The Way to a Man's Heart (The Miller Family 3) (11 page)

He enjoyed his job. The pay was good; in fact, he’d been promised another raise at the end of the month. If his savings account continued to grow at its current rate, he’d soon be able to start seriously courting. But he refused to pursue any woman without the means to build their own home. As much as he loved his
daed,
he’d rather not subject a bride to living with the deacon. He still remembered the first few months after Aunt Hannah moved in with them. Wool flew in all directions until those two finally made their peace. Now they got along fine, but it hadn’t always been that way. He would rather start off married life with a few less obstacles.

Unfortunately, his courage around women was not growing as fast as his bank account. It was so much easier to deal with horses. He could look into a mare’s big brown eyes and know exactly what she was thinking. Not so with females of the human variety. What were they constantly whispering about after preaching services? And they never seemed to run out of things to talk about the way he did with his friends. He would probably save a king’s ransom before summoning enough courage to ask out a certain girl.

At least he was making progress at Sunday singings. He not only had said hello to Martha Hostetler, but goodbye as well. And he thought he’d seen her glancing in his direction once or twice between songs. He planned to sit across from her next Sunday and ask about her vegetable stand on the county road. Emma advised him to find common ground and then get the gal talking about herself. Because he’d once sold eggs at a roadside stand, this was the best common ground he could think of.

As he led the two twin fillies back to their stalls, he saw Jeff Andrews returning from the indoor arena with the yearling colt Matthew admired—the same colt Andrews had injected with medication. Feeling a tightness deep in his chest, Matthew noticed that the horse was still limping. As soon as he put his horses away, he approached the head trainer. “I see that colt’s still a little gimpy,” he said in a conversational tone as he knocked dust off his trousers with his work gloves.

Andrews’ head snapped around. “He’s fine,” he said, “barely limping at all. Much better than last week.”

Matthew approached until he was very near, so as not to be overheard by other stable help. “Do you think so? I think he’s limping just as badly after a workout. Maybe you should have the vet take a look at that foreleg.”

Andrews leaned so close Matthew could smell cigarettes and coffee on his breath. “Do you think so, boy? I’m curious as to who died and left you boss?”

Matt took a step back. “Nobody. I just thought you’d want an objective opinion from someone not working the horse on a daily basis.”

Andrews led the colt into the stall and began wiping him down with a towel. Matt followed right behind and then planted himself in the doorway.

“Objective, huh? Well, Matty my boy, don’t get yourself all worked up about this yearling. He ain’t yours and you’ve got nothing to worry about anyway.” He threw the towel down in the shavings and began rubbing down his coat with a soft brush. “I’ll put liniment on that leg, tape it up, and then give him my miracle potion. He’ll be good as new.” The trainer patted the colt’s hind flank.

Matthew shut the stall door with one muddy boot. “Does that miracle cure come in a hypodermic needle? You got no business injecting steroids without the owner’s permission. Besides, Mr. Mac wants a vet or licensed tech to give injections because of all the liability.”

Andrews reared back as though the colt had kicked him. His expression morphed from shock to outrage to anxiety in a matter of seconds. He grabbed Matthew’s shirt in one meaty fist. “Who told you about me giving him a shot?”

Matthew glared at his boss. “Let go of my shirt before it rips.”

Andrews glared back but released his hold.

“Nobody told me about it. I saw you with my own eyes a couple weeks ago. I had to come back to his stall to get my gloves.”

The trainer’s face regained some composure. “Who did you tell about this, Miller?”

“Nobody. I had hoped it was a one-time episode, but now I’m not so sure.”

Andrews’ features returned to their normal glower. “This ain’t none of your business. You just do what I tell you and keep your nose clean.” He jabbed a finger into the apprentice’s chest.

