by Mary Ellis
“Sorry,” he murmured, ashamed of his ignorance.
“No apology necessary. Some in our district may use the Internet to conduct business, but they’re not supposed to socialize or surf the…web. I almost said ‘the ocean.’” She laughed with abandon.
The sound of her laughter filled him with longing he hadn’t experienced since childhood. “You don’t mind talking about this?”
“Not at all. It’s not a deep, dark mystery.” She tore open a bag of chips, popped one in her mouth, and passed the bag to him.
He took some despite being already full. “Jessie sent me an e-mail from Lexington. She said you did great last Saturday. Do you feel ready for this week’s mounted tour?”
“As much as I ever will be, providing Keeley comes along and I have my walkie-talkie. I can always press the red button and scream for help.”
“You won’t need it, but I’ll jump on a white horse and ride to your rescue if need be.” Jake sipped his soda to keep from staring at her. Why was he talking as though they were in junior high?
“Last Saturday night I went to an Amish social. I accidentally let it slip that I wear English clothes at work. I might have shocked some of my new friends.” She nibbled another chip.
“Will working here cause problems for you?”
“I don’t think so. I haven’t officially joined the church, so I’m able to do as I please, within reason of course. If a man doesn’t like it, he’s free to ask out someone else.” She poured chip crumbs into her mouth as Keeley had taught her and then cleaned up her mess.
Her activity gave him a chance to tamp down his jealousy. A man? He’d assumed the shocked friends had been women. But she’d said she planned to date Amish, so he’d better start acting like a friend instead of a jerk. “Do you think you might…court this guy?”
Rachel dropped her trash in the can. “I thought so at first, but that looks unlikely now. Hey, when do I see this Eager to Please? Jessie can’t stop talking about him.”
Jake waited until she had shoved her cooler bag in her locker and they had walked into the hallway. He didn’t wish to set a time in front of other employees. “How about today after your last tour?”
“Perfect. I’m staying to exercise Calamity Jane anyway.”
“When you’re finished with her, come to the lunge ring in the main barn. You are in for a rare treat. I don’t show this champion bloodline colt to just anybody.” He slipped on his Twelve Elms cap.
“Will there be an admission charge?” She offered a crooked grin—the one that never failed to stop his heart.
“Not this time. Maybe when he’s a two-year-old.”
“Good, because I’m saving money for a matter we need to discuss later. See you after work.” Rachel smiled again before skipping out the door.
Her blond ponytail matched the gentle sway of her hips until she disappeared around the corner. Jake knew where she was heading. She always tied the draft horses on long leads in the shade so they could nibble grass in between tours. She always considered the comfort or feelings of both man and beast in everything she did—except for him. His heart broke each time they were together.
Because no matter what he said or did, she would never be his.
“Miss King, I’d like you to meet Eager to Please. He was sired by Man of His Word, and his dam is Pretty in Pink.” Jake held the yearling’s halter, drawing him near the fence where Rachel stood. “Young man, be on your best behavior. Miss King is a valued employee.”
She stared, motionless. “I doubt he knows any other way to behave. He’s gorgeous, Jake.” She stretched out a hand to scratch the white star between his eyes.
“You would be surprised what bad habits he’s already picked up from the local ruffians, and we have no time for charm school.”
“He should need very little with those bloodlines.” She ran a palm down the side of his face. “I was about to say something stupid like ‘he’s so thin’ or ‘why are his legs so long,’ but then I caught myself. I’m used to seeing Standardbred buggy horses and Belgians or Percherons.” She withdrew her hand slowly.
“Allowing a yearling to put on too much weight would be a big mistake. His proportions are just about perfect. At least, in my estimation. We’ve hired a professional trainer who’ll know more than me. We’ll see what he has to say.”
Her brows knitted together. “But aren’t you a trainer?” She lifted one boot heel to the bottom rail.
“Yes, but mainly for show horses. We had Pretty in Pink bred to a champion because we have high hopes for a Kentucky Derby winner.” He felt his face flush. “I hope that doesn’t sound arrogant, but this colt truly has potential.”
