Malena’s jaw hung open like a broken gate as Cord McLean, Trey Madison, and Alden Stolzfus all trooped into the kitchen behind her father. Alden they’d expected—and there was a cinnamon-apple cake with maple sugar frosting to prove it. Malena had seen how much he’d enjoyed the one she’d brought to a singing earlier in the year, and since the Transparent up in Grossmammi’s orchard was ready to pick, the decision had been easy.
After the introductions, she and Rebecca exchanged an amazed glance, and then got busy putting more plates and coffee mugs on the big kitchen table as their guests sat down. Zach and Joshua came in, and Sara brought in baby Nathan on one hip and their almost five-month-old sister Deborah on the other, and suddenly the table was full again, the way it hadn’t been since Daniel had got married and Adam had gone east with Kate.
The yellow checkered tablecloth and the bouquet of wildflowers Rebecca had picked this morning looked well with Mamm’s blue and white coffee set. Hmm. Yellow and blue and white was such a summery, happy combination. Just a tiny bit of spring green would set it off. Could she do something with her Montana Star pattern and—
“Smells great in here,” Cord said with a grin across the table at Malena. “Did you have something to do with that?”
She came out of her thoughts with a bump. “Ja,” she said, and blurted, “Alden likes this apple cake.”
Alden sat up straighter in surprise. Maybe it was a new experience for someone to notice what he liked. And maybe it was a new experience for Cord when someone noticed someone who wasn’t him.
Alden was such a loner, always busy in his shop, that he didn’t run around much with the Youngie. He had a reputation among the Maedscher for kindness and a good sense of humor, and Malena knew more than one who would have said yes to a ride home with him after singing. But he didn’t seem to have time for a special friend.
Mamm cut the cake in generous pieces and handed the plates around, then a plate of delicious round cheeses made by the bachelor Zook brothers. A basket of her famous cheese-and-green-chile muffins, fresh out of the oven and hot enough to melt butter, followed.
“This is amazing, Mrs Miller,” Trey said with his mouth full. “Thanks.”
“It’s just a little kaffee,” Mamm said, though she looked pleased as she handed him the butter. “My family has a full day. They can’t work on an empty stomach. Neither can Alden, after coming out from town to look after our horses.”
“Seems Cord and Trey want to make us a proposal, Naomi,” Dat said. “I didn’t want to give them an answer until you’d heard it, too.”
If this proposal had been about ranch work, Dat would simply have made a decision and sent them on their way. It must be about something else. Something bigger. Or more complicated, if it involved everyone in the family. Malena listened with interest as Cord began to speak. Interest changed to surprise, and then downright disbelief. When he got to the part about Alden teaching him to shoe a horse, she caught Alden’s eye.
Something about the barely concealed horror she saw there gave her the giggles. She tried to stifle them. Even stuffed a big bite of muffin in her mouth to stop them.
It wasn’t polite to laugh at a man’s crack-brained ideas. Ach, neh, this was as bad as getting the giggles in church. She mustn’t laugh—he was a guest, and she mustn’t hurt his feelings. But then the corners of Alden’s lips twitched.
She swallowed the muffin with a big gulp of coffee. Barely got it down before she made a sound like a horse’s whinny, and completely lost it. Clapping a napkin to her face, she laughed, and the expression now on Alden’s face—humor mixed with despair at the fate this young man was so blithely proposing for him—only made her laugh harder.
And then Rebecca joined in, and Zach guffawed, and in two seconds the only two people not in fits of laughter were Cord McLean and Trey Madison.
Poor Cord. People probably didn’t laugh much when he was around. He gazed at them all, clearly wondering where the joke was, and smiling in a lame sort of way.
“I’m sorry, Cord,” she gasped. “I don’t mean to laugh, but—”
Even the babies had caught the giggles! A whoop came out of Malena’s throat and a big fat tear trickled down her flushed face. She had to get hold of herself. She’d started it—she and Alden.
She glared at him. “Stop it,” she begged. “Cord is serious.”