Matthew grabbed hold of the man’s finger and pushed it away. “Don’t do that.” He gritted out the words, even though he was ill equipped for the confrontation. Plain folk usually removed themselves from conflicts like this, especially with an
Englischer.
“You told me I needed to watch to learn the business. But I didn’t think I would see you doing something illegal.”

“That shot was no illegal drug. I gave this yearling what anybody else would’ve given him.” He stroked the horse’s neck.

“You’re not licensed to give shots. You should’ve called the vet.”

“Then the vet would’ve called the owner, and they’d hightail it up here in a tizzy, especially that man’s wife. She would want to take the colt home and put it in a crib next to her bed.” He spit something disgusting into a baby food jar he kept in his pocket.

Matthew tried to hide his contempt. “It’s her horse, so she has a right to let it sleep anywhere she chooses.” He ran a hand down the colt’s silky mane.

This wasn’t the response Andrews had expected for his bad joke. “Are you soft like her? Because this is a job, a career, not a 4-H project. You’ve got plenty of potential, Matty, lots more than those slackers Mr. Mac always seems to hire. But you better listen to me, boy, and learn how the real world operates. I’ll call the vet for the colt if that leg isn’t better in a few days. But in the meantime, you just keep your big mouth shut.” He jabbed his forefinger one last time into Matt’s chest and then stomped off, leaving the stall gate open behind him.

Matthew glanced back at the yearling. The horse took a tentative step forward and started rubbing his head on Matt’s arm. Somehow that gesture made the young trainer feel a whole lot better.

Emma slapped at a deerfly that seemed determined to ruin an otherwise perfect morning. Those pesky bugs could try the patience of a saint. But when she straightened her spine to inspect the neat rows of her vegetable garden, Emma liked what she saw. The green beans were almost ready to pick. Green onions, radishes, and carrots had been planted in stages, so they would add color to salads for weeks to come. Her cabbages were round and plump, while five varieties of peppers, including a new habanero, promised plenty of late-summer spice. She had been cutting romaine lettuce and fresh spinach every day as she waited for the iceberg lettuce to form firm heads. Maybe they wouldn’t grow to the size of their West Coast counterparts, with California’s endless sunshine, but hers could be picked at the peak of sweetness instead of early for shipment.

Emma surveyed her garden with pride. It was not only a joy to behold but provided healthy nutrition for the cost of seeds—worth every slug and mealy bug she’d picked off by hand. As she absently swatted her cheek once more, the sound of crunching gravel diverted her attention from the deerfly.

A large pickup had pulled up the drive. Loud, raucous music poured from the open windows. When the doors flew open and two young men and an equal number of big-haired girls climbed out, Emma knew they weren’t here about riding lessons. Wiping her dirty hands on her apron, she left her small patch of paradise, careful not to step on the cantaloupe runners.

As Emma approached the foursome, the blonde whispered something behind her hand to the brown-haired girl. The brunette grinned at whatever had been said.

“May I help you?” she asked, closing the distance between them.

“Ah…yeah,” said one young man. “We’re looking for Jamie. We’re old friends of his from high school.” He was wearing tight blue jeans and a tank top that left more chest exposed than covered. Emma saw little point to a shirt like that.

“He’s cutting hay in the south fields,” she said. “I’ll send someone to get him.”

“Are you his wife?” the blonde asked. “Someone told me he got married a couple years ago.” She smiled pleasantly, but Emma couldn’t stop gawking at her clothes. She was wearing the shortest skirt imaginable, and the hem of her cotton top didn’t come close to the skirt’s waistband. A wide expanse of her tummy and back showed. Emma felt a sting of embarrassment for the girl.

“Jah,
I’m Emma Davis.” She stood like a statue, not sure if she should shake hands or what. Considering the state of her hands at the moment, she chose to brush them across her apron instead.

“I’m Kim, and this is Corrine, Mark, and Josh,” said the blonde without sufficient clothing.

The two men nodded while the one named Corrine smiled. “Kim was Jamie’s date for our high school prom,” she said. Her skirt was equally short, but her top was so long it looked as though she wore no skirt at all.

