Which was why Ben was so excited about his news. He struggled to contain the enthusiasm in his voice. “Ja. I was just talking with Isaiah Zook. He recently bought an Englisch farm. It’ll be a few years before any of his daughters are old enough to marry, so the house will be available for a while. He’s moved his dairy steers and some of his Holstein bulls over from his own place, as he’ll be expanding his cow operation there.”
Ben had always enjoyed working with cattle. He couldn’t believe their gut fortune. “In exchange for lower rent, we’ll just need to do a few chores around the place. Isn’t that wunderbar?” An economic place to live in private where he and Rachel could establish a stronger foundation for their marriage. It was more than he could’ve hoped for.
Sagging, Rachel braced a hand against the windowsill. Her face paled further until she was as white as the kapp sitting on the dresser beside her. Ben tightened his grip on the door handle to steady himself in the deluge of disappointment. Obviously, his wife thought living alone with her new husband was anything but wunderbar.
Backing out of the room, Ben pulled the door shut behind him as he stared blindly down the narrow hallway.
Chapter Four
Rachel cleared the breakfast dishes from the table as Ben finished the last of his coffee. They’d developed a routine of sorts over the last four weeks. She’d come out from her bedroom to start breakfast while Ben came out of his to head for the cattle chores. By the time he returned to the house, she’d have breakfast on the table. They’d eat a quiet meal together before he’d leave for work. In the evening, they’d do it in reverse. He’d come home, do chores and come in for a quiet meal before they’d head for their separate bedrooms.
Running water into the sink, Rachel snorted. Good thing the rental house had more than one bedroom, or maybe that’d been the plan. Ben had moved in the day after the wedding, with the excuse of needing to start taking care of the livestock. When he’d shown her the house, his jaw tight while he avoided her gaze, Ben had murmured that as things currently stood, he figured she could take the master bedroom and he’d use the one across the hall. Just until they got settled.
Whatever settled was. Apparently, they weren’t there yet. Rachel felt a mixture of relief and...concern at the current situation. Surely this wasn’t normal for married couples. It wasn’t living in separate houses, but still... She certainly hadn’t mentioned the discussion again, and neither had Benjamin.
Another thing he hadn’t commented on was her tendency to break into tears at the drop of a hat. It frustrated Rachel, as she wasn’t normally a weepy person, but for some reason, she couldn’t keep the waterworks at bay. Whenever she started to cry, Ben’s blue eyes would go solemn as he found her some type of tissue. But he never said a word. In fact, Ben hadn’t commented on a lot of things, except to talk about the dreadful cattle and to tell her about his work at Schrock Brothers’ Furniture when she asked.
Still, she found an odd sort of comfort having breakfast together before he’d harness Sojourner and head for town. It wasn’t the marriage she’d dreamed of but, Rachel had to admit, it was better than she’d expected. It was tolerable. More, she had to admit, because of Ben’s efforts than hers.
“What are your plans for the day?”
Rachel heard the scrape of his chair and the rattle of dishes behind her as Ben collected them to bring to the counter. He was always doing that. Taking care of little things she knew she should be doing. Rachel bit her lip, wondering if it was because he didn’t think she was capable of keeping up with the housework by herself.
She squirted soap into the water. “I thought I’d be overly optimistic and plant some of the garden.”
Ben’s mouth curved in a small smile as he set his plate and cup on the counter. She’d told him of her delight in gardening and the canning associated with it later in the summer. Although he’d raised his eyebrows at the abundance of seeds she’d purchased, he’d borrowed a team and, with their landlord’s permission, tilled up a large area on the place for her. “As long as you don’t mind the risk of replanting if we get another frost.”
“I’ll take my chances.” Anything to keep busy and not be constantly reminded of the large black-and-white cattle constantly milling about on the other side of the white rail fence beyond the driveway. And speaking of fences... “Why did you put up a fence in the garden?”
