Wonderful Lonesome

by Newport, Olivia

  Abbie waited for the stunned expression on Mary Miller’s face to fade.

  “I know you weren’t expecting this,” Abbie said. “Neither was I. But I know it’s the right thing.”

  Mary shrugged. “It is the way of the Amish to keep courting private. Albert and I did not even drive home from singings together in Pennsylvania because we didn’t want our families to speculate.”

  “How did you court, then?”

  “We managed to find a few minutes here and there at a picnic or an auction.” Mary stood on her porch and pulled her shawl snug. “In our old district the people came together all the time. I don’t understand how you and Rudy courted, though. We don’t even have church out here, much less singings or auctions.”

  Abbie tilted her head to think. She had not even thought they were courting. “It started with his calf, I suppose. We were both afraid she wouldn’t make it. I fell into the habit of looking in on her when I stopped by with bread. More and more, Rudy was in the barn when I got there.”

  “So this is why you did not leave with your parents.”

  “Not really.” Abbie rolled her bottom lip in but immediately pushed it out. She did not want Mary—or anyone—to think she harbored doubt. “I stayed behind because I wanted to remain with the community. I came to be a settler, and I mean to settle.”

  “Even if there is no community in the end?”

  “The end of what, Mary? Does God’s will have a timeline?” Abbie searched her friend’s eyes for what she really meant.

  “Come inside,” Mary said. “I’ll make tea.”

  Abbie waved off the suggestion. “Thank you, but don’t go to the trouble. I’ve had a long day already.”

  “I heard about your position on the Wood ranch.”

  “It’s just for a few weeks,” Abbie said. “But I am tired, and Rudy is bringing me some milk and cheese before supper.”

  Mary’s smile looked forced. “Another time, then. I pray you and Rudy will be as happy as Albert and I are.”

  Abbie shuffled to her buggy and watched as Mary called for Little Abe and herded him into the house. Too late she realized Mary had meant to tell her something over tea, and Abbie had been too distracted to listen.

  For three days Willem festered over Abbie’s peculiar behavior on the day her parents departed. No matter how many times and how many ways he explained away her reticence toward him, he was not satisfied. At least once each day he marched to the barn resolved to saddle up his stallion and go make sure Abbie was all right. Every time, though, he put the tack back on the wall. She might not even be there because of her work schedule, and during the wagon ride home from the depot she had adamantly resisted offers of help ranging from subtle generalities to specific chores.

  And going to the Mennonite church service—even though the Millers participated as well—had set his course away from her. At least that was her opinion, and it was pronounced enough that she would rather get her milk and eggs from Rudy Stutzman. She had managed to leave his bread that week without encountering Willem, even though he had not left the farm in three days. Willem had not expected she would treat him so cooly so quickly.

  On Thursday afternoon, Willem decided to muck the stalls thoroughly, as if clearing soiled straw would also clear his mind. By the time he heard the sound of the approaching buggy, betrayed by snorting horses, Willem had worked up a sweat. He went outside to greet Moses Troyer.

  “The news is good, ya?” Grinning, Moses jumped down from the bench.

  “What news is that?” Willem used a sleeve to wipe the sweat from his forehead.

  “The Weavers should have stayed a few weeks longer. It’s a shame they will miss their daughter’s wedding.”

  Willem cleared his throat, puzzled but determined to remain calm. “I had not heard the news.”

  “That sneaky Rudy Stutzman!” Moses wagged his head. “I just came from there. Who would have known he was courting Abigail Weaver?”

  Yes, Willem thought. Who would have known?

  “We all knew she was spunky,” Moses said, “but I was shocked that Ananias would let her remain here once he decided to go.”

  “I guess they worked it out.” Willem reached for the rake he had left leaning against the side of the barn.

  “I suppose Ananias was determined to move before winter. Why else would they miss her wedding?”

  Willem shrugged. Why indeed?

  “I always thought it would be you,” Moses said. His face sobered. “But considering how her father feels about the salvation of anyone outside the Amish church, I suppose I should not be surprised. She could hardly marry you and set the two of you against each other.”

  “I thought you had an open mind on that question, Moses.” Willem twirled the rake between his hands.

  “I do. It’s Ananias who doesn’t.”

  The knock, though not insistent, jolted Abbie out of a doze she had not meant to fall into. For a moment she listened for the footsteps of her mother or little brother on the way to answer the door. Standing up, she raised a hand to the back of her neck to rub the spot where it had gone stiff while she slept with her chin on her chest in an upright chair.

  “Coming!” she called, unsure how long she had slept. It must be Rudy with the eggs and milk. She snatched her prayer kapp from the side table and put it on her head before she reached the door.

  He stood there with downcast face and wounded pools of murky green where his eyes should have been.

  “Willem.”

  “I wish you had been the one to tell me, Abbie.”

  Abbie stepped outside. “I’m sorry.” Her murmured statement was more than words.

  “I would have understood.”

  “Would you?” She challenged his gaze. “You wanted me to go to the Mennonites with you. You went even when you knew I couldn’t. Wouldn’t. Would never.”

  “Never is a long time, Abigail.”

  She straightened her shoulders. “Don’t scold me. You have no right.”

