On Saturday Josiah sifted through embers. Iron survived: hinges, brackets, the anvil. Foundation stones — intact. Everything wooden — ash.
By lunch Aaron Yoder arrived — the best carpenter in the district. Sixty-two years old, hands like oak roots. Silently circled the ruins. Measured the foundation with rope. Wrote figures in pencil on a board.
Saturday Evening
'Thirty by sixty, same as before?' Aaron asked. 'Thirty by sixty,' Josiah confirmed. 'How many stalls?' 'Eight cow, three horse.' 'Hayloft above?' 'Yes.' Aaron nodded. 'I have a plan. Twenty years old. Reliable. I need three days and eight helpers for preparation.'
Sunday
At service — silence. Nobody mentioned the fire directly. Bishop Eli read from Ecclesiastes: 'A time to tear down and a time to build.' Everyone understood. After service — every home knew: Monday, Troyer, barn.
Rachel came home and found on the porch: three bags of flour, a tub of butter, a basket of eggs, ten pounds of sugar, a bundle of candles. No note. She knew from whom — from everyone.
Preparation
Aaron worked three days straight. With him — eight young men. Lumber arrived from three sawmills: oak for frame, pine for siding. Boards already cut, numbered in pencil. Aaron had done this dozens of times. Every mortise, every tenon, every joint — in his head. Blueprints — on one board, written in pencil.
Sunday evening Aaron approached Josiah. 'Ready. Tomorrow at six. I need a hundred fifty hands.' Josiah looked at him. 'You'll have two hundred.'