That was the funny part—the poor Englisch mann didn’t see how ridiculous it was that he could even ask. She almost felt sorry for him. He’d come to the only place in the country, probably, where hardly anyone knew who he was, and even if they did, they had no time to cater to him and his silly film.
The person she did feel sorry for was his trainer, in hospital in Great Falls. Now, that was something serious.
Her family found some self-control from somewhere, and Malena took a few deep breaths. If she could avoid catching Alden’s eye again, she might have a chance at acting her age.
“We apologize, Cord,” Mamm finally said, recovering enough to cut him another piece of apple cake. “But what you’re proposing is so completely impossible it just struck us as funny. Please don’t take it personally. We don’t mean it that way.”
“I’m trying not to,” he said. “But maybe you can help me understand why it’s so impossible? I learn fast—I’ve only ridden a horse a couple of times before, and I made it over here all right.”
“It’s a matter of the hours in the day,” Dat said. The humor faded from his eyes and the atmosphere at the table became more businesslike. “If someone takes an hour to show you how to rope, that’s an hour of fence repair that doesn’t get done. If someone takes you with them to teach you how to string wire, that’s two hours of working the sluices left undone. All of a sudden we’ve lost three hours of work. Multiply that by the thirty or so days we have until roundup, and what do you get?”
Cord did the arithmetic. “Ninety hours of training?”
“Two weeks of work left undone,” Zach corrected him.
“Hey, that’s not fair,” Cord protested. “You’re thinking that those hours are just teaching me. But what if they’re not? What if they’re me helping? Lending an extra pair of hands? Once I learn something, I can work as hard as any of you, and make up those hours.”
“Define hard,” Sara said unexpectedly. “I’m one of the few Amish in the valley who has lived in the Englisch world. I was an EMT—still am. I know about working nights and twelve-hour shifts, which you’re probably familiar with too, in your business. But that’s different from ranch work, where you’re using your hands and your brains from before sunup to after sunset. Without electricity, trucks, or power tools. It’s a whole other world out here, Cord.”
It had been a long time since Sara had made such a long speech.
“But it’s a world I need to know to play this part,” he said.
“Ranch life ain’t play,” Reuben said. “I suspect that’s where you’re making your mistake. Something like leaving a gate open or opening the wrong sluice can mean an animal dies. Using a tool without protective gear can mean losing a finger—or a hand. Not communicating properly with your horse can mean injury to a valuable animal. Everything we do carries a risk.”
“But you learn how to do those things,” he argued. “Maybe you start as kids—I know I don’t have that advantage. I’m a midwestern city kid. But I’m strong and I think I’m smart. My agent says I’m too smart for my own good.”
Nobody had a reply to this. Malena had lost the urge to laugh.
“Please,” Cord said. “Just a week. Give me a week’s trial. If you find that you lose more hours than I help you make up, cut me loose. By then Grayson will be back, or my trainer will be well enough to come. I promise you that I won’t waste your time.”
Dat gazed at him. Then turned his gaze to Mamm. In that strange way of communication they had, they made a decision.
She got up and fetched the coffee pot, and refilled Cord’s cup.
“Thank you, ma’am,” he said, his voice subdued, as though he’d run out of steam and had no points left to press.
“We’re Amish,” she told him gently. “We don’t use honorifics. You can call me Naomi.”
“Naomi,” he repeated.
“You can stay for a week,” Dat said. Malena could see what this cost him—what it would cost all of them—balancing the lost hours against their powerful neighbor’s goodwill.
Trey sat back, beaming. “Great. He can ride over every day and—”
“Nope.” With another glance at Mamm, he said to Cord, “If you want to live like it’s 1942, you’ll stay here, in the spare room. Up at four for chores. Breakfast at five. Zach and Malena will be in charge of you.”
Zach smiled as though it hurt him. Malena nearly blurted, “Why me?” but bit the words back just in time. If Dat said she was to babysit this young man, then babysit she would. Rebecca almost smiled, too—until the moment she realized that all Malena’s work in house and garden was about to land on her own slender shoulders.
