He stood and removed his helmet. At home he and Levi never used protective gear when training horses, but it was a government regulation when he helped the Humane Society, and wisely so. He and Levi had worked with some high-strung, abused, and traumatized horses but never feral ones.
His uncle Lester ambled toward him, cane in hand as he limped across the patchy grass. “I didn’t doubt for a minute that you could handle those horses.”
Andy walked off the ramp. “You should have. I sure did.”
“The Keim girls arrived. There was a mix-up concerning the message I left. That’s why there wasn’t any breakfast ready when you and the team arrived, but they have some pastries, fruit, and coffee set up on tables under a shade tree at the side of the house. They’ll have lunch ready in less than two hours.”
He didn’t know who the Keim girls were, but his uncle seemed to put a lot of stock in them. “Denki. I’ll get something to eat in a bit. I want to check the fences first.” Hunger rumbled through his stomach as the aroma of coffee rode on the air.
When volunteers removed the trailer ramp, Andy closed the gate and began walking the perimeter of the corral, shaking each fence post and rattling the railing. This particular pen covered an acre. As he continued to work his way around it, he saw a few Amish and Englisch men and women in the yard with plates of food and coffee, eating and chatting. The backdrop for the tables and meandering people was pastures and tame horses with one sprawling white dogwood in full bloom. He remembered the fields and fences well from a few childhood visits, but had that dogwood always been there?
An Amish woman walked toward him, toting a tray. When she got close enough, she held it up. “Lester asked me to bring you coffee and Danish.”
Andy looked at his filthy hands. He couldn’t eat, but surely he could at least gulp down a little coffee. He wasn’t a fan of Danish pastries, but he’d surely like something in his stomach.
Once she was near him, she moved the edge of the tray to her hip and balanced it with one hand before picking up a pint-size, clear container. “Hand sanitizer will fix that, at least until you can wash up with soap and water. Hold out your hands.” She waggled the container over the grass, away from the tray of food.
He did as she said, but he’d been working around the clock for days without the benefit of a bath. “This kind of dirt needs lye soap and scalding water.”
“Maybe.” She poured gobs of the clear liquid into his hands. “But this will do. Just rub your hands together as if it’s soap and water.”
The smell of alcohol overpowered the aroma of the coffee. The sanitizer landed on his hands as a clear liquid, but it dripped from them as if it were muddy water. She squirted more into his hands, and he rubbed it on his arms. She then passed him a wet, white hand towel. Before he used it on his hands and arms, he scrubbed his face with it. When he saw the grime on the white towel, he tensed. “Sorry.” With the damage already done to the towel, he went ahead and wiped his hands and arms.
Her expression didn’t change, but he was sure he detected some humor in her eyes as she took the towel from him. “It’s my fault for bringing you a white one.” With the towel dangling from her fingertips, she held out the tray.
He took the cup of coffee and Danish. “Denki.”
She nodded and backed up several feet. A good Amish woman kept a physical distance from any man she wasn’t related to. He ate a bite of the blueberry Danish. “Wow,” he mumbled, looking at it, “maybe it’s because I’m so hungry, but that’s better than I expected.”
“Good.” She dropped the towel onto the tray. “Lunch will be ready in ninety minutes, and we’re getting your room set up now. Lester said your bedroom is to be the one on the second story. At the top of the stairs, turn left, and it’s the door facing you at the end of the hall. It has its own bathroom and a view of the corral and barns. Do you have luggage of some sort we can put in there for you?”
“Just a backpack I shoved clothes into days ago. What little is in it is now dirty.”
“We can take care of that too. Just put whatever you want washed in a pile outside your bedroom.” She studied him from his feet up, but he kept his attention on the horses, pretending not to notice. “I have a brother about your size. I’ll get you some of his clean clothes until we get your stuff washed and dried.”
