Читать книгу Their Pretend Amish Courtship - Patricia Davids - Страница 11
ОглавлениеNoah regretted his parting comment as he watched Fannie ride away. She didn’t have many friends. She was more at ease around horses than people. Her reputation as a hothead was to blame but he knew there wasn’t any real harm in her. Her last bobby pin came loose as she rode off. Her kapp fluttered to the ground in the driveway.
Willy raised his head and neighed loudly. He clearly wanted the pretty, golden-chestnut mare with the blond mane to come back.
“Don’t be taken in by good looks, Willy. A sweet disposition lasts far longer than a pretty face. I don’t care what Fannie says—Mamm isn’t in a hurry to see me wed.”
He walked out and picked up Fannie’s kapp. At the sound of a wagon approaching, he stuffed it into his back pocket. His cousins Paul and Mark Bowman drove in from the hayfield with a load of bales stacked shoulder high on a trailer pulled by Noah’s father’s gray Percheron draft horses. The chug-chug sound of the gas-powered bailer could be heard in the distance where Noah’s father was pulling it with a four-horse hitch. Noah’s brothers Samuel and Timothy were hooking the bales from the back of the machine and stacking them on a second trailer.
“Who was that?” Mark asked.
“Fannie Erb.” Noah watched her set her horse at the stone wall bordering her family’s lane. Trinket sailed over it easily.
“She rides well,” Paul said with a touch of admiration in his voice.
“She does,” Noah admitted.
“What did she want?” Mark asked.
Noah shook his head at the absurdness of her idea. “She’s looking for a beau. Are you interested?”
Mark shook his head. “Nee, I’m not. I have a girlfriend back home.”
His brother Paul nudged him with an elbow. “A man can go to an auction without buying a horse. It doesn’t hurt to look and see what’s out there.”
Mark and Paul had come from Bird-In-Hand, Pennsylvania, to stay with Noah’s family and apprentice with Noah’s father in the family’s woodworking business. The shop was closed for a few days until the Bowmans had their hay in, and Noah was glad for the extra help.
Mark scowled at his brother. “A man who doesn’t need a horse but goes to the auction anyway is wasting a day Gott has given him. You know what they say about idle hands.”
“I won’t suffer from idle hands today—today—today. I’ll have the blisters—blisters—blisters to prove it,” Paul called out in a singsong voice. The fast-talking young man was learning to become an auctioneer.
Mark maneuvered the hay wagon next to the front of the barn. The wide hayloft door was open above them, with a bale elevator positioned in the center of it. Noah pulled the cord on the elevator’s gas-powered engine. It sprang to life, and the conveyer belt began to move upward. Noah glanced toward the house and saw his brother Joshua jogging toward them. Noah sat on the belt and rode up to the hayloft. Joshua came up the same way and the two men waited for the bales their cousins unloaded.
After stacking the first thirty-five bales deep in the recesses of the hayloft, Noah and Joshua moved to the open loft door to wait for the next trailer load to come in from the field.
Joshua fanned his face with his straw hat and then mopped his sweaty brow with his handkerchief. “It’s going to be another hot one.”
The interior of the barn loft would be roasting by late afternoon, even with the doors open. Noah pulled off his ball cap and reached into his back pocket for his handkerchief, but pulled out Fannie’s kapp instead.
The silly goose. Did she really think he would agree to court her at a moment’s notice? Only she could come up with such a far-fetched scheme. He tucked her kapp back in his pocket and wiped his face with his sleeve, determined to stop thinking about her.
He leaned out of the loft to see how close the second wagon was to being full. “Looks like I’ll have time to finish putting a new horseshoe on Hank before they get here. We have some pony-size shoes, don’t we?”
Joshua nodded. “On the wall in the tack room. I had John Miller make a full set for Hank right after I brought him home.”
“Goot.”
“I can take care of him later,” Joshua offered.
“Checking the horses’ feet is my job. I only have Hank and Ginger left.”
“What does Ginger need?”
“I noticed she was limping out in the pasture. I haven’t had a chance to see why.”
“I can take care of her. I know you want to have your work done before you head to your ball game.”
“Danki, bruder.”
“You can return the favor some other time. I’m looking forward to your game next weekend. It should be a goot one. Walter Osborn can knock the hide off a baseball when he connects.”
Walter was an English neighbor and volunteer fire fighter. Part of his job was to gather the Amish volunteers in the area and deliver them to the fire station when the call went out. He was also a good friend of Noah’s.
“Walter is the best catcher in the league and our power hitter. If we can get into the state tournament, he’ll have a chance at being scouted by the pros. Those men don’t come to these backwater places. Walter deserves a chance to show what he’s got.”
