by Mary Ellis
“Oh, my. I can’t believe Mr. Mac wasn’t furious with that trainer.”
“Me neither. If he seemed miffed with anybody, it was with me.” He inhaled a lungful of air while waiting for traffic to clear at the stop sign. “So what do you think?”
Leah shook her head. “About Mr. Mac?”
“No, about Jamie’s idea…about me striking out on my own.”
She looked bewildered. “Matty, I’m not the best person to ask. I don’t know anything about the horse business. I’m having a hard enough time learning about restaurants. All I can say is talk to daed and the bishop. They would know if you could make a go of it or not.”
Matthew clucked his tongue and the horse picked up the snail-pace, wondering why he hadn’t thought of that. Between his pa and the bishop, they knew everyone in the surrounding area. If this idea were feasible they would know. He decided to change the subject. “How are things going with you and Jonah?”
Leah flashed him a glare. “We’re not courting if that’s what you’re asking. And don’t start spreading rumors to the contrary.”
“Simmer down. I was just making conversation. After all, I saw you two walk outdoors, and before that there was your sudden interest in the Mount Hope horse auction.”
Leah seemed to be suffering from acid indigestion. “Jonah Byler is very confusing. Part of me wants to know him better, while this little voice keeps warning ‘Beware.’ ”
Matthew snorted. “How mysterious could a guy be who milks cows for a living?”
Her forehead furrowed into creases while she chewed her lower lip. He decided to let the matter drop. Turning up their driveway, he saw that the barn lights were still on. Good. Daed must still be up and he could talk to him.
Leah jumped out as he pulled up in front of the house, “Gut nacht,” she called.
Matthew unhitched the horse and led him into the barn. He found Simon rubbing down a mare.
“You’re home,” Simon stated as Matthew entered the adjacent stall.
“Jah, Leah’s already in the house. Weddin’ supper was real nice. Good eats.” Matthew took a brush and applied it to his gelding’s coat with long, smooth strokes.
“All well and good, but I got a bone to pick with you, son.”
Matthew tensed as he waited.
“Henry did your chores again today and that ain’t right. You came home from work long enough to shower and change clothes and then you left.”
“It was my first weddin’ supper, Pa. I don’t get too many invites.” He decided not to mention anything about Martha.
“I don’t care if it was your first supper or your fiftieth. I need Henry helping me in the fields, not doing your livestock and barn chores. You said working for that Englischer wouldn’t affect your home life, but that ain’t the case.” Simon breathed heavily before continuing. “You will pay your bruder for helping you today since the almighty dollar has such great importance to you. And you will not stick your chores on him again without checking with me first. Hebrews 13:5 says: ‘Keep your lives free from the love of money and be content with what you have.’”
How his father managed to put so much authority into Scripture amazed Matthew, but he knew he had no defense. He exhaled through his teeth. “I can’t argue,” he said. “I’ll pay Henry my full day’s wages.” He continued to work tangles from the gelding’s mane.
Simon’s head snapped up. Apparently he’d been expecting a different response. “All right, son. Finish up and get to bed. Everything else in here is set for the night.”
His pa walked off slowly—the years were taking a toll on him. Matthew felt a wave of guilt wash over him for not keeping his promise. Maybe working for himself from home would have advantages money couldn’t buy.
Leah finished mopping the diner floor and headed into the kitchen to clean up in there. It had been April’s turn to leave work early for a doctor’s appointment. Leah was glad that the last lunch customers hadn’t lingered. She would make a couple pies before she went home, primarily to measure each ingredient that went into her Peach Parfait Supreme pie. She didn’t usually follow a recipe exactly, but she would need a precise ingredient list and instructions to send to the bake-off people.
Excitement built in her veins like an old-fashioned iron tonic. She thought of ideas for plate presentation that should move her to the head of the herd of bakers. Her favorite was the basket weave pattern: She would draw a crisscross pattern using a tube of peach jam and then dust the plate with cinnamon and brown sugar. The sugar adhered to the jam to create a yummy, pretty design. She often decorated the plates for the daily breakfast special of French toast or pancakes. Softly singing a hymn, she finished her pies and the recipe. Baking couldn’t be considered work when it brought her so much joy.
