A Simple Vow Page 3

  “It’s just fabulous, the way you two have grown your business these past months—and attracted so many more folks to Willow Ridge for the rest of our shops, too,” Luke remarked. “When Ira and I opened our mill and store last year, we had no idea how busy we’d be, or how many regional farmers we’d need to hire to grow specialty grains for us.”

  “Not to mention your cage-free chickens and eggs,” Savilla said. “We’re really glad to have local suppliers for those because we know the eggs haven’t been sitting in cold storage somewhere—and the meat’s so fresh. Here—” She grabbed a golden-brown chicken quarter with her tongs and put it on a small plate. “This’ll tide you over until you and Nora come through the line for your dinner.”

  Luke laughed, tickled by her sense of humor and hospitality. “You don’t have to ask me twice,” he teased. “Nora’s having such a gut time visiting, it might be a while before we sit down.”

  As he ambled along the outside edge of the dining room, where the tables had been placed end-to-end and covered with long white tablecloths, Luke bit into a perfectly seasoned chicken thigh with a groan of satisfaction. When he spotted his wife, with her auburn hair tucked up under her kapp and her freckled face alight with a smile, he let his gaze linger on her. Last spring at this time he’d been footloose and determined to remain uncommitted—a bachelor of thirty determined to live in a state of never-ending rumspringa—yet now he craved the company of his unconventional wife, and was contentedly immersed in the Mennonite faith they shared.

  As though sensing his attention, Nora turned and smiled at him. Luke’s heart fluttered. The crowd ceased to exist for a few moments as her green eyes made him hold his breath. When he saluted her with a chicken leg, they both laughed and went on about their visiting. As he glanced at Millie, so like her mother, and at his younger brother Ira while the newlyweds accepted plates of pie from Naomi Brenneman, Luke sent up a prayer. Let them find the same happiness You’ve granted me with Nora, Lord.

  “Quite a party you’re puttin’ on for the happy couple,” a familiar voice behind him said.

  Luke turned as his older brother Ben clapped him on the back. “It’s the least I can do, considering how you’ve helped pay for their new home.”

  “Oh, let’s not forget that the aunts kicked in on that, as well as Ira.” Ben smiled mischievously. “I felt sorry for you and Nora, what with bein’ newlyweds yourselves—maybe lettin’ Ira and Millie move into your place rather than expectin’ them to bunk in the apartment above the mill.”

  “Aunt Nazareth and Aunt Jerusalem are so glad to see both of us younger bucks belonging to a church—and married—they said their house money was a thank offering to God,” Luke remarked with a chuckle. “Ira and I did keep them on pins and needles for a long time.”

  Ben, who’d preached the main sermon at the wedding today, shrugged. “I was older than you boys—thirty-five—before I found my Miriam,” he said with a nostalgic smile. “Who knew we’d all meet our matches and set up businesses when we came to Willow Ridge? It’s a gut thing God knew what we needed and got us to the right place at the right time, jah?”

  “And who could’ve predicted that I’d give up my English life to join the Old Order and open a clinic here?” Andy Leitner chimed in as he came to stand with them. “Every time I see my kids’ smiles—and the rosy glow on my Rhoda’s face as she swells with our new baby—I have to pinch myself and give thanks.”

  “We’re blessed to have ya here takin’ care of us,” Ben said with a nod. Then his smile brightened with curiosity. “Say, Andy, have ya heard anything about that acreage down the road from your corner—directly across from the Riehl place and Bishop Tom’s—goin’ up for sale?”

  “I’ve heard the English family who owns it is selling because the dat and mamm can’t manage living there by themselves anymore,” Bishop Tom said as he joined them. “Guess they’re goin’ to something called an assisted-living facility.”

  “Why aren’t those kids lookin’ after their parents?” Ben asked with a shake of his head. “I can’t imagine havin’ to move away from the farm you’ve lived on most of your life, into a place where ya don’t know the other residents—or the ones who’ll be taking care of ya, either.”