Joshua settled his hat on his head. “Are you hoping to be scouted by a pro team?”
“Where’d you get that idea?” Noah avoided looking at his brother. He’d never told anyone about his dream.
“Mamm and Daed were talking about it the other day. Your coach has been telling everyone you have a gift. It’s easy to see how much you love the game, but you’ll have to stop playing soon. You will be twenty-two this fall. Your rumspringa can’t go on forever.”
Noah gave the answer he always gave. “I intend to enjoy a few more years of my running-around time before I take my vows. I’m in no rush.”
Giving up his English clothes, his cell phone and the other worldly things he could enjoy now would be easy. But could he give up the game? That would be tough. He loved playing ball. Out on the pitcher’s mound, with the pressure mounting, he felt alive.
He suspected that Fannie felt much the same way about her horses. She would hate giving up her riding but she would have to one day. Riding a horse astride was considered worldly and only tolerated before baptism. A rush of sympathy for her surprised him.
He pushed thoughts of Fannie and her problems to the back of his mind as he climbed down the ladder in the barn’s interior and headed to the tack room. He needed to concentrate on winning the game tonight. It would bring him one step closer to his goal.
To find out if he was good enough to play professional ball.
If he was good enough, he believed it would be a sign from God to go out into the world and use his gift. If he didn’t have the level of talent that his coach thought he did, that would be a sign, too. A sign that God wanted him to remain in his Amish community. Either choice would be hard but he had faith that God would show him the right path.
He was finishing Hank’s shoeing when he heard the sound of a buggy coming up the lane. His mother and his sister-in-law Rebecca pulled to a stop beside him in Rebecca’s buggy.
His mother graced him with a happy smile from the driver’s seat. “We have just heard the nicest news.”
“What would that be?” He opened the corral gate and turned Hank in with the other horses. The second hay wagon was on its way.
“The bishop’s wife told me two of her nieces have arrived to spend a month visiting them. I have invited them to supper this evening,” his mother said quickly.
“And I received a letter telling me my cousins from Indiana are coming to visit.” Rebecca smiled at the baby in her arms. “I’ll certainly be glad to have a pair of mother’s helpers with me for a few months. This little fellow and his brother wear me out.”
“So, both your cousins are girls?” he asked trying not to appear uneasy. Had Fannie been right?
His mother exchanged a coy glance with Rebecca. “They are, and all the young women are near your age. I’m sure you’ll enjoy getting to know them. Maybe one will catch your eye. I might even talk your father into hosting a few picnics and singings this summer. Won’t that be wunderbar?”
“Sounds like fun, but you know I’ll be gone a lot this summer, and I have a ball game this evening.”
His mother frowned. “It won’t hurt you to miss one of your silly games. I insist you join us for supper and meet the bishop’s nieces.”
“The team is depending on me. I can’t cancel now. It’s important to them.”
A stern expression settled over his mother’s face. “And this is more important. Noah Bowman, we need to have a talk.”
His heart sank when his mother stepped out of the buggy. She rarely took the lead in family matters. Normally his father took him aside for a talk after some indiscretion. Rebecca drove the buggy on to the house, leaving them alone.
His mother folded her arms over her chest. “Your father and I have spoken about this and prayed about it, and we have come to a decision. My sohn, you are our youngest. Your father and I have been lenient with you, letting you dress fancy and not plain, letting you travel with your team and keep your cell phone, but you are old enough to put away these childish things as all your brothers have done. It’s time you gave serious thought to finding a wife.”
He leaned close trying to cajole her with his smile. He didn’t want her to worry about a decision he couldn’t make yet, so he told her what he thought she wanted to hear. “You don’t have to worry about me, Mamm. I plan to join the church in due time. If that is Gott’s will.”
“You give lip service to this most solemn matter, but nothing in your actions gives me cause to believe your words.”
He took a step back. She was dead serious. If his parents forbade his ball playing, he would have to do as they asked or leave home. He wasn’t ready to make that choice.
The odds of getting picked up by a major-league team were a thousand to one against him, but he needed to know if he was good enough. Why had God given him this talent, if not to use it?
What could he say that would change his mother’s mind?
He shoved his hands into his hip pockets and rocked back on his heels. His fingers touched Fannie’s kapp. Would she still agree to a courtship or had he burned that bridge with his taunting?
Swallowing hard, he pulled the kapp from his pocket and wound the ribbons around his fingers. “I didn’t want to say anything, but I have plans to see someone before my game tonight.”