With the pies in the oven, Leah sat down at the small desk by the back door. April kept her checkbook and ledgers there, along with store flyers, shopping lists, and product catalogs. Leah hunted for an attractive card to copy her recipe onto instead of using the back of an envelope. What she found instead made her breath catch in her throat and her stomach tighten. Bills, invoices, and final notices filled the top drawer. She spotted more shoved underneath cookbooks in the side drawers. Leah ruffled through a few letters and then shut the drawer, bewildered.
Snooping wasn’t very nice. Yet on the other hand, wasn’t she a partner? Shouldn’t she know what was going on financially? Reopening the top drawer, she pulled out an especially insistent-looking envelope and peeked inside. She scanned the notice to discover it was from the State of Ohio, Department of Taxation. They wanted remittance for the sales tax collected on restaurant purchases. It was their second request. Leah felt queasy as she carefully shut the drawer.
Come to think of it, she hadn’t seen April writing in the ledgers since they got busy during the second week. Wasn’t she keeping accurate records of the meals they sold? You can’t very well remit taxes if you didn’t know how much you owe.
Leah finished cleaning the kitchen while the pies baked, and then she placed them to cool in the pie safe. After she locked up the diner, the drive home provided plenty of time for contemplation. If she told her parents what she’d seen, and if daed felt April wasn’t running things properly, he would make her quit. There might be a logical explanation for the drawer full of bills. Perhaps April had paid the bills but neglected to file away stubs and throw out envelopes. Even the sales tax request might have crossed paths in the mail with the payment. She was no longer a little girl who ran to her mamm with every problem. Instead, she would pray that April caught up with the record-keeping and bill-paying. No business in the world ran wrinkle free during the first year.
When Leah arrived home, she found Rachel pacing the length of the front porch. “Where have you been?” her friend asked the moment Leah reached the house.
“Baking pies after work. What’s up?”
“Please say you’ll come with me tonight. I’m barrel-racing over at Yosts’ farm and I need supporters. Martha is coming but she refuses to yell loudly.”
“That’s tonight?” Leah asked, feeling exhausted. Rachel had mentioned the competition, but Leah had forgotten to write down the date.
“Jah, it’s tonight. Please say yes. I’ve been practicing every day.” Rachel’s round face pinched into a frown.
“Of course, as long as mamm says it’s okay.” Leah handed Henry the reins and headed into the house. She silently hoped Julia needed her because she was too tired to go anywhere. But a pot of soup was already simmering on the stove and her daed had gone out on deacon business. Mamm told her to have a nice time.
Leah changed clothes, climbed into Rachel’s buggy, and sat next to Martha. Rachel’s racing horse was tethered to the back as they set off. Rachel looked joyous as Leah asked polite questions along the way, despite her opinion that horse-racing was an inappropriate pastime for girls. Once they arrived at the Yosts’, Leah’s opinion began to change. So many young people had shown up—both male and
female—that her fatigue melted into anticipation. Leah soon learned that barrel-racing was primarily a female sport, at least in the Plain world, and that many girls thought horses were delightful creatures to associate with.
Lawn chairs lined the hillside next to the paddock. Leah found a ringside seat to watch the girls practice and warm up their mounts. Martha sat beside her with some friends as the competition began.
Rachel had been correct—Martha clapped during her sister’s turn to race around the barrels but didn’t raise her voice. Leah however shouted, “Go, Rachel!” “Yay!” and “Great ride!” at regular intervals. After all, wasn’t that why she’d been invited? Unfortunately, her yelling attracted attention.
“Hello, Leah,” Daniel said, sitting down next to her. “We never would have guessed you would come tonight.”
“Hi,” she said. “Who do you mean by we?”
