The Farmer's Bride

by Kathleen Fuller

  “Great,” she muttered. Although the treasure hunt did sound like fun. Maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as she thought. Maybe she didn’t have to dread going. She could just help Ruby, who’d be in charge, and then work in the kitchen preparing supper or something. She hadn’t promised she’d take part in the hunt. Readying the food didn’t sound like as much fun as the hunt, but she couldn’t put herself in proximity to any single male. Desperate times.

  She sighed and stared into her empty glass. How did everything get so complicated so quickly? She really wished Selah were here. She missed her friend. A visit to New York might be in order. But with the business load at work growing, she couldn’t take the time off. Her uncle needed someone available to take orders while he was working. Besides, wouldn’t that still be running away from her problems? She needed to stop doing that. She’d never been a coward before, but lately she was acting like one.

  Chapter 3

  On Saturday Martha arrived early to help Ruby set up. Ruby talked nonstop, barely giving her a chance to get a word in edgewise. The Ropps didn’t live too far from Martha and her family. Behind their house was a wooded area, thick with oak and maple trees. Several other houses were on the street, including the abandoned one Martha had run past on her way to Cevilla’s, where she’d seen someone come out the back door. She’d also noticed a buggy there today when she’d walked over.

  Chris was outside placing the last of the clues. Martha had helped Ruby hide some of them the evening before. All in all, it should be a good hunt. Too bad Martha wasn’t participating.

  When she was able to interject into Ruby’s string of chatter, she asked, “Did somebody move into that haus down the street?”

  Ruby nodded as she made fruit punch. “Ya, on Tuesday. But they’ve kept to themselves. I went over yesterday and introduced myself. Their last name is Stoll, and they’re from Wisconsin. Oddly enough, that’s all the information I got out of the woman who answered the door. Delilah is her name, I think. She looks to be in her late sixties, but I’m never a gut judge of age. She didn’t even invite me inside.”

  “She doesn’t sound very friendly.”

  “Or she was busy with unpacking.” Ruby shrugged. “I’m curious, though. They’re building a separate haus in the back, but it seems too big for a dawdi haus. And they’ve already started building an addition on the main haus too. I saw Sol Troyer there yesterday. It’s already the largest haus in Birch Creek, but I guess they have a large familye. Maybe not all of them have arrived.”

  It sounded to Martha a little like Ruby had been watching them, although Martha knew it was from curiosity and not nosiness—and there was a difference.

  “I did see two yung people there, a male and female,” Ruby added. “They looked to be around our age.”

  “Did you invite them to the hunt?” Maybe the woman was single. Wouldn’t that be an unexpected answer to prayer.

  She shook her head. “I thought I’d wait until Christian and I got to know them better. I didn’t want them to be overwhelmed so soon after moving in.”

  Martha nodded. Ruby was the only one who called her husband Christian, his given name. Selah had explained that until Chris moved to Birch Creek, he’d always been called Christian. But Martha couldn’t see him as anything but Chris.

  The outside door opened, and Chris walked into the kitchen. He went straight for the sink to fill a glass with water. “All the clues are planted,” he said, then took a long drink.

  “Danki, Christian.” Ruby turned to Martha. “Do you mind putting the cookies on this plate and taking them to the table in the living room?” She glanced at the clock on the wall. “The guests should be arriving soon.”

  Dread formed in her belly at Ruby’s words. She’d managed not to think about the single men on the guest list all day, but now they would be here in a few minutes. She hurriedly placed several monster cookies on the plate Ruby had set out. Then she took a deep breath. “Fun,” she whispered. “This is all going to be fun.”

  She carried the plate toward the living room, where Chris had set up a long table for the food and drinks. While everyone was out looking for clues, Ruby would set out the sandwiches, potato salad, macaroni salad, pickles, chow chow, and homemade potato chips for supper, along with brownies and pie for dessert. Martha had seen all the food in the kitchen, and at first thought it looked like too much. Then she remembered how many men would be eating. Maybe there wasn’t enough.

