The Amish Cowboy's Homecoming

by Ophelia London

  What she was an expert in—handling horses—didn’t apply to Sarah’s situation.

  Or did it?

  The first step in heeding is to connect with your horse, build trust, show them you’re there for them. Communicate.

  “Want some help?” Grace asked, walking barefooted into the kitchen.

  “I’d never deny you the pleasure.”

  Whoa there, girl. It’s okay. I’m your friend…

  “Do you have to be sarcastic twenty-four hours a day?” Grace asked, as if figuratively reaching for control of Sarah’s harness.

  Sarah threw a glance her way that would usually send Grace back three paces and completely end the subject.

  When an ornery horse tries to get the upper hand, make sure you show no fear.

  So instead of giving Sarah her way, Grace shot back her own look, holding the beast in the eyes.

  Sarah sighed. “It’s not easy, you know.”

  “What isn’t?” Grace began clearing plates from the table, pleased at the tiny victory of keeping her sister-in-law from changing subjects for once.

  Sarah paused what she was doing and turned to Grace. For a moment, her expression looked soft, eager, as if she were about to open her heart to Grace.

  That’s a good girl…

  “Nothing,” she finally said.

  Offer the horse kind, soft words so she knows you’re on her side.

  “Daed should’ve asked you first before he invited guests to dinner,” Grace said.

  “It’s not that,” Sarah said, looking down into the sink full of bubbles. “Heaven knows there’s always enough food. Some members of this family don’t eat enough—especially you.”

  Grace was on the thin side, but she’d always been the petite one in the family. Not that she should give Sarah that as an excuse as to why she’d rarely been an eager eater when it came to her sister-in-law’s cooking.

  “Your meatloaf was as good as ever,” she said, taking the glass Sarah had just washed and drying it with a towel.

  “Danke,” Sarah said, then paused again and shook her head.

  “Is it Amos?” Grace couldn’t help asking, knowing she was dipping her toe into very hot water. But she loved her brother and felt so badly for him whenever she’d witnessed his wife treating him poorly. He deserved better.

  They both did.

  Watching their example might’ve been one of the reasons why Grace wasn’t very keen on getting married herself. She’d never enjoyed housekeeping or holding everyone’s babies, or most of the other things she knew women her age preferred. No, being with the horses was what she’d always loved. And if she could only get Isaac King out of the way, she was sure Daed would give her the training farm when he retired.

  Sarah lifted her chin. “Is what Amos?”

  Grace blinked, needing to remember what they’d been talking about. It was right then that she realized she should feel just as badly for Sarah as she did for Amos. “The reason you’re so sad all the time,” she said after whispering a silent prayer for guidance.

  “I’m not sad all the time.”

  “Okay, annoyed, then.” Grace leaned a hip against the counter, feeling brave. “And then you take it out on whoever else is in the room.”

  Sarah huffed and slammed down a fist. “I do not…” She took in a breath. Then she turned to look at Grace. Her expression was soft again, open. Was she about to speak freely or ask her help?

  Before she knew it, though, that expression was gone.

  “Amos needs to spend more time at home,” Sarah finally said.

  Grace was about to jump in with how her bruder had to work long hours at the sawmill, and that he had been for years, even before they’d gotten married, and how it was unfair for Sarah to demand he work less now.

  But she didn’t. The moment had truly passed.

  Without much more talking, they finished washing the supper dishes, the pots and pans, and Grace was wiping down the last counter right as her wristwatch read ten p.m. But she couldn’t get Sarah out of her mind.

  Grace quietly moved by her parents’ bedroom on her way to her own. When she noticed a light was on, she peeked her head in.

  “Why are you still awake?” she asked her maam, who was seated in her big, comfortable armchair, a paperback on her lap.

  “Wasn’t ready for sleep yet.” She closed the book. “Come sit with me for a minute.” Grace glanced over at the bed to her sleeping father. “He’s out.” Maam smiled. “And it’s just as well. I think I’ll sleep right here. Feels better for my back sometimes.”

