by Jan Drexler
“We’ll stay with the folks, and Aunt Susan and Uncle Henry. Then we’ll go through Wayne County to visit the cousins there, and then back home before the winter weather comes.”
Esther whispered something to Judith and the girls giggled.
“What is it?”
Judith giggled again. “We were just thinking how wonderful-gut it would be if you came home expecting a little one.”
Mary felt her face heat. “Let us get married, first.”
Even Ida Mae joined in the laughter that followed that remark.
Samuel had wanted to have the wedding at their new house, and Mary had agreed. The thought of starting their lives together in their own home was like the last piece of a quilt sewn in place. The church benches had been delivered yesterday, on Wednesday, and Samuel had reported that all was ready last night.
She and the girls, including Sadie, had spent the morning cooking the wedding dinner, along with most of the ladies from the church. Everyone had been in high spirits, and Mary could still hear Effie Hopplestadt’s joyous voice above everyone else’s. The aroma of the chicken and noodles in the oven wafted up the stairway.
“Mary, I think it’s time to go downstairs.” Judith stood at the window. “There is Preacher Jonas, and behind him is Bishop Kaufman’s buggy.” She pointed toward the road. “And look at the line of buggies that are coming! It’s a good thing the day is fine, because some of the people are going to have to sit outside.”
“You two go on down,” Mary said. “I want to talk to Ida Mae for a minute.”
Once the girls had left, Mary and Ida Mae looked at each other. It was a solemn moment. Mary was the first of their brothers and sisters to get married.
“So this is what it’s like,” Ida Mae said. “In an hour or so, you’ll be Samuel’s Mary for the rest of your life.”
Mary blinked back tears. “I loved growing up with you. You’re the best sister.”
Ida Mae nodded, her own eyes wet and shiny. “You’re right. I am the best sister.”
At that, Mary giggled, then Ida Mae joined her, and soon they were holding each other and laughing, tears streaming down their faces. Mary grabbed her handkerchief from her waistband and dabbed her eyes.
“Ach, I needed a laugh like that.” She grinned at Ida Mae and they started laughing all over again.
Mary jumped when Esther knocked on the door.
“Are you two coming, or not? We’re almost ready to start.”
Ida Mae reached for Mary and gave her a quick hug. “In case I don’t get an opportunity to say it later, blessings on your marriage.”
Mary followed Ida Mae and Esther down the stairs. The big front room, with the walls pushed back to form a large open area, was filled with people, but Mary only saw one face. Samuel sat on the front row on the men’s side, next to Bram and the ministers, smiling as he watched her walk into the room.
Mary took her place on the front row of the women’s side with Ida Mae beside her. She clung to Ida Mae’s hand, almost fearful that her happiness would send her floating to the ceiling.
“You’re going to be all right,” Ida Mae whispered.
Mary glanced at her soon-to-be husband, who was still watching her as Bishop Kaufman began singing the opening hymn. He grinned and gave her a wink.
Her face heated into a blush and she grinned back. Life with this man promised to be wonderful-gut.
* * * * *
If you enjoyed this Amish romance,
be sure to pick up these other Amish
historical romances from Jan Drexler:
THE PRODIGAL SON RETURNS
A MOTHER FOR HIS CHILDREN
Available now from Love Inspired Historical!
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Dear Reader,
I hope you enjoyed this visit to Indiana’s Amish Country with me!
Shipshewana and the surrounding area are home to the third largest Amish community in the country. Today’s Shipshewana is a busy place, full of tourists and fun activities all through the year.
We love to visit our favorite businesses in the area: Das Essenhaus, Yoder’s Department Store, E&S Sales, and many others. And if we’re there on a Tuesday or Wednesday, we make the time to go to the Shipshewana Flea Market on the grounds of the Sale Barn.
The Sale Barn? Oh yes. It’s the same place Samuel and Mary went in their story. The livestock auction is still held every week, year-round.
And while we’re there, we enjoy breakfast at the Auction Restaurant. They serve the best fried mush I’ve ever eaten.
I love to hear from my readers! You can contact me through my website, www.JanDrexler.com, or visit me on Facebook!
Jan Drexler
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Inherited: Unexpected Family
by Gabrielle Meyer
Chapter One
Minnesota Territory
June 26, 1857
There was no telling what awaited Elizabeth Bell and her two sisters when they reached the Northern Hotel. Elizabeth inhaled the humid air, wishing for a breeze as the stagecoach lurched and swayed over the Wood’s Tail. They had left St. Paul early that morning and her anticipation had mounted with each passing mile. By night’s end she would know how much work lay ahead before they could open the hotel. Maybe, just maybe, they would finally have the lives they had dreamed about since Papa abandoned them four years ago.