Cord swallowed. “What about time off? Weekends?”
“There’s only one weekend in the next seven days,” Dat pointed out. “The school auction is Saturday, and we all plan to go after chores. You can go or not, as you like, as long as you’re back for evening chores. Sunday we don’t have church, but it’s a family day with visiting church members, so you can go to the Rocking Diamond and have a day off. We’ll look after the chores. Monday, it’s back to work.”
“Can you handle that?” Trey asked him, looking a little dubious.
“Yep,” Cord said.
Malena would believe it when she saw it.
“Now that’s settled,” Dat said, draining his coffee cup and pushing back from the table, “maybe one of the girls has some time this morning to give you a riding lesson. Then you can go down to our son Daniel’s place and ask his boy Joel to show you how to rope a calf.”
Dat had taught all of them how to ride a cutting horse when their legs were long enough to put their feet in the stirrups and control the animal. But even before that, one of Malena’s earliest memories was whistling up a horse and rewarding him with a cut-up apple, then being lifted onto its back so she could see the ranch the way he did.
She figured that was the way to begin with the greenhorn.
“I know how to ride,” he protested, as he followed her into the pasture, where Delphinium and Marigold eyed them in surprise at this break from routine.
She lifted a hand to wave at Alden as the farrier’s departing buggy came into sight on the road, headed back to his shop in Mountain Home. She could just see him wave out the window before the stand of pines concealed him again.
They could hear the clop of Trey’s horse heading off down the lane, too, leading the one Cord had ridden over. He’d be back with Cord’s bags. By then, Malena hoped to have made some progress.
She turned her attention once more to her student. “You may know how to ride, but these horses aren’t waiting in a nice air-conditioned stall for you to tack up. Here, you call the horse over, take him to the barn, and saddle him there. Or her, in this case. You’ll be working with Marigold, the mare.”
“Which one is the mare?”
“The lighter, reddish one. The dun is Del—he’s a gelding. That means—”
“I know what it means.”
“Gut. Go and get her. Introduce yourself so she knows your voice. Take this.” She held out some apple pieces from the baking earlier.
“Nah, I don’t need those. She’ll come to me. I have a way with horses. Did you ever see Race the Bluegrass?”
“We don’t go to movies.”
“It’s a western adventure I did about a carriage race in Kentucky.”
That must be why he was so familiar with getting in and out of a buggy. But had his training then included calling and hitching up a horse?
Ten minutes later, she had her answer. The apple pieces were nearly gone and Marigold was having a wonderful time with this new game. Cord was red-faced and sweating. “Don’t give her the apple until she listens, Cord. I promise it works. She loves them.”
He did as she said without much grace, and sure enough, Marigold came trotting up to nuzzle his hand and claim her reward as though her bad behavior had been some other horse’s. He had the foresight to grab her halter before she finished crunching it, and they were able to lead her into the barn.
Tacking up the horse was more about common sense than anything—blanket, for instance, then saddle—but even so, he wrote down everything she said in a tiny notebook from his pocket, complete with diagrams. Until she took all the tack off and put it back in its place.
“Your turn.”
Another half hour went by before Marigold was once again fit for work and Cord was mounted up. “Now what? Roping calves?”
“That would be putting the calf before the horse. We could do lead training here in the corral, or you could do it on the road over to Daniel’s.”
“The road,” he said. “Two things at once. Saves your time.”
“I’ll get the gates. Remember what Alden said. If you lean forward, she’ll think you want her to pick up her pace. Lean back, and she’ll come to a stop. We’ll learn some more cues in a minute.”
Marigold knew the way to Daniel’s and to Joel, who was one of her favorite people. Cord had to practice leaning back to slow her down.
“Time to show this horse who’s boss,” he said, frowning.
“You don’t need to do that.” Since she wasn’t dressed for riding, with jeans and boots under her dress, Malena walked beside him. She gave Marigold a reassuring pat on the neck. “You and she are partners. Once she knows what you intend to do, she’ll do it. It’s your job to communicate with her, not treat her like furniture.”