His mother glanced from his face to the head covering in his hand. “Who?”
“Fannie. Fannie Erb.”
His mother’s eyes brightened as she smiled widely. She took his face between her hands and kissed his cheek. “Oh, you sweet boy. You don’t know how happy I am to hear this. The daughter of my dearest friend. Why didn’t you tell me?”
* * *
“I thought I had a plan to stay, but it fell through.” Fannie and Connie had finished exercising two of Connie’s horses and were brushing them down before returning them to their stalls.
“What plan was that?”
“I asked Noah Bowman to pretend to court me and he turned me down.” Fannie patted Goldenrod’s sleek neck and ran her fingers through the mare’s cream-colored mane. She hated to admit her failure to her friend.
Connie swept a lock of shoulder-length blond hair away from her face and gave Fannie a sympathetic smile. “Thanks for trying. Don’t worry so. The team will carry on without you.”
“Will they?”
The girls were all younger than Fannie was. They didn’t believe in the project the way she did. They weren’t beholden to Connie the way she was. If Connie had to sell her property, Fannie would lose more than a friend. She’d lose the job she loved. Riding and training horses was more than a childish pastime. It was what Fannie wanted to do for the rest of her life.
Fannie’s Amish upbringing put her squarely at odds with her dream. Although some unmarried Amish women ran their own businesses, it wasn’t common. Some worked for English employers but only until they chose to be baptized. Most worked in their family’s businesses. Her parents and the bishop wouldn’t approve of her riding once she was baptized, she was sure of that. Unless she chose to give up her Amish faith, it was unlikely she could follow her dream.
Could she leave behind all she had been raised to believe in? She wasn’t ready to make that decision. Not yet.
“I think the team will do fine,” Connie said, but she didn’t sound sure.
Fannie pushed her uncertainty aside to concentrate on her friend. “I wanted to do this for you. I owe you so much.”
Connie continued to brush her horse. “You have to get over thinking I did something special, Fannie. I didn’t.”
“You kept me from making the biggest mistake of my life. That was something special.”
“It was your love of horses that led you to make the right decision. I only wish those other young people had made the same choice.”
“So do I.” Fannie cringed inwardly as she thought about the night that had ended so tragically less than two months after her seventeenth birthday.
“Have you settled on the number of patterns the girls will perform?” Connie clearly wanted to change the subject, and Fannie let her.
“Not yet, but I will before I leave. Have you had any inquiries from the ad you ran on the Horse and Tack website?”
“Lowball bids, nothing serious. Maybe I’m just a poor marketer. These horses should sell themselves. If I had the money, I’d have a professional video made. That might do the trick.”
“My father says the Englisch want an angle, a story. A good horse for sale isn’t enough. It has to be an Amish-raised and Amish-trained horse. That’s okay for him, but it doesn’t help you.”
“I can always say raised near the Amish and trained as the Amish would, but that lacks punch even if it is accurate.”
Fannie shook her head and realized her kapp was missing. Mamm would be upset with her for losing another one. She pulled a white handkerchief from her pocket. She always carried two for just this reason. She folded it into a triangle and tied it at the nape of her neck.
A woman should cover her head when she prayed, and Fannie was in serious need of prayers. She couldn’t believe it was part of God’s plan for her to abandon her friend and to leave her beloved horses behind. “It amazes me how the Englisch think anything Amish must be better. We are the same as everyone else.”
“You’re right. There are good, hardworking people everywhere. If only hard work were enough to keep this place going. I’m glad my father isn’t here to see how I’ve run it into the ground.”
“You took care of your father as well as any daughter could. It wasn’t possible to grow the business while he was so ill. You had a mountain of your father’s medical bills to pay and you have done that. You will get this place back to the way it was and even better.”
Fannie followed Connie’s gaze as she glanced around the farm. Only four of the twelve stalls in the long, narrow barn were being used by boarders. The barn was beginning to show signs of wear and tear. The red paint was faded and peeling in places. Cobwebs hung from the rafters. A soggy spot at the end of the alley showed where the roof leaked, but all the Haflinger horses in the paddock and pasture were well cared for, with shining coats that gleamed golden brown in the sunshine. Connie took excellent care of her animals.
Attached to the barn was an indoor riding area where Connie’s nine-year-old daughter, Zoe, was practicing her trick-riding moves on her Haflinger mare. Connie had once crisscrossed the United States performing at rodeos and equestrian events as a trick rider herself. She paused in her work to watch her daughter.