“I appreciate it.” He was sure he smelled like dirty horses, and he probably looked more unkempt than the feral horses since he hadn’t shaved his upper cheeks or mustache in four mornings. He had a lot to do today, but he sure would like to shower, shave, and change before he crawled into bed tonight.
“Just set the mug on a fence post when you’re finished, and I’ll get it later.” She started toward the house.
But Andy remembered several other things he needed. “Excuse me.”
She turned. Her coolness wasn’t surprising. This was typical of nonrelated, adult Amish with the opposite gender—polite, stoic, and minimal.
“My brother and my son, Tobias, are arriving later today.” With the help of a driver, Levi would bring Tobias and maybe stay for the afternoon to help Andy. “With these horses as out of sorts as they are right now, I’ll need to find someone to watch Tobias when I can’t.”
An almost-imperceptible wrinkling of her brow crossed her otherwise-blank expression. Had Lester not told her he had a son who would join him? “How old is your son?”
“Nine.”
“That’s a pretty easy age to keep up with. We can watch him for you.”
“We?”
“My sisters, Naomi and Hope, and me. I’m Jolene Keim.”
“Ah, the Keim girls my great-uncle is so fond of.”
She smiled, and he realized how attractive she was—rosy lips, white teeth, and auburn hair framing sun-kissed skin. And sapphire-blue eyes. He wouldn’t know what color to call her eyes if it weren’t for Tobias’s collection of marbles and Sadie’s pleasure in giving a name to every color and shade.
“I’m the oldest of the sisters, and, as we’re doing now, I would appreciate any requests going through me first.”
Andy guessed she was in her midtwenties and probably wasn’t a Keim any longer. But once the females in a family got a nickname, they kept it even after they married. “Andy Fisher.”
She shifted the tray, clasping it with both hands. “What you’re doing here with these poor animals is good of you, and we want to help in any way we can.”
He’d have to take her up on that offer more than he was willing to admit to her right now. He wasn’t leaving Tobias elsewhere for the summer while he was here. “I asked Lester to contact a local blacksmith. Do you know if he did?”
Her lips pursed ever so slightly, and he got the feeling he’d touched on a less-than-favorable topic. “I’m sure he didn’t. He would leave that to you.”
“I don’t know anything about smithies in this area.”
“There’s only one. Beiler’s Blacksmith Shop. I can write the number for you on the pad in Lester’s phone shanty.”
“They make house calls, right?”
“Ya. The business has a wagon and one worker who travels as needed—Van Beiler.”
“Is he good at his trade?”
“Very.”
“Is Van Beiler the kind of man who might dicker on prices?”
“My understanding is he doesn’t barter or dicker. Cash only. In advance.”
“Well, I’m not sure that will work in this situation.” Andy rubbed the back of his neck. “I could do the shoeing myself, but I don’t have the equipment with me. Lester probably has some old shoeing equipment around here somewhere, but these horses will need a blacksmith and a handler to get through the process without hurting someone or themselves.”
Andy was sure he noticed a faint sigh before she nibbled on one side of her lower lip, studying the horses. “If I made the call personally, he would give the best price possible.” Her raised eyebrow and slight shake of her head said she wasn’t fond of the idea.
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br /> Sometimes his life would be easier if he didn’t pick up on body language, but the more time he spent trying to understand horses, the better he could read people too. Well, honest people. If she was aware of her body language and trying to conceal it, he doubted he could pick up on any of her feelings.
“Okay. I’ll call him.” She sighed. “If you and Lester can make the sacrifice to oversee the well-being of the horses, I can swallow my pride for a few minutes and ask Van for a favor.” Her eyes met his. “Apparently I can’t do it without venting.”
Andy chuckled at her honest review of herself.
She shook her head. “Van Beiler.” A hint of a friendly smile crossed her lips. “You couldn’t need a simple favor like asking for my firstborn.”
6
The screen door creaked and the wooden porch moaned as Jolene tiptoed out of her house, carrying baking supplies to the carriage. She would fix breakfast for Lester and his two remaining guests, but she also had to make her pastries for the bakeshop while at Lester’s this morning.
