The Shepherd's Bride. Patricia Davids

him in the corral to the right of the barn and make sure you rub him down good.”

      “I will.”

      As she led the pony away, sympathy for her stirred in Carl. Joe wasn’t usually so unkind. “I can take care of the horse, Joe.”

      “If she’s going to stay, she’s going to earn her keep while she’s here. I don’t know why she had to come in the first place.” Joe stalked away with a deep frown on his face.

      Carl followed him. The two men crossed to the largest shed and went inside. Numerous metal panels were stacked against the far wall. They were used to make pens of various sizes to hold the sheep both prior to shearing and afterward.

      They had the first three pens assembled before Joe spoke again. “You think I’m being too hard on her, don’t you?”

      “It’s your business and none of mine.”

      “What did she have to say on your trip into town and back?”

      “Not much. She’s concerned that her sister is being made to marry against her will by their uncle Morris. It’s not the way things are done around here.”

      “Nee, but it doesn’t surprise me much. I never cared for Morris. I couldn’t believe it when my daughter wanted to marry into that family. I tried to talk her out of it. I’ve never met a more shiftless lot. The men never worked harder than they had to, but they made sure the women did. In my eyes, they didn’t treat their women with the respect they deserved.”

      “What do you mean?”

      “They spoke harshly to them. They kept them away from other women. I saw fear in the eyes of Morris’s wife more than once when he got upset with her.”

      “Do you believe there was physical abuse?”

      “I thought so, but none of them would admit it. Such things weren’t talked about back then. I went so far as to share my misgivings with the bishop. The family didn’t take kindly to my interference.”

      “I imagine not.”

      “My daughter assured me her husband was a kind man, but I saw the signs. I saw the changes in her over the years. My son-in-law and I had some heated words about it. Then one day, the whole family up and moved away. I never saw them again. My daughter never even wrote to let me know where they had gone. Years later, I got one letter. It was from Morris telling me my Abigail and her husband were dead. He said a truck struck their buggy. Her husband died instantly, but Abigail lingered for another day.”

      Joe’s voice tapered off as he struggled with his emotions. Carl had never seen him so upset. After giving the old man a few minutes to compose himself, Carl said, “I’ve never heard of the Amish having arranged marriages.”

      “They don’t, but if you dig deep enough in any barrel, you’ll find a few bad apples, even among the Amish. Morris was a bad apple. I don’t know why my girl couldn’t see that, but I was told she lived long enough after the accident to name Morris as guardian of her children. I’m not surprised he thinks he can pick their husbands.”

      “So, you aren’t going to help Lizzie?”

      Joe shook his head slowly. “I loved my daughter, Carl. I never got over her leaving the way she did, but she was a good mother. I have to ask myself what would she want me to do. Honestly, I think my daughter would want me to stay out of it. Life is not easy for any of us. I don’t want Lizzie to think she can come running to me whenever it seems too hard for her.”

      “Do you really think that’s what she’s doing?” Carl asked gently.

      “I don’t know. Maybe.”

      Carl didn’t agree, but then it wasn’t his place to agree or disagree with Joe. It was his place to take care of the sheep.

      “What else did she say?” Joe asked. He tried to sound indifferent, but Carl wasn’t fooled.

      “She wants to find a job around here.”

      Joe nodded but didn’t comment. Carl drew a deep breath. “I had to tell her I’m in the Bann.”

      “Ach, that’s none of her business.” Joe kicked a stubborn panel into place and secured it with a length of wire.

      “She asked. I couldn’t lie.”

      Joe shared a rare, stilted smile. “It would astonish me if you did.”

      “Will she go to church services with you on Sunday?”

      “Ja, I imagine so.”

      “Will my being here cause trouble for you?” He didn’t want to leave, but he would. Joe had been good to him.

      “Having her here is causing me trouble.”

      “You know what I mean.” Joe could easily find himself shunned by his fellow church members for allowing Carl to work on his farm. The rules were clear about what was permitted and what wasn’t with a shunned person. Joe had been bending the rules for more than two years to give Carl a place to live. A few people in Joe’s church might suspect Carl was ex-Amish, but no one knew it for a fact. Only Lizzie. If she spread that information, it would change everything.

      The old man sighed and laid a hand on Carl’s shoulder. “Sohn, I know I’m not a good example. I don’t like most people, but that’s my fault and not theirs. Folks around here are generous and accepting of others. I’ve known Bishop Zook since he was a toddler. He’s a kind and just man. I don’t know your story, Carl, but I’ve come to know you. You seek solitude out among the flocks and in your small hut, but it does not bring you peace. ’Tis plain you carry a heavy burden. If you repent, if you ask forgiveness, it will be granted.”

      Carl looked away from the sympathy he didn’t deserve. “Sometimes, forgiveness must be earned.”

      Joe’s grip on Carl’s shoulder tightened. “Our Lord Jesus earned it for us all by his death on the cross. However, it’s your life. Live as you must. I’ve never pried and I never will.”

      “Thanks, but you didn’t answer my question. Will my staying here cause trouble for you?”

      Joe dusted his hands together. “I can handle any trouble my granddaughter tries to make.”

      Carl wasn’t as confident.

      The evening shadows were growing long by the time they finished setting up the runways and pens. Both men were tired, hot and sweaty, in spite of the cold weather. Carl found he was eager to see how Lizzie was faring. Was she a good cook? Joe wasn’t. Carl managed, but he didn’t enjoy the task.

      The two men entered the kitchen and stopped in their tracks. They both looked around in surprise. The clutter had been cleared from the table. The wild heaps of dishes and pans in the sink had been tamed, washed and put away. The blue-and-white-checkered plastic tablecloth was glistening wet, as if she had just finished wiping it down. Even the floor had been swept and mopped. The scuffed old black-and-white linoleum looked better than Carl had ever seen it. There was a lingering scent of pine cleaner in the air, but it was the smell of simmering stew that made his mouth water.

      Lizzie stood at the stove with her back to them. “It’s almost done. There’s soap and a fresh towel at the sink for you.”

      She turned toward them and used her forearm to sweep back a few locks of bright red hair that had escaped from beneath her black kapp. Her cheeks were flushed from the heat of the oven. Carl was struck once again by how pretty she was and how natural she looked in Joe’s kitchen.

      If the aroma was anything to go by, this might be the best meal he’d had in months. His stomach growled in anticipation, but he didn’t move. The arrangement he and Joe shared might be different now that Lizzie was with them. He locked eyes with Joe and waited for a sign from him.

      * * *

      Lizzie wasn’t sure how to proceed. She’d never fixed a meal for