  Luke considered this information as he looked across the crowded café to see his brother Ira smiling into his new bride’s freckled face. “Might be worth my while to check into that land,” he mused aloud. “Not sure what I’d do with the house that’s on it, but the tillable acres would be a gut place for raising more of our specialty grains for the mill, or—”

  Behind them, the bell jangled when the door was thrown open. “Where’s Andy Leitner?” a woman cried out. “We’ve found a fellow thrown from his horse alongside the road, out cold!”

  Andy rushed toward the door, and Luke felt compelled to go with him. His Aunt Nazareth, now Bishop Tom’s wife, had hollered over the happy chatter of the crowd, and she appeared winded from sprinting to the Grill N Skillet. “After we ate, Jerusalem and I were walking over to the barn so she could see our little goats when we spotted a tall black horse, saddled but without its rider,” she explained as the three of them hurried out to the road. “Then we noticed a fellow sprawled over in the grass—”

  “Stay here and catch your breath, Nazareth,” Andy insisted as he smiled at her. “I’ll meet up with your sister as soon as I get my horse hitched to the clinic wagon.”

  “Wonder who it could be?” Luke asked as he and Andy loped down the highway toward the clinic at the next corner. “Most of the locals are still at the wedding dinner or visiting out back of the restaurant.”

  “Naz didn’t seem to know him. Could be an out-of-town guest—or just somebody passing through on a pretty day,” Andy said. “Denki for coming along, Luke.”

  Minutes after they reached the Leitner barn, they were rolling down the gravel road that ran past the Riehl place and the bishop’s pasture, where cud-chewing Holsteins gazed over the fence at them. Luke had always been in awe of Andy’s specialized wagon, which was a small clinic on wheels—allowed by Bishop Tom because it was a horse-drawn vehicle their local nurse could drive to medical emergencies or house calls. Luke’s pulse accelerated with the mare’s hoofbeats as he gazed up the road. Aunt Jerusalem’s white kapp caught the sunshine as she waved her arm above her head.

  “Wow, that’s an impressive horse,” he murmured. “Percheron by the looks of it—although he seems to have a limp.”

  “Might want to have Ben take a look at the horse after we see to its owner,” Andy murmured. “The guy’s sitting up now. Let’s keep him still until I figure out how badly he’s hurt.”

  Andy stopped the wagon a couple of yards from where Luke’s Aunt Jerusalem stood, her face etched with concern. “Glad ya got here so quick, Andy,” the middle-aged woman remarked. “Now that he’s sittin’ up, he seems determined to be anywhere but here.”

  The man had coal-black hair and a grass-stained shirt that stuck out around his suspenders. One side of his face was badly bruised, and he had an open wound in his forehead. He appeared dazed as he looked up at them, and he was placing his hands on the ground as though he intended to push himself up. “Where am I?” he asked hoarsely. “I have no idea how I came to be—”

  “Don’t stand up!” Andy insisted as he sprang from the wagon seat. “I’ll check you over for broken bones and such. I’m a nurse, by the way. Andy Leitner.”

  The man’s dark eyebrows rose. “You look like an Amish man—but you’re a nurse? I must’ve really hit my head hard.”

  Andy smiled as he ran his hands over the fellow’s neck and shoulders. “I get that reaction a lot. What can you tell me about your accident?” he asked as he gently grasped the man’s upper arms.

  The stranger winced. “I’m foggy about that. I think I remember a buggy whizzing past me—must’ve spooked Midnight awfully bad—”

  The gelding nickered in response to hearing its name.

  “—and from there, it�
��s a blur,” the man finished with a sigh.

  “Any idea how long you’ve been lying here?”

  “Nope.”

  Andy nodded and continued his examination. “Any idea where you are, what town this is?” he quizzed as he assessed the man’s eyes and pupils.

  “Not really—except I’m on the ground and in a state of pain,” the guy added with a short laugh.

  “We’ll fix that as soon as we can,” Andy assured him. “So, what’s your name? Where are you from?”

  “Ah, my manners are slipping. I’m Asa Detweiler, and I live in—ouch!”

  “Sorry,” Andy murmured. “I’m not finding any broken bones, but you’ve got some bruised ribs and a bloody forehead. You’re going to be sore for a long while.”

  The guy sighed again as he refocused on Andy’s questions. “Clifford.”

