by Kelly Long
The Amish Mail-Order Groom
He was here because of her fater’s woodworking—nee other reason. As I told my bruder . . . she’s incidental and only that. Still, it was difficult to dismiss her beauty, and he watched her perfectly formed lips closely as she prepared to speak.
“According to tradition, a mail-order groom . . . is prepared to marry upon arrival and the meeting of his bride.” She lowered her voice. “Now, tell me, do you find me adequate, Herr King?”
Her question sent a rush of warmth down his spine, but he answered with a coolness he didn’t feel. “Surely, but there is always more to beauty than the exterior, Tabitha. Like a pine veneer that hides a wealth of burled elm, true beauty lies within.”
“That’s not what most men think,” she muttered.
Also by Kelly Long
The Amish Bride of Ice Mountain
An Amish Man of Ice Mountain
The Amish Heart of Ice Mountain
An Amish Courtship on Ice Mountain
An Amish Match on Ice Mountain
An Amish Wedding Feast on Ice Mountain
And read more by Kelly Long in
An Amish Christmas Quilt
The Amish Christmas Sleigh
The Amish Christmas Candle
The Amish Christmas Kitchen
MARRYING MATTHEW
The Amish Mail Order Grooms
KELLY LONG
ZEBRA BOOKS
KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.
www.kensingtonbooks.com
All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.
Table of Contents
The Amish Mail-Order Groom
Also by
Title Page
Copyright Page
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Epilogue
Teaser chapter
To Grant Long for Remembering Blackberry Falls
ZEBRA BOOKS are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018
Copyright © 2020 by Kelly Long
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales, or persons living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such person or persons are merely models, and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.
If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the Publisher and neither the Author nor the Publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”
Zebra and the Z logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.
BOUQUET Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.
ISBN: 978-1-4201-5165-7
ISBN-13: 978-1-4201-5166-4 (eBook)
ISBN-10: 1-4201-5166-5 (eBook)
Prologue
Blackberry Falls, PA
WANTED: An Amish Mail-Order Groom. Age 20–35. Must be willing to live in remote Appalachia and build life in said community. Must love books, horses, and possess good teeth. Appearance must be tolerable at least, though bride would favor a gut mind over looks. Must understand a woman’s sensibilities and not be judgmental. Must realize that Gott is the Third in a marriage. Reply to . . .
Twenty-year-old Tabitha Stolfus knew that she was both the sole heir of her fater’s company and his sole lament.
“If only you’d been born a buwe,” he’d wail at times. “Or if only you’d marry! Why can’t you marry, Tabby? And why must you be so headstrong?”
Tabitha had heard the words so often, she could almost put them to song. But she had finally had enough and had taken out an ad in the Renova Record, a small Englisch and Amisch newspaper far from her home in the Allegheny Mountains.
If I’m to have a husband, she’d considered, let it be some man who isn’t so familiar with what wealth Stolfus Lumber and Woodworking means. Then I will make sure he meets the qualifications that I lay out—not my fater’s.
The idea she’d whispered to herself took root in her mind and grew, and soon a detailed ad was submitted to the far-off Record. And, to her surprise, because she’d never actually heard of a mail-order groom, an Amisch man responded.... Rather coolly, she thought, but nonetheless a response....
She’d kept the letter in the bosom of her shift beneath her carefully pinned collar, and she occasionally slid out the paper to read, trying hard to spot anything suspicious that might lie within the words. But even she had to admit that Matthew King sounded much to her liking. He didn’t seem to know about Stolfus Lumber and Woodworking and he didn’t seem to possess the self-interest common to some of the local men who’d tried to win her hand . . . and her purse. Jah, Matthew King would do just fine....
* * *
“Have you lost your mind, big bruder?”
Matthew King shot his younger sibling, Caleb, a wry glance, then resumed packing. “I’ve told you—her da runs one of the best woodworking outfits in the mountains.”
Caleb snorted. “Then geh and ask to apprentice with him. You don’t need to do something narrisch like marrying his headstrong dochder. I’ve heard she’s as wild as a colt and not exactly marriage material.”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m sick of pounding out the most basic of furniture. I want to learn what only her fater can teach—the art and craftsmanship of woodworking. And Herr Stolfus doesn’t favor taking on apprentices. Marrying the girl is incidental. . . .”
* * *
As pouring rain thrummed on his back and dripped from the brim of his hat, Matthew recalled the words he’d spoken to his bruder with a faint lift of his lips. Then he swiped his arm across his wet face for about the tenth time that morning. It had been raining steadily since he’d left home three days before as he and his hulking guide made their way deep into the Allegheny Mountains, the foothills of Appalachia. During their trek, Matthew had wondered idly if Blackberry Falls was simply a myth. However, there was nothing mythlike about the big-framed Amisch man who was leading him. Abner, as he’d introduced himself with a massive paw of a hand, spoke simply.
