For a rutted, sunbaked, dirt back road, this one sure got plenty of traffic. Tobias tugged on the reins and tried to calm Honey. She didn’t like surprises, which didn’t make her great for buggy pulling on the road. Tobias didn’t much like surprises, either. Caleb had the same blue eyes and fair skin as his sisters. Rebekah’s cheeks turned strawberry red. She had a beautiful face, high cheekbones, eyes the color of the ocean, dark-brown hair that peeked from under her kapp. Curves filled out her dress nicely.
He shook his head as if he could shake off those thoughts. Embarrassment heated his already warm face even though he hadn’t said a word. She’d left her post at the school in the middle of the day to meet a sister who’d left the faith. He should help her see the error of her ways, nothing more.
He cleared his throat. “Anyone else coming? You could have class here, in the great outdoors, if more people show up.”
“You’re the one who kept spiking the volleyball the other night. What are you doing out here with my schweschder?” The boy popped to his feet and dusted off his hands on dirty pants. He sidled toward Rebekah, his gaze whipping back and forth. “Susan sent me to look for you. She was worried when you didn’t come in from recess after lunch, what with the rattlesnakes and all—”
“Whoa, whoa.” Rebekah held up her hands as if to stem the flow of words. “I’m right here. I took a walk and lost track of time and I ran into Tobias. He’s on his way to the school to check if the snakes have regrouped at the outhouse.”
Her gaze begged him to let it go. He shook his head. He wouldn’t be party to a lie, not even to a young boy. It was wrong. “I was cutting across to reach the school quicker. I need to get home for lunch and back to the shop. I heard a car.”
Let her explain the car. She still had a chance to redeem herself.
“A car. Out here?” Caleb patted Honey’s forehead. “This horse is a beaut. A palomino, right? We have to get back before Susan sends out a whole posse to look for us.”
Rebekah remained silent, her face miserable. How could someone look so sad and yet so beautiful? It didn’t matter. A woman bent on breaking the rules of the Ordnung could not be considered fraa material.
What a hypocrite he was. If she only knew.
Tobias drew back from that white-hot, throbbing place where the memory of Serena resided, careful not to touch it directly. With time, perhaps, but for now, even the periphery of the memory hurt too much.
Daed insisted the move here would erase those feelings.
Feelings for a woman unsuitable for a Plain man.
He’d come to Bee County, Texas, half a country away from his heartache, so he could do just that. He had to establish himself here. Set up the leather shop, get some customers, start working on the custom-made saddles. Three weeks of intensive work to make one saddle. That would keep his mind and his heart occupied until he could trust himself to risk his heart again. It wouldn’t be to a woman who broke the rules.
That didn’t mean he couldn’t be kind. “I’m headed to the school, anyway. Let me give you a ride.” He scooted to one side in the buggy. “There’s room and it’ll be faster than walking.”
She shook her head, her brilliant blue eyes cold as snow on a winter day up north. She most likely debated how much he would tell Susan. “We’ll walk. It’s not that far.”
“Get in. We’re headed the same direction.”
If she shook her head any harder, her kapp would fall off. He wouldn’t mind seeing the rest of her chestnut hair. Behave.
“We don’t need a ride. We’re fine.”
“Nee, schweschder. I’m missing the spelling test.” Caleb ended the disagreement by climbing into the buggy without so much as a by-your-leave. “Because of you. Let’s go. I don’t want to stay after school to finish. Susan will make me, you know she will.”
Rebekah paused, hands on her hips, her expression grim. “Fine.” She climbed into the buggy but squeezed herself against the far edge of the seat. “Can you hurry? I’m supposed to be helping the little ones with their numbers.”
It was silent for several minutes as the buggy shook and shimmied over thick ridges and ruts in the road. Tobias glanced at her from the corners of his eyes. She seemed to be studying the ruts, her full lips turned down in a pout. “So what did your sister say about helping Lupe and Diego?”
“You saw Leila?” Caleb’s voice shot up an octave and then back down in the typical boy-on-the-edge-of-growing-into-a-teenager way. “She was here? Did she bring the baby? What did she—?”
Rebekah’s hand shot up in a stop position. Her glare, like a spotlight on a dark night, spoke volumes. “Jah, I saw her.” Her voice quivered and broke. She turned in her seat so Tobias mostly saw her back and shoulders. A hard sniff followed. “She’ll ask Jesse what he thinks.”
“Why are you crying?” Caleb raised one hand as if to pat his sister’s back. The hand dropped. Probably afraid she’d bite it off if he got too close. “That’s good, right? We want them to stay, don’t we?”
“I’m not crying. I never cry.” She pivoted on the seat again. Her eyes were red but her mouth set. “I asked about them because they’re only children and they’re in a strange land and they have no one to help them.”
They had no one to protect them. All children should have protectors. “Agreed.”
“But . . .” Her mouth dropped open. She didn’t appear to have a single filling in her even, white teeth. “You agree.”
He shrugged. “Jah, but it doesn’t matter. It’s not up to you or me. It’s up to the bishop and he told you not to talk to Leila and Jesse. You disobeyed. What’s more, you know it. You have guilt written across your forehead in big red letters.”
Caleb inched closer to his sister. “She probably meant well. That’s what Mudder says. Rebekah always means well.”
A good bruder, this boy, who defended his sister. Still, it was all well and good to agree with Rebekah regarding those poor kinner, but a person still had to do the right thing. Going against the bishop’s wishes—and her stepfather’s wishes—would only result in difficulties for Rebekah. Tobias had had enough of that sort of thing back in Ohio.
Silence reigned for the remaining few minutes it took to reach the school. Susan stuck her head out the door as he pulled the buggy to a stop by the front steps. “There you are. I was about to organize a search party.” She lifted her hand to her forehead and squinted against the sun. “Tobias, what are you doing here? Your little schweschders and bruders are doing fine.”
“Daed wanted me to make sure no more rattlers are hanging around here.” Tobias hopped from the buggy. He glanced back at Rebekah. She didn’t move to get down. As much as he knew it was the right thing to do, he found himself hesitating. She looked so penitent. “I came upon Rebekah here visiting with her sister Leila out by the road on the back side of our property. Then Caleb showed up looking for Rebekah.”
The smile slid from Susan’s face. She sighed. “Danki for bringing them back. I would’ve made them walk, myself.”
“What with the snakes and all, I wanted to see how the little ones have settled in.” He glanced at Rebekah. Her gaze was glued to the ground as if she found sticks and stones fascinating. “Daed will want to know that his kinner are behaving and that they’re in good hands.”
“Much better than some folks around here.” Susan’s frown deepened. “Rest in the assurance that what you saw today is not the norm around here. We follow the Ordnung. Please let your daed know.”
Rebekah’s face was stained beet red. She raised her head and met his gaze head-on. Something there told him she would offer no apology for her actions. So be it.
“I will. He’s very careful, what with my mudder having passed six years ago. He feels a lot of responsibility.” Just as Tobias did. Every minute of every day. “He wants what’s best for Lupe and Diego as well.”
A course of action to be decided by Jeremiah, Mordecai, and Will. Not a girl who decided to interfere even after she’d been specifically told not to do so.
“Come on up and have a peek.” Susan cocked her head toward the door. “The little ones are doing addition and subtraction right now.”
Rebekah slipped past him without a backward glance. He quelled the urge to say he was sorry. He’d done what he had to do. Still, he was certain at least one person would not be happy to see him at the school.
Or anywhere else.