by Peterson, Tracie; Davis, Mary; Hake, Kelly Eileen; Stengl, Jill; Warren, Susan May
“Come on, Betsey. Ma’s already got a comfortable spot picked out for you under the cottonwood tree,” Amy said. Taking hold of Betsey’s arm she led her to the waiting chair.
The farmyard was soon a riot of people and livestock. Randy and Charles had picket stakes already set up for the horses, and the wagons were used as tables or places to sit when taking a break from building.
Amy was to be in charge of the children, thus freeing the women to quilt, cook, and visit. Some of the more ambitious ladies were even known to get into the act of helping with the construction. Why, Cora Peterson sometimes shinnied right up to the roof supports to put in a few well-placed nails. She said it kept her young, and at seventy years of youth, nobody was going to argue with her.
As the sun rose above the horizon in a golden, orange glow, the final preparations were taken care of. Tents were quickly erected for the purpose of neighbors spending the night, thus saving them the long trip back to town, only to turn around the next day and return to hear the circuit rider preach at the Carmichael farm.
Tables bowed from the weight of food, and the array of tantalizing, mouth-watering delights was never to be equaled. Amy had to laugh, knowing that the overflowing plenty was not even the main meal but for the purposes of snacking only. Huge cinnamon rolls and fresh baked breads lined the tables, along with jars of preserves and jams of every flavor, as well as a variety of butters, apple, peach, and even plum. Someone had thought to bring several long rolls of smoked sausage, which were quickly cut into slices and eaten between bread, before the first log was in place. All in all, everyone deemed it a great day to build a barn.
Chapter 2
The preacher’s a’comin! The preacher’s a’comin!” The children ran toward the two approaching horses.
The excitement was uncontainable among the Deer Ridge residents, and even Angie stopped flirting with Jack Anderson. Another of her boyfriends, who just happened to be Jack’s brother Ed, rode into the farmyard with the biggest man anyone in Deer Ridge had ever laid eyes on.
Amy was out of earshot, and so she missed seeing the circuit rider as his six foot, six inch frame bounded down from his huge Morgan horse. Angie, on the other hand, was ready and waiting.
“This is Pastor Tyler Andrews,” Ed Anderson told them. Ed was the town’s bank teller and the one person Angie figured had a pretty good chance of getting her out of Deer Ridge.
“Howdy do, Parson,” Charles Carmichael said, taking the man’s mammoth hand in his own.
The giant man smiled. “Please call me Tyler.” His voice was rich and warm. “Pastor and Parson sound much too stuffy for friends.” Taking off his hat, he revealed sweat-soaked golden curls. Angie thought they were divine.
She batted her thick black lashes while her dark eyes slid appraisingly over Tyler. He dwarfed everyone around him, but his brown eyes were welcoming and friendly.
Without warning, Angie reached out boldly and took Tyler’s arm. “You simply must meet my mother, Dora Carmichael. Oh, and over here is Mrs. Stewart. Her husband owns the bank. And this is Mrs. Taggert—her husband is Doc. He’s that man over there in the dark coat.” Tyler had to laugh as the tall, willowy girl fairly pulled him through the mass of people, completely ignoring Ed Anderson.
If anyone in Deer Ridge was surprised by Angie’s outburst, no one said a thing. Angie was always livening up things, and today wasn’t going to be any different. She had a way about her that endeared her to people about as quickly as she annoyed them. Angie, though, never had any hard feelings; she was simply being Angie, and most people understood that.
Only a handful of people missed getting introduced to the massive preacher by Angie. Most of them were under the age of ten, though, and the only adult not yet privileged to make Tyler’s acquaintance was Amy.
Amy had taken the children to play hide-and-seek and Red Rover in the orchard. She loved the children best. They were demanding, but their wants were simple. They continually asked for drinks and help to the outhouse, but Amy found them easier to be with than the adults. She could simply play with them all morning, and they accepted her just as she was. At the noon meal, the weary and worn children would join their folks and be ready to nap in the afternoon.
“Watch me, Amy! I’m gonna jump out of this tree,” eight-year-old Charlie called to his aunt.