  Grace kneeled beside her. “Are you in pain tonight?”

  “Only a little. I’m sorry your new friend had to see that.”

  “Who?” Grace asked, making sure the quilt around her mother’s shoulders was in place.

  “Isaac King.”

  “Oh.” Grace blinked. “We’re not friends. I mean, we’re working together—Daed is making us work together.”

  “What?” Maam asked, a quizzical look on her face.

  “Nothing.” Grace shook her head around, trying to focus. “I doubt he noticed when you flinched.” She pulled her eyebrows together. “I noticed, though. I fear your pain is getting worse.”

  For a moment, Grace couldn’t speak another word. It didn’t take an Englisher surgeon to see that her mother’s condition was worsening. She needs that operation, Grace said to herself, noticing how Maam cringed when she tried to shift positions. And the quickest way we can afford it is if we make a lot of money—now—with Cincinnati.

  Grace allowed herself to think about Isaac, how he’d been hired to lead the training of the important horse. Was the payment from the owner going to their company, and Isaac would receive only a tiny portion for his services?

  Grace’s stomach clenched, hating to admit that it seemed more likely that Isaac would get the majority. She suddenly realized she had no idea about the money, how it would be split, and if their portion would be enough for her mother’s surgery.

  A new determination to train better and faster than Isaac King filled her mind and soul.

  “Want me to wake Daed?” she asked when Maam winced again.

  “Of course not,” her mother said. “And I didn’t mean about my hand hurting during dinner. I meant I was sorry Isaac had to see Sarah and Amos like that.”

  “Oh.” Grace paused, fussing with her mother’s blanket. “It was…embarrassing. It’s always embarrassing whether there is a witness or not.” Grace put a hand over her mother’s. “I usually just blow it off, but tonight I felt different. When we were alone, I actually asked Sarah about it. She said something about how it isn’t easy.”

  “How what isn’t easy?”

  Grace shrugged, feeling deflated again. “She wouldn’t say. For a split second, I hoped she might want to talk to me, but she shut me out like always. I thought it best not to pry any further.”

  “That is best,” Maam said, squeezing her hand. “All we can do is pray for guidance and trust the Lord while trying to be the best examples of loving and forgiving, patient Christians that we can. It might rub off on Sarah. You never know.” Smiling, she gave Grace’s hand another squeeze. “I know she loves your bruder, but whatever she’s going through now is making her miserable. It’s up to Sarah and Gott to heal that.”

  “I guess so,” Grace said. But then she couldn’t help thinking that maybe it wasn’t only Gott who could help Sarah, but perhaps Grace could, too. Maybe instead of allowing Sarah’s attitude to get under her skin, she could be a better friend to her. And if Sarah’s constant bad mood was due to marital issues, Grace could be someone Sarah could talk to. After all, they’d have a more peaceful home, and Amos would be happier.

  “What are you thinking, dear one?” Maam asked; she must have read something in Grace’s expression.

  “Mm
…nothing,” Grace replied, even though she’d just decided that from now on, every time she was with Sarah, she would be her friend. Her best friend. No matter how painful.

  After making sure Maam was as comfortable as possible, Grace retired to her bedroom. Jane, her youngest sister, had crept in from her room and crawled under Grace’s covers. She didn’t mind. With everything going on in her head, Grace could use the company.

  At least tomorrow is preaching Sunday, she thought with relief as she slipped her nightgown over her head, moonlight shining into the room. Maybe Isaac will ride back to Silver Springs to attend his own services. She felt a knot in her stomach, still mortified by…well, everything.

  Despite how she’d wrongfully assumed he was married, Grace’s behavior had been utterly inappropriate. She inwardly cringed at the thought of the things she had done, trying to make him behave just as improperly as she had. All the playful touching or letting her gaze settle on him for too long, shamelessly fluttering her eyelashes. She cringed again when she remembered how she even pretended to almost faint! All that innocent flirting was nothing less than a sin.

