An Amish Courtship

by Jan Drexler

  She had no choice. She ducked under his outstretched arms and stepped over his legs while he slid to her spot on the buggy seat. Now she could reach the curtain and fasten the snaps, and they were closed in the cozy buggy just in time. Big raindrops pelted the roof.

  Samuel said something, but she couldn’t hear him over the noise.

  “What?” she shouted.

  He leaned toward her and spoke close to her ear. “We’re almost to our farm. I’m going to stop there until the storm is over and take you home after.”

  She nodded, showing she understood. Tilly trotted faster, but Samuel still gripped the reins, keeping her from breaking into a full gallop. If she panicked, they would be in trouble. But Samuel’s firm grip told the horse he was in control and she trusted him.

  Samuel turned up the lane, past the house and on to the barn.

  He pulled Tilly to a stop in front of the closed barn door. “You hold her until I get the doors open, then let her go in. Whatever you do, don’t let go of the reins.”

  Mary nodded, grasping the leather reins in shaky hands. Just as Samuel unfastened the rain curtain, lightning flashed again, sending Tilly into a half rear, her front feet striking at the barn door. Samuel sent Mary a worried look, but she smiled, trying to look confident.

  Samuel opened one of the doors, and then the other, sliding them out of the way. As soon as the opening appeared, Tilly tried to leap into the shelter, but Mary was ready for her. Bracing her feet, Mary leaned back on the reins, keeping the frightened horse under control. Tilly walked into the barn, straining at the reins the whole way, but Mary didn’t let up until Tilly reached the gate of her stall and Samuel took her bridle, stopping her.

  Mary climbed down from the buggy and shook her arms, releasing the tense muscles. The barn echoed with the pounding rain on the roof high above them, but Samuel grinned at her in the dim light. He looked triumphant, as if they had defeated a monster rather than escaped a rainstorm.

  “You did a wonderful-gut job,” he shouted. “Will you close the doors while I take care of Tilly?”

  Mary slid the big doors closed while Samuel lit the lantern to chase away the shadows. He unhitched the buggy, then removed Tilly’s bridle and slipped a halter over her head. Tying her to the hitching post, he got a towel from a pile nearby. He crooned to Tilly as he wiped her face dry and gave her an old apple from a bucket. He cared for her as tenderly as he would a child.

  As tenderly as he had held her when she confessed what had happened. Samuel didn’t seem to hate her, and hadn’t turned away from her, even when he had learned the worst about her.

  Shivering, Mary moved toward him, craving the security of his strength and the warmth of his company.

  “Can I help?”

  “For sure. I’ll take the harness off while you rub Tilly down.”

  “She’s soaked through to the skin. Do you have some warm mash for her?”

  “I’ll heat some up in the barn cellar.” The thunder boomed, sounding like the center of the storm was above their heads. “If the storm ever lets up.”

  They worked in silence since talking was nearly impossible with the rain pounding on the roof. By the time Mary had toweled off Tilly’s back and was working on her front legs, the rain had eased. Samuel had hung the harness on its pegs and had wiped each strap, then he grabbed another towel and started rubbing down Tilly’s hind legs.

  When they were done, he led Tilly into her stall and poured a measure of oats into her feed box while Mary opened the small door next to the big barn door. The thunder and lightning had passed, but rain still poured down in steady streams. Samuel joined her and peered out.

  “Look there.” He pointed to the west, where a shaft of sunlight had broken out of the clouds. “The storm is nearly over. We’ll wait for a few moments, then we can go to the house.”

  Mary shivered in her damp clothes and Samuel moved closer. Was he going to hold her in his arms again? Part of her recoiled from the thought, but another part remembered his solid strength and the complete safety she had felt by the lakeshore. The first time she had truly felt safe in months.

  He knew her secret, but he hadn’t shunned her. His acceptance had softened her heart and she leaned toward him, longing for his strong arms around her.