“If you break your leg, don’t come crying about it afterward,” Amy called over her shoulder as she hoisted Dolly to her other hip. She was glad she’d chosen to wear her older blue gingham for playing with the children, since Dolly was taking turns chewing first on the collar of the dress and then the sleeve.
“Poor baby,” Amy said as she smoothed Dolly’s downy brown hair back into place. “Are you getting new teeth? I bet Grammy has some hard biscuits for you to chew on. We’ll just see if she doesn’t.”
Amy put two of the older girls in charge of watching over the others and went in search of a teething biscuit for Dolly. As she rounded the corner of the Carmichaels’ two-story log home, Amy could see that the barn was already sporting a frame on three sides. She glanced around, wondering if the new minister had arrived. Spying her mother, Amy made her way to inquire about the preacher and the biscuit.
“Dolly needs a teething biscuit, Ma,” Amy said, trying to pull her collar out of her niece’s mouth. “Those back molars of hers are causing her fits.”
“There’s a whole batch of hard biscuits on the table in the house,” Dora answered and reached up for her granddaughter. Dolly would have none of it, however, and turned to bury her face in Amy’s hair.
“You ought to tie your hair back, Amy,” Dora suggested. “She has your hair a mess.”
“I tried putting it back three times,” Amy answered. “It keeps coming free, mostly because of a little boy named Petey, who thinks it’s fun to snatch my ribbon.” Amy laughed. Betsey and Dora laughed, too.
Amy turned to go to the house when she remembered the circuit rider and turned back. “Is he here yet, Ma?”
“Who?” Dora asked, wondering if her daughter was finally taking an interest in one of the community’s eligible men.
“The circuit rider, of course. Who else did you think I was talking about?”
“Oh, no one in particular.” Her mother smiled. “I was just hoping, that’s all.”
“Now, Ma. Don’t get started on me and husband hunting. I’ll know when the right man comes along. He just hasn’t come along yet. So is the preacher here or not?”
“Sure is. See that spot of gold on top of the east edge of the barn frame?”
Amy craned her neck to see the man her mother was pointing out. She could barely see him, but he was there and she felt satisfied just knowing it.
“I’m sure glad he made it. It’s going to be fun having a preacher and regular church services again.”
“We haven’t done so bad with the home services,” Dora said, supporting her husband’s perseverance in holding some type of Sabbath service for his children and grandchildren.
“Of course not, Ma. I just think it will be nice to get together with the others. Is he nice? What’s he look like? I can’t really see him too well from here.” Amy strained to get a better look without being too obvious.
“Well,” her mother answered, “I must say your sister was certainly taken with him. Angie latched on to him first thing, so you’d best ask her if you want to know what he’s like. I just barely said hello, before Angie was dragging him off again.” Dora laughed and added, “About the one thing I could tell about him is that he’s a big man. Taller than your pa and shoulders broad as a bull.”
“That’s for sure.” Betsey struggled to get into a more comfortable position.
Amy decided not to seek out the new preacher. After all, if Angie had already set her cap on him, what chance would the poor man have of freeing himself up to meet the likes of Amy?
I don’t need to meet him now, Amy decided, going back to tend the children. I’ll get to hear him preach tomorrow and
maybe even tonight. Let Angie make a fool out of herself. It seems to give her such pleasure.
Amy was enjoying the children so much, she was surprised when someone rang the dinner bell.
“You children run on now and find your folks,” she said. “It’s time to eat—and I heard tell somebody brought cherry cobbler for dessert.” She steered the children in the direction of the lunch tables.
She managed to deposit Dolly into Dora’s arms with only a few complaining whimpers from Dolly, and then she went to make sure the other children made it back to their mothers. She glanced around again for a glimpse of the preacher, but he was seated among a huge group of people and she couldn’t get a good look at him. She would just have to wait to satisfy her curiosity.
“So that would make you thirty-one years old,” Angie said, after mentally calculating the figures she’d just heard Tyler recite.