“Ach.” To her surprise, his cheeks reddened. “I thought if you’d plant your cucumbers beneath it, the vines would grow up the woven wire. That way,” Ben dropped a quick glance at her expanding waistline before rubbing the back of his neck, “you wouldn’t have to bend over later this summer when it’s...harder to.”
It would make it a lot easier for her. Rachel blinked in surprise at his thoughtfulness. She wasn’t used to that. While Aaron had showered her with sweet words, he’d rarely done something thoughtful like that for her. And Rachel hadn’t expected it. Her daed had never done things like that for her mamm.
“Denki.” She gave him a soft smile.
When she reached for his dishes, a flurry of activity outside the window caught her attention. A few of the cattle were wrestling with each other. Their roughhousing was standard activity. What wasn’t normal was when the biggest one—a huge mostly black beast Ben had pointed out as the Zooks’ prized young bull—used his broad head to butt a smaller steer in the pen. The steer was knocked onto its back into the wooden feed bunks that lined the fence. Rachel watched openmouthed as four black-and-white feet flailed in the air.
“What is it?” Ben looked out to the window to see what had drawn her attention. “Oh, no!” He bolted for the door. Rachel followed in his wake to the front step and watched, wadding her apron in her wringing hands, as he sprinted toward the pen. Cattle scattered from along the fence as Ben vaulted over it, although a few, including the big black bull, didn’t go far.
* * *
The bawl of the distressed steer cut through the chilly spring morning as Ben dashed to where it struggled in the wooden bunk. If he didn’t get the animal off its back in time, the heavy weight of the steer’s stomach would suffocate it. He couldn’t abide the thought of losing an animal of his own. He definitely didn’t want to lose someone else’s livestock when he was responsible for it. Reaching the bunk, he tried to help the young Holstein get repositioned, taking a few kicks to the shoulder in their combined frantic efforts. It was no good.
Stepping back an instant to reassess, Ben’s alarm increased as he heard the steer’s breathing begin to strain. His eyes darted along the worn wood of the bunk. He had to break it to get the steer out. Now! Grabbing the top board with both hands, he jerked on it with all his strength.
“Rachel! Bring me the small chainsaw from the shed!” Splinters cut into Ben’s fingers as he wrenched at the board. Although it moved a fraction of an inch, the nails groaning in their holes, he couldn’t tug it farther. The steer emitted another pitiful bawl, weaker this time. Its white-circled eyes were bulging in its head.
“Rachel!” Ben spared a brief glance up to see, despite his urgent calls, his wife hadn’t moved from the stoop. She wasn’t going to help him. He didn’t have time to race to the shed himself. The animal would be dead before he could get back. Frantically looking about for some type of tool, Ben spied the sledgehammer he’d recently used to pound in the steel posts for Rachel’s garden. He’d set it down by the fence last night, intending to put it away when he finished chores, forgetting about it on his way to the house. Now the omission was his only chance to save the steer.
Dashing down the fence to where the hammer was propped against a post, Ben scrambled up the railings to lean over the fence top and grab its handle. With his adrenaline, the heavy head arced over the fence at his tug to bump, at the end of its swing, against the hip of an animal that’d come up to investigate the activity. Ben recognized Billy, the big young bull, as he raced back along the fence to the bunk where
the steer struggled feebly.
Great, I let one animal die and injure Isaiah’s prize bull. He’ll probably kick me off the place. Positioning himself where his efforts wouldn’t hit the trapped animal, Ben pounded away at the bunk’s outer boards. To his great relief, after a few hard swings, the top boards moaned in protest before breaking away from the end of the bunk. Dropping the sledgehammer, Ben pushed them out the rest of the way. He jumped back into the bunk between the fence and the steer, who was laboring to breathe. Finding purchase, Ben groaned mightily as he wedged the animal out of the bunk. With the boards now gone, the animal tipped over the edge to drop the short distance into the churned mud of the pen, landing with its feet underneath it.