  Andy bit back a grin. “I assume we’re talking about a town rather than the big red dog that’s in a lot of kids books?”

  Asa’s expression went blank.

  “Sorry. I shouldn’t be teasing about stuff like that,” Leitner said.

  “Clifford’s a little town a ways south of here,” Luke replied. He was relieved that Asa seemed to be regaining his memory despite his obvious discomfort. “Did you come up to Willow Ridge for the wedding festivities?”

  Asa again appeared confused, but then his lean face settled into a scowl. “I wouldn’t liken my reason for being here to any sort of festivity,” he muttered. “And frankly, I’d rather not discuss it. If you’ll just let me get back on my horse—”

  “Nope, can’t do that,” Andy insisted, holding Asa’s broad shoulders so he’d remain seated. “Since we don’t know how long you were out, I’m taking you to the emergency room for an MRI, in case you’ve got a concussion—”

  “And your horse is in no shape to travel, either,” Luke chimed in. He led the tall black gelding a couple of yards and noticed it was favoring a leg. “How about if I take him over to my brother’s place? He’s our local farrier.”

  The man seemed torn between concern for his horse and reluctance to stick around much longer, so Luke pointed in the general direction of Ben’s shop. “I’ll just lead him up the road a few blocks, and we’ll take it real slow. I’m Luke Hooley, by the way, and this is my aunt, Jerusalem Gingerich,” he added. “We’re glad she and Naz found you when they did. We’ll look after you and your horse until you’re both road ready, all right?”

  “Gingerich, eh?” Asa murmured with a hint of suspicion.

  “Jah, I married Vernon last year,” Jerusalem replied. “He’s the bishop of Cedar Creek, ya know.”

  “Ah.” Asa smoothed his black hair away from his face as he assessed them all. He winced again as he shifted his position. “Guess I’m not too fired up about riding, now that you mention it—especially if Midnight’s lame,” he murmured. “I sure have to wonder who raced his rig past us so close—and so fast—that I got thrown to the side of the road.”

  “And I have to wonder who would’ve left you this way, too,” Luke added. “Even Plain boys racing down the back roads for the sport of it would have the decency to stop if they made a horse throw its rider.”

  “Jah, you’d think so,” Andy agreed. “Asa, for safety’s sake, we’re going to put you on a stretcher and carry you to the wagon.”

  As Luke helped the nurse get their visitor into the clinic wagon, he couldn’t help wondering about the real story behind this incident. Had someone from Willow Ridge run this fellow’s horse off the road? And why had Asa reacted so sourly to the name Gingerich? Families by that name lived all over this part of Missouri.

  Maybe Detweiler was hurt and confused—as any fellow would be after hitting the ground so hard—yet Luke also found himself speculating about the stranger’s reasons for being here. The shadow that had passed over Asa’s face when he’d refused to answer that question suggested ulterior motives . . . hidden hostility.

  Better keep your eye on this guy, Luke thought. Who knows what secrets he’s keeping?

  Chapter Four

  Edith stood beside her bed gazing down at the twins in awe. So small they were, and so sweet—like little angels—now that they’d eaten and fallen asleep. She’d arranged them in large cardboard boxes padded with towels, and finding them beds and more clothing was her first priority. Will’s box of supplies had included a very short stack of cloth diapers, half a dozen onesies, a blanket apiece, a half-used canister of powdered formula, and a few baby bottles—not much, considering she had two babies to look after. Molly had probably been too ill to sew for them, and not able to nurse them because of her cancer.

  What a heartache that must’ve been for Molly—and for Will as he watched her weaken and die. Edith sighed. So much about Will’s situation and these children was a sorrowful mystery.

  I’m watching out for your best interests, Daughter. You entered into this agreement without considering the long-term consequences.

  Edith frowned as her father’s words taunted her. Dat was right about her tendency to nurture hopeless souls and underdogs, but wasn’t that what the Bible urged Christians to do? What doth the Lord require of thee, but to do justly, and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with thy God? The verse from Micah had been one of the earliest Edith had committed to memory—the watchword of her faith. Even as a child she’d rescued little birds that had fallen from their nests and had bottle-fed baby rabbits and deer after their mothers had been hit in the road.