“That’s right, Angie.” Tyler grinned. He liked this young woman, so lively and vibrant. She seemed to pull everyone around her into an atmosphere of celebration. “I’ve been riding the circuit for seven years, with most of my time spent in Missouri. My folks live outside of Kansas City.”
“Kansas City!” Angie squealed. “Oh, do tell me what Kansas City is like. I want so much to go there. Have you been to any other big cities? I want to hear about them, too!” Angie rambled on, giving Tyler no time to answer.
But before the meal was finished, Angie had managed to learn a great deal about life in Kansas City. She also knew that Tyler Andrews had become a minister after losing his bride of several months to an influenza epidemic.
Stuffed from the heaps of food ladled onto his plate, Tyler excused himself to clean up. Meanwhile, Ed and Jack Anderson had taken as much ignoring as they could tolerate from Angie, and as soon as Tyler got to his feet, they came to reclaim her.
Tyler listened to Angie fuss over the two men and laughed to himself. He shook his head in wonderment, nearly running over Charles Carmichael.
“Pastor Tyler,” Charles said, unable to bring himself to use only the man’s first name. “I hope you’re finding everything you need. The conveniences are behind the house, although I’m sure you could’ve figured that one out. Feel free to walk around.” Charles patted his full belly. “I think I’ll take a little nap while the others rest.”
“Thank you, Mister Carmichael,” Tyler said.
“No, no,” Charles protested, “just call me Charles. Everybody else does.”
“Only if you’ll call me Tyler.”
Charles laughed and stuck out his right hand. “It’s a deal, Tyler. Although never in my life have I called a man of God by his first name.”
“Then it’s about time.” Tyler shook the man’s hand vigorously. “Formalities hold little account with me. We’re all one family, after all.”
“That we are. That we are,” Charles agreed and went off in search of a place to rest. He was going to like this new preacher, he could tell already.
Amy placed the two full buckets of water on either end of the yoke. Careful to avoid spilling any of the precious liquid, she hoisted the yoke to her shoulders. She carried the water to a huge cauldron, normally used for laundry and soap making, and dumped it in. After several trips to the well, she lit the kindling and logs beneath the pot so that the water would heat for washing the dishes.
Satisfied that the fire was well lit, she went back to hauling water. She hummed to herself, enjoying the temporary quiet in the aftermath of lunch. The final two buckets hoisted at last to her shoulders, she was startled to find the weight suddenly lifted. She whirled around.
Her mouth fell open as she stared up at Tyler Andrews’s giant form. After several seconds, she stammered, “I, I, ah—” She couldn’t think of anything to say.
Tyler grinned. “You amaze me, Angie. I wouldn’t have thought a little lady like you could’ve raised this thing, much less carry it very far. How in the world did you manage to give your beaus the slip?” He chuckled, amused by the stunned expression on the face of the woman he thought was Angie.
Amy felt her legs start to shake. What in the world was wrong with her? She hoped she wasn’t coming down with a spell of ague, or malaria, as some of the city doctors referred to it. It ran rampant at times, and while Amy and Angie had been lucky to avoid it, Amy knew her mother suffered severe bouts of it.
She struggled to find something to say and finally blurted out the only thing that came to mind. “You must be the circuit rider. I’m glad you decided to come to Deer Ridge.”
Tyler looked at her strangely for a moment. What kind of game was Angie playing now? She’d nearly broken his arm dragging him from person to person this morning, and then at lunch she flirted with him unmercifully. Now, she acted as though she’d never met him.
Amy felt her heart pounding louder and faster, until she was certain Tyler could hear it from where he stood. She put her hand to her breast as if to still the racing beat. Tyler Andrews was as handsome as any man she had ever met.
When Tyler just watched her, his brows knit, Amy suddenly realized that he was confused. Apparently, though not surprisingly, Angie hadn’t told him she had a twin sister. Amy took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, you must think my manners are atrocious. I’m Amy Carmichael, Angie’s twin sister.”
A broad smile crossed Tyler’s worried face. “That’s a relief. I thought for moment you were touched in the head. You know, too much sun.”
