The Way to a Man's Heart (The Miller Family 3) (36 page)

Joanna shook her head. “I can wait to be paid back. It won’t cause any hardship.” The money remained motionlessly suspended in the warm, fragrant air.

Leah placed the bills on the table.
“Danki,
but I’m paying off my share of the debt in a certain order, and I wish to take care of yours today.” She glanced up into the woman’s face. “I’m really sorry how things turned out. I didn’t know about the money turmoil, but that’s no excuse—I should’ve known. I’m owning up to that.” Feeling emotion began to creep insidiously up her throat, she blurted out the rest of her words…ones she knew she would repeat many times that day. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience and hard feelings my partner and I have caused.”

Joanna chewed on her lower lip. “I know you’re sorry and not responsible for the shell game April Lambright was playing. But folk are mad, and they’re lumping you in the same boat with her. Because April is Mennonite and lives near Wooster, the gossip and finger-pointing won’t affect her nearly as much…” Her voice trailed off.

As it will me,
Leah thought, finishing her sentence. “That’s why I’m paying off as many people as I can so this will blow over as soon as possible.”

Mrs. Byler offered a half smile. “Maybe you could write to Jonah in Wisconsin. He should hear what has happened from you instead of hearing the story at the auction house.” She walked to the drawer for her address book while Leah gripped the edge of the kitchen table.

Write to Jonah? What would I say? Hey, Jonah, everything I worried about came true, plus much more, while I was busy baking pies and flirting with customers.
She didn’t think so.

Joanna jotted an address on a slip of paper and held it out to her. “He might be there for a while, but mail service to Wisconsin is only three days. I’m sure he’d like a letter from you.”

“Danki,
Mrs. Byler, especially for believing in me.” Leah tucked the address into her purse and hurried from the house. Mrs. Lee and the other names on her list were waiting. She had no time to stand around in a cozy kitchen thinking about a blue-eyed man with big hands and a gentle voice.

By the time the two women ran out of energy and daylight, two-thirds of the names on Leah’s list had been crossed off. Her financial resources were similarly depleted. After buying Mrs. Lee lunch at the buffet restaurant, she had less than forty dollars to her name after years of building up her savings. Endless summer hours spent selling eggs at a roadside stand and then hours and hours creating recipes and baking pies had been wiped out by her misguided belief that a diner would be a fun place to work. But being broke didn’t trouble her nearly as much as the gossip and community criticism that would surely linger.
Will the district elders shun me? Will Jonah retract his request to court me, considering my new reputation as a thief and charlatan?
Plenty weighed on her mind as Mrs. Lee’s cell phone rang on the way home, jarring Leah back to the present.

It was James Davis calling Mrs. Lee for the second time that day. He wanted Emma to call him that night or he was coming in person to Winesburg. When they arrived home, Leah delivered the news to Emma while Mrs. Lee waited in the van once again.

Emma’s face became a sea of conflicting emotions upon hearing about Jamie’s calls. She borrowed Mrs. Lee’s phone and walked to the swing for a private conversation.
The Miller girls will owe Mrs. Lee free peach pies and wool scarves for many years to come,
Leah thought. After Emma returned the phone to Mrs. Lee, Leah thanked and hugged their dear English neighbor. Twice Mrs. Lee had offered to pay off the remaining debts and allow Leah to pay her back over time, but Leah politely declined. She knew her father would never permit such an imposition on their friendship.

That night, unbeknownst to each other, the Miller sisters said their prayers and slept soundly for the first time in many days. In the shared bedroom of their childhoods, both women possessed a glimmer of hope.

They had turned their problems over to the One who knows our needs even before we do.

“You’re up awfully early,” Leah said, “for a man on his first weekday home in some time.”

Matthew smiled at his sister, who was cooking up a fancy breakfast. Having her home instead of at the diner had benefits for the rest of the family.
“Jah,
today’s the auction in Sugar Creek. My Mennonite friend is picking me up in twenty minutes. He wants to buy a new trail horse, and I want to see if any bargains are for sale.”

“You’re going back to Sugar Creek the first day you don’t have to?” asked his younger brother. He’d walked in from the back hall with a nose pink from early milking.

Henry’s arrival at breakfast meant that
daed
would soon be in too. Matthew had wanted to be gone before his father came inside. He needed one more day of freedom before resuming his fair share of farm chores. With a knife and fork in each hand, he waited for the first platter of food to be set down.

“Matthew Miller! Get your elbows off the table and stop acting like a barbarian,” scolded Emma. Her tone indicated she wasn’t someone to be challenged this morning…like a large snake in the path that you know is harmless but you skirt around it anyway. “This is not the bunkhouse at the riding academy.” Bad-tempered Emma poured herself coffee and then peeked over Leah’s shoulder at the skillet.

Having this sister home didn’t have quite so many advantages.

“You going to the Sugar Creek auction?” asked Henry, still waiting for his answer.

“Jah,
as soon as I eat. I want to buy a few yearlings if they are cheap enough, ones other folk don’t think are worth the trouble of training. If I can turn them around, I’ll sell them in the spring as riding stock for
Englischers
or buggy horses for Amish…or barrel racers for either—whatever suits the particular horse.”

Leah set the first platter of French toast on the table. They were decorated with strawberry preserves and dusted with powdered sugar, touches his
mamm
usually dispensed with. Matthew speared two slices with his fork and reached for the maple syrup.