“John, Steven, and me.” He hooked a thumb toward the gate where the other two were standing. Both cautiously lifted their hands in greeting.
Leah waved back. “You three are speaking to each other? I’m surprised after how you acted in Cleveland.”
Daniel’s face turned pink as peonies. “We’re mighty sorry about that. We got a bawling out from the bishop and had to apologize to Sarah and Sam Yoder.” He cracked two of his knuckles. “We’re also sorry we embarrassed you. And I’m speaking for all of us.”
She glanced back to the gate. Sure enough, the other men looked contrite. “Let’s just forget about it, okay? I want to watch my friend race.” She focused on the paddock, where men were resetting the barrels into a different course.
“The gals are finished,” Daniel said. “They just go once through. Rachel Hostetler took third place. The races are timed, so you find out who won once everybody’s done.”
“I see. I kind of thought they would all come out and race around together.”
Daniel stared at her and then laughed. “You’re funny, Leah. The guys will race next—sort of impromptu since so many of us turned out tonight. Just for fun, no prizes.” He grinned before striding off to rejoin his friends.
Leah contemplated looking for Rachel when Jonah Byler sat down where Martha had been. His hat was pulled low on his forehead, shading his wonderful eyes.
“What a nice surprise,” he said. “I thought horses bored you to sleep like a bear in winter hibernation.”
“I told you that was due to the medication,” she said, trying not to reveal how pleased she was to see him.
“Really?” He lifted his head. “I thought my company was like a glass of warm milk before bed.”
She realized arguing would be futile. “The men are getting ready to race around the barrel course. Don’t you want to mount up and join them?”
“Nope. I’d fall off and get my duds dirty. I’ve never been much of a horseback rider. I’ll just sit with you and watch.” He tugged his brim lower again and viewed the hubbub.
Leah grew nervous with his close proximity. She never possessed the upper hand with him the way she did with Daniel, John, and Steven. “My friend took third place and won a trophy,” she said.
“Rachel? I thought that’s why you were screaming and yelling. Tell her I said congratulations if we don’t run into her.” He refocused on the paddock, apparently content to sit with but not talk to her.
“You know, now that I take something for my allergies, I’m starting to like horses, at least a little.”
“Does that mean I’ll see you racing around these barrels one day?” He asked without taking his focus from the men climbing onto tall Arabians.
“Absolutely not, but at least I don’t call them ‘big fly magnets’ any more.”
Leah saw Jonah’s lips pull into a smile but his hat still hid half his face. She wished he would at least notice her new dress. It had been finished last night with mamm’s help. Martha had said that the color complemented her complexion. But soon the racing began with far more hooting and hollering than the girls had inspired.
Daniel raced through the course second, performing quite well. He might not be a Matthew Miller, but he handled the horse competently. After racing the circuit, he rode to where Leah sat, reined to a stop, and swept off his hat with a flourish.
“I pictured you waiting at the finish line, Miss Miller, and that spurred me on. My time is the best so far.” Daniel settled his hat back on his head.
“You’re only the second rider,” Jonah said. Leah buried her face in her hands to hide her laughter.
“First place is first place,” Daniel replied, undaunted. He dug his boot heels in the side of his horse and galloped off.
The next barrel racer wasn’t quite so agile. He knocked two barrels askew and lost his hat in the dust. Leah recognized John when he galloped past. As he raised his hand to wave at her he nearly fell off the horse.
“Looks like your friend Daniel will keep his first place position after that sorry showing.” Jonah spoke very softly close to her ear.
“At least he got up there and tried,” she said, feeling a frisson of excitement. Jonah knew Daniel’s name and he sounded a tad jealous.
Steven entered the paddock next, called to her, and then rode around the barrels as though he were being chased by a swarm of bees. Then he pulled up hard on the reins and stopped suddenly in front of Leah’s chair. With a smooth motion, he plucked a long-stemmed daisy from the horse’s mane and tossed it to her. Then he galloped off, almost missing the last two barrels.