  And then she’d met Sadie, his sweet little daughter. And she’d wished for the Lord to yank Grace up to heaven instead of having to deal with what she’d done.

  Ack! She climbed under the covers and threw both arms over her face, feeling hot with mortification at her improper conduct. Should I admit to Maam what I’ve done? she wondered as she clenched her eyes shut. Or the bishop? How big a sin is it?

  With these questions racing through her mind, it was a miracle Grace was able to fall asleep. Jane was already dressed for church when she woke up. “Will you wear your orange dress to match mine?” her little sister asked.

  “What a splendid idea,” Grace said after a long stretch. “Should we ask Sarah, too?” she added, not forgetting the promise she’d made to herself last night.

  “She’s already wearing her blue dress, the one she got married in.”

  “Ah,” Grace said, standing up and stretching again, having momentarily forgotten the Amish custom of the wedding dress becoming the bride’s future Sunday dress. She’d just been wanting to include Sarah in something simple.

  “Get dressed,” Jane said, excitedly pushing Grace toward the closet.

  “I need to wash up and brush my teeth first.” She put her hands on her hips and looked down at Jane. “Did you forget to do that?”

  Her sister didn’t reply right away. “I’ll go do it now,” she finally said, then disappeared down the hall.

  Grace laughed cheerfully, grateful for the feeling of peace she had the moment she woke up. After kneeling for her morning prayer, she felt almost energetic. That sensation of weight off her shoulders stayed with her all through breakfast, while washing the dishes before Sarah had the chance, and as they started out walking to the Brennemans’, where this week’s Sunday service was taking place. It was only a few farms over, and walking was simpler than hitching up two buggies.

  There was a large crowd already gathered; seeing the whole village together ready to hear Gott’s word made her heart feel even lighter, like she hadn’t a care in the world.

  “Guder mariye, Grace.”

  Grace nearly tripped over her own feet at the familiar voice, deep and manly. Before she could stop it, last night’s embarrassment figuratively hit her between the eyes, an unstoppable heat creeping up her chest and throat, onto her cheeks for all to see.

  “That’s a pretty dress,” said another voice, young and charming.

  Grace turned to see Sadie…holding Isaac’s hand.

  Chapter Fourteen

  If Sadie hadn’t pointed her out, then dragged him over to say hello, Isaac might not have recognized Grace. Her pale orange dress had full sleeves at the shoulders and was pulled in at her elbows, the color going well with the late spring tan on her face and arms. She wore a black bonnet over her black kapp, matching her pristine black apron. He’d never seen her without dirt on her clothing or face.

  “Wie geht’s,” Grace said in formal High German—which was appropriate for church—after he greeted her. “I didn’t know you’d be coming to…” She paused to press her lips together. “Never mind. Of course you’re here.”

  “Of course.” Isaac tilted his head, wondering why she was still behaving so strangely, barely making eye contact.

  “Grossmammi made my dress,” Sadie said, holding out the ends of her skirt. He’d have a little talk with her later about not drawing attention to herself. Though she was certainly the most beautiful child in Pennsylvania, even Isaac knew that modesty, humility, and piety were more important to the Lord than a physically attractive face.

  At the thought, he looked at Grace again. All cleaned up like that, she was more attractive than he’d realized—well, maybe only since his nephew had practically forced him to ponder the question.

  “I like it,” Grace said, kneeling down to Sadie’s level. “You look like a slice of lemon pie.”

  Sadie put her little hands over her mouth and giggled. “Will you sit with us?”

  Grace’s blue eyes widened as she lifted her chin to look up at Isaac.

  “Sadie,” Isaac said, taking his daughter’s hand. “You know the grownup men and women sit separately during the preaching. But you can sit on my lap. How about that?”

  “Well…” Sadie reached out for Grace’s hand, holding both hers and his now. He was glad his daughter felt comfortable around Grace. After all, he’d be working with her for a few months, and Sadie should get to know her.