“Not arrogant at all. Racing is what Thoroughbreds have been bred for.” She pulled off her ball cap and wound her long ponytail into a coil. Without using a mirror, she pinned her hair into a bun and shoved her hat into her pocket. “I’m glad you’re not planning to use him for children’s pony rides.”
Jake stared while she fiddled with her hair. He had to shake his head to get his mind back on the conversation. “I assure you, we’ll never have pony rides at Twelve Elms.”
“Never say never. Can I watch you work him on the lunge line?”
He hated to leave the fence, but he would do just about anything she asked. Jake led Eager to Please to the center of the ring and released the rope slowly. With a click of his tongue, the colt broke into a brisk trot. He allowed six or seven turns around the ring and then slowed him to a walk. “Because I worked him earlier, I don’t want to tire him out.” Jake pulled out his cell phone to hit a speed-dial button.
“Of course not. Thanks for the display.”
“Bob, could you come rub down the colt?” he asked once the other end picked up. “We’re finished for the day.”
Jake struggled with small talk until the groom led the horse away. Then he tapped Rachel on her arm. “What were you planning to ask me? You mentioned something about saving money.”
She laughed with the magical sound that would haunt him for the rest of the day. “I would like to buy Calamity Jane from your family. I love that mare and hope you’ll sell her. Name your price.” She arched up on tiptoes so they were almost the same height.
“If that’s what you want, sure. But you know you could use her indefinitely.”
“Thanks, but I would love to own Jane. I’m so fond of her.” Rachel seemed to be holding her breath.
“I’ll talk to Dad about a price tonight, but in the meantime, consider her yours.”
“Thanks, Jake. You’ve made my day. No, my month or maybe my year! See you on Friday.” Rachel turned and strolled from the barn as though walking on air.
Watching her go, Jake was already counting the hours until then. Little did she know he would give her any horse in the barn. He would give her his right arm. All she had to do was ask.
Rachel made sure she beat Sarah downstairs to start breakfast the next morning. She hadn’t been keeping up with her share around the farm, so today she aimed to make amends. In short order she cracked eight eggs into a bowl, added milk, and then chopped mushrooms for an omelet. While heating the skillet, she grated some cheddar to melt on top, started a pot of coffee, and laid strips of bacon on the broiler pan. By the time Sarah came down and Isaac finished his early chores, the scent of sizzling bacon whetted everyone’s appetite.
“You’re an early bird today. Did one of my roosters wake you?” Sarah filled three mugs with coffee.
“Nein. I set my alarm. I plan to do the lion’s share of chores today.”
“Gut, because we have our work cut out for us in the poultry barns. I thought we could wash and disinfect the walls and floors.”
“Splendid,” said Rachel. “Splendid” had been Keeley’s word of the week. However, Rachel imbued the word with little enthusiasm. She had hoped Sarah would confine their tasks to inside the house. Couldn’t they wash living room walls or wax the kitchen floor or perhaps whip up a quilt for the next bride-to
-be? But no. Sarah loved her chickens and spent most of her time with them. She squeezed housework into small increments while cooking meals or baking bread.
Rachel dawdled eating breakfast until guilt got the better of her. “Should I wash these dishes? I could meet you in the barn when I finish.”
“No, no,” said Sarah, shrugging into her coat. “Let’s leave them in the sink to soak and catch them at lunch. I’m eager to gather eggs and show you the new chicks before we get dirty.” She slipped on a long rubber apron and her oldest full bonnet.
Rachel hated wearing rubber aprons because they were hot even on cool days. But because she disliked ruining her clothes even more, she tied hers on loosely and stepped into matching knee-high boots. “I’m ready,” she said, forcing a smile.
As they stepped into the warm October sun and fresh breeze, Rachel thought about her recent blessings and soon forgot their chores. She worked alongside Sarah for a long while with little conversation other than sweet-talking the hens. Once she started telling the birds how pretty they looked, she received no more vicious pecks on her ankles. After an hour, their silence came to an abrupt halt.