  Edith sighed. What future would these poor motherless children face if she didn’t care for them? She had to find a way around Dat’s refusal to keep them in the house . . . in her life. Already her heart swelled with love as she gazed at Leroy and Louisa.

  The clatter of footsteps downstairs alerted her to her sisters’ arrival, and she hurried down the hallway. “Shh!” Edith insisted as she leaned over the stairway railing. “I just got the babies to sleep!”

  Loretta and Rosalyn’s faces were alight with news—and secrets—when they looked up at her. “Where’s Dat?” Loretta asked in a loud whisper.

  Edith pointed downward, indicating the workshop in the basement.

  “Gut—you’ll never guess what’s happened!” her middle sister continued as the two girls removed their shoes.

  “Jah, Andy from down the road—the nurse fellow who runs the clinic—had to leave the wedding feast to fetch some guy Bishop Tom’s wife found on the roadside,” Rosalyn went on after she and Loretta had tiptoed up the stairs in their stocking feet. “Nobody knows why he’s here—”

  “But Jerusalem Gingerich was telling everyone he was thrown from the biggest black horse she’s ever seen—”

  Edith’s breath caught as she followed her sisters into their room.

  “—and then we saw him getting out of Andy’s clinic wagon on our way home,” Rosalyn went on in a low voice. “Luke Hooley was telling the fellow he could stay at their place until he’s recovered enough to travel.”

  “Oh, Asa,” Edith whimpered before she could stop herself.

  Her sisters’ eyebrows rose. “How do you know him, Edith?” Loretta demanded playfully. “We just caught enough of a glimpse to see that he was tall, dark, and—”

  “Mighty handsome,” Rosalyn finished.

  Edith’s throat had gotten so tight she couldn’t get the words out. Her heart was pounding so loudly she could hardly hear herself speak. “That’s the man who was arguing with Will about the babies. The one who asked me to take care of them until he came back.”

  Loretta’s playful expression sobered as she crossed her arms. “And you’re already head-over-heels for him, ain’t so?” she demanded. “Edith, we don’t know this man from Adam. What if he recovers enough to go home and he doesn’t intend to come back?”

  “He looks to be somewhat older than we are, so he’s surely got a home and a job somewhere else—and maybe a wife,” Rosalyn pointed out quietly. “What we don’t know about him—”

  “What we don’t know can�
�t hurt us, because those babies aren’t staying here.”

  The three sisters turned to find their father in the doorway, sternly shaking his head. Edith’s face went hot. How had Dat known to come upstairs, to catch them in this whispered conversation? She knew better than to ask, or to protest his ultimatum.

  Dat cleared his throat. “If this man was thrown from his horse after a falling-out with Will Gingerich, why do I suspect Will was responsible for the accident?” he asked in a knowing voice. “And if this man is associated with Will and his deceased wife, in a triangle of sin and deceit, nothing gut can possibly come of getting further involved in this dubious situation.”

  Edith knew better, because she’d watched Will leave town ahead of Asa. But she and her sisters remained silent, eyes upon their father.

  “This is why we’re returning the babies to Will, before you girls get attached to them,” Dat went on firmly. “And this is why you’re all forbidden to have any further contact with Will or the man he apparently stranded on the roadside. I can see his appearance has already affected the three of you.”

  Edith’s cheeks prickled with heat, and she looked down at the floor. She’d never been able to tell even the tiniest fib, and Dat had always been able to anticipate what his three daughters were cooking up before they got away with much. She didn’t protest her father’s ultimatum—but she didn’t agree to it, either.

  “Now that you’re home from the wedding and those babies have stopped howling, maybe we could have some supper,” Dat suggested.

  Loretta’s hand fluttered to her stomach. “I’m still so stuffed with pulled pork and baked beans—”

  “Not to mention those two pieces of pie and the wedding cake you ate,” Rosalyn added with a chuckle.

  Dat’s lips twitched. “Some of us haven’t eaten since breakfast.”

  Edith stifled a sigh. She wasn’t hungry, either, but at least Dat was more interested in eating than returning the twins to Will right away. “I’ll fix us something—maybe slice and fry those leftover baked potatoes and some bacon.”