  Samuel, standing behind her, rubbed her upper arms, then pulled her close.

  “You’re cold.” His breath was warm and moist in her ear.

  “Not very cold.”

  “Enough to give me an excuse to put my arms around you.”

  She turned in his arms and looked up at him. She had to know, to hear him say it again. “Do you want to do that, knowing...what you know about me?”

  He wiped at her cheek with his thumb. “I told you, I don’t blame you for what happened.”

  It was too good to be true. “You say that now, but what about the future?”

  “I’ve told you about my daed.”

  She nodded.

  “What you went through has left you wounded. What Daed did to my mamm left its mark, too.”

  Mary saw the pain on his face as he relived the memories. His arms dropped to his sides as he gazed out the door at the rain.

  “Sometimes it was a black eye. Once it was a broken arm. Other times the bruises were hidden, but I knew they were there.” He sighed. “I wish I could have helped her.”

  “You were only a boy.”

  “I’m not a boy anymore.” His hand shook as he reached for hers. “I couldn’t protect Mamm, but perhaps I can stand between you and your past.” He didn’t look at her, but shut his eyes, as if pushing away his own memories.

  Mary drew back a little, looking into his face. “I’ve told you that you aren’t your father, and this is proof. He didn’t protect and care for your mother, but when you heard of my problem, that’s the first thing you wanted to do.” She reached up and traced a line down his cheek to his chin. “You are a gentle and tender man, Samuel. And I...I trust you to take care of me.”

  He looked at her then, his smile grim. “Don’t trust me too far, Mary. I may not be my daed, but—”

  She rose on her toes and kissed his cheek. “You aren’t your daed. I see a lot of Bram in you, and from what Sadie says, your grossdawdi Abe, too. I do trust you.”

  He kissed her then, pulling her to himself and claiming her with a kiss so light she almost didn’t feel it. The kisses continued to her cheek, her ear, and then he tucked her under his chin, surrounded by his arms.

  “I will try my best.”

  * * *

  Samuel picked his way around mud puddles the next morning. Last night’s storm had been powerful, and it had brought plenty of rain. Tilly stood in the pasture, her side to the rising sun, hip cocked and head down. Her ear flicked at a fly, but there was no other movement.

  The stock watering trough was full, so Samuel threw the brake, disengaging the windmill. The wheel would still spin in the wind, but wouldn’t pump the water, wasting it.

  The next chore was cleaning the harness after the soaking it got in last night’s rain. Samuel pushed the big barn doors open and pulled Tilly’s harness down from its pegs. He laid it on the workbench and grabbed the can of saddle soap off the shelf, setting to work. Methodically, he detached each piece of harness and rubbed the soap into it, cleaning and conditioning the leather. As he worked, his mind drifted right back to Mary.

  He had told her that he didn’t hate her for the attack, that she wasn’t to blame. But that unknown man...had he been punished for causing Mary such grief? Did he even know how much he had hurt her? Someone should do something. He should do something.

  Rubbing harder at the harness, he pushed that thought from his mind. Samuel stretched and rolled his shoulders, trying to relieve the tension that had crept in. He wanted to protect her, but who was he protecting her
from? She hadn’t said who her attacker had been, only that it was a young man in Ohio. No wonder she jumped every time a strange man came near. She was worried that the scoundrel would try to follow her to Indiana.

  By the time he finished cleaning the harness and had put it away, he had run through five or six possibilities of what would happen if a strange Englischer started nosing around. And by the time he finished cleaning Tilly’s box stall he had imagined every outcome, from Mary’s panicked flight to another community where he would never see her again to her welcoming smile when the man showed up.

  When that scene flitted through his imagination, he slammed his fist into the post next to the stall, making the entire barn quiver.

  Suddenly, he had to see Mary. Last night, after the storm, he had walked her home. But even though she had let him hold her hand, there had been no more kisses. He had to know...had he imagined the sweetness of holding her in his arms? The closeness he had felt was something he craved. He wanted to be that close to her again. Every day.