  “I gave that up.” Willem shifted his feet in the dirt. “I didn’t realize your growing affection for Rudy.”

  “I did not realize it myself until recently. But I have found myself in the position of having to make several decisions I never expected to make, and I have no regrets.”

  Willem stepped away from her. “I know what it will mean to you to be married in the Amish church. I wish you every happiness.”

  “Danki.”

  She covered her mouth with the back of her hand and she watched him stride away from her and mount his horse. The moment had come to truly find release from his hold on her heart.

  The sight of him made Abbie smile.

  Rudy, not Willem. Rudy made her smile.

  When she drove gently onto his land on Friday morning, he was on a ladder scrubbing the outside of the window at the front of the house. She had cleaned the inside of the glass more times than she could count in an effort to keep the dust blowing in from the plain from coating every inch of interior surface, but cleaning the outside was not part of her housekeeping duties, and Rudy had never raised a sponge. When she asked him about it once, he said he saw no gain from the chore. The wind would only blow dry soil against the panes before the day was over, and most of the hours he spent inside the house were after the sun was low enough in the sky that he had no reason to look out the windows. Yet here he was, scrubbing glass.

  From the fourth rung, he dropped his sponge in the bucket at the foot of the ladder and grinned.

  “Why, Rudy Stutzman, what has come over you?” Abbie let the reins go lax.

  He climbed down and came to stand beside the buggy. “I won’t be a bachelor much longer. Figured it was time I learn to behave like a man who cares what pleases a woman.”

  Sentiment filled her throat, making her words hoarse. “I would never ask you to change anything about yourself.”

  “You didn’t. But a man can decide.” He offered her a hand to help her out of the buggy.


  She reached under the bench. “I found a jar of cherries Mamm left behind and made a pie. It’s still warm.”

  When he took it from her, he cradled her hands along with the pie plate. The tingle that started in her fingers and flowed up her arms startled her.

  “I don’t think Ordnung forbids having pie in the middle of the morning.”

  How had she never noticed the twinkle in his blue eyes before? Or the depth of the dimple that would be covered with a red beard once they were married?

  “With kaffi?” she asked.

  “If you like.” Rudy gestured toward the door. “Come and see what I’ve done inside. I will start the kaffi.”

  “You’ve done something inside?” Abbie felt like a curious schoolgirl and spurted ahead of Rudy.

  Behind her, he chuckled. She turned her head and smiled at him over her shoulder. Only five days ago her mother had urged her to recognize blessing when it came. Now she did.

  Mailing a single letter seemed like a feeble excuse to go into Limon. It was possible Willem would find something of interest in the mercantile, but less likely that he would decide to part with cash for the purchase. Determination to come up with a credible down payment for additional acres magnified his sense of stewardship. Every dollar mattered.

  And so did the letter. It might be his best hope. When he left Ohio, Willem’s father gave him the value of his share of the family farm. They both knew the money would go further in Colorado than Pennsylvania. Willem never asked for another penny—until now. He proposed a business arrangement—a loan, not a gift. He would even include his father on the title of the new land if that was what would satisfy either the senior Peters or the bank officer. And since he did not know when a specific need would draw him to Limon again, Willem chose to make the trip just to mail a letter.

  Outside the post office, he tied his horse to a hitch and fingered the envelope. The laboriously crafted words ran through his mind. It took him three drafts before he felt secure that he did not sound alarming or in need. The matter was one of timing and opportunity.

  “Hello, Willem.” Jake approached. “What brings you into town?”

  Willem tapped the letter against an open palm. “A letter home.”

  “I’m sure your folks will be glad to hear from you.”

  Willem nodded and glanced at the post office.

  “Something wrong, Willem?”

  “Wrong? No. Why do you ask?”

  “You seem distracted. Do you have regrets about attending the service last Sunday?”

  “Of course not. I was grateful to be included.”

  “I heard about Abbie and Rudy,” Jake said softly.

  “I knew how she felt about your church.”

  “Still.”

  Willem scratched one ear. “I’d better mail my letter. Then I’m going to ask around about odd jobs. Maybe somebody needs help getting ready for the winter.”

  Jake brightened. “The Melton Wood ranch does. I just heard this morning that they lost one of their ranch hands.”

  Willem shook his head. “Abbie is working for them.”

  “I know. But you’d be out on the ranch, not in the house. It couldn’t hurt to inquire.”

  “I can paint,” Rudy said. “Fresh white walls. You would like that, wouldn’t you?”

  “You don’t have to do that, Rudy.” Abbie scraped up the last bit of pie from her plate.

  “But you would like it, wouldn’t you?” Rudy watched her face for the slightest light of pleasure.

  She broke down and smiled. “Yes, I suppose I would.”

  “Then I’ll do it. Next time I go into town I’ll order the paint.”

  “You don’t have to do all this, Rudy.” Abbie reached across the table and took his hand. “We agreed we would get married without a lot of fuss. A simple start.”

  Rudy downed the last of the coffee in his cup. “And we will. I don’t see how a clean coat of paint will complicate anything.”