“I have got to make a go here, Fannie. I have to leave my daughter something besides tarnished belt buckles, fading ribbons and debts. I don’t want to sell any of this land. My father made me promise that I wouldn’t and I want to honor his wishes. After I’m gone, Zoe will be free to sell or stay. That will be my gift to her. A woman should be able to choose her own path in life.”
“I couldn’t agree with you more.”
Connie shot her a puzzled glance. “Strange words coming from an Amish lass. I thought an Amish woman’s goal in life was to be a wife and a mother.”
“It is for most of the women, but I can’t imagine being so tied down. I certainly don’t want to marry and give some oaf the right to boss me around.” To give up riding horses was like asking her to give up part of her soul.
“Does that mean you are thinking about leaving the Amish? I know some young people do, but won’t you be shunned if you decide to leave?”
“My church believes each person must make that choice. If I leave before I am baptized into the faith, I won’t be punished, but I know my parents won’t allow me to continue staying at home. If I do decide not to be baptized, I was hoping I could work for you full-time and get my own place someday.”
“If your plan with the drill team works out, I sure would consider taking you on full-time. I’ve never seen anyone as good with horses as you are. But don’t give up on the idea of marriage. I can’t see you settling for an oaf. It will take a special fellow to get harnessed to you, but I think he exists and I can’t wait to meet him.”
“I don’t think he exists and I’m sure not going to waste my time looking for him.”
“If I’d had that attitude before I met Zack, I wouldn’t have Zoe now. It was a fair trade. Look at that girl go. She is fearless.” Maternal pride glowed on her face as she watched her daughter circling the arena on her horse.
“She’s really getting good,” Fannie said. Trick riding was something she had always wanted to try.
“Better than I was at her age. I shouldn’t encourage her, but I can’t help it. The girl is like a sponge. She soaks in everything I tell her. I guess I’m one of those mothers who relive their glory days through their kids.”
“Do you miss it?”
Connie paused in her work. “Sometimes I do, but that life is behind me along with my failed marriage to Zoe’s father. Dad’s illness was the excuse I used to come home, but that wasn’t the whole truth. I missed staying in one place. Zack was the one with a restless spirit. Besides, I didn’t want Zoe to grow up in a camper, always headed down the road to the next rodeo. I wanted her to have a home—a real home—and Dad gave us that.”
She cupped her hands around her mouth. “Point your toes down, Zoe. Keep those legs straight and arch your back more.”
“Like this?” Zoe shouted.
“That’s better. That’s a pretty good hippodrome stand.”
Zoe grinned and waved one hand in acknowledgment as she stood atop the back of a gently loping golden horse with a wide white blaze down its face.
“Zoe is going to miss you,” Connie said, turning back to Fannie.
“Don’t give up on me yet. I may still find a way to stay.” Fannie had no idea what that would be, but she wouldn’t stop trying.
Connie put down her brush and motioned toward a pitchfork leaning against the wall. “Good. Until then, you still have work to do. I don’t pay you much, but I expect you to earn it.”
Fannie laughed as she picked up the fork. “I would exercise your horses for free, but cleaning stalls will still cost you.”
Connie untied the lead ropes of both horses. “I’ll put these two away. You start on stall five and work your way down. George should be here soon. That man is always late. I wish I hadn’t hired him.”
George was another part-time stable hand at the farm. Connie insisted she couldn’t afford full-time help, but in Fannie’s eyes, George wasn’t worth even part-time wages. He spent most of his time flirting with the girls in Fannie’s riding group—or any woman who came to the farm.
Connie motioned toward her daughter. “I’ll be back after I help Zoe with her technique. She’s getting flat-footed again and that’s dangerous, even on Misty.”
Fannie set to work in the stall Connie had indicated, but her mind wasn’t on the tasks before her. She still had to find a way to convince her parents that Betsy was the one they needed to send to Florida. No amount of pleading by her and her sister had changed their mother’s mind so far. Their father might be persuaded, but their mother was adamant.
If only Noah had agreed to her plan. She wanted to be angry with him, but she couldn’t. He was right. Her idea bordered on being dishonest, even if it was for a good cause. She didn’t want to be courted by anyone, but having Noah reject her outright was humiliating. She wasn’t that ugly, was she? There had been a time when she liked him—a lot. She tossed a forkful of straw into the wheelbarrow at her side.
She had liked being kissed by him, too. A lot. Jabbing the fork into the pile of dirty straw, she tried to forget about that night. She was the dummkopf for dumping her drink on him. He sure wouldn’t try that again.
“Fannie, can I talk to you?”
She shrieked and spun around at the sound of Noah’s voice, sending her forkful of dirty straw flying in his direction.
