Jordan unfastened Clyde from the plow and led him off the field. As he rounded the corner of the barn, Rachel came into his peripheral vision—talking to a cow. He pulled back on Clyde’s halter to have him stop.
He was far enough away that he couldn’t make out everything she was saying. Had she really asked the cow how she was feeling? She probably expected the cow to answer too. He cocked his head when she squatted down and spread her hand over the cow’s belly.
The cow swished its tail and caused Rachel to lose her balance and stumble backward. When she regained her balance, she lifted her foot, and judging her grimaced expression, she’d probably stepped in a cow pie.
Jordan subdued his mirth and coaxed Clyde forward. He didn’t need to waste time watching Rachel—especially since it was obvious she disliked him. He understood, but whether she liked him or not, the cows needed milking. He wanted to make a good impression by having the barn chores completed before Micah returned from his errands.
He led Clyde into his stall, unhooked the water bucket, and headed outside to the pump. As he pumped the handle, Rachel shuffled toward him.
“I’ll just be a minute.” He eyed her soiled shoe, then sniffed the air. “Do you smell something?”
Her nose scrunched as she breathed in, then she exhaled while shaking her head. “Nothing unusual.”
“Hmm. I was sure I smelled a dung pile.” He shrugged. “Must be the wind direction.”
She leaned toward him with narrowed eyes. “You do know this is a farm.”
Jordan grinned and made it obvious he was looking at her shoes. “Most farmers wear boots to do barn work.” He filled the bucket, moved it aside, then continued pumping the handle. “Go ahead. Take your shoes off and wash them.”
“I’m a big girl. I know what to do with dirty shoes.” She put her hands on her hips. “And I can pump mei own water.”
Jordan released the handle and stepped back, raising his hands in surrender. “I hope those aren’t your Sunday shoes.”
Nathaniel followed Jordan into the barn. “Do not strive against one another or cause one to stumble into anger. Rather, love one another as Jesus commanded.”
Nathaniel entered the stall at the same time as Jordan. The horse nickered at Nathaniel’s presence. “Be still,” he ordered the beast. The horse pawed the straw floor, stretched its neck, and snorted.
“Easy, boy.” Jordan lowered the full water bucket and picked up another to get feed.
Rachel entered and headed to Ginger’s stall. Grabbing the feed bucket, she carried it to the grain bin.
“Apologize. Don’t let the sun go down,” Nathaniel prodded Jordan’s conscience.
Jordan took a step toward Rachel, intending to say something, but sneezed instead.
“Bless you.”
“Thank you.” He sneezed again.
Jordan scanned the area for the fur-ball culprit. A litter of barn cats caused his last sneezing fit at the Troyers’. Earlier, when he helped with milking, he hadn’t had this problem.
Rachel filled a tin can with grain. “You have a cold?”
He used a coffee can to scoop oats from the barrel, filling it to the brim. “Allergies.” He inhaled slowly. His nasal passages weren’t completely clogged—yet. The fluid inside his sinus cavity pulsated with increasing pressure.
“You look like you’ve been crying.”
Jordan rubbed his eyes. “I’m like the TV commercial. Sneezing, itchy . . . watery . . . eyes.”
Her nose scrunched.
He sighed. “I guess you’ve never seen the commercial.”
“Nay.”
Of course she hadn’t. No electricity. No television or radio.
She opened her big blue eyes wider. “You miss watching TV?”
“Sometimes.” He missed a lot of things that were sold to pay his mother’s medical bills or repossessed for lack of payment. He took Clyde’s bucket and headed back to the stall, sneezing three times in quick succession.
“Every Amish family has a barn,” she said, following him. “If you have hay allergies, why did you kumm to live with your onkel?”
He stared at her for a moment, wondering how much to tell her. He began to pour the oats into Clyde’s feed bin, and the horse had his nose in the bin before the oats had emptied from the can. From the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of her bending down to pick up a gray, fluffy-haired cat. She stuck her nose in the cat’s fur and nuzzled it. He could hear her talking to it in soft, muffled words, cradling it in her arms.
“I guess that’s your cat.”
She looked at him as though he were stupid.
“Does it have a name?”
“His name is Smokey.” She craned her head toward the opened window. “Daed’s back. He’ll need mei help with the horse.” She lowered Smokey to the ground and headed for the door. She stopped, the sunlight streaming into the barn, putting her in a silhouette outlined with gold. “Does my daed know you’re allergic to the barn? Perhaps working here isn’t such a gut idea.”