“So how do I do that, horse whisperer?”
She’d heard that expression before from Josh. She still wasn’t sure what it meant, except for someone who communicated with horses. Which her father and brothers did all day long.
“With your legs.” She showed him the three basic leg positions and Marigold obediently demonstrated what they meant. Malena made him repeat them, over and over, until she could see from the horse’s growing comfort that muscle memory was being formed in the stranger on her back.
“I’m going to feel this tomorrow,” he groaned.
“Ja, you sure are.” He gave her a dirty look for agreeing with him. “Next thing. The horse has two sides. The near side and the off side. To get her to turn toward a cow, open your hand in the cow’s direction and push her with the near-side knee. I’ll be the cow.”
“You’re way too pretty to be a cow.”
“Marigold doesn’t care,” she said, ignoring him. “She just wants me cut out of my herd. Ready?”
Marigold beat him to it. Malena zigzagged across the road, the horse anticipating her. Cord lost his seat and had slithered halfway out of the saddle before he grabbed the horn and dragged himself upright.
“Whoa, Marigold,” Malena said soothingly as the horse came to a stop. “We have to slow down. He’s just a beginner.” To Cord, she said, “Let’s do some circles and turns.”
The circles and turns took them most of the way to Daniel and Lovina’s house. But at least when she tried the zigzag again, he was familiar enough with Marigold to let her do her job and simply hang on.
He bit back an “Umph!” of muscle soreness as he dismounted and tied Marigold to the new fence that protected Lovina’s garden from everything from chickens to cattle.
“You did well,” Malena told him. “Most people think riding is done with the arms and back. But with working ranch horses, it’s all in the core of your stomach, legs, and hips. You’ll get used to it. By the end of the week, you won’t be feeling it as much.”
“Thanks,” he muttered, and limped after her.
Lovina came out on the newly finished back porch, which replaced the cement block they’d been using as a step. “Hallo, Malena,” she said, wiping her hands on a dish towel. “Is this the young man I’ve heard about?”
“Ja. Cord McLean, this is my brother’s wife, Lovina Miller.”
Cord tugged his hat brim with two fingers. “Nice to meet you, ma—Lovina.”
“Cord is doing some cowboy training for a film,” Malena said, “and will be staying at the house for a week. I’m teaching him how to ride so he can go out with Zach and Daniel.”
“He doesn’t know how to ride?”
“He’s doing pretty well for a greenhorn,” Malena allowed. “Dat thought Joel might enjoy teaching him how to rope a cow.”
A smile flooded Lovina’s face. “He sure would. He practices every day on the one in the barn if there isn’t a live one handy. Come inside, both of you. I just took peanut butter chocolate chip cookies out of the oven.”
“Great,” Cord said, following his hostess into the kitchen like a bird dog on a scent. “Is Joel around now?”
Lovina shook her head and looked behind her, as though she might be overheard. Her eyes twinkled. “I think the two of them and Zach snuck down to the river for a quick swim before lunch. I heard them hollering a little while ago.”
It was a warm day, all right, and even though the boys were probably hollering at the cold water, it would still be welcome. She couldn’t blame them for taking a break. To Cord, she said, “My brothers have been working the sluices since breakfast, with Joel along as helper.”
“Does that have something to do with water?” When Lovina offered them a plate of warm cookies, he took two.
Malena snagged one for herself. “The irrigation system in the pastures. Once one field is watered, you direct the sluices to the next. All summer long. Every day.”
“We’re lucky here, to have the river so close,” Lovina put in, helping herself to a cookie. “Out east of Great Falls, some of the ranches don’t, and have to depend on rain.”
“Will I be working the sluices?”
“You heard me say every day? You’ll probably be out there at some time or another.” Malena took another cookie. They were so rich and buttery, they melted in the mouth. She turned to her Schwei. “Maybe Cord can come down after lunch for some roping practice? He doesn’t have to stay all afternoon if you need Joel.”
Lovina nodded. “I’ll tell him,” she said.