Ben sagged against the fence, gasping in unison with the now freed steer. His legs were rubber. Sliding his back down the fence, he sat in what remained of the bunk as he anxiously watched the steer. When, after a tense few moments, the steer slowly lurched to his feet and ambled away, Ben closed his eyes in relief. When he opened them, Billy was watching him from ten yards away.
Figuring him as the culprit who created the situation, Ben admonished the young bull. “Don’t do that anymore. He’s no threat to you.” Easing himself out of the bunk, Ben began to collect the pieces of the broken lumber while keeping an eye on the animal. Turning a back on a bull, particularly a dairy one, could get you killed. Any species of breeding male on a farm was always a danger, but bulls, with their size and unpredictability, were particularly dangerous. Dairy breeds, due to the way they were raised around people, were worse than beef bulls, because at maturity, they could perceive humans as their subordinate rivals.
Keeping a watchful eye on Billy, Ben ensured he’d accounted for all the nails that could’ve come loose with the boards. He didn’t want one going up a hoof and injuring one of the cattle. With a last look at the young bull, he climbed over the fence. He needed to remind Rachel to keep well clear of Billy and the two other young bulls in the pen.
Glancing toward the house, he saw she’d gone back inside. Ben frowned as he carried the sledgehammer to the shed. He’d clearly requested Rachel’s help. Hadn’t she heard him? Was he expecting too much from her in her condition?
Or did her actions show she wanted him to fail? Did she want them to have to leave the farm and return to her mother’s home? Was that what all the tears were about?
Or were they because he wasn’t his brother?
With compressed lips, Ben headed to the barn to harness Sojourner. He was late for work. He may not be the one she wanted, but he was supporting her. At least that was something he could do right.
* * *
“Rachel.” Ben spoke quietly from where he sat at the table following a quiet meal that evening, another in a string of quiet meals between the two of them over the weeks they’d been married. But this one had an added level of stiffness that made even please pass the salt an uncomfortable statement. What had they done to each other? Could they ever recover the easy comradery they’d had when they were young, or at least the somewhat amicable relationship they’d had when she was his brother’s girlfriend?
At the sound of her name, Rachel’s shoulders hunched where she stood with her back to him at the sink. Sighing, Ben steepled his fingers, tapping the tips of them against his mouth. He’d thought about this all day. This being their awkward relationship. Although he’d always dreamed of more, he’d thought they could at least work together enough in their marriage to make a reasonably comfortable life. Had he just been seeing what he wanted to see? Or did she actually want him to fail so she could justifiably think he was, and always would be, second best?
Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath. Please let me say the right thing this time. Opening his eyes, he studied her rigid back. “I’m sorry if I expected too much of you this morning when I asked for your help with the cattle.”
Bowing her head, Rachel curled her fingers over the edge of the sink. “It wasn’t that.” The words, spoken to the window, were barely audible from where he sat.
“What was it then?” Sliding back his chair, Ben stood, bracing his palms on the table as he prepared to hear her lament that Aaron would never have let something like that happen, that everything would be better if only he’d been the one to leave instead of his brother.
Turning toward him, Rachel knuckled away a tear. “I just feel so foolish being an Amish farm girl who’s afraid of cows.”
“What?” Ben’s weight sank onto his hands as he blinked in surprise.
Rachel sniffed. “When I was a little girl, I ran up too close to a cow and her newborn calf. The cow charged me. I’ve been petrified of them ever since.”
What she confessed was so different from what he’d been expecting. Ben hissed out a shaky breath in relief.
“See? Even you think it’s silly.” Her lower lip quivered.
“Nee. Not at all.” He straightened from where he’d slumped at the table. “I’m just so glad you told me what was bothering you. I can understand why you didn’t want to come closer this morning.” Circling the table, Ben approached where Rachel stood at the sink. Although he wanted to put an arm around her and draw her close, he settled for carefully cupping his hands about her tightly knotted ones.
