A Cowboy at Heart (14 page)

He became aware that she was watching him.

“
Wie geht’s?
”

“What?”

A quick apologetic smile flashed onto her face. “I am sorry. I forget sometimes to speak English. I asked how you were.”

“I’m good. I can actually get a decent breath now.” He inhaled again to prove it. “Uh, did the doc say how long it would be before my arm stops feeling like it’s being ripped off every time I use it?”

She shook her head, her attention on her stitching. “He did not say, but the muscle in your shoulder was injured. Muscle takes time to heal.”

Her offhand manner comforted him a bit. At least she seemed to think he would recover in time. He lifted his right arm experimentally, setting his jaw against the resulting pain. Was it not quite as sharp as before? Maybe he’d better practice shooting with this other hand.

“What are you making there?” He nodded toward the fabric in her lap.

In answer, she picked it up with both hands and held it up for his inspection. A tiny garment, with little sleeves and a long skirt.

“Baby clothes?”

“
Ja
. A gown for Rebecca’s little one. See here?” She held the garment toward him. “An
M
to stand for his last name.”

“His?”

A shrug. “I think the child will be a boy.”

Tiny white flowers surrounded the letter and circled the loose collar of the gown. Jesse had no idea about women things like stitching, but even he could admire the beauty of the intricate work. “That’s real pretty.” He raised a boyish grin toward her. “Maybe the next time I crack my skull you could sew
JM
into my scalp.”

That elicited a laugh, a sound Jesse enjoyed immensely. Though Katie frequently wore a shy smile, he’d rarely heard her laugh. He found himself trying to think of ways to make her laugh again.

“I hope Rebecca does not mind the design.”

“Doesn’t mind?” Jesse shook his head. “Why would she mind?”

Her expression grew serious. “It is far too fancy for an Amish baby, but Rebecca is no longer Amish. I have seen fancy stitching on her
Englisch
dresses, so perhaps she will be pleased.”

Though Jesse knew more about the Amish now than he had when he first met the Switzers, he realized he knew little of their beliefs. He was aware of the obvious, that they dressed only in black and white, and the men shaved their mustaches but not their beards, while the women hid their hair beneath those starchy
kapps
. But why?

“Is there some sort of law in the Bible against fancy stitching?” He pressed his toe on the boards beneath his boots, and the chair rocked gently.

Katie returned to her work, her gaze focused on her hands as the needle wove in and out of the fabric. “Not
die Bibel
, but the
Ordnung
cautions against anything that may lead to pride. Instead we choose to model Christ in simplicity of dress and lifestyle.”

“Huh?” Jesse didn’t follow. “I admit I don’t know much about the Bible, but I don’t think Christ wore black trousers and suspenders.”

He snapped his mouth shut. She might think he was poking fun and take offense. Instead, her smile deepened and he breathed easier.

“
Neh
, Christ did not wear trousers and
braces
,” she glanced up at him as she spoke the word, “but He was a simple man, without conceit or vanity in any form. To live like Him, Amish avoid opportunities for vanity. We dress alike so no one has cause to take pride in their garments.”

“Really?” Actually, the explanation made sense. He’d seen some pretty prideful women strutting around the streets of town
in their fancy getups. “Is that why you all drive the same kind of buggies too?”

“
Ja
. They differ only in size.” She tugged at her needle to tighten a stitch and then raised her work to bite off the thread.

“So why black? Why not brown or something else?”

“Black is a modest color.” She leaned toward him and spoke in a low, conspiratorial tone. “I have heard that some districts in the East allow gray and even blue dresses. And shirts for the men as well.” She turned the garment around and began plying her needle to one tiny sleeve.

Ah, sleeves. “And why long sleeves, even in summer?”

“To bare our skin to the view of others would be improper.” A faint peachy stain colored her cheeks. “There are some sights a woman reserves only for her husband.” She bent forward over her work, presenting him with a view of the top of her
kapp
.

Jesse turned his head, sorry to have embarrassed her. He’d never given much thought to the reason behind the funny clothing Jonas and the other Amish wore, but now that she’d explained, it made sense. A cowboy on the trail learned quick to hide any possession he took pride in or it would get stolen by some jealous cowpoke or other. He once saw a man get shot over a pair of high-priced boots that a trigger-happy bandit admired. There was something to be said for not having anything different than the fellow who bedded down next to you.

He would have asked more questions, but a movement on the road caught his eye. A man on horseback topped the hill. By instinct, his right hand inched toward his side, but not only was he not wearing his holster, the slight movement produced a sharp
reminder in his shoulder that he wanted to use care before he did that again.

“We have company.”

Katie’s head rose, concern apparent on her face. In the next moment, her rigid posture relaxed. “And also an Amish visitor.”

Sure enough, a buggy came into view. They followed the horse and rider, who Jesse noted was maintaining an unhurried pace, obviously traveling with the buggy. When they neared, he recognized the man.

“It’s Luke.” He sank back in the rocker. “I wondered when he’d manage to get back over this way.”

She folded the little gown and laid it in her basket before rising to her feet. Gazing at the buggy, a smile broke free on her face. “It is also Amos and Sarah Beiler. The children too. I will tell
Maummi
Switzer.”

The door slammed shut behind her as she hurried into the house. Jesse watched the little troop’s arrival at the front yard. On the buggy’s front bench sat Amos, his round-brimmed straw hat perched on the top of his head, his black-and-white-clad wife seated beside him. With a flick of the reins he guided the horse toward the shade of the huge tree that dominated the Switzers’ yard. Before the wheels had stopped moving, a boy leaped from the rear bench to the ground, where he landed in a crouch.

