The Amish Christmas Cowboy. Jo Ann Brown

to me.”

      “How’s that?”

      “As if you sat on a porcupine.” When she raised her eyes, they were twinkling with amusement.

      “No, you can be certain that if I’d sat on a porcupine, folks would have heard me yelp from here to the Rio Grande.” He wasn’t sure if he should blame the pain arcing across his ankle or the drugs he’d been given to ease it for giving her such a playful retort.

      When she laughed, her eyes widened when he didn’t join in.

      “Sorry,” she said. “I know you’re feeling lousy.”

      Seizing the excuse she’d offered him, he nodded.

      They sipped in silence for several minutes. He was amazed the quiet didn’t seem to bother her as it had in that fancy room in the Summerhays house. She watched visitors and medical staff coming in and out. An odd expression darkened her eyes when a pair of EMTs wandered in to grab cups of kaffi. He thought about asking her if she knew the man and woman, but he kept his curiosity to himself.

      Every question he asked, every answer she gave would add a layer to that connection he wanted to avoid.

      “Finished?” she asked, coming to her feet.

      He was surprised to see his cup was empty. He didn’t recall drinking the kaffi. His mind wasn’t working well.

      She took the cup and threw it and her own into a trash can. Coming back, she reached to unlock the chair’s brakes.

      For a split second, he wondered when she’d set them in place. The sweet aroma of her shampoo drifted to him, and he was tossed back to the moment when she’d helped him in the paddock. Having her holding him close had been enough for him to forget how much his foot hurt. The memory swept over him, diminishing the pain faster than any drug could.

      Had he lost his mind? Thinking such things threatened his promise never to get close to anyone again. He needed to be careful. He had to remember how his heart had hurt each time he’d had to leave gut friends behind, knowing he’d never see them again. To be honest, somewhere along the way, he’d lost the key to his padlocked heart. He told himself it was for the best. How did he know he wouldn’t start acting like his parents, leaving without looking back?

      Sarah straightened. “Are you okay? Maybe you should take another pain tablet so it’s working by the time the car gets here.”

      “I’m fine.”

      “Gut.” She bowed her head for a moment.

      He thought her prayer would be silent, but she whispered, “God, danki for making sure Toby wasn’t hurt worse. Please send him quick healing. You know his heart far better than I do, but I don’t think he’s a patient man.”

      Gnawing on his bottom lip, he remained silent. He pretended not to see her questioning glance in his direction. He didn’t want to explain he and God had an arrangement that had worked most of his life. Toby wouldn’t expect anything of God, and God wouldn’t expect anything of him. Knowing that had eased Toby’s sorrow each time his parents decided to move.

      That was why a faint twinge deep in his heart astounded him. A twinge of longing? For what? To be close to God, who had given Toby a life of chaos and loss? He couldn’t see a reason to reach out to his Heavenly Father. He’d learned to get by on his own.

      “Would you like to pray with me?” Sarah asked.

      “Not right now. We need to hurry. I don’t want to delay J.J. more than I already have.”

      She sat facing him again. “Don’t you remember? He’s left.”

      “What?” This time he didn’t care that his raised voice caught the attention of everyone in the snack room. “How do you know that?”

      “I found out when I called for our ride home.”

      “When were you planning to tell me that little tidbit?”

      “I told you while I was wheeling you here.”

      He started to argue that she hadn’t, then recalled how pain had stripped his mind of everything. She had to be wrong. J.J. wouldn’t go without him.

      When he said as much, she shook her head. “I asked for confirmation when I called, and I was told to tell you that he and Ned would—”

      “Ned left, too? Who’s going to help get the horses settled?”

      She shrugged. “I don’t know. That’s all your boss said. They’ll return in a couple of months to get you.”

      “A couple of months?” He closed his eyes as waves of pain flooded him, waves he’d tried to ignore. Opening his eyes, he met Sarah’s. “What am I supposed to do until then?”

      “Heal.”

      “Where?”

      “I told you. Mr. Summerhays has taken care of everything. There’s a guest room on the first floor near the kitchen. You can recover there.”

      He forced his frustration down. If he’d been thinking straight, he would have known J.J. couldn’t stay while Toby went to the hospital. Their schedule was tight, and delaying one place meant upsetting many valuable customers they hoped would give them more work.

      Was this the answer to his problem on how to protect Sarah from Ned’s machinations? He hadn’t guessed it’d be for him to have a sprained ankle and be as helpless as a boppli.

      “I guess I don’t have another choice.” His voice sounded childish even to his ears. “I’m sorry, Sarah. I—”

      “Never mind. We need to be out front for when the car gets here, so let’s go,” she said with something that sounded like disappointment.

      Disappointment? With him?

      If so, she would have to get used to that during the next eight weeks. He’d disappointed everyone in his life.

      Including himself.