“Who says it’s the barn? Maybe I’m allergic to you.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Another gut reason you should leave.”
She bolted out the door.
“Jordan, I want to help you find your way, but how can I if you don’t listen?” Nathaniel peered upward. “Master, show me how to reach him.”
Tangus hung out in a corner and chortled. “I think it’s nice he’s having fun.”
Gravel crunched under the wheels of what sounded like a truck. Jordan peered out the window to see Micah waving his hands, giving directions for whoever was backing up the fancy horse trailer. Whoever owned this rig was serious about horses.
“Rachel, geh ask Jordan to help me, please.”
Jordan trotted for the door, nearly colliding with Rachel at the entrance. “Sorry,” he said, stepping around her.
“Daed said he needs help unloading a horse.” She delivered her message as though it was painful for her to do so.
“Sure.” He wiped his hands on the sides of his pants and followed her to the trailer.
Micah hand-signaled the driver to stop. He spoke to Jordan while still focused on the trailer. “This boy might give us problems unloading.”
“New horse?”
“Nett mine. I only shoe, board, and train them.” Micah waved to the man who was getting out of the driver’s seat of the pickup truck, but Jordan locked eyes on the girl climbing out from the passenger side. She looked to be Rachel’s age and was very beautiful. Her chestnut-colored hair fell over the shoulders of her jean jacket and bounced as she strolled confidently over to Jordan.
“Hi, I’m Kayla.” She stuck out her hand, which he clasped. Her grip was firm, her hand very soft.
“Jordan,” he said.
She dug her hands into the front pockets of her jeans and rocked back on the heels of her boots, considering him.
He didn’t mind admiring her as well. A good Amish man would look away and not tempt himself. But he wasn’t Amish.
Delight spread over her face and she couldn’t stand still. “I’m excited. This is my first horse.”
“Is that so?” Why was it that girls squirmed when they were excited? It was like every muscle was bursting with energy.
“I suppose since you’re Amish a new horse wouldn’t be a big deal to you.”
He wasn’t sure how to answer, deciding it was less complicated to let her believe as she wished.
The trailer ramp hitting the ground with a heavy thud riled the horse. “I need to help Micah,” he told her and stepped closer to the trailer.
“Easy nau,” Micah said calmly to the horse. “Jordan, if you could stand on the other side of the trailer . . .” He took in the area around him, mentally measuring what he needed to do for safety. “Rachel, go in the haus and help your mamm with supper.”
She gave Kayla a long look but did as her father instructed.
Nathaniel shadowed Rachel across the gravel drive. He wanted to assure her of God’s love and steer her away from jealousy. But hearing Tangus provoke the horse, Nathaniel turned back to protect his other charge.
Micah opened the access window to the trailer and attached the lead to the horse’s halter. The horse snorted and moved about, causing the trailer to rock. “Easy, boy,” Micah said, calming him a bit. He stepped inside the trailer and unlatched the barrier that had supported him during the ride. He took hold of the lead and began to back the horse out, speaking in soft tones.
The moment the appaloosa cleared the trailer, he reared, pawing his front hooves in the air above Micah.
Tangus pounced on the animal’s back and clung like a bur at his withers.
Micah pulled the rope taut, seemingly unruffled at the horse’s dangerous behavior. “He’s got some vinegar in him.” The horse tossed his head, his eyes wide, his feet in constant motion.
Nathaniel drew his sword. “Leave the animal alone!”
Tangus slithered off the horse. “You’re no fun.”
Once Tangus was gone, Nathaniel lowered his sword and tethered it to his armor. Then, gently touching the horse’s neck, he spoke soothingly. “Peace, be still.”
The horse stopped his fight, and Micah looped a rope around his neck and passed it to Jordan.
The horse snorted and sidestepped in Jordan’s direction.
“Easy, boy.” Jordan gripped the rope with both hands as Micah eased closer. The horse, although somewhat calmer, still kept his ears back against his head while nervously raising his head high, breathing heavily and pawing at the ground.
Micah spoke to the Englischer. “George, will you open the barn door the rest of the way? Gently, so the noise doesn’t spook him.”
Once the door was open, Jordan and Micah guided the horse into an empty stall.
