“I think you and Owen had better explain yourselves,” she said in a tight voice.
Ernest sighed. “Don’t blame Owen. He had nothing to do with this.”
“Except to fill my son’s head with stories of the amazing, far places he’s visited. No wonder the boy wants to leave home.” She glared at him up on the driver’s seat.
“Maybe he wants to leave because his mother never lets him out of her sight,” Owen snapped back.
“Don’t quarrel, you two,” Ernest said. “Ruth, you have kept a tight rein on Faron. I know you needed him on the farm, but you could have let him stay with your folks a time or two when you sent Ella to stay with them every summer.”
She looked away. “You should have consulted me before telling him he could travel with you.”
“If I had asked, you would have said no.”
She glared at him again. “Better to ask forgiveness than permission, right?”
Ernest shrugged as a tiny grin curved the side of his mouth. “Something like that. Face it, the boy wants to go. You could forbid it and he would stay until he found a way to go by himself. This way I’ll be able to watch out for him and you can worry less. Don’t you think it is the best solution, Owen?”
“Leave me out of this. I agreed to take care of the farm while you were gone. That’s it.”
“Ruth and I farm together. That means you will have to give her a hand with anything she needs.”
“I won’t need any help from him.” She turned to stare at the snow-covered countryside.
“False pride is a sin, Ruth. Not asking for help when you need it is prideful,” Ernest reminded her.
She drew a deep breath as she recognized the truth in his words. “Do you know anything about sheep, Owen?”
“I count them when I can’t get to sleep,” he drawled.
She held out her hand to Ernest. “Really? This is the man you expect to work day and night at my side when the ewes start birthing?”
“Owen knows as much about sheep as I do. He’s worked on sheep farms in Ohio and Illinois. Haven’t you?”
“It doesn’t matter. Face it, she doesn’t want my help.”
“Because you’ll leave when I need you the most. That’s what you do.” She fought back tears as her old resentments surfaced.
He pulled the horse to a stop and half turned on the seat to face her. “I won’t leave this time, Ruth. You have my word.”
She wished with all her heart that she could believe him. She folded her arms across her middle. “I won’t lie. I’m not sure I can believe you, but my faith says that I must trust that you mean what you say.”
“I do. And it is my faith, too.” He turned around and got the horse moving again.
“It has been a hard winter,” Ernest said. “It has been tough on the livestock. Such long cold spells make for good skating but not for healthy animals. We’re running low on feed for the cattle and the sheep. You will have to buy hay until the grass greens up.”
“Why haven’t you told me this before?” Ruth demanded.
“I saw no point in having both of us concerned.”
“Who should I approach about it?” Owen asked.
“Bob Navarro at the feed store,” Ernest said. “He’ll know who has extra feed on their hands. Ask at the next church service, too. Amish farmers generally charge less than Englisch do but most of the Englisch in our area are goot honest people. I’ll write out a list of names.”
Ruth scowled at Ernest. “I can give him the names of the people we do business with. If we must manage the farm together, I expect to remain in charge.”
“Never doubted that for a second,” Owen said under his breath, but she heard him.
The wind was picking up. She pulled the brim of her bonnet down to keep the snow from hitting her face. “I hope that Faron and Ella have started for home. This seems like it could get nasty.”
Owen turned into her driveway and drew the horse to a stop in front of the house. Ernest got out. “I’ll take care of the horse.”
“Joshua’s tractor won’t have any trouble getting here. Joshua and Thomas have promised to have a look at the sleigh and help me make repairs.” Owen got down and held out his hand to help her out of the sleigh. She had no choice but to lean on him as she hobbled on one foot.
“See,” Ernest said brightly. “Things are never bleak when we have friends to help us. The two of you will do fine without Faron and me.”
She glanced at Owen. He didn’t comment. Ernest’s bright smile faded. “I have to go check on my mother. She hasn’t been feeling well.”
“Take the sleigh,” Ruth said. His mother lived in a small house at the edge of town.
“I’d rather take my tractor. I plan on spending the night with her. Owen will stay with you until the kinder get home.”
“I don’t need anyone to stay with me.”
“Okay.” Owen stepped away from her, leaving her teetering on one leg.
“At least get me in the house.” She closed her eyes so she wouldn’t have to see him smirk.
“Don’t let her send you away, Owen,” Ernest said firmly.
“I won’t.”
He lifted her arm over his shoulder and hooked one arm around her waist. “It’s hard to ask for help. I know that only too well,” he said in a low voice, leaving her to wonder what he was referring to and wishing she wasn’t curious about anything in his life.
* * *
OWEN HELPED RUTH inside and over to her sofa in the living room. She pushed away from him and sat down without looking at him. “Danki.”
“That almost choked you, didn’t it?”
She untied her bonnet and pulled it off. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Having to thank me for anything. I’ll take your bonnet and coat. No point in telling me you can manage, I know you can but I’m here so I might as well make myself useful.”
She slipped out of her coat and handed it to him without comment. He motioned for her to stretch out. “You should lie down and put your leg up.”