Crickets chirped softly, and silvery moonlight sliced through the darkness. The early morning air smelled of honeysuckle, and she paused for a moment to thank God for another day of life.
May I use it well, Father.
After retrieving the key to Lester’s attic and putting it safely in her pocket, she’d spent the rest of yesterday quite focused. She wouldn’t be able to escape to the attic to paint while Lester had houseguests. But she consoled herself with the truth that if not for Lester, she wouldn’t have had the freedom and the privilege of being allowed to paint. So she would have to get by without sneaking to the attic to paint until the houseguests were gone.
How would her parents feel about her secret? They’d had an open-mindedness that wasn’t typical. The older Jolene became, the more she saw who her parents had really been. They were quite liberal thinkers by Amish standards, but they’d chosen to tuck themselves under the authority of the Amish church. They didn’t feel as the bishop did about art. He stood on the scripture “thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image.” Her parents felt that the verses referred to worshiping the image as if it could save them, and that’s not what art was about. But they submitted to his authority, not allowing her to paint or draw because the bishop was their authority. If her Daed had known she wouldn’t move to a district with a bishop who allowed artwork, he wouldn’t have given her the paintbrushes. Would he disagree with her decision to paint anyway?
One time when her Mamm was responding to a question from an Englisch neighbor about the Amish way of life, Mamm had said, “I can tell you how the Old Order Amish view each topic, and then I can tell you how we view them.” Mamm was one of a handful of educated Old Order Amish people. She had only an associate’s degree in nursing, but she had that because the bishop had come to her, asking that she earn a GED and then attend nursing school. The mortality rate for women giving birth and their newborns was too high, and the families needed some type of nurse to answer their abundance of health-related questions. So the bishop felt that God wouldn’t mind if she increased her learning as long as she used it to serve the Amish community.
Would her parents understand her need to skirt the bishop’s authority, or would they be disappointed in her? She used to ask herself that question all the time, but as the years passed and her contentment grew, it didn’t come up anymore … until she feared being found out because Lester had a houseful of guests.
Her privacy aside, she felt that yesterday had been well spent despite having to call the blacksmith shop and leave a message for Van. His uncle said he’d gone to visit his parents in Ohio, of course taking his wife and children, so he might not be able to help after all. She guessed that depended on how long he intended to visit. When his Daed needed his help, Van and his family sometimes went there for a full month or more. Anger rumbled deep within her. If he liked it there, and apparently he did, why had he stayed in Winter Valley after marrying Donna? It only made Jolene’s life harder. She rebuked herself and tamped down her frustrations. It was his life, and it wasn’t hers to question.
His uncle had said he’d get the message to Van. The idea of having to ask a favor of him made her shudder. When she’d made the decision to keep her siblings together, she’d feared he would never marry her. But she hadn’t expected to lose his friendship within six months or to see him marry someone else within a year of her parents’ death. Or …
Her hands began to tremble, and she clasped them together, refusing to give in to the anger that tried to surface. Stop, Jolene. It did no good to rehash things that had taken place many years ago. Van had needed to pull away from her and find another.
She understood. Truly. But when he left that night, she wiped the tears from her face and decided never to call him again. If the hens stopped laying eggs, the cow stopped giving milk, or the horse ran off or became lame—all of which had happened over the last ten years, plus much more—she would figure it out or do without, refusing to call Van. And she’d stuck to that decision.
Until yesterday.
But she wouldn’t let Lester down. He’d been too good to them over the years, and since he wasn’t a relative, he’d been giving for no reason other than the love in his heart. So she would do her best to help Andy Fisher in any way he needed, including actually working with the wild horses.
Going back to get the last items for today, she went up the porch stairs, and Hope stumbled out the front door. Jolene steadied her and waited a moment. “You got your footing?”