  When Martha entered the living room carrying the cookies, she saw Leanna and Roman Raber. She set the cookies on the table and headed for Leanna just as the front door opened again. Before she could talk to her, more guests streamed inside—Phoebe and Jalon Chupp, Ivy and Noah Schlabach, Karen and Adam Chupp, and Joanna and Andrew Beiler, along with the single men—Zeb, Zeke, Owen, and Ira. Samuel, the youngest of the group, hadn’t arrived yet. Martha tried to duck back into the kitchen, but she made the mistake of making eye contact with Zeke. He immediately strode toward her, a determined look on his face.

  Her stomach twisted, and she looked for a place to hide. There wasn’t one.

  “Glad to see you here, Martha.” He smiled at her, his teeth slightly crooked, but it didn’t make him unattractive. To her, all the men were nice-looking, in their own unique ways. But that didn’t mean she wanted to date them.

  “I stopped at yer haus the other day,” he said. “Yer mudder said you weren’t home.”

  “I was there too.” Ira joined them, but not before he gave Zeke a sharp look. He moved closer to Martha, and she had to crane her neck to look at his face. It wasn’t that long ago that he was shorter than Seth, and now he was the tallest man in Birch Creek. “She said she didn’t know where you’d gone. Is that right?” Was Ira suspicious?

  “Ya,” she said quietly, guilt about leaving her mother to fight her battles washing over her. After all the fuss she’d made over running from the boys, she’d had to go back to her mother and explain why she was going to the hunt after all. “I promised I’d help Ruby,” she’d said.

  Mamm wiped the last crumbs from the table before looking at Martha. “I’m confused. I thought you didn’t want to date any of those buwe. Clearly, they’re bothering you.”

  “I don’t want to date them. And they’re not bothering me . . . too much.”

  Setting down her cloth, Mamm went to her. “You’re not still thinking about Paul, are you?”

  Her heart hitched. She tried not to think about him at all, but sometimes the painful memories wouldn’t stay where they belonged. “Of course not.”

  “Gut. Paul is in the past, dochder. You don’t need to use him as an excuse in the present.”

  An excuse? Was that what she was doing? Using what happened between her and Paul so she didn’t have to go through that with anyone else?

  “Would you like to get some ice cream next week?” Zeke asked.

  “Or geh on a buggy ride?” Ira queried.

  “I’ll show you mei new horse,” Zeb said, joining the group.

  “Not before I show her our new cow,” Owen said, moving to stand next to his brother.

  Martha took a step backward, almost knocking over a chair in the process. She glanced around to see where Ruby was, or Phoebe, or Joanna, or anyone else who could intervene. But Ruby had disappeared somewhere, and the other women were busy talking. Maybe if she yelled for help—

  “I asked her first,” Zeke said, lifting his chin and eyeing the other men.

  “Did she say ya?” Zeb asked, his gaze challenging.

  “Not yet—”

  “Then it’s free game,” Ira added. Owen nodded, and soon the men were arguing with each other, ignoring Martha.

  This was her chance. She slipped out of the room to the kitchen. Thankfully it was empty. She looked at the back door. No, she wasn’t going to run away this time. She had to figure this out for herself. She was going to set them straight, no matter how difficult that would be.

  But Paul’s words came to her mind. You rui
ned mei life.

  “Martha?” Zeb called out, sounding as though he was close to the kitchen. “You in there?”

  Panicked, she flew out the door and dashed into the woods.

  * * *

  Seth wiped the sweat from his face in the small woodshop. He felt like he was working inside an oven, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t wait to get to his shop today. The wood had been calling to him. When he was younger, he used to whittle on occasion, but woodcarving was different. Much more satisfying. This was his passion, what he dreamed about doing not just as a hobby but to make a living. But he wasn’t anywhere close to being skilled enough to do that yet. It took time and practice, and lately his practice times had been too few and far between for his liking, especially since he’d stopped sneaking in here on Sundays. The guilt had gotten to him a few months ago. Not that he wasn’t still tempted to work on the Sabbath. Mighty tempted.