“I’ll get some feed. Maybe that will calm him.” Jordan headed to the grain barrel. The girl followed.
“What do you think of him?” Excitement bubbled out of her.
He paused from filling the can. “Not that my opinion matters . . . but he seems too high-strung for a beginner to handle.”
Obviously deflated and defensive, she said, “He comes from good stock.”
Jordan finished scooping the oats. “For what?”
“Barrel racing.”
“I drive horses and ride but not around barrels.” He left her standing by the feed and sneezed on his way back to the stall.
“God bless you,” Micah said. He gestured to the other man.
“This is George Davy, and George, this is Jordan Engles. He’s helping me on the farm.”
The men shook hands, exchanging words of greeting.
“Well, I guess I’d better get going. There’s always something to do on a farm, isn’t there?” George stepped toward the door. “Are you ready to go, Kayla?”
“I want to say good-bye to Pepper.” She climbed the first rung of the stall gate and leaned to stroke the horse’s neck. “I’ll be back to visit soon.”
Jordan tossed a flake of hay into the stall, then grabbed the empty water bucket. The horse’s name seemed reasonable. Not only did he have black spots, but he had fire running through him.
He took the bucket outside to the well, and as he pumped the handle, the Davys climbed into their truck. He returned Kayla’s wave, then picked up the full bucket.
Jordan sneezed as he was returning to the stall with the water. He tipped his head back to search the rafters but didn’t see the cat.
Micah walked up to Jordan. “Barn dust?”
Feeling his eyes beginning to water, Jordan wiped his shirtsleeve across his face. Rachel’s words returned to him, asking if her father knew of his allergy. “I’ll be fine.” Even as he spoke the words, another sneeze triggered. Perhaps he was allergic to barn dust as well as cats.
“April is early for pollen.”
“I still want the work.” His words were rushed.
Micah cocked his head. “Gut. Have you ever shoed a horse?”
“No.” He guarded his breathing, taking in only shallow inhalations.
Micah clapped his shoulder. “I’ll teach you how but nett today.” He patted his stomach. “I’m hungry. You too?”
“Yes, sir.”
Rachel set the dishes on the table so hard they rattled. Her mother stood at the stove, oblivious to any attempts Rachel made to temper her anger. It wasn’t that she despised women’s work. She disliked her father’s cold dismissal. Several times in the past she’d helped unload horses that arrived for buggy training or shoeing.
Rachel set the utensils next to the plates and wandered over to the window ledge. The last time she looked out, the narrisch animal reared and both Daed and Jordan were trying to control him when he came down. Once the horse settled, she wasn’t sure who stood prouder, the spotted horse or the owner’s daughter.
The truck no longer in the driveway, she moved away from the window. Her mind reeled with thoughts of how Jordan had shown no shame eyeing the beautiful Kayla Davy. Rachel understood how the girl’s figure, made more obvious in those tight-fitting jeans, would attract his attention—but why should that bother her?
Mamm poured the gravy from the beef roast into a serving dish. “Put the bread and butter on the table. Everything should be ready when they kumm in to eat.” She placed the pot in the sink and ran some water into the empty pan to soak.
The back door opened. The men doffed their hats and placed them on wall hooks.
“I use bar steel and always leave a very small bit of expansion room.” Daed held up his fingers, indicating the minuscule space. “I’ll show you when we shoe next week.”
“Great,” Jordan said and pulled out the chair where he’d sat during breakfast.
Daed took his place, continuing the topic of shoeing.
Her father had bonded quickly with the hired hand. Too quickly. Rachel set the bowl of potatoes in the center of the table and pulled out the chair across from Jordan.
When she opened her eyes after offering an abbreviated quiet grace, she noticed Jordan’s eyes roaming from the food to her parents, then stopping on her, smiling.
Daed opened his eyes and picked up the knife to slice the roast.
“I tilled another row before putting Clyde up,” Jordan said, then added, “I’ll work on it tomorrow too.”
“Nett meiya. Timothy needs help with his addition.” He glanced at Rachel. “Maybe you and Mamm will bake a pie to bring?” Without waiting for Rachel’s reply, Daed spoke to Jordan. “You like pie, jah?”
Jordan looked at Rachel. “I like anything sweet.”
Like Kayla Davy. Rachel shot him a quick saccharine smile. “I think there’re some crab apples left over from last fall.”