The Shepherd's Bride

Carl glanced back at the house. Joe wasn’t the only one who kept secrets. Carl had his own.

Chapter Two

Lizzie had rehearsed a dozen different things to say when she first saw her grandfather, but his hired man’s abrupt appearance had rattled her already frayed nerves. When her grandfather actually walked through the door, everything she had planned to say left her head. She stood silently as he looked her up and down.

He had changed a great deal from what she remembered. She used to think he was tall, but he was only average height and stooped with age. His beard was longer and streaked with gray now. It used to be black.

Nervously, she gestured toward the sink. “I hope you don’t mind that I washed a few dishes. You have hot water right from the faucet. It isn’t allowed in our home. Our landlord says it’s worldly, but it makes doing the dishes a pleasure.”

“You look just like your grandmother.” His voice was exactly as she remembered.

She smiled. “Do I?”

“It’s no good thing. She had red hair like yours. She was an unhappy, nagging woman. Why have you come? Have you brought sad news?”

“Nee,” Lizzie said quickly. “My sisters are all well. We live in Indiana. Onkel Morris and all of us work on a dairy farm there.”

Joe moved to the kitchen table and took a seat. “Did your uncle send you to me? He agreed to raise the lot of you. He can’t change his mind now.”

She sat across from him. “Nee, Onkel does not know I have come to see you.”

“How did you get here?”

“I took the bus. I asked about you at the bus station in Hope Springs. An Amish woman waiting to board the bus told me how to find your farm. I walked from town.”

He propped his elbows on the table and pressed his hands together. She noticed the dirt under his fingernails and the calluses on his rough hands. “How is it that you have come without your uncle’s knowledge? Do you still reside with him or have you married?”

“None of us are married. Onkel Morris would have forbidden this meeting had he known of my plan.”

“I see.” He closed his eyes and rested his chin on his knuckles.

She didn’t know if he was praying or simply waiting for more of an explanation. She rushed ahead, anxious that he hear exactly why she had made the trip. “I had to come. You are the only family we have. We desperately need your help. Onkel Morris is forcing Clara to marry a terrible man. I fear for her if she goes through with it. I’m hoping—praying really—that you can find it in your heart to take her in. She is a good cook and she will keep your house spotless. Your house could use a woman’s touch. Clara is an excellent housekeeper and as sweet-tempered as anyone. You must let her come. I’m begging you.”

He was silent for so long that she wondered if he had fallen asleep the way old people sometimes did. Finally, he spoke. “My daughter chose to ignore my wishes in order to marry your father. She made it clear that he was more important than my feelings. I can only honor what I believe to be her wishes. I will not aid you in your disobedience to the man who has taken your father’s place. You have come a long way for no reason. Carl will take you back to the bus station.”

Lizzie couldn’t believe her concerns were being dismissed out of hand. “Daadi, I beg you to reconsider. I did not come here lightly. I truly believe Clara is being sentenced to a life of misery, or worse.”

Joe rose to his feet. “Do not let your girlish emotions blind you to the wisdom of your elders. It is vain and prideful to question your uncle’s choice for your sister.”

“It is our uncle who is blind if he thinks Clara will be happy with his choice. She won’t be. He is a cruel man.”

“If your uncle believes the match is a good thing, you must trust his judgment. There will be a bus going that way this afternoon. If you hurry, you can get a seat. Go home and beg his forgiveness for your foolishness. All will be well in the end, for it is as Gott wills.”

“Please, Daadi, you have to help Clara.”

He turned away and walked out the door, leaving Lizzie speechless as she stared after him.

Dejected, she slipped into her coat and glanced around the cluttered kitchen. If only he would realize how much better his life would be with Clara to care for him.

Was he right? Was her failure God’s will?

With a heavy heart, she carried her suitcase and the box with her quilt in it out to the front porch. Her grandfather was nowhere in sight, but his hired man was leading a small white pony hitched to a cart in her direction.

He was a big, burly man with wide shoulders and narrow hips. He wore a black cowboy hat, jeans and a flannel shirt under a stained and worn sheepskin jacket. His hair was light brown and long enough to touch his collar, but it was clean. His size and stealth had frightened the wits out of her in the house earlier. Out in the open, he didn’t appear as menacing, but he didn’t smile and didn’t meet her gaze.