  The moment he’d stepped into the shop, he immediately relaxed. He never would have thought a hot, dusty shed in the middle of the woods would become his sanctuary. He never would have thought he needed one. But he did.

  He applied a #3 gouge to the wood, creating a curlicue shape at the end of the piece of cherry wood. He still needed improvement at this particular skill. Lots of improvement, from the looks of the wobbly curlicue he’d just made. He dug into the wood again, sweat dripping into his eyes. Although the shed was in a shady part of the woods, the summer heat filled the inside. But the heat and sweat didn’t bother him when he was working. He grabbed a terry cloth headband and slipped it over his hair. He probably looked ridiculous, but at least it kept the droplets out of his eyes.

  He was about to make another curlicue when the door flew open. He dropped the gouge as Martha Detweiler rushed inside and then shut the door behind her. She closed her eyes and whispered, “Not again. You said you wouldn’t do this again.”

  Seth gaped. “Martha?”

  She opened her eyes and whipped her head toward him. Her eyes grew wide. “I-I didn’t know anyone was in here.”

  Her chest heaved as she gasped for breath, and blotches of perspiration showed on her dress, as if she’d been running a long distance. He went to his lunch cooler and got out one of the extra cans of pop he’d packed. “Here,” he said, handing it to her.

  She grabbed the can and popped the top, then took a long swallow. “Danki,” she said, offering it back to him. She wiped her forehead with the back of her other hand.

  “Keep it.” He eyed her as she took another drink. “Were you running?”

  She nodded.

  “From what?”

  Her cheeks reddened to a deeper hue, which he thought was impressive, considering how red and sweaty her face already was. “Men,” she said.

  “Men?” His brow raised. He hadn’t expected that answer. “Any men in particular?”

  “All of them.” She leaned against the door and looked at him, then at the wood and tools on his workbench. “What’s all that?”

  “None of yer business.” He moved to stand in front of the workbench. He might sound rude, but at least he wasn’t bursting into other people’s workshops uninvited.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be nosy.” But even as she was talking, she was looking around the shop. Wood, tools, sandpaper, and sawdust were strewn everywhere. “It looks like I interrupted something.”

  “You did.” He wanted to ask her to leave, but not until he was sure she was okay. “Are you in danger?”

  She let out a bitter laugh. “Hardly.”

  “Then why are you running?”

  She lifted her gaze to his, meeting his eyes. “Because I’m a coward.”

  The determined look on her face was anything but cowardly. “I doubt that,” he said.

  She glanced around again. “May I stay here for a while? I need a place to hide.”

  He tilted his head. Maybe she was afraid. “What’s going on, Martha?”

  “Ruby’s hunt.”

  He nodded. He’d been invited but declined. He didn’t want to give up the opportunity to work in the shop. “The hunt is scary?”

  Her eyes grew big again as she nodded. “Very.”

  Her overreaction made him laugh. “How can a game like that—prepared by Ruby Ropp, nee less—be scary?”

  “You have nee idea.” She frowned, her shoulders slumping slightly. “I’m sorry,” she said again. “I didn’t mean to bother you.” She set the empty can on the metal shelving unit near the shed’s entrance. “I appreciate the drink. I’ll let you get back to whatever you were doing.” She turned and started to open the door.

  “Wait.” He walked over and stood in front of her. “I’m sorry. You’re obviously bothered by Ruby’s gathering. I didn’t mean to make light of that.”

  Her expression softened. “Danki,” she said, this time her voice sounding softer. And for some reason, sweeter. He looked down at her. He was several inches taller than she, and even though the light wasn’t very bright in this part of the shed, he could see her blue eyes, which he had to admit were kind of pretty. He hadn’t paid too much attention to Martha over the past year, mostly because he knew his best friend, Zeke, liked her. Zeke would be at the hunt, along with all the other young men in the community. For some reason he remembered what Cevilla had said to him the other day. Boy trouble. He put two and two together and said, “Are the guys bothering you?”

