“It’s okay.” Andy gently eased toward the horse, hoping to encourage her to back out of the trailer and down the ramp. He’d arrived at Lester’s farm at dawn in the cab of the truck pulling the first trailer of horses. Five hours later he was unloading the last of the twenty-three horses, and she was every bit as skittish and difficult to handle as the first one had been. He could hear the other horses in the corral, whinnying and stomping against the fence to see if they could get free.
After letting the horse sniff him, he patted her and inched forward, trying to get her to back up. She reared and whinnied. Andy flung himself back to avoid a direct kick. There wasn’t a spot on his body that didn’t hurt, either from the days of hard work or from bruises inflicted by feral horses. “You’re doing great,” he murmured gently even as his heart feared taking another hit. Despite wearing protective gear, he was banged up.
He eased forward and stroked her neck. “Let’s just keep backing up.” He continued to crowd her by stepping closer to her face as she remained inside the horsebox with its narrow sides. She whinnied and stomped in protest. “I know,” he cooed, “but you’ve got to be unloaded.” She took a few steps back. “That’s a girl.” She reluctantly walked backward down the trailer ramp. When her back hoofs stumbled off the ledge where the ramp met the dirt, she reared, knocking Andy down, and bolted into the corral.
Some of the volunteers who were watching him clapped as the last horse entered the corral. Andy just sat on the ramp and gathered his wits, grateful to finally have these horses where they needed to be. After FedEx had dropped off the information, he’d called Uncle Lester, who agreed to the plan. Andy had then called Renee, the executive director of the Humane Society. As she explained the situation, it became clear to him that the Humane Society needed as many skilled volunteers as possible. Within two hours he was on his way to the makeshift triage center in central Pennsylvania. He’d left home Thursday night. Today was Monday, and he’d slept little in between.
He stood and removed his helmet. At home he and Levi never used protective gear when training horses, but it was a government regulation when he helped the Humane Society, and wisely so. He and Levi had worked with some high-strung, abused, and traumatized horses but never feral ones.
His uncle Lester ambled toward him, cane in hand as he limped across the patchy grass. “I didn’t doubt for a minute that you could handle those horses.”
Andy walked off the ramp. “You should have. I sure did.”
“The Keim girls arrived. There was a mix-up concerning the message I left. That’s why there wasn’t any breakfast ready when you and the team arrived, but they have some pastries, fruit, and coffee set up on tables under a shade tree at the side of the house. They’ll have lunch ready in less than two hours.”
He didn’t know who the Keim girls were, but his uncle seemed to put a lot of stock in them. “Denki. I’ll get something to eat in a bit. I want to check the fences first.” Hunger rumbled through his stomach as the aroma of coffee rode on the air.
When volunteers removed the trailer ramp, Andy closed the gate and began walking the perimeter of the corral, shaking each fence post and rattling the railing. This particular pen covered an acre. As he continued to work his way around it, he saw a few Amish and Englisch men and women in the yard with plates of food and coffee, eating and chatting. The backdrop for the tables and meandering people was pastures and tame horses with one sprawling white dogwood in full bloom. He remembered the fields and fences well from a few childhood visits, but had that dogwood always been there?
An Amish woman walked toward him, toting a tray. When she got close enough, she held it up. “Lester asked me to bring you coffee and Danish.”
Andy looked at his filthy hands. He couldn’t eat, but surely he could at least gulp down a little coffee. He wasn’t a fan of Danish pastries, but he’d surely like something in his stomach.
Once she was near him, she moved the edge of the tray to her hip and balanced it with one hand before picking up a pint-size, clear container. “Hand sanitizer will fix that, at least until you can wash up with soap and water. Hold out your hands.” She waggled the container over the grass, away from the tray of food.
He did as she said, but he’d been working around the clock for days without the benefit of a bath. “This kind of dirt needs lye soap and scalding water.”
“Maybe.” She poured gobs of the clear liquid into his hands. “But this will do. Just rub your hands together as if it’s soap and water.”
The smell of alcohol overpowered the aroma of the coffee. The sanitizer landed on his hands as a clear liquid, but it dripped from them as if it were muddy water. She squirted more into his hands, and he rubbed it on his arms. She then passed him a wet, white hand towel. Before he used it on his hands and arms, he scrubbed his face with it. When he saw the grime on the white towel, he tensed. “Sorry.” With the damage already done to the towel, he went ahead and wiped his hands and arms.
Her expression didn’t change, but he was sure he detected some humor in her eyes as she took the towel from him. “It’s my fault for bringing you a white one.” With the towel dangling from her fingertips, she held out the tray.
He took the cup of coffee and Danish. “Denki.”
