Courting Ruth. Emma Miller

ection>

      

      “Are you all right?” the stranger demanded.

      Unable to find her voice, Ruth nodded.

      He lifted her into his arms, and gazed into her face.

      Ruth couldn’t catch her breath. All she could do was stare into the most beautiful blue eyes she had ever seen.

      “You scared me half to death,” he murmured, still holding her.

      “Is she hurt?”

      The sound of her mother’s voice brought her back to the reality of the situation. “Put me down,” she ordered, embarrassed now. “I’m fine.”

      Flustered, Ruth stuffed her loose red hair up in her Kapp.

      “You sure you’re all right?” The beautiful stranger looked boldly into her face.

      The man staring at her was entirely too handsome. He was tall and broad shouldered, with a dimple on his chin. He was clean-shaven, so he wasn’t married.

      “Eli Lapp.” He offered his hand to her the way the English did, but she didn’t take it.

      Another flush of embarrassment crept across her face.

      “And you must be Ruth, Hannah’s daughter,” he said, grinning.

      How did he know Mam? How did he know her?

      EMMA MILLER

      lives quietly in her old farmhouse in rural Delaware amid the fertile fields and lush woodlands. Fortunate enough to be born into a family of strong faith, she grew up on a dairy farm, surrounded by loving parents, siblings, grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins. Emma was educated in local schools, and once taught in an Amish schoolhouse much like the one at Seven Poplars. When not caring for her large family, reading and writing are her favorite pastimes. Courting Ruth, the first in her Hannah’s Daughters series, is her first romance for Love Inspired.

      Courting Ruth

      Emma Miller

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      MILLS & BOON

       Before you start reading, why not sign up?

      Thank you for downloading this Mills & Boon book. If you want to hear about exclusive discounts, special offers and competitions, sign up to our email newsletter today!

       SIGN ME UP!

      Or simply visit

      signup.millsandboon.co.uk

      Mills & Boon emails are completely free to receive and you can unsubscribe at any time via the link in any email we send you.

      May you be blessed by the Lord, my daughter; this last instance of your loyalty is better than the first.

      —Ruth 3:10

      For my great-grandmother Emma, a woman of deep faith, enduring love, and legendary might.

      Contents

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

      Chapter Six

      Chapter Seven

      Chapter Eight

      Chapter Nine

      Chapter Ten

      Chapter Eleven

      Chapter Twelve

      Chapter Thirteen

      Chapter Fourteen

      Chapter Fifteen

      Chapter Sixteen

      Chapter Seventeen

      Letter to Reader

      Questions for Discussion

      Chapter One

      Spring…Kent County, Delaware

      Ruth Yoder lifted her skirt and deftly climbed the wooden stile at the back corner of the fence that marked the property line between her family’s farm and their nearest neighbor. The sun-warmed boards felt good on the soles of Ruth’s bare feet, bringing back sweet memories and making her smile. Dat’s stile, God rest his soul. How she missed him. The world had always seemed safe when her father was alive. Without him at the head of the table, life was more uncertain.

      What was certain was that if they didn’t hurry, recess would be over, and Mam wouldn’t get her lunch. “Come along, Susanna,” she called over her shoulder to her sister.

      “Come along,” Susanna repeated as she scampered up the stile, clutching their mother’s black lunch pail tightly in one chubby hand. Susanna would be eighteen in a few months. She should have been able to carry the lunch across the field to the schoolhouse unaccompanied, but in many ways, she would always be a child.

      The English said Susanna had Down syndrome or called her a special-needs person, but Dat had always said that she was one of the Lord’s gifts and that they should feel blessed every day that He had entrusted her to their family. Susanna’s chubby face and slanting blue eyes might seem odd to strangers, but to Ruth, her dear little face, framed by the halo of frizzy red hair that marked her as one of Jonas Yoder’s seven daughters, was beautiful. Susanna’s white Kapp tied over her unruly bun, her Plain blue dress and white apron were exactly like those that Mam had sewn for Ruth. But Susanna’s rosy cheeks, stubby little feet and hands and bubbly personality made her unlike anyone that Ruth had ever known.

      Sometimes, to her shame, Ruth secretly felt the tiniest bit of envy for her sister’s uncomplicated world. Ruth had to struggle every day to be the kind of person her mother and her church expected. Being a good soul just seemed to come naturally to Susanna. Ever since her sister Johanna had married and moved to her husband’s farm down the lane, the responsibility of being the oldest child had settled heavily on Ruth’s shoulders. It was that sense of responsibility that had caused her and Mam to have words after breakfast this morning. Not an argument exactly, but a disagreement, and that conversation with her mother made her stomach as heavy as one of Aunt Martha’s pecan-raisin pies.

      “You’re twenty-three out, Ruth,” Mam had reminded her as she’d taken her black bonnet from the hook and tied it over her Kapp before starting off for school. “You joined the church when you were nineteen. You’ve done a woman’s job in our house since you were fifteen. It’s past time you chose a husband and had your own home.”

      “But you need me here,” she had insisted. “Without Dat, running the farm, taking care of Susanna and teaching school is too much for you. It’s better that I remain single and stay with you.”

      “Fiddle-faddle,” Mam had said as she’d gathered her books.

      “…Roofie! You’re not listening to me.”

      “Ya, I am.” Ruth shook off her reverie and steadied her sister as she descended the steps on the far side of the fence.

      “But you’re not. Look!” Susanna pointed. Above the trees, in the direction of the school, rose a column of smoke.

      “Samuel’s probably burning brush.”

      “But, Roofie.” Susanna trotted to keep up with Ruth’s longer strides as they followed the narrow path through the oak grove. “I smell smoke.”

      “Mmm-hmm,”