“I’ll be fine here until my children come home. You may go.”
“I have my orders. I’m staying. Save your breath.”
She pressed her lips into a tight line and folded her arms across her chest. He brought her a pillow for her leg and one for her head from a cedar chest in the corner. She jerked the pillows out of his hand and arranged them without his help and then flipped a knit throw from the back of the sofa across her legs. Ruth’s annoyance was palpable.
He took a seat in a nearby chair and waited uncomfortably for his relief to arrive. He watched the clock tick quietly on the mantel.
“Where are you off to next?” she asked, surprising him.
“Back to Indiana when Ernest returns in a month.”
“The longest you ever stayed here was for two weeks.”
He tipped his head to stare at her. “Ruth, I lived in Cedar Grove from the time I was thirteen until I was eighteen.”
“I remember how old you were when you left.”
“Do you?”
“Of course.” She looked away.
He sighed. “I never apologized for that, did I?”
“It doesn’t matter. It was a long time ago.”
“It does matter, and I am sorry. I should have had the courage to tell you I was leaving instead of taking off and letting Nathan be the messenger.”
“As I said, it was a long time ago, but it wasn’t the only time you left when you were needed.”
“I know I’ve let you down in the past, but I promised Ernest I’d take care of his place and help you until he returns. I won’t go back on my word.”
“Faron will change his mind about leaving when he’s had a chance to consider it properly. You won’t have to stay on our account, and we can look after Ern
est’s place, too. If Faron does leave, which I’m sure he won’t, I can hire a man to help me. Someone I know I can...” Her words trailed away.
Trust? Depend on? Was that what she was going to say? She didn’t want him around. She couldn’t have made it any clearer. Maybe it had been a mistake to think he could patch things up between them, but he wasn’t willing to give up after only one day. Ruth was nothing if not stubborn, but he could be stubborn, too.
He leaned back and chuckled.
It wasn’t the reaction she was expecting. She glared at him. “What’s so funny?”
“I’m here until Ernest returns, Ruth. You can’t get rid of me with a few well-placed insults.”
She huffed and turned her back to him. “I didn’t insult you.”
“Ah, but you wanted to.”
The newlyweds arrived half an hour later with Faron. He stood with his hat off in front of his mother. “I’d like to talk about my plans in the morning.”
Ruth nodded. “You know my feelings, but I agree we both need to sleep on it.”
Owen picked up his coat and hat. Ernest’s farm was less than a quarter of a mile from Ruth’s place.
Ella slipped off her coat. “Zack will drive you home in the buggy.”
Owen shook his head. “Take pity on poor Licorice. She’s most likely already asleep in a warm stall after her trying day.”
“Very well but bundle up. The weather is getting bad.”
He left on foot, but a hundred yards from Ruth’s house he wished he hadn’t been so insistent. The wind was blowing harder and the snow was piling up in growing drifts. It wasn’t a fit night out for man nor beast. As if to prove his point, he found Meeka, Ernest’s big guard dog, lying across the corner of the porch out of the wind. Instead of coming out to greet him, she whined repeatedly.
“I know it’s a cold night, but if I had a coat as thick as yours, I don’t think I would mind it. Great Pyrenees dogs can happily live in much colder climates than this.”
He opened the door of the house. “Come in for a bit.” She still didn’t get up. He closed the door without going in. Something was wrong. Was she hurt? He walked toward her. She sat up and growled low in her throat. She had never done that to him before. “Are you sick, girl?”
She looked back at something in the corner and whined softly. Over the wind he heard what sounded like a sobbing child. “What have you got there, Meeka? Let me see.”
He came closer. There was a child in an Amish bonnet and bulky winter coat trying to bury herself beneath Meeka’s thick fur. Where had she come from? Why was she here? He looked around. Where were her parents?
He bent and held out his hand. “Hello, little one. You must be cold out here. Come into the house and warm up.”
The child stared at him fearfully over Meeka’s back. He held out his hand. “It’s okay. I won’t hurt you.”
She shook her head but didn’t say anything. Meeka growled again. He could pick the girl up and carry her into the house, but he wasn’t sure Meeka would allow him to do that. She was in her protective mode. Maybe what he needed to do was convince the dog to come in. He racked his brain over who the child might belong to. He didn’t remember seeing her at the party.
He went in the house and returned a few moments later with two pieces of baked chicken breast left over from supper the previous night. He tossed one to the porch floor in front of the dog. She sniffed it once and gulped it down. Owen smiled at her. “Goot hund. Goot dog.”
He held out the second piece of chicken as he pushed the door open. “Come on, Meeka. Come in.”
As the dog walked slowly toward the door, the little girl clung to her side and shuffled along with her. Owen tamped down his impatience. Somewhere people had to be frantically searching for this child. In weather like this, even the searchers were at risk.
Meeka stretched out her neck and took the chicken. She licked his fingers and stepped closer. He ran a hand over her massive head and scratched behind her ear. Her tail began wagging. “See? Meeka likes me. I won’t hurt you. Come in the house and get warm.”