The last vestiges of daylight streaked across the sky, casting long shadows over Grace, who sat across from Elizabeth. A sudden bump forced Elizabeth to dig her feet into the floor to stay seated. She clutched Rose tighter on her lap so her little sister wouldn’t fall.
“Grace?” Elizabeth spoke quietly so she wouldn’t wake Rose.
Grace, just barely nineteen, stared out the window with thinly veiled hostility, unwilling to acknowledge Elizabeth. She had not wanted to leave their home in Rockford, Illinois, and had made the weeklong trip unbearable. “Could you hold Rose for a bit? I’d like to look at Papa’s letter one more time to make sure we’re going to the right place.”
Papa’s letter had been the only correspondence they had received from him in four years, and it had been written on his deathbed. He’d left them a hote
l in Minnesota Territory. It was the perfect solution to so many troubles Elizabeth had faced in Rockford. She could get out from under a domineering employer, start over with a fresh reputation and take Grace away from the rough crowd she’d been going around with. If only Grace would cooperate.
She continued to look out the window and didn’t bother to respond to Elizabeth’s request.
Elizabeth sighed and repositioned herself on the hard bench, causing Rose to stir in her sleep. The four-year-old cuddled close on Elizabeth’s lap, her cheek pressed against Elizabeth’s shoulder, her soft curls tickling Elizabeth’s cheek. Mama had died giving birth to Rose, and Papa had disappeared the moment they finished burying her. His sudden departure had left Elizabeth to provide for her sisters. Thankfully, sweet Rose knew very little about all the pain they had endured and she had no memory of losing either parent.
Elizabeth squinted into the fading sunlight and noticed the first building they’d seen in several miles. She sat up straighter. Was this Little Falls? Their new home? She knew virtually nothing about the town, except for the gossip their stagecoach driver had shared with them—and none of it was good. A failing economy, a gang of desperadoes and a decline in population threatened her plans for the hotel—but surely hard work and dedication would go a long way toward their success.
Anything was better than their life in Rockford.
Another building rushed by, and yet another. The orange sunset sparkled off the Mississippi River in the distance. A sawmill appeared on the banks at the bottom of a hill, with a house and barn outlined in the shadows nearby. Soon dozens of various-sized buildings lined the main stretch of road. A church, a bank, a two-story general store and even a hotel called The Batters House Hotel. Elizabeth hadn’t anticipated competition, but hopefully her hospitality would draw customers to the Northern.
Grace’s stiff shoulders did not indicate any interest in the new town until a group of men shouted a hello at the passing stage.
Here and there people stood on the wooden boardwalks watching the stage roll by. Some came and went out of buildings, and others gathered in small clusters talking.
Most of them were men.
Elizabeth turned her attention toward the Northern. No doubt the hotel would be boarded up after Papa’s death. They might need help prying off the boards to get inside, but maybe the driver would have a tool for them to use. From the date on the letter, and the finality of Papa’s words, Elizabeth estimated that he had died about a month ago. She had mourned his loss, but had little time to dwell on what it meant. She’d worked for a week to sell their meager belongings in Rockford and secure their travel plans.
“We should be getting close,” Elizabeth said, excitement and trepidation making her voice sound higher than she intended. “The driver told us the stage stops right outside the Northern.”
Grace didn’t respond, her blue eyes, so like Elizabeth’s, focused on another group of men walking in the same direction the stage was headed.
The stage came to a stop outside a large white clapboard building. It was an impressive Greek Revival structure that covered the length of one city block, and looked out of place with the humble buildings in the rest of town. Several lights had already been lit within the pretty establishment, and at least half a dozen men entered through the front door.
Elizabeth frowned. “I thought the stage stopped at the Northern Hotel.”
“Maybe this is the Northern Hotel,” Grace said in a dry tone.
“How could it be?” Elizabeth handed Rose to Grace, not waiting for her sister’s approval, and ducked as she stepped to the door. “The Northern Hotel is supposed to be boarded up and empty.”
The driver appeared at the door and pulled it open. “Welcome to Little Falls.”
Elizabeth lifted her hem and stepped onto the boardwalk. “I thought the stage stopped at the Northern.”
“This here is the Northern.” He nodded at the large building.
Elizabeth looked at the structure again. “But how is that possible?” Another group of men approached and stopped outside the door to stare at her.
The driver scratched his head, tilting his hat at an odd angle. “It’s possible—’cause it just is.”
“But—” Elizabeth gasped. Was someone squatting in her hotel? Operating it in her absence? She pursed her lips, her heart rate escalating. Whoever was trespassing would soon be turned out, of that she was certain.