“I noticed that Reuben Mullet brought you home in his courting buggy last Saturday.” Sarah couldn’t have stretched her grin any wider.
“Jah, he did.” Rachel continued mopping the floor with bleach, trying not to breathe.
“Quite a long way to go in a buggy. He probably didn’t get home until late. I bet he was sleepwalking through his chores the next day.” Sarah sounded amused with the idea of a sleep-deprived young man milking cows.
“I hope he didn’t fall asleep and end up in Tennessee.” Rachel dunked the mop in the bucket and ran it through the wringer.
“That’s a good one.” Sarah clapped her on the back with a gloved hand. “He must have a soft spot for you to come all this distance.” She wriggled her eyebrows up and down.
“Sarah Stoll, you are no more subtle than he is.”
“Subtlety is for Englischers. I’m eager for news. You know Reuben’s future looks bright. His daed owns a profitable dairy operation, and he’s the eldest son.”
“So I heard, many times. His farm is all he talks about—cows, cows, and cows.” Rachel tried to scratch her nose without getting chemicals on her skin.
“What else would a dairy farmer talk about? I’m sure you’ll find more in common as time goes on. And he’s probably nervous around you.”
Rachel shrugged. “He’s very nice, but I’m afraid our long-term prospects aren’t good.”
“What do you mean?” Sarah stopped scrubbing.
“I listened to him politely while we were having snacks and during the first half of the ride home. But he was repeating his stories and I was tired from work. And he bundled me up like a bug in a rug. I was too warm and comfy, if you know what I mean.”
“I don’t. What happened?” She looked confused.
“I fell asleep. I guess he talked right up until I began to snore. He said I snored louder than his daed and mamm put together.”
Sarah’s eyes grew very round. “Didn’t he wake you?”
“Not until we got back here. I might have snored for miles. Most likely he won’t ask to take me home anytime soon.”
“There are plenty more fish in the sea. Or, in Reuben’s case, cows lined up for the milk stiles.” Sarah winked good-naturedly. “Too bad, though. That young man does have good prospects.”
Conversation lulled until lunchtime. Then Rachel volunteered some cheerier news over bowls of thick corn chowder and buttermilk biscuits. “Jessie Brady told Jake that my riding was top-notch. He’s confident I’ll do fine on Saturday’s mounted tour.”
“Gut to hear. Better than falling off and breaking your neck.”
“And Jake showed me their prized colt, Eager to Please.”
“Eager to Please? That’s a dumb name. I like Sparky or Blackie or Sam—something simple.”
“They bred their best mare with a fancy sire to increase their chances of a fast horse. They plan to race him in the Kentucky Derby when he’s older.”
Sarah snorted. “The Derby—rich folks wearing fancy dresses and big hats. I can’t really see the point to horse racing. Going round in circles and not getting anyplace at all.” She made a circular motion with her index finger. “Some people shell out an enormous amount of money for those racehorses.”
Rachel didn’t know what to say. The last thing she wanted was to become argumentative. “I spoke to Jake about buying Calamity Jane. She’s the mare I always ride. Jake said he would talk to Mr. Brady, but he doesn’t think there’ll be a problem.”
Sarah dropped her spoon into her bowl. “Whatever for? I thought you could ride one of their horses anytime you wished. After all, it’s part of your job.”
“That’s true, but I’ve grown fond of that mare. Like I told Jake, I’ve always wanted my own horse.”
Angling an impatient glance, Sarah resumed eating. “That makes no sense, Rachel. Then you would have to buy feed and pay board or bring it here tied to the back of the buggy. Leave things as they are. You’re not thinking straight.”
Rachel sopped up the last of her soup with a biscuit. “Jake said the horse can stay there at no charge as part of my benefits package. Then, when I return to Pennsylvania, I can have her trailered home.” She held her breath, anticipating a flurry of arguments against buying a horse. But Sarah selected a different topic altogether.