  He washed quickly in the watering trough, splashing water in his hair and scrubbing his hands. A tune found its way out in a whistle as he strode along the path. His steps quickened as he imagined the smile that would light Mary’s face when she saw him.

  When he reached Sadie’s, Martin Troyer’s buggy was in the yard and voices came from the barn. He headed that way, but stopped just outside the door. Martin was inside with Mary facing him.

  “I told you. Ida Mae and I won’t go on any more picnics with you.” Her voice sounded strained. Tired.

  Martin took a step closer to her. “The picnic isn’t important. I’ve learned everything about you that I need to know. I’ll ask Bishop to announce the wedding next week, and we can marry in July.”

  Even from this distance, Samuel saw the panic in Mary’s eyes. She shook her head.

  “I’ve been waiting a long time to find someone like you,” Martin said. His voice had become tender, almost petulant. “You will be the perfect wife for me. You’re young and strong. We’ll have a big family with plenty of sons and daughters to carry on after me.”

  Mary shook her head again as Martin stepped closer and took her hand. “I don’t want to marry you.”

  “You’ll have everything you need. And when your sister marries Peter, you’ll even have her close by.”

  Martin grasped her shoulder, but Mary shrugged his hand off and stepped back until she was pressed against the center post.

  “I won’t marry you.” She shook her head. “I won’t.”

  “Why not?” Martin stepped closer to her, trapping her against the post. “Don’t you see? You’re perfect for me.” He traced the line of her jaw with a stubby finger.

  Mary wrenched her face away from him.

  Samuel had seen enough. He stepped into the barn.

  “I think she has refused you, Martin.”

  The older man jumped at the sound of his voice, dropping his hands and taking a step away from Mary. The grateful look on her face gave Samuel the courage he needed.

  “I think it’s time for you to leave.”

  “This isn’t any concern of yours, Lapp.” Martin’s face grew red. “This is between me and Mary.”

  “It is my concern, because Mary and I are friends.” Samuel felt the familiar, tight burn pushing its way into his head, but ignored the warning. “I heard her say she doesn’t want to marry you, but you aren’t listening to her.”

  Martin turned toward Samuel as Mary moved away from him, toward Chester’s stall.

  “She’s a woman who needs someone to take care of her.” Martin’s voice rose as he spoke. “I can do that for her better than anyone, whether she thinks so now or not. She’ll learn.”

  Samuel’s head throbbed. He took a step closer to Martin, clenching his fists.

  “She’s a woman who knows her own mind and she will marry the man she chooses.”

  Martin laughed. “And who will that be? You? That just proves what I was saying. She needs someone to help her and guide her so she doesn’t make a terrible mistake.”

  Samuel grabbed Martin’s shirt and yanked him close.

  “The mistake would be marrying you, Troyer.” The words roared in his ears. Over Martin’s shoulder he saw Mary let herself into Chester’s stall, putting a barrier between them.

  Martin tried to push him away, but Samuel’s grip on his shirt was too tight.

  “When she accepted the cow, she accepted me.” Martin’s eyes narrowed as he leaned toward Samuel. “It has already been decided and there is nothing you can do about it.”

  Samuel lifted his fist, pulling Martin up with it. The other man’s feet scraped the floor as he tried to regain his footing. “Take the cow and leave.”

  Martin’s face hardened. “You’re just like your old daed, Samuel. Just like him. You’re a bully and always will be.” His lips thinned as he dropped his voice to a whisper. “And Mary knows it. You’ve lost any chance you had with her.”

  Samuel’s grip loosened on Martin’s shirt and he backed away. His heart was a heavy rock plummeting toward his feet. Martin was right. He was his father’s son.

  Martin straightened his shirt. “Mary can keep the cow. She’ll come around.”

  Samuel looked toward the stall where Mary stood, staring at him with eyes wide.