  He did not tell her that he had started a list of what he wanted to do to make his house, which could barely be construed as a cabin, into a home. He would have to do something about the sagging, creaking bed, for instance, but it would be unseemly to speak of that. And she deserved to have matching shelves on the kitchen wall spacious enough to hold more than a dented stockpot and the one iron skillet he owned. The sale of a cow or two would provide some cash for immediate needs and perhaps allow him to hire someone to make drawings for expanding the cabin. He should have spoken up sooner. He should have risked telling her how he felt or asked her how matters stood between her and Willem. Now he would never know if she might have accepted him without first finding herself in the confusing circumstances of her parents’ abandonment of the settlement.

  But he had not. And it did not matter, because he would do his best to make sure that Abbie never found reason to regret her decision to marry him. She might not love him the same way she loved Willem—or at least had loved Willem—but the blessing of her affection in any form was more than he deserved.

  He wondered what his own face would look like once a full grown beard covered it to indicate his married status. A year from now there could be a baby on the way. Rudy hoped all their children would have Abbie’s gentle features.

  The only thing missing was a church to raise their children in. The Chupps. Eber and Ruthanna. The Weavers. All gone from the community’s midst. Willem was as good as gone to the Mennonites. Rudy and Abbie would have to lean on the Lord to see them through the years without church. Even as Rudy told himself that God was faithful and gracious in His will, he yearned to sit on a bench in a room full of men and women who shared his desire for worship.

  Willem shook Melton Wood’s hand on the wide porch of the Wood house. “I appreciate your seeing me so quickly.”

  “No point in wasting time,” Melton said. “I need a hand. If you’re serious about wanting the work, I’m happy to take you on. You did a good job digging coal for us.”

  “How soon would you want me to start?” Willem tilted his head and scratched behind his ear.

  “Let’s see.” Melton looked up at the overhang shading them. “This is Thursday afternoon. I think Monday will be soon enough. How is that for you?”

  Willem nodded. “That would work well. I have to confess I’ve never worked on a ranch before.”

  “But you’re a farmer,” Melton said. “I need somebody to help me look after the fences.”

  “I can fix fences,” Willem said.

  “I have no doubt.” Melton’s tanned face scrunched as he narrowed his eyes. “I meant to do a lot of repairs over the summer that I never seemed to get to. Too many sick animals to tend to. Then last week a half-dozen head wandered off of my land through a break in the barbed wire, so the matter has become more urgent. It’s expensive to lose cattle just when you have them fattened up for market. I was lucky to recover them.”

  “I’m only too happy to help with anything that needs doing.”

  “You haven’t even asked what the job pays.” Melton’s mouth turned up.

  Willem scratched behind his ear. “I trust you to be fair.”

  “Most of the hands live on the ranch as a good part of their pay, but I’m sure we can come to an agreement that is fair to everyone. You can take your meals here if you like. My foreman will pay you in cash twice a month.”

  “Do you mind if I ride around this afternoon and get a better idea of the layout of the ranch?”

  “Not at all. It’s not a large property as ranches go, but you should still be careful not to wander so far that you can’t get home to look after your own animals.”

  Willem extended his hand again. “I won’t disappoint you.”

  “I wouldn’t take you on if I thought you might.” Melton shook Willem’s hand. “I’ll walk you back to your horse.”

  As they walked down the steps and into the open yard, Willem glanced around in involuntary speculation about where Abbie spent her time when she was here.


  I’ll copy the letter over so it’s not so messy.” Abbie smoothed the corner of the page she had crumpled while she wrote at Rudy’s table on Monday morning. They had selected the minister in Ordway they thought would be most able to get away for a trip that was likely to take four days even if the minister did not stay for a visit with the Amish families. Abbie did not expect that he would, given that no one had come even to preach in such a long time.

  “Why don’t you read it back just to be sure we’ve thought of everything?” Rudy straightened his chair up against the edge of the table.

  Abbie cleared her throat.

  We greet you in the faith that binds us together.

  We are Rudy Stutzman and Abigail Weaver of the Elbert County settlement. God’s will has become plain to us, and we rejoice that God leads our hearts to be wed. Our hope is to speak our vows before the end of November. We are writing to you because we could not see ourselves as truly married in the eyes of God if we could not be married in the Amish church we both love so dearly.

  Following the custom of our people, we know the harvest must be in before we turn to our celebration. As you know, the drought in our county has pressed our labors from every side.

  Our farms have yielded little to harvest, but we share your joy that Ordway’s crops have been abundant. We pray God blesses your family through His gracious provision in these busy weeks.

  May we ask you to pray about whether God might lead you to come to Elbert County to lead our wedding service? Being married here, among the families who share our settlement and our future congregation, is the desire of our hearts.

  We implore you in the name of Christ to consider this ministry to our shared people.

  Abbie looked up. “You don’t think it sounds too strong?”

  Rudy twisted his lips in thought. “Maybe we should offer to travel to Ordway after all.”

  “Are you having second thoughts?”

  “Would it not be satisfying to be married in an established congregation?”

  “But they would not be our congregation,” Abbie said. “Who would want to come if they don’t even know us? I don’t want our families here to think we are turning our backs on them at one of the most important moments of our lives.”