“
I’m Abner Mast. Right-hand man of Herr Stolfus and his dochder’s guardian. I’ve been responsible for ensuring her safety since she was but a child.”
Matthew nodded, sensing that there was a test somewhere in the aulder man’s words, so he kept silent.
Abner grunted after a moment, then growled over the cadence of the rain. “I don’t hold with what the maid is doing, marrying blind, and an outsider at that. But I guard her secrets well, so keep that in yer head, buwe, for I’ll not see her harmed in any way.”
Matthew realized that it would be of little use to say that he’d never harmed a woman. He could only imagine what rabbit trails such a comment would produce in auld Abner’s mind, so once more, he remained quiet.
“Ya don’t have much to say fer yerself, buwe. Nothing wrong with a man keeping his own counsel—I’ll give ya that—but still water runs deep, and Blackberry Falls will not easily welcome a stranger, no matter who he’s kumme to marry.”
“Danki,” Matthew said lightly; then he was distracted by a stand of virgin sugar maple near the muddy trail. He put out a hand and touched the bark of the nearest tree with something akin to a caress.
Abner grunted in obviously reluctant approval. “Well, ya touch that tree like ya would a woman, so perhaps ya ain’t so strange.”
Matthew smiled, unconcerned by the other man’s dire attitude. Here was virgin timber, and there would be men who knew how best to work it. Any thought of Tabitha Stolfus drifted from his mind as he turned his face upward into the rain and thanked Gott for bringing him to Blackberry Falls....
Chapter One
“Nee, bring me the yellow.” Tabitha Stolfus frowned slightly as she gazed into the large, cherrywood-framed mirror in her bedroom. She knew that having such a big mirror might be considered vanity, but she had a good reason for possessing it.
She stood in a light shift, having discarded the blue dress that her faithful housemaid, Anke, had first brought her.
“Yellow?” the aulder woman said in a severe but hushed tone. “Ye’re not to wear anything but blue to be married. And ya know that . . . Why, if yer fater finds out, he’ll have a fit.”
“As you know, my fater is deep in the high timber, looking for red oak. He’s not due back until tomorrow, and by then, it’ll all be over with.” Tabitha took a graceful step away from the mirror and lightly skimmed her trim waistline with her slender hands. Her honey-blond hair hung below her hips in graceful waves and she knew, without conceit, that her face was as comely as her form.
Anke handed her the other dress, yellow as freshly churned butter. “Jah, all over with—and you’ll be hitched to an Amischer ya know nothing about. And just suppose this man doesn’t take to marryin’ straightaway? Suppose he wants time ta get to know ya? Huh?”
Tabitha slipped on the pretty dress, then eased it over her hips. She stared into the mirror, her sapphire-blue eyes set with determination. “The man is a mail-order groom, Anke. He surely must know that if the roles were reversed, a mail-order bride would be expected to marry upon her arrival.”
“Humph, well, I still say it ain’t a healthy idea ta marry without knowin’ each other. And what will ya do if you suddenly fall in love—true love—with some other fella, but yer forever bound to—what’s his name again?”
“Matthew,” Tabitha said firmly. “I’m marrying Matthew King, on my own terms, by my own judgment. All will be well. You’ll see, Anke. Now, sei se gut, help me with my hair and kapp; I’m going to geh out for a quick walk to clear my mind before I’m due to meet Abner . . . and Matthew . . . in the big clearing.”
Anke approached with a light comb, still muttering, and Tabitha caught the auld woman’s hand and pulled her close for a quick squeeze. “Danki for loving me, Anke, and please stop worrying. Things have a way of working out.”
“Jah, some might say that, kind, but you should know better. It’s Gott Who works things out, and He sometimes sees things a mite different from us.”
Tabitha merely smiled in response, certain in her heart that she was acting in accordance with Gott’s plans....
* * *
Matthew realized that their trek was nearing its end when Abner lowered his bulging knapsack to the ground near a bubbling stream and pool of water.
“Yer filthy and ya smell,” Abner said in gloomy tones.
“Danki,” Matthew returned. “I could remark that you look like a muddy toad, but that wouldn’t be quite right, now would it? Not when the thought of soggy vermin might be more the thing.”
“Watch yer mouth, buwe. . . . She wouldn’t want ta see ya lookin’ such a mess, so ye’d best git ta bathing.”
