The Amish Bachelor's Choice. Jocelyn McClay

soft head before she slipped away. Only moments after she’d settled into her own bed, the cries started.

      The whimpering tore at her heart. Leaning over the edge of the bed, she saw two miniature white paws propped up against her mother’s Wedding Ring quilt.

      “You’re supposed to be a working dog. You will be shunned by border collies everywhere for this unacceptable behavior. You won’t be able to eat from their dish. Or share treats with them. Why, I’d even be surprised if they allowed you to join them in working the sheep.” While lecturing him, she lifted him to join her on the quilt. The pup licked her fingers. Ruth giggled. The sound and feeling of the long-absent action surprised her. Giggling again just because it felt good, she settled the pup on the bed. They both snuggled in, comforted by each other’s presence.

      * * *

      Her nose was cold. The weather had obviously turned overnight. Ruth nestled deeper under the covers until a sensation swept over her that something was missing. Her eyes flew open. The pup! Quickly sitting up, she patted around the bed in the predawn dark to determine he wasn’t on the quilt beside her. Swinging her feet out from under the covers, she gasped as they hit the cold floor. Lighting a lamp, she saw a puddle near the door. Apparently she hadn’t woken up soon enough to suit the pup.

      “How long have you been up, and what else am I going to find?” Her teeth chattered in the chilly air as she snagged her robe from the foot of the bed and shoved her arms into the sleeves.

      Wide-awake now, Ruth foraged for an old towel. Locating one, she looked through the open door into the living area. Of course, the pup had found the knitting she’d set beside her chair and was doing battle. And winning. Ruth wondered how many stitches she’d lost in the confrontation.

      Hearing her footfalls in the bedroom, the pup raced through the door to investigate, almost knocking Ruth over. He licked her bare toes that curled on the cold floor before they both went to inspect the puddle by the door.

      “This is neither approved nor appreciated behavior,” Ruth admonished as she cleaned it up with the towel. “Housebroken does not mean the house gets broken.” The pup chased the dangling ends of the cloth as it moved. Lifting him into her arms, she rested her cheek on his downy head.

      “Do you need to go outside so we can get the rules sorted out?” Slipping into her shoes, she glanced out the window to see patches of frost on the ground in the first faint fingers of light. Snagging a cape from a peg by the door, she draped it around her shoulders and stepped out into the brisk morning. A hint of rose to the east heralded the sun’s future appearance. It was pretty now but could mean a weather change before evening. Might be prudent to throw an extra blanket in the buggy just in case.

      The pup squirmed to get down. Ruth released him, hoping it was a sign that he wanted to do his duty. Instead, it was a sign he wanted to explore the underside of the porch.

      Shivering at the wind that blew against her bare legs, she followed the pup around the yard, stomping her feet against the hard ground to keep warm. The pup was in no hurry. Apparently all he’d needed to do this morning had been accomplished already.

      “If you’re not going to do your business, we might as well set up a place for you during the day. Besides, it will get us out of the wind.” Ruth hurried to the henhouse, abandoned since it had become more efficient to buy eggs from their neighbor instead of raising a few chickens herself. The puppy bounded along behind her, eager to investigate new territory.

      The farmstead had several outbuildings. A hog house, a corncrib, a shed for machinery. All unused since Ruth and her daed began spending so much time at the shop that it made more sense to trade and purchase goods than grow everything themselves.

      The henhouse had been one of the last buildings to empty. As soon as she ducked inside the door, Ruth sighed at the immediate relief against the whipping wind. She cast a critical eye over the dimly lit interior. Thankfully, she’d cleaned it thoroughly after the last of the hens had gone. A few adjustments and a warm bed should make it a worthy daytime home for the pup.

      Ruth regarded the small run outside, considering what could be quickly done to eliminate all potential escape routes. The weave of the fence was small enough that he couldn’t get out, but not so big he could get stuck, so no adjustments needed there. The pup assisted the investigation by tugging on Ruth’s untied shoestrings. She bent to secure them and gave him a rub on his head. “Hannah was right—you are a rascal.” Gently cupping his muzzle, she met his happy eyes. “In fact, that might be a fitting name for you. I dub thee Rascal Fisher.”

      Releasing the newly christened pup, Ruth stood, setting her hands on her hips. “So, Rascal. I need to get some tools and fix that hole under the gate. Hannah said you were a magician at getting out. I wouldn’t recommend that today, as it looks like the weather is going to turn and I won’t be around to check on you.”

      Worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, Ruth debated taking the pup to Hannah’s farmstead. “I don’t want them to think I can’t handle you. I know I can, but it will just take a little preparation. And you shared a shed and a run like this with your siblings and mother. You should be all right.” She worried her lip a little more. “I hope.”

      Turning to look for the pup, Ruth caught him in midsquat. “Good boy! That’s just what we needed. Let’s go inside for some breakfast while we figure the rest of this out.”

      By the time she secured Rascal’s shelter, Ruth was running late. Bess’s reluctant pace didn’t help. The mare kept ducking her head against the wind that was blowing in her face. The sky was piling gray in the west. Ruth urged the mare to hurry whenever Bess’s feet started to drag. She knew Malachi was going to be at the shop today. In fact, he might already be there.

      Bouncing on the seat helped Ruth expend nervous energy. More important, it helped keep her warm. She was grateful she’d remembered to bring along an extra quilt and glad she’d taken a moment to roll down the curtain doors of the buggy against the wind, but she was going to be late. She had never been late for work before. Ever. The others would be waiting for her to open the door.

      She’d taken a moment to stop at the mailbox of her nearest neighbor and stick in a message, asking if they’d check on the pup during the day. They had two daughters who still attended school. Ruth was hoping the girls wouldn’t mind the chance to play with a puppy. Providing, she amended with another uneasy glance at the sky, they did it earlier in the day before some weather hit.

      When she and Bess swept into the shed behind the woodshop, several other horses nickered in greeting. Ruth counted the bays in the makeshift stalls and her heart sank. They were all here. Plus one. Hurriedly, she unharnessed a grouchy Bess, wiped her down and guiltily gave her a offering of extra hay.

      Cheeks flushed with more embarrassment than cold, Ruth dashed in the door. The recalcitrant wind took the opportunity to blow a gust that jerked the door from her chilled hands and bang it hard against the wall. Hastily shutting it, she turned to find all eyes in the workshop looking in her direction.

      There were four sets of eyes she knew well. Upon seeing her, they nodded and returned to their work. But two new workers regarded her curiously. They watched as Ruth made herself walk sedately over to the coatrack, remove her black cape and bonnet, and hang them with the other coats there. They continued to observe her as she crossed to the cabinet and removed the safety glasses that she’d retrieved from the showroom yesterday—after she was sure he’d left. Since they were younger versions of the blue-eyed, blond man who also regarded her steadily, she figured they were the brothers who had come to join what had been her daed’s business.

      Ruth put on the glasses and turned to face the new owner. Some type of barrier seemed prudent before meeting his gaze. Malachi didn’t say anything, just flicked a glance to the clock over her head and raised an eyebrow before returning his impassive blue eyes to her. Even in his silence, Ruth felt severely chastised.

      Swinging around to avoid his penetrating gaze, she grabbed the first project she could put her hands on and set to work. Struggling because her palms were now sweaty—not a good combination