Patricia Davids - The Shepherd's Bride

All the color drained from Joe’s face. He staggered backward until he bumped into the wheel of his wagon. “One of my daughter’s girls? What does she want?”

Carl took a quick step toward Joe and grasped his elbow to steady him. “She didn’t say. Are you okay?”

Joe shook off Carl’s hand. “I’m fine. Put the horses away.”

“Sure.” Carl was used to Joe’s brusque manners.

Joe nodded his thanks and began walking toward the house with unsteady steps. Carl waited until he had gone inside before leading the team toward the corral at the side of the barn. He’d worked with Joe for nearly four years. The old man had never mentioned he had a daughter and granddaughters.

Carl glanced back at the house. Joe wasn’t the only one who kept secrets. Carl had his own.

Chapter Two

Lizzie had rehearsed a dozen different things to say when she first saw her grandfather, but his hired man’s abrupt appearance had rattled her already frayed nerves. When her grandfather actually walked through the door, everything she had planned to say left her head. She stood silently as he looked her up and down.

He had changed a great deal from what she remembered. She used to think he was tall, but he was only average height and stooped with age. His beard was longer and streaked with gray now. It used to be black.

Nervously, she gestured toward the sink. “I hope you don’t mind that I washed a few dishes. You have hot water right from the faucet. It isn’t allowed in our home. Our landlord says it’s worldly, but it makes doing the dishes a pleasure.”

“You look just like your grandmother.” His voice was exactly as she remembered.

She smiled. “Do I?”

“It’s no good thing. She had red hair like yours. She was an unhappy, nagging woman. Why have you come? Have you brought sad news?”

“Nee,” Lizzie said quickly. “My sisters are all well. We live in Indiana. Onkel Morris and all of us work on a dairy farm there.”

Joe moved to the kitchen table and took a seat. “Did your uncle send you to me? He agreed to raise the lot of you. He can’t change his mind now.”

She sat across from him. “Nee, Onkel does not know I have come to see you.”

“How did you get here?”

“I took the bus. I asked about you at the bus station in Hope Springs. An Amish woman waiting to board the bus told me how to find your farm. I walked from town.”

He propped his elbows on the table and pressed his hands together. She noticed the dirt under his fingernails and the calluses on his rough hands. “How is it that you have come without your uncle’s knowledge? Do you still reside with him or have you married?”

“None of us are married. Onkel Morris would have forbidden this meeting had he known of my plan.”

“I see.” He closed his eyes and rested his chin on his knuckles.

She didn’t know if he was praying or simply waiting for more of an explanation. She rushed ahead, anxious that he hear exactly why she had made the trip. “I had to come. You are the only family we have. We desperately need your help. Onkel Morris is forcing Clara to marry a terrible man. I fear for her if she goes through with it. I’m hoping—praying really—that you can find it in your heart to take her in. She is a good cook and she will keep your house spotless. Your house could use a woman’s touch. Clara is an excellent housekeeper and as sweet-tempered as anyone. You must let her come. I’m begging you.”

He was silent for so long that she wondered if he had fallen asleep the way old people sometimes did. Finally, he spoke. “My daughter chose to ignore my wishes in order to marry your father. She made it clear that he was more important than my feelings. I can only honor what I believe to be her wishes. I will not aid you in your disobedience to the man who has taken your father’s place. You have come a long way for no reason. Carl will take you back to the bus station.”

Lizzie couldn’t believe her concerns were being dismissed out of hand. “Daadi, I beg you to reconsider. I did not come here lightly. I truly believe Clara is being sentenced to a life of misery, or worse.”

Joe rose to his feet. “Do not let your girlish emotions blind you to the wisdom of your elders. It is vain and prideful to question your uncle’s choice for your sister.”

“It is our uncle who is blind if he thinks Clara will be happy with his choice. She won’t be. He is a cruel man.”

“If your uncle believes the match is a good thing, you must trust his judgment. There will be a bus going that way this afternoon. If you hurry, you can get a seat. Go home and beg his forgiveness for your foolishness. All will be well in the end, for it is as Gott wills.”

“Please, Daadi, you have to help Clara.”

He turned away and walked out the door, leaving Lizzie speechless as she stared after him.

Dejected, she slipped into her coat and glanced around the cluttered kitchen. If only he would realize how much better his life would be with Clara to care for him.

Was he right? Was her failure God’s will?

With a heavy heart, she carried her suitcase and the box with her quilt in it out to the front porch. Her grandfather was nowhere in sight, but his hired man was leading a small white pony hitched to a cart in her direction.

He was a big, burly man with wide shoulders and narrow hips. He wore a black cowboy hat, jeans and a flannel shirt under a stained and worn sheepskin jacket. His hair was light brown and long enough to touch his collar, but it was clean. His size and stealth had frightened the wits out of her in the house earlier. Out in the open, he didn’t appear as menacing, but he didn’t smile and didn’t meet her gaze.

He and her grandfather must get along famously with few words spoken and never a smile between them.

It was all well and good to imagine staying until her grandfather changed his mind, but the reality was much different. He had ordered her to go home. How could she make him understand if he wouldn’t hear what she had to say? He hadn’t even offered the simple hospitality of his home for the night. He wanted her gone as quickly as possible. She would have to go home in defeat unless she could find some way to support herself and bring her sisters to Hope Springs. She didn’t know where to start. All her hopes had been pinned on her grandfather’s compassion. Sadly, he didn’t have any.

Carl stopped in front of the house and waited for her. She bit her lower lip. Was she really giving up so easily? “Where is my grandfather?”

“He’s gone out to the pasture to move the rest of his sheep.”

“When will he be back?”

“Hard to say.”

“I’d like to speak to him again.”

“Joe told me to take you to the bus station. It’s plain to me that he was done talking.”

She stamped her foot in frustration. “You don’t understand. I can’t go home.”

He didn’t say anything. He simply waited beside the pony. A brick wall would have shown more compassion. Defeated by his stoic silence, she descended the steps. He took her bag from her hand and placed it behind the seat of the cart. He reached for the box that contained her quilt and she reluctantly handed it over.

He waited until she had climbed aboard, then he took his place beside her on the wooden seat. With a flip of the reins, he set the pony in motion. She looked back once. The house, which had looked like a sanctuary when she first saw it, looked like the run-down farmstead it truly was. Tears stung her eyes. She tried not to let them fall, but she couldn’t hold back a sniffle. She wiped her nose on the back of her sleeve.

* * *

Carl cringed at the sound of Lizzie’s muffled sniffling. He would have been okay if she hadn’t started crying.