Meeka padded inside and crawled onto Ernest’s couch. The amount of white dog hair on the blue cushions was proof she’d been there many times before. The little girl, who looked to be only three or four years old, climbed onto the couch and positioned herself with Meeka’s head in her lap. She was shivering. Her round face featured a pug nose, ruddy red cheeks and a bow mouth, but her lips were chapped and tinged with blue. Wisps of dark curly hair escaped from her kapp.
He knelt beside the dog and spoke to the child in a calm voice. “I’ll turn up the heat. Would you like a blanket?”
She nodded once. He went to the spare bedroom and pulled a brown-and-cream-colored quilt off the bed. She held out both hands when she saw it. He was making progress. He took off her wet mittens and rubbed her hands between his to warm them despite Meeka’s low growl. The dog sounded less threatening, but he didn’t know her well enough to be sure she wouldn’t bite him. “Lean forward and I will tuck this around you.”
She hesitated and he thought she would refuse but she bent over and laid her face on the top of Meeka’s head. He draped the throw around her and she pulled it tight. He smiled at her. If he could just gain her trust maybe she could tell him more. “Would you like something hot to drink? It won’t take me long to make hot chocolate.”
He received a tentative nod and rose to his feet. He laid a hand on his chest. “I’m Owen Mast.”
She tipped her head slightly. “Owen?”
“That’s right.”
“Owen is safe.”
“Yep. You’re safe here. What’s your name?”
“Grace,” she replied in a tiny voice and clutched Meeka’s head again.
“What’s your last name?”
“I can’t say,” she whispered, putting a finger to her lips.
That took him aback. Why couldn’t she give her last name? “Can you tell me where you came from?”
“Outside.”
He pushed aside his frustration and kept his voice calm. “Before you went outside, where were you? Does your family live close by? Where’s your mother?”
“Mommy’s sleeping.”
“Sleeping at your house?”
She shook her head no.
“Where is your father?”
“Gone.”
“Okay, what’s his name?”
She shook her head. “I can’t say. When is Mamm coming to get me?” She pressed her face into Meeka’s fur.
“I don’t know.”
“She’ll be here soon?”
“I hope so, but she may have to wait until it quits snowing.”
“What if she’s scared?”
“Are you scared?” he asked, dropping to her level.
She nodded. He smiled gently. “Don’t be scared. Gott is with your mother and with you.”
He stood up. It seemed he wasn’t going to get much information out of her. He went into the small kitchen, filled a pan with milk from the fridge and put it on the stove to warm. Ernest, like all the members of Bishop Weaver’s church, was allowed to use propane to heat his home and run his appliances. Owen was thankful he didn’t have to stoke a fire and wait for the stove to heat up.
He walked to the door and looked out into the growing storm, hoping to see searchlights or hear shouting. He heard only the wind. How far had she come? How could he let her family know she was safe if she couldn’t tell him more than her first name?
“Is your mommy sleeping at your grossmammi’s house?” he asked, thinking Grace might have been staying with grandparents or other family in the area.
Again she shook her head no. “I’m hungry.”
What could he fix her to eat? “Okay, I’ll find something for you.” He added the cocoa and sugar to the milk, stirring it before taking i
t off the heat. He searched through Ernest’s kitchen cabinets and came up with bread, peanut butter and marshmallow creme. “How about some church spread?”
She nodded eagerly. One problem solved. He mixed the peanut butter and marshmallow creme together in a small bowl with some sugar and then spread the mixture thickly on a slice of bread, the way the treat was usually served at the noon meal following prayer services.
He carried the sandwich to the sofa. Meeka raised her head hopefully. He held the food out of her reach and ordered her off the couch. To his surprise, the dog got down and moved to lie in front of the doorway, still watching him intently. “How old are you, Grace?”
Grace held up three fingers before she took the food from him gingerly.
“Do you have brothers or sisters?” Were there other children lost in the storm?
She shook her head as she bit into the sandwich. He went back to get her hot chocolate, filling a mug half-full and adding extra milk to cool it enough for her to drink. When he returned to the sofa, she was finishing the last bite of her sandwich. He handed her the mug and she drank it eagerly.
He went to the door again and looked out into the night. What should he do? He had no idea who she was. He needed someone who knew the families in the community. Ruth and her family were the closest. He hated the idea of dropping this problem in Ruth’s lap after the day she’d had. She was likely to bite his head off the minute he stepped through the door.
He heard a noise behind him and turned around. Grace had dropped her mug as she bolted off the sofa and raced to wrap her arms around his legs. “Don’t leave me.”
“Take it easy.” He dropped to his knees beside her.
She let go of his legs and wrapped her arms in a choke hold around his neck. “Please don’t go, Owen.”
He pulled one arm loose. “I’m not going anywhere, Grace. I was trying to see if your folks are out looking for you. I won’t leave you.”
“Promise?” she asked in a tiny voice.
His heart twisted with pain. He had promised his little sister when she was no older than Grace that he would come back for her and never leave her again. He hadn’t been able to keep that promise.
The Hope Page 4