He and her grandfather must get along famously with few words spoken and never a smile between them.

It was all well and good to imagine staying until her grandfather changed his mind, but the reality was much different. He had ordered her to go home. How could she make him understand if he wouldn’t hear what she had to say? He hadn’t even offered the simple hospitality of his home for the night. He wanted her gone as quickly as possible. She would have to go home in defeat unless she could find some way to support herself and bring her sisters to Hope Springs. She didn’t know where to start. All her hopes had been pinned on her grandfather’s compassion. Sadly, he didn’t have any.

Carl stopped in front of the house and waited for her. She bit her lower lip. Was she really giving up so easily? “Where is my grandfather?”

“He’s gone out to the pasture to move the rest of his sheep.”

“When will he be back?”

“Hard to say.”

“I’d like to speak to him again.”

“Joe told me to take you to the bus station. It’s plain to me that he was done talking.”

She stamped her foot in frustration. “You don’t understand. I can’t go home.”

He didn’t say anything. He simply waited beside the pony. A brick wall would have shown more compassion. Defeated by his stoic silence, she descended the steps. He took her bag from her hand and placed it behind the seat of the cart. He reached for the box that contained her quilt and she reluctantly handed it over.

He waited until she had climbed aboard, then he took his place beside her on the wooden seat. With a flip of the reins, he set the pony in motion. She looked back once. The house, which had looked like a sanctuary when she first saw it, looked like the run-down farmstead it truly was. Tears stung her eyes. She tried not to let them fall, but she couldn’t hold back a sniffle. She wiped her nose on the back of her sleeve.

* * *

Carl cringed at the sound of Lizzie’s muffled sniffling. He would have been okay if she hadn’t started crying.

He didn’t want to involve himself in her troubles. Whatever it was, it was none of his business. He glanced her way and saw a tear slip down her cheek. She quickly wiped it away. She looked forlorn huddled on the seat next to him, like a lost lamb that couldn’t find the flock.

He looked straight ahead. “I’m sorry things didn’t turn out the way you wanted with your grandfather.”

“He’s a very uncaring man.”

“Joe is okay.”

“I’m glad you think so.”

“He doesn’t cotton to most people.”

“I’m not most people. I’m his flesh and blood. He doesn’t care that his own granddaughter is being forced into marriage with a hateful man.”

Carl looked at her in surprise. “You’re being forced to marry someone not of your choosing?”

“Not me. My sister Clara. Our uncle, my mother’s brother, took us in after our parents died. Onkel Morris is making Clara marry a man more than twice her age.”

“Amish marriages are not arranged. Your sister cannot be compelled to marry against her will.”

“The man who wishes to marry Clara is our landlord and employer. He could turn us all out of his house to starve. My uncle is afraid of him.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

“But you are not.” He glanced at her with respect. It had taken a lot of courage for her to travel so far.

“I’m afraid of him, too. Sometimes, I think he enjoys making life miserable for others.” Her voice faded away. She sniffled again.

The pony trotted quickly along the road as Carl pondered Lizzie’s story. He had no way to help her and no words of wisdom to offer. Sometimes, life wasn’t fair.

After a few minutes, she composed herself enough to ask, “Do you know of anyone who might want to hire a maid or a housekeeper?”

“No.” He didn’t go into town unless he had to. He didn’t mingle with people.

“I would take any kind of work.”

“There’s an inn in town. They might know of work for you.”

She managed a watery smile for him. “Danki. Something will turn up.”

She was pretty when she smiled. Although her eyes were red-rimmed now, they were a beautiful hazel color. They shimmered with unshed tears in the afternoon light. Her face, with its oval shape, pale skin and sculpted high cheekbones, gave her a classical beauty, but a spray of freckles across her nose gave her a fresh, wholesome look that appealed to him.

It felt strange to have a woman seated beside him. It had been a long time since he had enjoyed the companionship of anyone other than Joe. Did she know he had been shunned? Joe should have told her. Carl wasn’t sure how to bring up the subject.

