Read Online Sunburn (Book 1, The Events Trilogy) by Samuel Gorvine - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Samuel Gorvine
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we’re armed and ready to fight, but offer to let them keep those three farms if they will promise to leave the rest of the Community in peace.”
Fred was uncomfortably aware of how much that sounded like Neville Chamberlain leaving Munich in 1938, “Peace in our time,” he had declared, waving a piece of paper -- his worthless treaty. But there had been no making peace with people like Hitler. But what to do here? These Amish men might be able to mount some sort of defense if they were attacked—he could work on that with them—but offensive operations? With men, most of whom could not bear to kill another human being and had no training in small unit tactics? How could that work? They could not take back the farms. Not now, maybe never.
The Bishop thought this over. Fred was right. They needed time and perhaps these marauders could be contained. It was better than having to kill them. No matter what Fred had said the Bible said, he still believed in his heart it was wrong to kill a person under any circumstances. He knew most of the plainly dressed, hard-working men in the Amish Community felt much the same.
The next day both sides watched with raised eyebrows the arrival of Will and Mary on the now beat-up Honda.
Will’s back was still sore but several days of rest and hot packs had helped a lot and he was able to ride, though with more rest stops that he had taken before.
The bikers were watching the Amish church where meeting took place from across the fields with binoculars and the Amish had various people with birding binoculars watching the bikers. The noise of the arriving Honda had caught the attention of all the viewing devices. Tom and Jack thought it was a member of another motorcycle club that had been born here. Bishop Samuel’s youngest son, Aaron, was shocked that the man circled in his binoculars looked so much like him.
Bishop Samuel, the Elders and Fred Goodman were all on the church steps when Will and Mary rode up on the Honda. Will shut off the motor, got off and put down the kickstand. He helped Mary off and they stood together looking up at the gathering on the stairs.
Bishop Samuel could not have been more shocked if his oldest son had ridden in on an elephant and gotten down with a Hindu temple dancer.
“Hello, Papa, everyone. This is my friend, Mary.”
He could see things were much changed. There was an English with the group, something never seen before. And almost all the men were armed, also most unusual. He looked into his father’s shocked face and waited for a reply.
“Who is that?” whispered Fred to one of the Elders.
“That is William, Samuel’s oldest son, who left our community many years ago. We have not seen him for a long time.”
The awkward silence continued. Samuel’s eyes were full but he couldn’t think what to say. He should shun this rebel deserter but his sudden appearance had filled him with feeling he thought he had gotten over. What should he do?
Seeing his distress, Fred said, “Well, I heard Jesus told of a prodigal son who finally came home. Aren’t we supposed to kill a fat calf and have a barbecue or something?”
No one laughed at Fred’s joke, but Samuel went down the few steps and embraced Will, saying, “Yes, yes. My long lost son is home. Let us welcome him. Let us have a feast today in his honor as was told in Jesus’ story.”
The son and the father and most of the onlookers were weeping at this biblical scene of reconciliation. Only Aaron, the youngest son, did not weep, and watched his older brother with hooded eyes.
For his part, Fred saw the BAR in the boot on the Honda and thought, well, maybe now between our own biker Will and the BAR we have the gear to negotiate from strength with the bikers.
The bikers were watching the Amish have their fatted calf cookout that night and were very surprised to be invited. Or a few of them were anyway. A “delegation” as it was called in the note which Bishop Samuel sent
Fred was uncomfortably aware of how much that sounded like Neville Chamberlain leaving Munich in 1938, “Peace in our time,” he had declared, waving a piece of paper -- his worthless treaty. But there had been no making peace with people like Hitler. But what to do here? These Amish men might be able to mount some sort of defense if they were attacked—he could work on that with them—but offensive operations? With men, most of whom could not bear to kill another human being and had no training in small unit tactics? How could that work? They could not take back the farms. Not now, maybe never.
The Bishop thought this over. Fred was right. They needed time and perhaps these marauders could be contained. It was better than having to kill them. No matter what Fred had said the Bible said, he still believed in his heart it was wrong to kill a person under any circumstances. He knew most of the plainly dressed, hard-working men in the Amish Community felt much the same.
The next day both sides watched with raised eyebrows the arrival of Will and Mary on the now beat-up Honda.
Will’s back was still sore but several days of rest and hot packs had helped a lot and he was able to ride, though with more rest stops that he had taken before.
The bikers were watching the Amish church where meeting took place from across the fields with binoculars and the Amish had various people with birding binoculars watching the bikers. The noise of the arriving Honda had caught the attention of all the viewing devices. Tom and Jack thought it was a member of another motorcycle club that had been born here. Bishop Samuel’s youngest son, Aaron, was shocked that the man circled in his binoculars looked so much like him.
Bishop Samuel, the Elders and Fred Goodman were all on the church steps when Will and Mary rode up on the Honda. Will shut off the motor, got off and put down the kickstand. He helped Mary off and they stood together looking up at the gathering on the stairs.
Bishop Samuel could not have been more shocked if his oldest son had ridden in on an elephant and gotten down with a Hindu temple dancer.
“Hello, Papa, everyone. This is my friend, Mary.”
He could see things were much changed. There was an English with the group, something never seen before. And almost all the men were armed, also most unusual. He looked into his father’s shocked face and waited for a reply.
“Who is that?” whispered Fred to one of the Elders.
“That is William, Samuel’s oldest son, who left our community many years ago. We have not seen him for a long time.”
The awkward silence continued. Samuel’s eyes were full but he couldn’t think what to say. He should shun this rebel deserter but his sudden appearance had filled him with feeling he thought he had gotten over. What should he do?
Seeing his distress, Fred said, “Well, I heard Jesus told of a prodigal son who finally came home. Aren’t we supposed to kill a fat calf and have a barbecue or something?”
No one laughed at Fred’s joke, but Samuel went down the few steps and embraced Will, saying, “Yes, yes. My long lost son is home. Let us welcome him. Let us have a feast today in his honor as was told in Jesus’ story.”
The son and the father and most of the onlookers were weeping at this biblical scene of reconciliation. Only Aaron, the youngest son, did not weep, and watched his older brother with hooded eyes.
For his part, Fred saw the BAR in the boot on the Honda and thought, well, maybe now between our own biker Will and the BAR we have the gear to negotiate from strength with the bikers.
The bikers were watching the Amish have their fatted calf cookout that night and were very surprised to be invited. Or a few of them were anyway. A “delegation” as it was called in the note which Bishop Samuel sent
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