The woman half rose, her expression alarmed. When the child bounced to his feet, her shoulders deflated. “Karl Beiler, how many times have I told you not to do that? You’re gonna break a leg one day.”

“I am sorry,
Mamm
.” Though the words were contrite, Karl
looked anything but. Mischief glinted in the close-set eyes that, like his father, looked slightly crossed.

Luke guided his horse beside the buggy and jumped down from the saddle with an ease that Jesse envied. While Amos climbed down and then turned to help his wife, Luke lifted the two Beiler daughters to the ground. Pretty little girls, they looked like miniature adults in their matching Amish dresses and white
kapps
.

Luke crossed the grass toward the house with a huge smile plastered on his face. “That’s more like it. You look almost normal again.” He hopped up the steps onto the porch and covered the distance to the rocking chair in two long strides. “Don’t bother getting up.”

“Wasn’t planning to.” Jesse turned a grin upward and rocked. “Decide to see if I’d kicked the bucket yet?”

“Something like that.” Luke leaned against the railing, his long legs stretched out before him. He took his cowboy hat off and smoothed his hair down. “Emma sends her best.”

“How’s she doing?”

“Pretty as ever.”

Jonas had apparently heard their arrival, for he rounded the corner of the barn at the same time Butch emerged from inside. Then the door to the house opened, and Katie and
Maummi
Switzer came out to greet their guests.

The Beilers arrived on the porch, each carrying a bundle. Amos offered an arm to his wife, who leaned heavily on it while she climbed the two stairs. Her round belly bulged beneath the black dress, and Jesse glimpsed a swollen ankle when she stepped onto the porch. Unless he missed his mark, she was closer to dropping
her baby than Rebecca. She looked plumb tuckered out, her face red and slightly damp. A mass of blond curls had escaped the confines of her
kapp
and were performing wild gyrations around her face in the wind. Jesse’s instinct was to jump up and offer her the rocking chair, and he rocked forward, ready to haul himself to unsteady legs.

“Don’t you dare.” Sarah pointed at him and speared him with a look every bit as forceful as
Maummi
Switzer’s. “You just set yourself down there and stay still.”

Luke raised an eyebrow in mock alarm. “You’d better listen to her. I heard she once wrestled a two-hundred-pound outlaw to the floor of the saloon and held him there until Colin arrived to haul him off to jail.”

Dimples creased her cheeks. “Aw, go on with you. That was Sassy who done that, not me.”

Her gaze flickered toward Amos, who did not seem at all upset at the reminder that Sarah, his Amish wife, had once been an
Englisch
barroom singer named Sassy. Instead, the tender look he bestowed on her kindled a flicker of envy in Jesse.

“This is for you.” Sarah thrust the basket she held into
Maummi
Switzer’s hands. “They’re crunchy sugar cakes. Don’t mind the burned edges. Amos says he likes them that way.”

Amos’s gaze dropped to the floorboards, giving Jesse the impression that he didn’t like the treat quite as much as she claimed, while
Maummi
Switzer took the gift with a gracious nod. “
Danki
.”

“
Gern gschehne
.” Sarah’s wide grin spoke of her pride in knowing the proper response. “And there’s more too. Girls.” She motioned for the girls to deliver the parcels they carried. “A loaf
of cornbread I fixed just this morning, and
snitz
pie, and a jar of apple butter we put up in the fall. The girls did most of the work,” she admitted. “Better’n me, truth be told.”

“Come inside.”
Maummi
Switzer turned toward the door. “A fine snack we will fix for the men.”

“Oh, goodie.” Sarah clapped her hands together. “And we can visit while we’re fixin’.”

Jesse watched the women file into the house, Katie holding the door open until the others had passed inside. A bemused smile hovered around her mouth as she looked after Sarah. Jesse couldn’t imagine two more opposite women than Katie Miller and Sarah Beiler. As different in temperament as looks too. Sarah boasted a boisterous, rowdy personality that matched her untamable blond curls and buxom figure that no amount of black Amish garb could hide. By comparison, Katie was quiet to the point of almost being shy. No, that wasn’t right. Not shy. Serene. Her unassuming manner seemed to exude peace. And as for her looks, she was quite simply the loveliest girl Jesse had ever known.

Before she started for the inside, her glance slid toward him. Caught staring at her, Jesse’s face warmed. He started to look away but found himself unable to turn from her beautiful eyes. Thick lashes fluttered modestly downward before she disappeared into the house.

EIGHT

K
atie pulled the door shut and paused with her hand on the latch while willing her pulse to slow. Jesse’s gaze had sent blood racing through her veins in an all-too-familiar rise of emotions. Not since before Samuel’s death had she felt the giddy lightness that came from the admiring attention of a handsome man.

An
Englisch
man
, she reminded herself.
Not Amish. And not for me
.

Years ago she had given her life to the church. She’d knelt before the bishop in front of the whole Apple Grove district, repeated the Confession, and been anointed with the waters of baptism. She had not made that commitment lightly. She and Samuel had discussed their decision many times during their courtship. Never had there been the slightest doubt that they would both be baptized. It was the life she had been raised to, the only way she had ever known, and not once had she considered another. For all her
life she would follow Christ in the way He had called her to follow Him, as an Amish woman.