Matthew needed no further invitation. Turning his back to Abner, he quickly lowered his suspenders, then worked the hook-and-eye closures on his muddy, once-white shirt.
“You need pins,” Abner said.
Matthew half turned, his shirt in his hand. “Pins?”
“We use pins here to fasten our clothing.”
“That must be painful at times.” He undid the waistband of his black pants, then raised an eyebrow at Abner. “I forgot my straight razor. I don’t suppose you would . . .”
Abner rooted out a brutal-looking knife from his satchel and tossed it to him.
“Thanks,” Matthew said drily as he finished undressing, then plunged into the icy-cold water of the creek’s swimming hole. From the creek bank, Abner threw him a rough bar of soap.
“I’d best geh and find the maedel. You hurry on.”
“Jah. Got it.” Matthew lathered his arms and watched Abner slip away into the forest. It was gut to simply draw a deep breath and relax into the cold waters. He stared up at the canopy of green tree branches and began to lather his face. Then he plied the knife against his jaw; the edge could have proven hazardous had he not known well how to manage a blade. He was washing his hair when an abrupt sound caused him to look up at the bank.
“This is private land. What are you doing here?”
Matthew lowered his hands and blinked at the vision of loveliness his inquisitor presented. Honey-gold hair escaped her prayer kapp and curled in enticing tendrils against her fair cheeks. Her feminine shape was emphasized by the pristine apron she wore over a butter-yellow dress, and her stance, although she was petite, was one of strength. He knew instinctively, as surely as if she’d shouted her name to him, that this was Tabitha Stolfus—his frau-to-be.
He cleared his throat. “I’m bathing, but I don’t want to offend your maidenly . . . sensibilities with such an admission.” He ran his hands through his soapy hair and pulled until he knew he must surely look like a pointy-headed narrisch man.
He watched her pink lips turn down into a slight frown. “My sensibilities are hardly offended, sir, and I doubt you’d cause me much trouble anyway.”
“Well—” He splashed at the water in front of him and feigned rising to his feet. “In that case . . .”
He expected her to at least turn away, but she stood her ground until he ducked under the water and hastily rinsed his hair.
* * *
Sensibilities . . . Tabitha resisted the urge to take out the letter hidden in her bodice and study it once more, but then she was distracted by the sudden thrumming of her pulse. The stranger was like some big cat, lazily playing in the icy water while she tried to understand why something about him seemed oddly familiar.
She watched as he reemerged from beneath the soap bubbles on the surface of the water and shook his dark head. His shoulders were broad and his chest finely muscled. And she couldn’t resist a hasty glance downward to where dark hair arrowed from his belly into the swirl of the water.
She straightened her shoulders, then snapped her attention back to the situation at hand. “I suggest you make yourself scarce when you’ve finished your . . . bathing.”
“Danki for the advice. I’ll think on it.”
She nodded, then turned away to continue her walk. But her peace of mind had been shaken by the ruffian in the creek....
* * *
Abner sighed to himself as he lengthened his strides along the wooded path. His back ached a bit from the recent journey and he felt every one of his forty-seven years. Not auld . . . not yet . . . He let the truth of his words quicken his steps as his heart gained momentum. He had every intention of seeking out Tabitha, but first he wanted the chance to lay eyes on Anke. He let his mind drift to thoughts of her pleasantly rounded shape, and the way her face flushed with heat when she was working at the laundry outside or canning corn at the cookstove. He longed to be able to help her with her work but knew she was proud and wouldn’t appreciate a man interfering—especially the right hand of Herr Stolfus. In truth, he was John Stolfus’s half bruder, but few knew this auld, well-kept secret. He’d been born on the wrong side of the quilt, of an unwanted pregnancy, with no fater to help him grow. Still, in the deep backwoods of the Alleghenies, he’d survived to manhood, used to running wild until John had kumme for him and offered him a place, a job, a home.
Now he hurried his steps, knowing he was late meeting Tabitha in the big clearing. But because he understood the kind, he wasn’t too concerned; he knew she was still probably fussing with her dress. He rounded a corner of the trail, then looked up, amazed as always at the workmanship displayed in the Stolfus haus. Truly more than a mere cabin, it rose to three stories, with windows framed by hauled stone from the creek. Abner knew that John Stolfus believed the Amisch adage that there is no beauty without purpose, and the purpose of his home was to be a place dedicated to Gott, to offer a location for the Amisch of Blackberry Falls to gather together in comfort and in times of trouble And besides, that narrisch Bishop Kore had approved the haus even though it was much bigger than the small cabins of the other Amisch.
