Eli Stutzman

Eli Stutzman is the best horseshoe smithy in the country. We have watched him shoe many horses over the years. Eli is of the Swartzentruber sect, they are the most restrictive group of Amish. In spite of this, Eli love's company, particularly the English. Most of his clients come from other areas, we've seen him shoe everything from draft horses from West Virginia to barrel racers from Florida. He has a heavy dutch accent and tight curly bushy hair. He is slight built with a pleasant look, fair complexion and steady eyes.
Every year we stopped at the Ashery we could find him across hwy241 at Yoder's blacksmith shop. The Ashery stands on the spot of an ancient ashery, (an ashery is a factory that converts hardwood ashes into lye, potash, or pearlash. Asheries were common in newly-settled areas of North America during the late 18th century and much of the 19th century, when excess wood was available as settlers cleared their land for farming. Hardwood ashes contain abundant levels of potassium carbonate and potassium hydroxide, the principle components of the products being produced.)
This time we stopped there was no Eli, when I asked if he was around all I got from the smith shoeing was that he didn't work there anymore. I could have left it at that after asking another worker and getting the same response. But I was all the more curious, what could have he done to get such a brush off? I new I had seen the younger smithy there several years ago, so I asked if he knew where I could find him. I thought he said "Tage 948 southove orvell" the dutch accent is quite heavy with the Swartzentrubers. When I repeated it he looked up from his shoeing like I was a complete idiot and pronounced "nine fore-a - sout ofe orvill". I must of looked as dense as they come. "Ets reel eezee to fine" he said, "loog for Stootzman horeshooing sign". (It was beginning to make sense why the short shrift) I thanked him for his hospitality and asked his name, figuring I could always outrun him. He looked up again and said something like "Migael Milher".
I checked the map and saw that Orville was about 10 miles north of where we were. We drove up north Kidron road, past the biggest and best hardware store on the continent, (Kidron Hardware) We turned east on Hackett heading toward a county road 94. I couldn't find a 94-a, and reasoned he might have been saying "94 eh?"
Hackett was a narrow road but was being worked on by a Asplund truck doing tree trimming, we were following an open buggy that was trying to pass between the truck and a mailbox when the tree shedding spooked the horse. He bolted to the right and we knew it didn't look good as the carriage wheel caught the mailbox. The buggy jackknifed and the startled horse tried in vain to keep running, only rearing off his front legs. The driver jumped or was hurtled off the buggy and managed to grab the reigns and hold on for dear life until the shredder finished running that trunk. He wrestled the horse into the ditch and backed him up and around until the wheel was free.
We wanted to honk our approval of his horse handling skills but thought better of it.

We stopped to check on the buggy and driver. They were no worse for wear, and after telling him we were trying to find 94 eh, he pointed us in the opposite direction. There is a 94a on the other side of Kidron road. We eventually found Eli and he couldn't believe we tracked him down. He admitted he had a sign but had not put it up to avoid the riff raff of society. (of which we share no part)

(Riffraff is a term for the common people or hoi polloi, but with negative connotations. The term is derived from Old French 'rif et raf' meaning 'one and all, every bit.)