“It probably would’ve helped to know this before I moved you onto a place where you have to face them every day.” He tipped his head toward the window that looked out on the pen full of cattle. “I’m sorry. Is that why you’re always crying? Because of the cattle? Is there some way I can help you work through your fear? Or...” he caught his breath “...do you want to move?”
“Oh, nee, we don’t need to move.” Rachel quickly shook her head, but the beginnings of a smile touched her face. “And,” her cheeks pinkened, “I think the crying has something to do with the boppeli.” She wrinkled her nose. “But, regarding the fear, I... I don’t think I’m ready to confront it yet. I still feel a bit foolish about it.”
Ben’s heart rate sputtered when she twisted her hands to entwine them with his. “You shouldn’t. We all have fears. Sometimes we know the reasons for them, sometimes we don’t. Everyone is afraid of something. Even me.”
Rachel rolled her eyes. “I can’t believe that. You? The local hero? Who jumped into a frozen pond to rescue an Englisch boy who fell through the ice?”
Ben’s lips twitched into a half grin. He’d forgotten about that day when he and Gideon Schrock had come upon the alarming situation. Thank Gott Gabe Bartel of the local EMS service had gotten there in time to resuscitate the boy after he and Gideon pulled him out. “I didn’t have enough time to think of being afraid then.”
He was delighted when Rachel’s dark brown eyes teasingly narrowed under her delicate brows. “When you have time to think, what are you afraid of?” she challenged.
His smile evaporated. “Depends on the hour,” he joked.
Ben’s hands involuntarily tightened on hers before he gently disentangled them and took a step back. His greatest fear was never far from his mind.
I’m afraid you’ll never love me like you love my brother.
Chapter Five
“Have you seen her? It’s growing more obvious by the day why someone had to marry Rachel so hastily.”
Rachel paused beside the endcap displaying various boxes of crackers in the Bent ’N Dent store. Normally, she wouldn’t have hesitated to move past other shoppers in the next aisle who were deep in discussion, usually with a reciprocating smile and nod, but in this conversation, her name was mentioned. And the conversation wasn’t complimentary.
Things had been comfortable between Ben and her in the five weeks since the incident with the steer. While it was far from what she’d dreamed of, she could live with comfortable. Theirs may differ from a normal marriage, but she’d almost forgotten how it’d initially gotten started in the day-to-day work of keeping up a household, particularly during gardening season.
Rachel cast a self-conscious glance downward. Where she’d always been slender as a reed, now it was apparent she...wasn’t. While the Amish seldom spoke of a pregnancy, it didn’t mean all were ignorant when confronted with an obvious one. Rachel hadn’t considered what some in the community might think of her unexpected relationship turn. Her hands tightened on the handle of her basket as she blinked back tears. How did the old saying go? Eavesdroppers never hear any good of themselves?
Taking a step back, she was tempted to retreat to the far end of the aisle and slip past hopefully unseen. But then the speaker mentioned Ben’s name. Rachel bit the inside of her cheek as she brushed a hand over the roundness under her apron. The community, or the few in it that liked to gossip, could say what they wanted about her, but she didn’t want them saying anything about Ben. Whatever she’d expected when their marriage started, he’d been nothing but kind and supportive thus far. Indignation flared in her that he’d be maligned when he had ten, no, twenty times the character of the speaker. Sucking in a deep breath, she straightened her shoulders and stepped around the corner.
Already knowing whom she’d be facing as she’d recognized the voice, Rachel was prepared to meet Lydia Troyer with a bland smile. The smile wavered a bit when she saw the speaker’s audience. She’d grown up with the young woman and thought of her as a friend. When the girl flushed redder than the coffee can behind her and murmured, “Sorry,” before quickly excusing herself to hurry down the aisle, Rachel was reminded she’d only heard one person speaking. She’d been trapped a time or two in an unwanted conversation before. Now knowing how it felt to be the object of the discussion, she vowed to speak up and never be party to that kind of situation again.
Their Surprise Amish Marriage Page 4