“Is that right?” Emma asked, with little inflection. “Jamie will be happy to see you all, I’m sure. Why don’t you wait on the porch? I’ll be right back.”

The four friends walked toward the house while Emma headed to the farm office, feeling discombobulated. It would’ve been nice to bathe and put on a fresh dress before meeting her husband’s old pals.

In the office the foreman called James on his cell phone and asked him to come to the house. Once she knew he was on his way, Emma walked slowly back to the group, trying to calm her fluttery nerves.
Why the visit after five years of being out of school?
Climbing the porch steps, she smiled as pleasantly as possible. “Would anyone like something to drink?” she asked.

The taller of the two men said, “Sure, I could use a cold one.”

“Yeah, me too, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble,” said the other man.

Emma gazed from one to the other. “A cold one what? Iced tea? Lemonade? Coke?”

The girls snickered; the men looked stricken.

“A cold beer, if you don’t mind,” answered the first man.

Emma blinked. “We have no beer in the house, warm or cold.”

“We’ll all have Cokes, Emma,” said Kim quickly. “That sounds great.”

“Coming right up,” Emma murmured.

Inside the kitchen she fumed.
Cold beer at two o’clock in the afternoon?
What a ridiculous idea. What did they plan to get done later? And one of them would be getting behind the wheel of the truck. The more she thought about it, the more irritated she grew, but she kept her features expressionless as she carried the tray of soft drinks outside.

Blessedly, James came marching across the lawn with his face beaming. “Hi, everybody, long time no see.” He hugged all four old friends, including the two women.

Emma felt the ugly emotion of jealousy rear its head.

“Oh, my gosh, Jamie, look at you! You look just like an actor in a History Channel movie,” Kim said, holding him at arm’s length. “It’s really true, then. We had heard you turned Amish, but I wouldn’t believe it until I saw for myself. Congratulations, if that’s the proper thing to say.”

Five of the six people laughed. James stepped back from Kim and put his arm around Emma’s shoulders.
“Jah,
I turned Amish three years ago, right after I finished at OSU’s Agricultural College. We got hitched the following year.”

Emma watched Kim’s face while James explained. Her smile melted like a snow cone in the sun.

“You’ve been married for two years already?” Kim asked.

“We have,” he said, tightening his hold on her shoulders.

“How old is your kid?”

James shook his head. “No children yet. We hope for a baby someday, but so far we haven’t been blessed.”

Kim stared at Emma. “I’m surprised…surprised by everything coming out of your mouth, Jamie Davis.” She picked up her Coke and drank down half of it before stopping.

“How’s your family?” asked Mark, giving Kim an odd look.

“Fine, everyone’s good,” said James. “Dad is still not ready to retire. He likes working too much to stop. Mom’s nursing in Canton. Lily’s at vet school, my older brother is an associate pastor in Wooster, and my little brother is home from college. That’s everybody.”

“Did you finish at OSU?” asked Josh.

“Yeah, I fit everything I needed into two years. I couldn’t wait to be done with school.”

“You and me both, old buddy,” said Mark. “My folks insisted that I get my MBA when I graduated from Bowling Green with an under-grad degree. They said it would improve my job prospects. So I didn’t finish until last month, and I don’t want to open another textbook for the rest of my life.” All of the males laughed at this.

“So what do you do here?” asked Corrine, glancing around.

“I help my dad run his business and I farm.”

“Using those giant horses I see in the fields?”

James smiled easily. “No, we’re New Order. We use tractors and other mechanized equipment.”

“Oh, that’s good.” Corrine looked quickly at Emma. “I mean…it’s faster and easier with a tractor than with horses, isn’t it?”

But James wasn’t the least bit uncomfortable. “It sure is. I get as much done as I did before.”

“I see you still have your truck,” said Kim. “I saw it parked near the barn.”