel and the air system. It was the sadness of lost history that kept him humble, the ruined painstaking work of his forefathers.
    He said the Amish church had seen changes in the past two hundred years, and they weren’t all bad, same as the new barn. Some things were good, like milkers and bulk tanks and pneumatics, battery lamps and fiberglass carriages and nylon harnesses that were lighter and more durable. Better.
    And still it rained, day and night.
    Dat slogged through the mud to accomplish even the smallest task. Mud was everywhere from the way things had been churned up around the barn by the dozers and lifts and other equipment. Dat said if it continued raining, the roads would be closed due to the high water. He hoped no one would try to cross the creek where it overflowed; that was downright dangerous.
    Priscilla stood by the window in Levi’s room, chewing alternately on the inside of each cheek. Or she chewed the nails of her right hand, her eyebrows rising taut above her large, anxious eyes, watching the green maple leaves dripping water.
    Levi sat at his card table, laying out the football cards, the sequence in his head followed to perfection. He looked up, considering his sister.
    “Go away, Priscilla. You bother me.”
    “Hush, Levi.”
    “I mean it.”
    Dat looked up from the German Schrift (scripture) he was reading. His glasses were perched on his nose, allowing him to peer over them, and he smiled. This would be interesting, he thought.
    Priscilla didn’t answer. She just reached out to ruffle a few cards.
    Instantly, Levi’s hand came up, his eyebrows came down, his shoulders straightened, and his voice burst out in one big bellow.
    “ Ich tzell dich schimacka! (I will smack you!)”
    Calmly, Priscilla bent over to retrieve the stack of football cards, holding them at arm’s length, a smile teasing him.
    “Give them.”
    “Say, ‘Please.’”
    “No.”
    Priscilla walked away, holding the cards, still teasing.
    Levi didn’t feel like getting out of his chair, so he yelled at the top of his lungs for help from Dat.
    Dat looked up.
    “What, Levi?”
    “Priscilla has my cards!”
    “She does? Well, I guess you’ll have to come get them.”
    “I don’t want to.”
    “Why not?”
    “I’m tired.”
    Dat thought he heard the wail of sirens in the distance. On a night like this? Surely a fire would not survive this deluge.
    When Levi continued his howling, Dat hushed him and curtly told Priscilla to give him his cards. Then he told everyone to listen. He thought he’d heard sirens.
    The cards forgotten, Priscilla stood, a statue of fright, the color draining from her face, remembering the fire. She moved slowly, as if in a trance, and placed the cards on Levi’s table, never hearing his resounding “ Denke (Thank you).”
    In her mind, the barn would soon be burning.
    Dat saw Priscilla’s fear, slowly laid his German Bible aside, and went to her. Gripping her arms, he looked into her terror-stricken eyes and gave her a small shake.
    “Priscilla!” His voice was kind but firm.
    As if roused from a faint, she blinked, looked at Dat, then fell against him. As she sobbed out her pain and anguish, his arms came around her, his head laid on her hair. He sent a prayer to the Father to protect his vulnerable daughter.
    Mam came, lifted a hand, and caressed her back, saying the siren was likely only the medic for someone who needed assistance because of the high water.
    After she cried, Priscilla could always pull herself together and talk about her fear. Tonight her words came fast and low. She said she missed Dutch so much, she hardly knew what to do. Would she be allowed to get a job somewhere—to save up money for a new horse? She knew it was too much to ask.
    “See, Dutch was important to me in a way that even people aren’t. With a pet, like dogs and cats and ducks and chickens, it’s different. They need you. People don’t really, because they have