He sat stiffly on the seat, making sure he didn’t touch her. If she were unaware of his shunning, he would see that she didn’t inadvertently break the tenets of her faith. The sharp, staccato clip-clop of the pony’s hooves on the blacktop, the creaking of the cart and Lizzie’s occasional sniffles were the only sounds in the awkward silence until he crested the hill. A one-room Amish schoolhouse sat back from the road, and the cheerful sounds of children playing during recess reached him. A game of softball was under way.

One little girl in a blue dress and white kapp waved to him from her place in the outfield. He waved back when he recognized her. Joy Mast immediately dropped her oversize ball glove and ran toward him. He pulled the pony to a stop. Two boys from the other team ran after her.

“Hi, Carl. How is Duncan? Is he with you today?” She reached the cart and hung on to the side to catch her breath.

He relaxed as he grinned at her. He could be himself around Amish children. They hadn’t been baptized and wouldn’t be required to shun him. Joy had Down syndrome. Her father, Caleb Mast, had recently returned to the area and rejoined his Amish family. “Hello, Joy. Duncan is fine, but he is working today moving Joe’s sheep, so he couldn’t come for a visit. Has your father found work?”

“Yes, I mean, ja, at the sawmill. Mrs. Weaver is glad, too, because that silly boy Faron Martin couldn’t keep his mind off his girlfriend long enough to do his work.”

Carl heard a smothered chuckle from Lizzie. He had to smile, too. “I’m not sure your grandmother and Mrs. Weaver want you repeating their conversations.”

“Why not?”

The two boys reached her before Carl could explain. The oldest boy, Jacob Imhoff, spoke first. “Joy, you aren’t supposed to run off without telling someone. You know that.”

She hung her head. “I forgot.”

Joy had a bad habit of wandering off and had frightened her family on several occasions by disappearing without letting anyone know where she was going.

The younger boy, her cousin David, took her hand. “That’s okay. We aren’t mad.”

She peeked at him. “You’re not?”

“Nee.”

She gave him a sheepish smile. “I only wanted to talk to Carl.”

A car buzzed past them on the highway. Jacob patted her shoulder. “We don’t want you to get hit by one of the Englisch cars driving by so fast.”

“This was my fault,” Carl said quickly. “I should have turned into the lane to speak to Joy and not stopped out here on the road.”

Joy stared at him solemnly. “It’s okay. I forgive you.”

If only he could gain forgiveness so easily for his past sins. He quickly changed the subject. “How is your puppy, Joy?”

“Pickles is a butterball with legs and a tail. She chews up everything. Mammi is getting mighty tired of it.”

Joy could always make him smile. “Tell your grandmother to give your pup a soupbone to gnaw on. That will keep her sharp little teeth occupied for a few days.”

Joy looked past him at Lizzie. “Is this your wife? She’s pretty.”

He sat bolt upright. “Nee, sie ist nicht meine frau. She’s not my wife.”

* * *

Lizzie watched a blush burn a fiery red path up Carl’s neck and engulf his face. It was amusing to see such a big man discomforted by a child’s innocent question, but she was more interested in his answer. He had denied that she was his wife in flawless Pennsylvania Dutch, the German dialect language spoken by the Amish.

Carl King might dress and act Englisch, but he had surely been raised Amish to speak the language so well.

He gathered the reins. “You should get back to your game, kids. I have to take this lady to the bus station.”

He set the pony moving again, and a frown replaced the smile he had given so easily to the little girl. Lizzie liked him better when he was smiling.

“Your Pennsylvania Dutch is very good.”

“I get by.”

“Were you raised Amish?”

A muscle twitched in his clenched jaw. “I was.”

“Several of the young men in our community have left before they were baptized, too.”

“I left afterward.”

Lizzie’s eyes widened with shock. That meant he was in the Bann. Why had her grandfather allowed her to travel with him? Her uncle wouldn’t even speak with an excommunicated person. A second later, she realized that she would very likely be placed in the Bann, too. Her uncle would not let her rebellious action go unpunished. She prayed her sisters were not suffering because of her.

She glanced at Carl and noted the tense set of his jaw. The rules of her faith were clear. She could not accept a ride from a shunned person. She was forbidden to do business with him, accept any favor from him or eat at the same table. Her grandfather had placed her in a very awkward situation. “Please stop the cart.”

Carl’s shoulders slumped. “As you wish.”