  “Is that what Gott wants?” Sadie asked.

  Isaac couldn’t help smiling, his heart filling with more love than was possible for his little girl. “That’s exactly what Gott wants. He wants us to be obedient.”

  Sadie blinked as if thinking it through. “And you not sitting with Grace is obedient.”

  “It is,” Grace answered. “But my sisters, Jane and Leah, will save you a seat at lunch afterward, if you want.”

  Sadie clapped her hands and leaned in to her father’s side, suddenly shy.

  “Guder mariye, Isaac,” John Zook said, coming up behind them.

  “Mariye” Isaac stuck out his hand to shake his boss’s. He glanced over his shoulder, noticing that Eve was not with him. He still wished to find out what ailed her. Maybe he could help.

  “Gracie,” John said, glancing at his daughter then shifting his glance over to Isaac, perhaps noticing that they were standing rather close together. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

  “I’m waiting for Sarah. Coming, dear?” Grace smiled over her shoulder toward her sister-in-law, and it was such a big, cheesy grin that Isaac wondered it if were real.

  He didn’t have much chance to mull it over, because John cleared his throat, sending another glance his way. Isaac felt this look down to his toes. He hadn’t meant to gaze at Grace so intently, and he certainly hadn’t meant to grin while intently gazing. Not in front of her father, at least.

  No gazing, no lingering, nothing but business, Isaac thought to himself as he dropped his chin, doing his best to convey to his boss that there would be no trouble.

  After saying a quick hello to Amos and Sarah, Isaac made his way to one of the few dozen folding chairs set up in the grassy area beside the house. He looked forward to meeting the owners, wanting to ask them what kind of wood they used for their pigpen.

  “Up you go,” he said to Sadie, lifting her and planting her on his lap. “Comfortable? Because you know the preaching can be long sometimes.”

  “I’m okay, Daddy. I can see Grace over there. Look!” She pointed her chubby arm across to where the women sat separately from the men. “Hi Grace!”

  It felt as if a few hundred eyes were aimed directly at him. He coughed under his breath and tipped his black felt hat at Grace, who looked as uncomfortable as he felt. “It’s not polite to
point,” Isaac said in a whisper, pushing Sadie’s arm down. “Time to be reverent.”

  Although he didn’t search for him in the crowd, Isaac hoped John Zook hadn’t witnessed the event. He respected his boss and enjoyed the few conversations they’d had. Isaac was not about to risk his job by being overly friendly with Grace.

  The songs began, then the opening prayer by one of the Elders. Even way over in Silver Springs, Isaac had heard good things about Bishop Turner, and was looking forward to his sermon.

  By the end, Isaac wasn’t disappointed. Even his daughter had been engaged when the bishop retold the story of Jonah and the Whale, reminding all to never shirk a calling from Gott, no matter how small.

  “There’s Eliza,” Sadie said, wiggling off his lap. “Can I go play?”

  “Keep your dress clean,” he called as she ran away. Then he sighed, noting a group of men chatting in a circle. There’d been a time when that’s exactly where he would’ve been at the end of the preaching. But now he had to be father and mother to his child.

  “Can I help?” Isaac asked as the men began setting up the long tables for lunch, the women already inside helping the hostess with meal preparations. Grace was certainly with them, even though he half expected her to be outside with the menfolk. Though maybe his Silver Springs upbringing was making him think that way. The two communities did have plenty of subtle differences.

  “I’d never turn down a hand,” one of the men said. He was younger than most, looked just a bit older than Isaac, in fact. “Could ya help me carry this table over there? It’s one of the heavier ones.”

  “Sure.” Isaac felt good helping out, serving where he could, as his heart was full of all the good sermons he’d just heard. “What is this made out of?”

  The man laughed. “Feels like concrete, doesn’t it?”

  “Heavy enough.” Without much real effort, they set up the long table, then began pulling over folding chairs.

  “You’re Isaac King from Silver Springs, jah?” the man asked, readjusting his black hat.