She nodded and backed up several feet. A good Amish woman kept a physical distance from any man she wasn’t related to. He ate a bite of the blueberry Danish. “Wow,” he mumbled, looking at it, “maybe it’s because I’m so hungry, but that’s better than I expected.”
“Good.” She dropped the towel onto the tray. “Lunch will be ready in ninety minutes, and we’re getting your room set up now. Lester said your bedroom is to be the one on the second story. At the top of the stairs, turn left, and it’s the door facing you at the end of the hall. It has its own bathroom and a view of the corral and barns. Do you have luggage of some sort we can put in there for you?”
“Just a backpack I shoved clothes into days ago. What little is in it is now dirty.”
“We can take care of that too. Just put whatever you want washed in a pile outside your bedroom.” She studied him from his feet up, but he kept his attention on the horses, pretending not to notice. “I have a brother about your size. I’ll get you some of his clean clothes until we get your stuff washed and dried.”
“I appreciate it.” He was sure he smelled like dirty horses, and he probably looked more unkempt than the feral horses since he hadn’t shaved his upper cheeks or mustache in four mornings. He had a lot to do today, but he sure would like to shower, shave, and change before he crawled into bed tonight.
“Just set the mug on a fence post when you’re finished, and I’ll get it later.” She started toward the house.
But Andy remembered several other things he needed. “Excuse me.”
She turned. Her coolness wasn’t surprising. This was typical of nonrelated, adult Amish with the opposite gender—polite, stoic, and minimal.
“My brother and my son, Tobias, are arriving later today.” With the help of a driver, Levi would bring Tobias and maybe stay for the afternoon to help Andy. “With these horses as out of sorts as they are right now, I’ll need to find someone to watch Tobias when I can’t.”
An almost-imperceptible wrinkling of her brow crossed her otherwise-blank expression. Had Lester not told her he had a son who would join him? “How old is your son?”
“Nine.”
“That’s a pretty easy age to keep up with. We can watch him for you.”
“We?”
“My sisters, Naomi and Hope, and me. I’m Jolene Keim.”
“Ah, the Keim girls my great-uncle is so fond of.”
She smiled, and he realized how attractive she was—rosy lips, white teeth, and auburn hair framing sun-kissed skin. And sapphire-blue eyes. He wouldn’t know what color to call her eyes if it weren’t for Tobias’s collection of marbles and Sadie’s pleasure in giving a name to every color and shade.
“I’m the oldest of the sisters, and, as we’re doing now, I would appreciate any requests going through me first.”
Andy guessed she was in her midtwenties and probably wasn’t a Keim any longer. But once the females in a family got a nickname, they kept it even after they married. “Andy Fisher.”
She shifted the tray, clasping it with both hands. “What you’re doing here with these poor animals is good of you, and we want to help in any way we can.”
He’d have to take her up on that offer more than he was willing to admit to her right now. He wasn’t leaving Tobias elsewhere for the summer while he was here. “I asked Lester to contact a local blacksmith. Do you know if he did?”
Her lips pursed ever so slightly, and he got the feeling he’d touched on a less-than-favorable topic. “I’m sure he didn’t. He would leave that to you.”
“I don’t know anything about smithies in this area.”
“There’s only one. Beiler’s Blacksmith Shop. I can write the number for you on the pad in Lester’s phone shanty.”
“They make house calls, right?”
“Ya. The business has a wagon and one worker who travels as needed—Van Beiler.”
“Is he good at his trade?”
“Very.”
“Is Van Beiler the kind of man who might dicker on prices?”
“My understanding is he doesn’t barter or dicker. Cash only. In advance.”
“Well, I’m not sure that will work in this situation.” Andy rubbed the back of his neck. “I could do the shoeing myself, but I don’t have the equipment with me. Lester probably has some old shoeing equipment around here somewhere, but these horses will need a blacksmith and a handler to get through the process without hurting someone or themselves.”
Andy was sure he noticed a faint sigh before she nibbled on one side of her lower lip, studying the horses. “If I made the call personally, he would give the best price possible.” Her raised eyebrow and slight shake of her head said she wasn’t fond of the idea.
Sometimes his life would be easier if he didn’t pick up on body language, but the more time he spent trying to understand horses, the better he could read people too. Well, honest people. If she was aware of her body language and trying to conceal it, he doubted he could pick up on any of her feelings.
“Okay. I’ll call him.” She sighed. “If you and Lester can make the sacrifice to oversee the well-being of the horses, I can swallow my pride for a few minutes and ask Van for a favor.” Her eyes met his. “Apparently I can’t do it without venting.”
Andy chuckled at her honest review of herself.
She shook her head. “Van Beiler.” A hint of a friendly smile crossed her lips. “You couldn’t need a simple favor like asking for my firstborn.”