He pulled the pony to a halt. “It is a long walk. You will miss the bus.”

“Then I must drive. It is permitted for me to give you a lift, but I can’t accept one from you.”

“I know the rules.” He laid down the reins and stepped over the bench seat to sit on the floor of the cart behind her.

She took the reins and slapped them against the pony’s rump to get him moving. He broke into a brisk trot.

“How is it that you work for my grandfather? Has he left the church, too?”

“No.”

“Does he know your circumstance?”

“Of course.”

She grew more confused by the minute. “Surely the members of his congregation must object to his continued association with you.”

“He hasn’t mentioned it if they do.”

She glanced toward him over her shoulder. “But they know, don’t they?”

“You’d have to ask Joe about that.”

As she was on her way to the bus depot, that wasn’t likely to happen. “I would, but I doubt I’ll see him again.” She heard the bitterness in her voice and knew Carl heard it, too.

Her grandfather had made it crystal clear he wasn’t interested in getting to know his granddaughters. His rejection hurt deeply, but she shouldn’t have been surprised by it. To depend on any man’s kindness was asking for heartache.

As the pony trotted along, Lizzie struggled to find forgiveness in her heart. Her grandfather was a man who needed prayers, not her harsh thoughts. She prayed for Carl, too, that he would repent his sins, whatever they were, and find his way back to God. His life must be lonely indeed.

As lonely as Clara’s would be married to a man she didn’t love and without her sisters around her. Lizzie had failed her miserably.

After they had traveled nearly a mile, Lizzie decided she didn’t care to spend the rest of the trip in silence. It left her too much time to think about her failure. Conversation with a shunned person wasn’t strictly forbidden. “Is Joy a relative?”

“A neighbor.”

“She seems like a very sweet child.”

“Yes.”

“Who is Duncan?”

“My dog.”

His curt answers made her think he’d left his good humor back at the schoolyard. She gave up the idea of maintaining a conversation. She drew a deep breath and tried to come up with a new course of action that would save her sisters.

All she could think of was to find a job in town, but she didn’t have enough money to rent a room. She had enough to pay for her bus fare home and that was it. She didn’t even have enough left over to buy something to eat. Her stomach grumbled in protest. She hadn’t eaten in more than a day. Nothing since her last supper at her uncle’s house.

If she returned to his home, she would have to beg forgiveness and endure his chastisement in whatever form he chose. It would most likely be a whipping with his favorite willow cane, but he sometimes chose a leather strap. Stale bread and water for a week was another punishment he enjoyed handing out. She would be blessed if that were his choice. She shivered and pulled her coat tight across her chest.

“Are you cold?” Carl asked.

“A little.” More than a little, she realized. There was a bite to the wind now that they were heading into it. A stubborn March was holding spring at bay.

Carl slipped off his coat and laid it on the seat. “Put this on.”

She shook her head. “I can’t take your coat.”

“You are cold. I’m not.”

She glanced back at him sitting braced against the side of the cart. “Nee, it wouldn’t be right.”

He studied her for a few seconds, then looked away. A dull flush of red stained his cheeks. “It is permitted if you do not take it from my hand.”

“That’s not what I meant. I don’t wish to cause you discomfort.”

“Watching you shiver causes me discomfort.”

It was hard to argue with that logic. She picked up the thick coat and slipped it on. It retained his body heat and felt blissfully warm as she pulled it close. “Danki.”

“You’re welcome.”

They rode in silence for the rest of the way into town. As they drove past the local inn, she turned to him. “I wish to stop here for a few minutes. Since my grandfather won’t help us, I must try to find a job.”

“He told me to take you to the bus station.”

“I’ll only be a few minutes.”

He grudgingly nodded. “A few minutes and then we must go. I have work to do.”

“Danki.” She gave him a bright smile before she unwrapped herself from his coat and jumped down from the cart.

When she entered the inn, she found herself inside a lobby with ceilings that rose two stories above her. On one side of the room, glass shelves displayed an assortment of jams and jellies for sale. On the opposite wall, an impressive stone fireplace soared two stories high and was at least eight feet wide. Made in the old-world fashion using rounded river stones set in mortar, it boasted a massive timber for a mantel. A quilt hanger had been added near the top. A beautiful star quilt hung on display. Two more quilts folded over racks flanked the fireplace.