Jonah laughed. “That little stunt cost him time. If he hadn’t given you that flower, he could have bumped Daniel out of first place. He is one great rider.” He scratched at his chin. “What do you make of that, Leah?”
She was speechless. People were staring. All three men had made a fuss, and all the while she had been sitting with Jonah Byler. She rose to her feet, clenching her hands into fists to stop them from shaking. “I conclude that men are the most illogical creatures on earth…other than perhaps goats. And I’ll never understand their need to compete with each other.”
“I can’t argue with you there,” said Jonah. “We often don’t make sense, but at least I’m not getting up on a horse just to toss you a flower. I’ll be happy to pick some from Mrs. Yost’s garden if you like.”
Leah made a sound similar to a dog’s growl and marched toward the house. She needed Rachel and Martha—female company—but she didn’t see either one of them along the way. And the girls she did pass were staring at her strangely. After washing her hands and face, she decided to search for her brother. If horses were involved, he would be here somewhere.
She expected to find him among those waiting their turn on the barrel course. But he too was nowhere to be found. An unsettling feeling churned in her belly as Leah picked up her skirt and ran to where the buggies were parked. From a distance all the buggies looked the same, but close up each had been personalized to stand out with hardware on hitches and colorful blankets. Rachel’s buggy was no longer here, nor was Matthew’s.
Just then she spotted Jon Yost, their host, and hurried toward him. “Have you seen my bruder Matthew? I can’t find his buggy.”
“I saw him earlier. He’d been dropped off after work by an Englischer. He told me he didn’t want to show up the amateurs on the course, and he rode home with Martha and Rachel Hostetler. They left right after Rachel got her trophy.” Jon continued hitching up a horse.
“Something wrong, Leah?”
She wheeled around to find Jonah leaning on a buggy wheel. “Jah, I rode here with Rachel and Martha, and they seemed to have forgotten me. They’ve left and I have no way home.”
One side of his mouth pulled into a grin, deepening his dimple. “You only live maybe a mile and a half away. It’s not like they abandoned you in Kansas.”
Leah was too tired to laugh at his humor. She stood with her teeth and hands clenched.
“Don’t fret. I’ll take you home. Let me thank Jon Yost for the invite and we can leave right now if you like.”
Leah nodded and then stepped up into his buggy and closed her eyes. She was curious as to why he had followed her but too exhausted to ask during the brief but tense ride home.
Matthew couldn’t believe his good fortune. He had not only run into Martha at the Yost farm, but she’d offered to give him a lift home. He hadn’t planned on attending the barrel races because they would be over by the time he arrived. But just as he finished his chores, one of the Macintosh workers stopped by to deliver his order of bridles. The man lived on the same road as the Yost family. Matthew accepted a ride to the races without eating dinner. Food could wait, but opportunities like this didn’t come often.
Martha had chatted all the way back to the Hostetler farm, relieving his anxiety about tripping over his own tongue. She was not only the prettiest girl in the district but the most thoughtful as well. She’d praised her younger sister’s riding and then smiled at him while saying gut nacht. After the door closed behind her, he ran home through the bog with only the stars to light his path. If he had fallen into the pond, he doubted he would have noticed. His mind was too filled with dreams and plans and big ideas for the rest of his life.
He knew he was in lieb with Martha Hostetler without a shadow of a doubt. He figured something else out on the path between the two farms. When he contemplated explaining his work predicament to her, he was filled with revulsion. It was time to part company with the likes of Jeff Andrews. Money might buy acres of land from Mr. Lee, but it couldn’t buy self-respect…or the respect of the sweetest girl in Holmes County.
Breathless but exhilarated, Matthew reached his backyard just as his father walked out of the barn. Daed’s expression turned into a frown when he spotted him.
Matthew held up both palms. “Wait before you scold me, Pa. I did my chores before going to the Yosts’. And I’m back early enough to finish up anything else you might want done.”
Simon pulled on his beard, which seem to grow grayer with each passing day. “You missed supper, son.” He sounded more tired than angry.