  “Not . . . yet.” She sighed and averted her gaze. “I just feel uncomfortable with all the attention.”

  “I see.” And he did, at least a little. He’d never thought about what it must be like to have suitors when you didn’t want them, and by the way Martha was behaving, he concluded Cevilla had been right. Martha didn’t want suitors. But that wasn’t his problem. Like he told Cevilla, he didn’t want to be involved.

  He looked at her again. She was rubbing her finger against the doorframe, looking deep in thought—and still pretty off-kilter. Against his better judgment he said, “All right. You can hide here if you want.” Her eyes brightened as he lifted his hand. “On one condition.”

  “What’s that?”

  He leaned forward, looking straight into her eyes and making sure she understood how serious he was. “You don’t tell a single soul about this place.”

  * * *

  Martha was tempted to laugh, and she would have if Seth wasn’t being so serious. Still, she couldn’t help but make light of the situation. “What do you have here, a secret stash of gold?”

  “It’s more valuable than that,” he murmured.

  She looked up at him. He was standing closer to her than when he’d blocked her from leaving the shed. Blocked wasn’t exactly the right word, but he had been in her way. Surprisingly, he’d apologized. Seth Yoder was a bit of an enigma to her, since he seemed to be keeping more and more to himself lately. Not that she had paid much attention to him, at least not until he’d come into the shop the other day.

  He was nice-looking, something she couldn’t deny. He wasn’t wearing his hat, and his dark-brown hair, straight except for a slight curl at the ends, was covered in sawdust. He was also wearing a white headband, which made him look a little silly, but she wouldn’t tell him that. His blue eyes, darker than her own, held her gaze, and she was sure he would stare at her until she gave him her promise. “I won’t say anything,” she said.

  He nodded and took a step back. “I’ve got to get back to work. There’s a stool in the corner if you want to sit down.” He turned and went back to the workbench.

  Martha glanced at the stool, which had seen better days. It was also on the opposite side of the shed from his workbench. She ignored it and followed him. “What are you making?”

  “None of yer business.” He pushed a funny-looking tool into the wood, making a curved shape.

  That was the second time he’d said that, but she decided to ignore it too.

  “You’re a woodcarver?”

  “Not exactly.” He glanced over his shoulder and looked down
at her, scowling a little. “Do you mind?”

  She stepped back, moving to the side so she could get a better view of his work. He slid the tool into the wood, looking at her while he did. The tool suddenly became stuck in the wood, twisted out of his hand, and hit the floor.

  “I told you to sit in the corner.” He bent down and picked up the tool.

  “Seriously? You’re putting me in time-out?”

  His lips formed a smirk. “Don’t tempt me.”

  Wow, he was touchy. “I’m just watching you work.”

  “I don’t need an audience.” He turned his back to her, fully blocking her view, and began to scrape the wood again.

  Martha moved away, studying the tools in the woodshop. She recognized some of them—a hand plane, several sanding blocks, an awl, and a chisel. Tools unfamiliar to her hung on the hooks on the wall. One was a knife with a long blade that curved a little upward. She lifted it and examined it, touching the tip of her finger to the blade. It immediately broke the skin. She winced and hung the tool back on the hook, then put her finger in her mouth to staunch the small amount of blood flow.

  She turned and looked at Seth again, or rather mostly at his back. At this angle, though, she could see a little more. He was a well-built man, and as he ran the tool over the wood, the shavings falling to the floor, the muscles in his forearms flexed. She might not want to date anyone, but she did appreciate Seth’s attractiveness. Above his head hung a bright, battery-powered lamp suspended from a hook on the ceiling. He turned the plank of wood he was working on to the other end and began carving again.

  “Are you making a gift?” Martha said, unable to stop the question from flying out of her mouth.

  He let out a long sigh, then looked at her. “I’m practicing.”