At the far end of the room was a waist-high counter. A matronly Amish woman stood behind it. Tall and big-boned with gray hair beneath her white kapp, she wore a soft blue dress that matched her eyes. “Good afternoon and willkommen to the Wadler Inn. I’m Naomi Wadler. How may I help you?”

Her friendly smile immediately put Lizzie at ease. “I’m looking for work. Anything will do. I’m not picky.”

“I’m sorry. We don’t have any openings right now. Are you new to the area? You look familiar. Have we met?”

Lizzie tried to hide her disappointment at not finding employment. “I don’t think so. Might you know of someone looking for a chore girl or household helper?”

“I don’t, dear. If I hear of anything, I’ll be glad to let you know. Where are you staying?”

Lizzie glanced out the window. Carl was scowling in her direction. He motioned for her to come on. She turned back to Naomi. “That’s okay. I thank you for your time. The quilts around the fireplace are lovely. Are they your work?”

“Nee, I display them for some of our local quilters. Many Englisch guests come to this area looking to buy quilts. These were done by a local woman named Rebecca Troyer. I’m always looking for quilts to buy if you have some to sell.”

All she had was her mother’s quilt, and it was too precious to part with. “My sister has a good hand with a needle. I’m afraid I don’t, but I can cook, clean, tend a garden, milk cows. I can even help with little children.”

Naomi gave her a sympathetic smile. “You should check over at the newspaper office, Miller Press. It’s a few blocks from here. They may know of someone looking for work.”

Lizzie started for the door. As she reached it, the woman called out, “I didn’t get your name, child.”

“I’m Lizzie Barkman. I have to go. Thank you again for your time.” She left the inn and climbed into the cart again. “They don’t have anything. I wish to stop at the newspaper office. There might be something in the help-wanted section of the paper.”

“Joe can’t move all the sheep without help. I should be there.”

“It will only take a minute or two to read the want ads. I’ll hurry, I promise. Which way is it?”

He gave her directions and she found the Miller Press office without difficulty. Inside, she quickly read through the ads, but didn’t find anything she thought she could do. Most of them were requests for skilled labor. It looked as if going home was to be her fate, after all.

With lagging steps, she returned to the cart. She followed Carl’s succinct directions to the center of town. When the bus station came into view, she felt the sting of tears again. She’d arrived that morning, tired but full of hope, certain that she could save her sister.

It had been a foolhardy plan at best. She stared at the building. “My sister was right. I’m nothing but a dreamer.”

A short, bald man came out the door and locked it behind him. Carl took Lizzie’s suitcase from the back of the cart and approached him. “This lady needs a ticket.”

“Sorry, we’re closed.” The man didn’t even look up. He started to walk off, but Carl blocked his way.

“She needs a ticket to Indiana.”

The stationmaster took a step back. “You’re too late. The westbound bus left five minutes ago. The next one is on Tuesday.”

“Four days? How can that be?”

The little man raised his hands. “Look around. We’re not exactly a transportation hub. Hope Springs is just down the road from Next-to-Nowhere. The bus going west departs at 3:00 p.m. on Tuesdays and Fridays.” He stepped around Carl and walked away.

She wasn’t going back today. She still had a chance to find a job. Lizzie looked skyward and breathed a quick prayer. “Danki, my Lord.”

She wanted to shout for joy, but the grim look on Carl’s face kept her silent. He scowled at her. “Joe isn’t going to like this.”

Chapter Three

“What is she doing back here? I told you to make sure she got on the bus!” Joe looked ready to spit nails.

Carl jumped down from the back of the cart and took Lizzie’s suitcase and her box from behind the seat. He knew Joe would be upset. He wasn’t looking forward to this conversation.

“She missed the bus. The next one going her way is on Tuesday. I couldn’t very well leave her standing on the street corner, could I?”

“I don’t see why not,” Joe grumbled.

Lizzie got down for the cart and came up the steps to stand by her grandfather on the porch. “I’m sorry to inconvenience you, Daadi, but I didn’t know what else to do. I don’t have enough money to pay for a room at the inn until Tuesday and get a ticket home. I won’t be any trouble.”