“Jake, Jake, Jake. Do you know how many times you mentioned his name in the last ten minutes?”
“I have no idea.” She carried her bowl to the sink.
“Six. You’re as bad as Reuben talking about cows. Who is this Jake?”
Rachel tried not to laugh. “He’s the son of the owner and one of my bosses.”
“Uh-huh.”
She didn’t like the sound of Sarah’s “uh-huh.” Very much like mamm’s when she’d been displeased. “He’s a nice man and he is my friend.”
“Ach, you’re too young to know better. Men don’t make good friends, Rachel. That’s what women are for.”
“They do if they work together.”
Sarah peered at her. “It makes little difference. Men soon start thinking something different. It’s just how they were made. They say ‘friends’ but then change their mind.”
With a blush Rachel remembered the uncomfortable scene in the old mill. “I already made it crystal clear that I will only date Amish men.”
“You did?” Sarah’s lips thinned.
“Yes. I wanted to prevent any misunderstandings down the road.”
“Gut, but don’t be surprised if you need to repeat that more than once to this…Jake.”
Rachel nodded, unable to say more. Funny how she’d been thinking exactly that on her way home from work.
EIGHT
The hour I first believed
Monday morning
Donna consulted her map for the third time since leaving the house that morning. Again, her GPS refused to cooperate in this part of Casey County. Technology wasn’t infallible, but at least it helped. On her drive from Russell Springs she passed several buggies that seemed to be getting nowhere fast. She waved at the passengers, and everyone waved back, friendly-like. She wondered if any were the same Amish or Mennonite residents she had visited.
Perhaps with two members of the Plain community, she would have more success. Sarah Stoll agreed to accompany Rachel King when they visited the district’s bishop. “Rachel is only a visitor here and has no say-so,” Sarah had explained when she spoke to Donna last Saturday, but she also made no promises. “You can state your case to the bishop and see what happens. I can only assure you that he will listen.” Those had been her parting words. Yet it should be enough once Donna explained the dire prognosis of those afflicted with the virus. That…and the little trump card she had tucked up her sleeve.
Because Rachel worked on Friday and Saturdays, and Sunday afternoon was “out of the question,” today was th
e first day both had been available. When Donna finally found Stolls’ Free-to-Roam Chicken Farm, home of organic eggs and cage-free hens, she parked near the house and hurried up the walk. A load of solid-colored laundry was already flapping on the clothesline, proving no grass grew under Sarah’s feet. She answered the door after Donna’s first knock.
“Hello, Mrs. Stoll?” Donna offered her friendliest smile.
“You must be Mrs. Cline,” said a small, thirty-something woman. She opened the screen door but didn’t invite her in.
“I’m pleased to meet you and very grateful for your help.”
Sarah locked gazes with her. “I don’t know how much help I’ll be, but I’m pleased to meet you anyway. Rachel,” she hollered over her shoulder. “Let’s go. I have more wash this afternoon, plus my hens to care for.”
“Good morning, Mrs. Cline.” Rachel materialized behind Sarah in the doorway. “I’m ready to go.” The younger woman wore a soft blue dress, black apron, and white cap. Her ribbons fluttered loosely in the breeze. She was breathtakingly pretty with clear skin, large, luminous blue eyes, and a stunning smile.
“Nice to see you again, but please call me Donna. My daughters are still talking about the special tour you gave us. We had such an enjoyable afternoon. Kristen will keep begging her dad for a horse until she goes to college, even though we live on a postage-stamp-sized lot.”
Sarah stepped onto the porch. “Then it’s a bad idea.” She pulled the door closed behind Rachel. “Your husband should hold his ground. If you don’t have your own pasture and fields to grow hay and alfalfa, then a horse is nothing but a money pit.” She headed toward the car at a brisk pace, while Rachel stayed at Donna’s side.
“They do tend to get into a girl’s blood,” she whispered. “I understand how Kristen feels.”