“These are really good,” Cord mumbled, his mouth full, as he reached for another cookie.
“Thank you.” She smiled at him. “You could use some fattening up. Help yourself.”
He froze, and withdrew his hand. “I guess not. Thanks, though. The camera puts twenty-five pounds on a person. My dresser will have my head if they have to let out all my wardrobe.”
Malena was trying to imagine how a camera could make a person put on weight, when the timer on the counter pinged and Lovina got up to take another sheet of cookies out of the propane oven.
Poor Cord. He looked like the chickens did when she came in with the vegetable trimmings for the pigs. Hopeful, even when they knew the goodies weren’t for them. She took pity on him and got up. “Thanks, Lovina. Time for some more turns and circles.”
He followed her outside, untied Marigold, and mounted up. “She’s a nice lady,” he offered, using an open hand and a field-side knee to turn Marigold and point her up the road. “I’m going to have to watch my weight around here, I can tell already. How come the whole family isn’t overweight if they eat, like, five times a day?”
“We work,” she told him flatly. “A lot. All day long.”
“What do you do for fun?”
“Play volleyball. Swim. Hike. Once the work is done.”
“I get it.” He lengthened his next circle as they moved into the cool shadows of the pines. “But what about other stuff for fun?”
“Like what?” She did a zigzag across the road, but he was ready for her, keeping his seat while Marigold went to work.
“Not movies, I guess. Or going to a bar. I don’t know—going to town for ice cream?”
She zagged the other way, and Marigold stopped her.
“Good girl.” She patted the horse’s shoulder and walked beside her. “We make ice cream here, depending on what’s in the garden. You haven’t lived until you’ve tasted my sister’s raspberry lemonade ice cream.”
He took the Lord’s name in vain in a longing kind of voice, and she tapped him on the knee. “Please don’t do that. God’s name is sacred.”
“Sorry.”
He actually looked it, but then, he was an actor.
“We’ll be going to singing on Sunday.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s at Bontragers’ this week. The next place, there.” They emerged from the trees, and she pointed across the river, past the fields beyond it. The Bontrager home was a mile away, concealed behind a grassy hill. “We sing for a couple of hours, then have supper. Mind you, it’s in Deitsch mostly, but we sing a few Englisch songs. Like ‘Take Me Home, Country Roads.’ And ‘How Great Thou Art.’ I like the old Englisch hymns.”
“You sing hymns for fun?”
She wasn’t sure if he was making fun of her, or asking because he really wanted to know.
Give him a little grace, Malena, Mamm would have said. He doesn’t know our ways, just like you don’t know his.
That was for sure and certain. She went with the second option. “Ja. It’s gut to praise God together. And it’s fun to just be us, just the Youngie—that means young folks.” She eyed him. “Maybe that’s too tame for you. But we like it.”
“What are the odds that people sang glees in their parlors in 1942? Practically every movie Judy Garland made in the forties was a musical, right?”
“I don’t know,” she said steadily. What was a glee? And who was Judy Garland? Never mind. “Sunday is your day off. Probably the Madison boys will take you to Whitefish and show you a good time.”
“Yeah,” he said vaguely, as though this was the first it had occurred to him. “But that’s not going to give me the experience I want, is it? I can go to Mammoth or Breckenridge. These weeks are for training.”
“Look, there are Daniel and Joel.” She pointed to the swimming hole at the big bend in the river meadows, where her brother and nephew were coming along the trail. Both were barefoot, carrying their boots. “That was a pretty fast swim.”
“Is the water cold?”
She laughed. “It’s glacier melt. But it feels gut when you’re sweaty and tired.”
“So there is time for fun. Without hymns. Maybe I can go swimming, too, when I’ve learned my lessons for today.”
“Maybe.”
He glanced at her. “Do you think I can do this?”
How would she know what he was capable of? If he couldn’t, it wouldn’t be the fault of anyone on the Circle M. “By the end of the week you might fool anybody into thinking you’re a cowboy,” she assured him, only half believing it.