Hope blinked, patted Jolene’s hand affectionately, and silently gestured toward the buggy. Jolene released her, suppressing a chuckle. Hope wasn’t a morning person. Besides, what teen was ready to get up before daylight? But it couldn’t be helped.
After grabbing the blueberries and some whipping cream from the gas-powered refrigerator, she climbed into the rig and drove toward Lester’s. It took nearly forty-five minutes to get there, and she wondered if she and Hope should plan to sleep there on the really long days.
Hope slid across the seat toward her and propped her head on Jolene’s shoulder, ready to doze off. “Having to start this time of day is cruel. Lester knows that, right?”
Jolene chuckled. Since the Englisch volunteers and Humane Society people had left last night a few hours after dinner, Jolene was certainly capable of fixing breakfast for those at the farm—Lester, Andy, and Tobias. Even Andy’s brother, Levi, had a driver pick him up around ten last night. He didn’t want his wife and Daed to have the full brunt of the morning’s responsibilities on the horse farm with a group of new and rowdy horses. Andy seemed to fully agree with him. None of the volunteers could help today. They had regular jobs to return to. Most had used vacation days to help with the horses thus far. And those within the Humane Society had two issues keeping them away. Some were due in court today to testify in a case concerning animal abuse, and the others had to return to their regular duties, which included dealing with a pack of possibly rabid dogs that had been abandoned in an old apartment.
The realization of such cruelty to animals turned Jolene’s stomach. Didn’t life dish out enough pain without people turning on each other and helpless animals? The busy schedule of the Humane Society meant those people could provide no service to Andy for at least a few days. Unfortunately, last night Lester kept assuring Andy that whatever he needed, Jo could help. Andy didn’t complain about the idea. Actually, he seemed grateful.
But what was Lester thinking? She appreciated the confidence he put in her, but it was misplaced. Her knowledge of horses was limited to knowing they needed oats, hay, and water. Oh, and she was quite skilled at knowing when a horse stall needed cleaning and telling her brothers to see that it got done.
After all, in her estimation it was man’s work, best left to those who could lift a bale of hay and roll a wheelbarrow full of manure out of the barn without whining about it, which she couldn’t do. In her defense, her brothers couldn’t tote a basket of wet
laundry to the line or wash dishes without whining about that.
So fair was fair.
Realizing she needed to find a man to help Andy, last night after she’d finished washing the dinner dishes and getting Lester’s kitchen in order for today, she had gone by her brothers’ places—first Josiah’s and then Michael’s—asking if they could help Andy Fisher. They couldn’t. Once she was home, she’d asked Ray. He’d seemed tired and sad and had told her he couldn’t do it either. If Lester weren’t so hard on his many male relatives, Andy could find the needed help.
So she searched through her books and found one on training horses, which recommended several things. One suggestion caused her to gather her work clothes for today and put them in a horse’s stall last night. Since the rogue horses didn’t like humans, it made sense that it might help if she didn’t smell so strongly of lavender soap and Downy fabric softener. When she went back inside, she read the book until she fell asleep. Now both her clothes and the book were tucked under the driver’s seat of her carriage.
But her heart was with Ray.
His sullen, sad mood of late nagged at her. What was going on?
She pulled into Lester’s driveway. “Hope,” she whispered, patting her sister on the cheek.
She stirred. “Wake me at noon, please.”
“Sure no problem.” Jolene opened the door to the rig. “But first help me tote the boxes of stuff inside … and help make breakfast, bake pastries for the shop, and do laundry.”
“Very funny.” Hope was the only girl Jolene knew who could frown while laughing.
“I was quite sure you’d like it.” They grabbed their stuff and tiptoed inside. Lester never locked a door. The smell of the old house and the way the moonlight fell across the rugs and floors reminded her of Mammi and Daadi’s house when she was growing up. Poor Hope never had a chance to get to know her grandparents, and her memories of their parents were a couple of granules. Was Jolene doing a decent job of parenting Hope? Was it Jolene’s fault that Ray seemed unhappy?
A Love Undone Page 5