  Martin pushed past him. “Ja, for sure. She’ll come around.”

  Samuel barely heard the other man leave. He only saw Mary slip through the outside door of the stall and disappear.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Mary ran around the end of the barn, wiping away tears as she went. Slipping through the gate into the pasture, she ran to the far corner, where a creek cut through and trees grew in a small grove. She jumped across the narrow stream and pushed her way through the branches until she reached the fence, hidden from prying eyes.

  She had never seen Samuel when he was angry. Not like this. She bit her knuckle raw when the memory of his uncontrolled rage washed over her. If that anger was ever directed at her, she would be helpless. As helpless as she had been in the barn with Martin. As helpless as she had been in the alley... She sank to the ground as the tears overwhelmed her. Cold mud seeped through her dress, and she welcomed it, trying to keep the memories at bay. But like a barn door flung open in a stormy wind, the carefully tied and bundled thoughts flew where they would.

  Samuel’s angry shouts. Every groping touch of Harvey’s hands. The hot look in Martin’s eyes. The stones of the alleyway pressing into her back. Damp, steaming breath on her neck... She tried to wrench her thoughts away, but they wouldn’t obey her. She couldn’t stop the tears. Her hoarse sobs took over, wrenching her body until she was sick, and still they continued until she gave up fighting against them.

  Until every one of the memories had flown through her consciousness, leaving her empty of everything except the shame. The dreadful shame. The shame that made her want to bury herself in the cold mud.

  She knelt on the ground, her forehead against a tree, but her thoughts went no further than the hollow pit deep within her.

  “God in Heaven...”

  How could she even pray? She had no words.

  “Mary!”

  Samuel was calling her. Looking for her. She wiped one cheek, and then the other, trembling. How could she face him?

  “Mary?”

  She looked up at his voice, tender and quiet. He had found her hiding place. He dropped to his knees beside her, but she turned away from him.

  “Leave me alone.” She buried her face in her hands. “Go away and leave me alone.”

  A dead stick cracked as he moved closer.

  “I’m so sorry—”

  “Samuel...” Mary swallowed. She was going to be sick again. “I told you to go away. I don’t want to see you.�
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  “What I did back there—” He sniffed as if he was trying to hold back tears. “I lost control, and I’m sorry.”

  She stood with jerky movements. She hadn’t been afraid of Samuel since she learned to know him, but now his angry expression filled her mind, blotting out the man kneeling before her.

  “You think you’re going to fix this, but you aren’t. Don’t try. Don’t ask about it. Don’t talk about it.”

  His face grew pale. Her hands shook and she clasped them together. She hadn’t made him angry, she had hurt him. Her heart wrenched, but she couldn’t...she couldn’t reach out to him. She couldn’t survive when his expression twisted into the hunger she had seen on Martin’s face. And it would change, because he was a man, with the same hunger for what every man wanted. The clawing, grasping hunger...

  She turned and ran, splashing through the creek and to the house. Ida Mae and Sadie were in the kitchen, but she flew past them and up the stairs, slamming her bedroom door shut and throwing herself on the bed.

  The tears flowed as if she had never cried before. Her stomach roiled. She covered her head with her pillow and sobbed into the quilt on her bed. She would never, never know the tender love of a man. Never know what it was like to be cherished as someone’s wife. She would never be anyone’s mother. In one horrible night, Harvey Anderson had stolen that from her, and Samuel had only proven that she could never trust any man.

  Anything good that might have come out of her friendship with Samuel was gone. Destroyed. Because every time he held her close, she would relive the horror of his rage against Martin.

  The sobs ended, but the despair remained. She threw the pillow off her head and sat up, wiping her hot cheeks with the heel of her hand.

  “Are you all right?”

  Ida Mae had pushed the door open far enough to peek through.

  Mary shook her head, making it throb.

  “I’ll get you a cool cloth, and we’ll talk.”

  Mary took a deep breath. “I don’t want to talk.”