Elizabeth went back to the coach to speak to Grace. “I’m going in to confront the squatter. See that our luggage is unloaded properly.”
Grace nodded and Elizabeth squared her shoulders. She’d been forced to deal with her fair share of stubborn men in the past four years. One more shouldn’t be too difficult...she hoped.
A man standing near the building pushed open the front door and doffed his cap as she marched over the threshold and into the lobby.
The interior of the building was just as impressive as the exterior. Elizabeth paused to let her eyes roam over the white wainscoting, the wide stairway and the floral sofa near the door. In the opposite corner, to Elizabeth’s right, was a sturdy counter covered with the same wainscoting. A man stood behind the counter, his back to the door, his head bent over a thick ledger. When he stood straight, Elizabeth couldn’t help but notice his height and the breadth of his shoulders under a well-tailored suit coat.
So this was the squatter.
Elizabeth clenched her jaw and prepared for battle. She strode to the counter, ignoring the curious looks she garnered from dozens of patrons milling about the lobby. The air was thick with conversation and the smell of heady cologne mixed with cigar smoke.
She stopped at the counter, but he did not turn.
She cleared her throat, but he must not have heard over the conversation.
Finally, she did something most unladylike and tapped his broad shoulder. “Pardon me.”
He turned, his dark brown hair shimmering under the light above his head, his equally brown eyes holding a hint of surprise. “May I help you?”
Elizabeth swallowed the nerves quivering up her throat. My, but he was a handsome man—much too handsome to be a squatter.
But, then again, weren’t most scoundrels handsome? Her ex-fiancé, James, had been very good-looking.
She straightened her backbone and lifted her chin. “Who are you?”
Humor twinkled in his eyes. “Jude Allen. Who are you?”
“It doesn’t matter who I am. What are you doing in my hotel?”
His humor subsided, just a bit. “Your hotel?”
“You’re squatting on my property and I demand you leave immediately before I contact the local authority.”
He did laugh this time. “I’d like to see you try to get the sheriff to do something useful around here.”
Elizabeth frowned. “Didn’t you hear me? You’re trespassing and I want you to leave.”
He leaned forward, his hands on the counter, all trace of laughter gone from his deep voice. “I don’t know if you’re trying to be funny or just annoying. If you’re here for a room, I’m sorry, but we’re full because of the ball.” He tilted his head to a set of double doors leading into a ballroom where dozens of people spun about the room.
She put her hands on the counter, too. “I don’t want a room—I want my hotel.”
He leaned even closer, his voice lowered. “I don’t know who you are, or what you want, but this is my hotel. Has been for two years.”
Elizabeth’s lips straightened into a tight line. “This was my father’s hotel, and he left it to me and my sisters. I don’t know who you are, or what you want, but this is my hotel.”
“That’s impossible. I don’t even know who your father is.”
“Clarence Bell, the owner of the Northern Hotel.”
His face became sti
ll and he slowly stood straight, disbelief lining his handsome features. “Clarence had a daughter?”
She planted her feet. “Three daughters and we’re here to claim our inheritance.”
They had come so far she wouldn’t let this man stand in her way now.
* * *
Jude couldn’t take his eyes off the beauty before him—the woman who was making such a ludicrous claim. Her sparking blue eyes were filled with determination and certainty. Her gown looked outdated and almost worn through, with frayed cuffs and carefully placed patches. Was she Clarence’s daughter or a desperate woman looking for a free ride?
“It’s impossible,” Jude said. “Clarence never mentioned being married, let alone fathering children.” He had never said much at all, which made their partnership ideal.
The door opened and another woman entered the lobby, her chocolate-brown curls and stunning blue eyes indicating she was related to the woman standing on the other side of the counter. She held a sleeping child in her arms and she looked just as exhausted and threadbare as the first.
“I don’t know why Papa failed to mention us,” the first woman said—though her tight lips and stilted voice suggested she wasn’t surprised. “But, regardless, we are his daughters and heirs to his hotel.”
The conversation in the lobby stilled as several people stopped to listen to their exchange. Jude was highly respected as one of the first business owners in Little Falls. He’d built the American Hotel in 1855, but it had been nothing compared to the impressive Northern. When the Northern had come up for sale just a few months later, Jude sold his smaller hotel to Mr. Batters. He didn’t have enough money to buy the Northern, so he’d taken on a business partner, Clarence Bell. The man was moody and taciturn—though he was a good businessman. He’d taken over the bookwork and behind-the-scenes operations, while Jude worked at the front of the hotel with the customers and staff. It had been a good partnership—until Clarence fell ill and died a month ago.