Henry duplicated his action. “Can I ride along to the auction?” he asked.

“Nah, I don’t know how much room will be in the truck cab and I don’t know this guy, Bob, well enough to be a hassle for him.” Matt started eating Leah’s cuisine with gusto. “Besides, Pa needs you around the farm today.”

“Seems to me that your
bruder
has been doing more than his share
around the farm
lately.” Simon mimicked his son’s words from the doorway. “If there’s only room in the truck cab for one, maybe Henry should go buy the horses.” He settled himself at the table while Emma hurried to bring him coffee.

Matthew’s first bites of breakfast hit his belly like rocks. “Pa, Henry doesn’t know anything about buying horses. He doesn’t know which traits to look for.” Matthew spoke very softly, not displaying an ounce of impatience. He’d learned the hard way what didn’t work with his father.

“All the more reason he should go too. You could teach him a few things, and he needs a break from chores.”

Matthew stopped shoveling food into his mouth and wiped his chin. “Are you saying you can spare us
both
away from the farm?”

Simon took a long swallow of coffee. “I’m not ready for the porch rocker yet, young man. I can manage just fine for one day. After all, both my girls are home in case I get a sudden urge to scrub out the henhouse or mix chemicals into the manure compost pile.”

Leah looked as though she might faint while Emma frowned as though she’d swallowed half a lemon. Julia held up her apron to hide her grin.

Simon chortled. “Henry, eat hearty. Matthew will walk your legs off, I’m sure.” He dug into his own stack of French toast.

The two young men finished eating, set their plates in the sink, and hurried down to the road to wait for their ride. They wanted to avoid both women before one of them tried to wheedle a favor. Matthew had little luck refusing either sister, and Henry had no luck whatsoever. But as neither Emma nor Leah appeared, it seemed they had accepted their fate valiantly.

“How will you pay for any horses you might buy?” Henry asked.

Matt pulled his checkbook from a back pocket. An image of a horse’s head had been stamped into the leatherette cover. “I had my paycheck direct-deposited while I worked at Mac Farms and at the riding stable.” He showed his name imprinted on the pad of checks. “This register helps me keep track of expenses and income, plus I keep a ledger book at home. I want my horse-training business to get off on the right foot.”

Henry inspected the checks and nodded, duly impressed. But his excitement soon escalated when they arrived in Sugar Creek. Buyers, sellers, vendors, and tourists mingled in loud, frenetic chaos. Henry had attended auctions in Mount Hope and Kidron, but with no interest in buying he had concentrated on what to eat next or hanging out with friends. As Matthew took him from stall to stall and pointed out certain horse characteristics, Henry proved to be an eager student.

“We’re looking to buy yearlings that are spirited but not mean tempered,” Matthew explained. “If the filly or colt backs away from a slow hand, beware. Watch their eyes—they will reveal whether a horse is simply skittish or has a nasty disposition. We can handle the former, but we don’t want to tangle with the latter even if the price is dirt cheap.”

Henry nodded, asked appropriate questions, and showed genuine enthusiasm. Matt pulled out a small spiral notebook and pencil. “I brought an extra one of these along for you. As you wander around, jot down the number of any horses that catch your eye, along with good and bad traits. You can use three stars or four, or whatever method you prefer to indicate your favorites. Just don’t rely on memory. And most of all, don’t get too excited when you question the owners because then everybody else will know you’re interested. Suddenly, plenty of bidders show up at auction time and the price will climb beyond our range.”

Henry slipped the notebook into his pocket.
“Danki
for bringing me along.”

“Glad to see you’re interested. When things get busy, I could hire you as my first employee. Why don’t you wander around the stalls and check out the holding pens outside. More horses are out there. Bob wants to introduce me to a Wooster breeder that he knows.” Matthew watched his brother hurry off with surprising animation. The shy boy had always preferred reading under a shady tree or collecting bugs in a jar to anything equine. It would be nice to have help so close at hand.

Matthew joined his friend and the two headed to the coffee shop to talk while tack and equipment were being sold. It wasn’t until some time later that Henry found his
bruder
sitting in the auction barn just as the auction was winding down. Matthew had bid unsuccessfully on three different colts, but the price had soared beyond what he wished to pay.

“Matty! Matty! You’ve got to come see this. I can’t believe it.” Henry looked white as a bedsheet and more agitated than Matt could ever remember.

“What’s wrong? Did somebody get hurt?”

He shook his head. “Please, just come with me.” Henry grabbed his arm and started pulling.

Matt handed his auction card to Bob with a dollar limit on his final bidding attempt and followed Henry outside.

Around the back of the barn Matthew discovered the cause of Henry’s distress. “It’s called the kill pen,” Henry moaned. “Any horse that gets no bidders is put in here, and if no one buys them, they are killed.” He kept his voice low, but there was no hiding his shock and revulsion. There were tears in his gentle blue eyes.

Matthew jammed his hands into his pockets and felt awful. He had heard about the pen but had never seen it firsthand. He’d purposely avoided doing so.

“We’ve got to do something,” Henry whispered next to Matthew’s ear. At least he’d learned the lesson about keeping his intentions a secret.

Matt gazed into the pen of sad-eyed beasts and felt a lump the size of a goose egg rise up his throat. “What exactly do you want me to do?” he asked hoarsely.