Jo Ann - The Amish Christmas Cowboy

J.J. frowned for only a second because Sarah reappeared. She carried a tray with a pitcher of lemonade and glasses. Behind her, like ribbons on the tail of a kite, were four youngsters. The oldest had been out on the porch, but there was a little girl and two boys, too. The quartet must be siblings, though the younger two were blond while the older ones had black hair. They couldn’t be Sarah’s because they wore bright colored shirts and sneakers with soles that lit each time they took a step. Yet, it was clear she was in charge of them.

“If you’ll follow me...” Sarah motioned with her head toward her left.

“Let me help you with that big load,” Ned said, stepping forward with a grin.

“I’m fine. Danki. ”

“Nonsense. There’s no reason for a pretty filly like you to tote such a load.” Ned snatched the tray, and lemonade splattered out of the pitcher set in the center.

Dismay skittered across her face, but she turned to the kids, who’d skipped ahead of her into the big room, where they each grabbed a seat, the younger two wanting the same one. She convinced them to share as Ned put the tray on a low table. She turned and bumped into him. Without a word, she edged away.

Toby glanced at J.J. His boss was frowning. Ian Summerhays was an important client, and J.J. wouldn’t want Ned’s antics to cause problems. The plan when they left the ranch in Texas was for Ned to remain behind for a couple of weeks with the horses delivered to Summerhays. If J.J. changed his mind...

With a frown, Toby walked to a nearby sofa. If J.J. decided he couldn’t trust Ned—and he had plenty of reasons not to, assuming half the things Ned bragged about were true—Toby would be stuck at the fancy stables. Not that he wouldn’t have liked to spend more time getting the horses he’d worked with acclimated, but he’d hoped to use the time without Ned to ask J.J. about starting a small herd of his own. It would give him deeper roots on the ranch, something he’d never had while living with vagabond parents.

He hoped the rough seams on his denims wouldn’t snag the smooth lustrous material on the couch. He made sure his worn boots weren’t anywhere near the expensive upholstery or the wood that looked as if it’d been whitewashed. Everything about the house shouted the owners had spent a bundle on it.

They should have worried more about comfort, he thought as he sat. The chairs and sofas seemed too fragile and tiny for a full-grown man. His boss looked as if he perched on nursery furniture, because his knees rose to his chest level.

While Sarah served them lemonade, Ned kept trying to catch her eye. She stiffened each time he came close, but kept a smile in place as she told the youngsters they could have lemonade in the breakfast room.

Toby guessed she was their nanny. He thanked her when she handed him a glass that was frosted from the humidity, though the air-conditioning was keeping the house cool.

Ned moved too near to her when she offered him a glass. His broad hand closed over the glass and her hand. Her faint gasp brought Toby to his feet.

J.J. didn’t stand as he fired a glance at Toby, a warning to sit. At the same time, his boss asked, “Why don’t you drink that while you check on the horses, Ned?”

“I—”

“Never hurts to check again.”

Ned gave Sarah a broad smile but aimed a scowl at Toby as he strode out of the room.

J.J. motioned for Toby to remain sitting. Toby wasn’t sure why. Did Sarah have any idea that Ned was going to be remaining at the farm while Toby and J.J. left to deliver the rest of the horses?

Wishing he had an excuse to leave the ornate room where most of the surfaces seemed to be covered with gold leaf, Toby sipped the tart lemonade. Sarah still appeared uncomfortable, he realized, as J.J. smiled at her.

“May I ask you a personal question, young lady?” he asked.

Toby swallowed a silent moan. He recognized that grin. His boss was about to shake up what he considered a dull discussion. When J.J. looked at him, Toby guessed what his boss was about to ask. If he could think of a way—any way—to distract J.J., he would have. Stopping J.J. was about as easy as halting a charging bull with a piece of tissue paper.

“Of course.” Sarah squared her shoulders, preparing herself for whatever J.J. had to say.

“Are you Amish?” J.J. asked.

“I am.”

He chuckled and hooked a thumb toward Toby. “Like you. How do you say it, Toby? Like you, ain’t so?”

“You’re Amish?” A flush rushed up her cheeks, and he could tell Sarah wished the question would disappear.

Toby nodded as he waited for her to ask one of the next obvious questions. The ones he was always asked. If he was Amish, why was he traveling with J.J. and Ned delivering horses? Where did he live when he wasn’t on the road? Was he related to—or knew—someone connected to her? He hated the questions as much as he hated the answers he’d devised to skirt the truth.

Almost fifteen years ago, when he’d first gone to work for J.J., he’d answered those questions. He’d explained traveling wasn’t new to him. It was the life he’d always known. His parents had moved from one Amish settlement to another, seldom staying longer than six months, sometimes less than a week before heading somewhere new. They’d done that for as long as he could remember. He’d learned not to establish close relationships because soon he’d be leaving them behind. How could he have fun flirting with girls when he’d be going soon, breaking her heart as well as his own?

His life had changed after the family had arrived at a settlement in southern Texas. They’d stayed eight months. Toby had found work he loved: training horses at J.J.’s ranch. When his parents left, he’d stayed. The ranch was perfect for him. People and horses came and went. He didn’t have to worry about being the only outsider.

When he’d shared honest answers, he’d gotten pity or, worse, someone wanting to help him. To accept assistance would mean obligations he didn’t want. He’d created other answers. Not lies, but not the whole truth, either.

“Ja,” he said, letting himself slip into Deitsch for a moment.

“If you’re here on Sunday, you’re welcome at our services,” she replied in the same language before turning to J.J. and asking in English if he wanted more lemonade.

Toby was taken aback at her lack of curiosity. Why hadn’t she posed the questions others had? Was she worried he’d have questions of his own? Was she hiding something like he was?

He’d never know if he left as soon as the horses were unloaded. Guilt clamped a heated claw around his throat. How could he leave her here with someone like Ned, who would see a plain woman as an easy target for his heartless flirtations? Should Toby suggest J.J. take Ned with him and let Toby stay instead?

You’ve lost your mind! The best thing he could do was get out of there as soon as possible. He needed to avoid the faintest possibility of a connection with Sarah, a lovely woman who intrigued him. Maybe it was too late. His determination to keep Ned from breaking her heart proved that. He didn’t want to see her hurt as he’d been many times.

Chapter Two

Sarah had never been so relieved to see her boss as she was when Mr. Summerhays strode into the room. J.J. had been telling an endless tale about people she’d never met in places she’d never heard of. Her polite interruptions to offer lemonade hadn’t stymied him. He would reply that he’d like more to drink; then once again, he’d relaunch into his story. He shared a multitude of events that were, in Sarah’s opinion, barely related to one another. When he mentioned Toby by name, she was surprised to hear him say he was glad to have Toby with him because they could share the driving on long trips.