Amy smiled. “No, just not as forward as my sister. Sorry if we confused you. We’re really not up to mischief.” She heard her own words, and she thought her voice sounded normal enough, despite the alien feelings inside her body and the clutter of confusion in her mind. “Well,” she added with a grin, “at least I’m not up to mischief. Once you get to know us, you’ll be able to tell us apart. We may look alike, but that’s about it.”
Tyler laughed out loud. “So there are two of you—and I’ll eat my hat if you aren’t identical.”
“We are that, Pastor,” Amy agreed and added, “in a physical sense. We do have our differences, though, believe me.”
“I can see that, too.”
Tyler had forgotten about the weight he still held, but Amy noticed the water and motioned for Tyler to follow her. “You’ll burn your muscles out good, standing there like that, Pastor,” she said. She wondered whether she should take one of the buckets and ease his burden.
“Just lead the way,” he answered, “and please don’t call me pastor. I’ve just worked through that with your pa and finally he’s calling me Tyler. I’d like it if you’d call me that, too.” He followed Amy to the cauldron.
She took the pails off the yoke hooks and emptied them into the cauldron before answering. “All right, Tyler.” She smiled a little, tasting the name for the first time. “And you call me Amy.”
Tyler placed the yoke on the ground and extended his hand. “It’s a deal.”
Amy held out her hand, and Tyler took hold of her small tanned arm with his left hand, as his right hand grasped her fingers. The touch of his warm hands made her shiver. “There’s a chill to the air, don’t you think?” she said, despite the warm sun that beat down on their heads. She thought she saw a glint of amusement in Tyler’s eyes.
What in the world was wrong with her?
Chapter 3
Despite the jittery feeling that ran along her nerves, Amy found herself comfortable in the company of Tyler Andrews. She showed him around the farm, pointing out things she loved the most.
“There’s a path down past the old barn that leads to our orchards,” she told him, guiding him back to the construction site of the new barn. “But I can show you later.” She noticed that a few of the men were already back at work, and while she was enjoying her time with Tyler, he was probably anxious to get back to the company of men.
In reality, nothing could have been further from Tyler’s mind. He was delighted at his good fortune and Amy’s company. He’d ridden the circuit for over seven years, always emb
racing each new community, always enjoying his service to God. But in the back of his mind he had always had the desire to settle down. That desire had made Tyler carefully consider each and every community that he pastored—as a possible home.
Now, as he watched Amy Carmichael speak in her soft, quiet way about the life she loved here on the plains, Tyler began to think he might see the possibility of a lifetime partner—and maybe even a home.
Amy brushed back a loose strand of brown hair and took her red hair ribbon out of her apron pocket. “I tried three times to retie my hair—and each time one of the ornery boys I was caring for this morning pulled it from me and left my hair disheveled. I do apologize for being so unkept.” Amy tied the ribbon in place. “Now that the children are napping, I should be safe.”
Tyler chuckled, and Amy was surprised to see a strange look of amusement spread across his face. His laughing brown eyes caught the sunshine and reflected flecks of amber in their warmth. There were tiny creases at the corners, betraying his love of laughter.
What manner of man was this preacher? So full of life and laughter. So comfortable and happy to share the small details of life on the farm. Amy smoothed down the edges of her dress collar, now hopelessly wrinkled from Dolly’s chewing; she didn’t even feel the hand that reached up and pulled loose her hair ribbon.
As the chestnut bulk fell around her face, Amy gave a gasp of surprise. She looked up to see a mocking grin and arched eyebrows, as Tyler dangled her ribbon high above her head.
“Boys will be boys no matter the age, Miss Amy,” Tyler said and then put the ribbon in his shirt pocket. Amy started to protest, but Tyler had already moved away to retrieve a hammer. She stared after him, long after he’d climbed the ladder to help her father.
“Better shut your mouth, Amy, or you’ll catch flies in it,” Angie teased. “Isn’t he wonderful!” It was an exclamation, not a question, and Angie fairly beamed as she continued. “He spent lunch with me and told me all about his life. Do you know, his parents still live near Kansas City and they go to the opera and the symphony. Can you imagine it, Amy?”