The Amish Christmas Cowboy

Knowing she must not leave the men standing on the porch in the heat, she said, “Please komm inside where you can wait for Mr. Summerhays.”

Toby cleared his throat. “I can—”

“Come along, both of you,” said J.J. “I don’t want to unload the horses until Summerhays checks them to make sure they meet his satisfaction. We had a tough enough time getting the bay into the trailer the first time. He’ll be more resolute not to go in again.”

“But—”

“No sense standing out in the heat. Any chance you might have something cool to drink, young lady?”

“I’m sure there’s something. I can check.”

“Much obliged.” J.J. motioned for her to go ahead of him, then followed her into the large entry along with Toby and Ned. As J.J. took his hat off, he gave a low whistle. “Mighty fine spread here.”

She hadn’t heard anyone talk like him before but guessed he was complimenting the house. She had a lot to learn about Englischers. Finding out about Englisch ways was going to be a bigger task than she’d guessed.

“I’ll find out what’s on ice in the kitchen.” She shouldn’t leave them in the entry, but she wasn’t sure where to take them. Mrs. Beebe would know what to do, because the cook had been working at the house since the family moved in.

“Whatever you’ve got will be great,” J.J. said.

She smiled in return, then spun and hurried toward the kitchen. She glanced back. Her gaze was caught by the younger man, who regarded her with the same expressionless look.

How odd! At that moment, she would have given a penny to know his thoughts. Maybe even two.

* * *

The last person Toby Christner had expected would answer the door was an Amish woman. If someone had warned him ahead of time, he would have thought it was a joke. She wasn’t any more out of place in the fancy house than the house itself was among the other simple farms they’d seen along the road toward the Vermont border. Stone pillars by the road were set next to a fancy sign announcing Summerhays Stables, which lay beyond them. The whole setup matched the prestige Ian Summerhays was garnering with his excellent racehorses, including the three his boss had brought from Texas, where Toby had been working with them for a year.

He glanced at the young Amish woman, who was rushing away as if she couldn’t wait to be done with them. Not that he blamed her. Ned Branigan hadn’t stopped trying to get her attention. Toby wanted to tell his coworker his sly wiles wouldn’t work on an Amish woman, but Ned would have ignored him.

Sarah wasn’t tall. In fact, when he’d moved closer to her to go inside, she’d taken a step back so she didn’t have to tilt her head to look at him. She had bright red hair beneath her kapp. Her gold-rimmed glasses hadn’t been able to hide the surprise in her mahogany-brown eyes when she’d seen him on the porch.

Toby let his boss and Ned lead the way into the magnificent house. It was grander than the house on J.J.’s spread, and larger than what everyone called the Hacienda. That long, low house didn’t have pristine marble floors glistening like mirrors and columns as formal as the ones he’d seen in a casino in Las Vegas when they’d made a delivery out to the desert about six months ago. A staircase curved up to an open gallery on the second story. On either side of the front door, rooms were two steps below the entry’s marble floor. Furniture that looked like it belonged in a mansion was arranged in each. None appeared comfortable.

A plain woman didn’t fit in this setting. Neither did he.

“How long,” J.J. asked, “will it take us to get to our next stop?”

“From what I saw on the map, I’d guess about three hours.”

The two of them took turns driving and keeping track of their route, while Ned rode with the horses. Toby had been on map duty today because J.J. didn’t trust a GPS to get them where they needed to go. Many of the farms where they delivered horses were far off the beaten path, making map programs useless.

J.J. frowned for only a second because Sarah reappeared. She carried a tray with a pitcher of lemonade and glasses. Behind her, like ribbons on the tail of a kite, were four youngsters. The oldest had been out on the porch, but there was a little girl and two boys, too. The quartet must be siblings, though the younger two were blond while the older ones had black hair. They couldn’t be Sarah’s because they wore bright colored shirts and sneakers with soles that lit each time they took a step. Yet, it was clear she was in charge of them.

“If you’ll follow me...” Sarah motioned with her head toward her left.

“Let me help you with that big load,” Ned said, stepping forward with a grin.

“I’m fine. Danki.”

“Nonsense. There’s no reason for a pretty filly like you to tote such a load.” Ned snatched the tray, and lemonade splattered out of the pitcher set in the center.

Dismay skittered across her face, but she turned to the kids, who’d skipped ahead of her into the big room, where they each grabbed a seat, the younger two wanting the same one. She convinced them to share as Ned put the tray on a low table. She turned and bumped into him. Without a word, she edged away.

Toby glanced at J.J. His boss was frowning. Ian Summerhays was an important client, and J.J. wouldn’t want Ned’s antics to cause problems. The plan when they left the ranch in Texas was for Ned to remain behind for a couple of weeks with the horses delivered to Summerhays. If J.J. changed his mind...

With a frown, Toby walked to a nearby sofa. If J.J. decided he couldn’t trust Ned—and he had plenty of reasons not to, assuming half the things Ned bragged about were true—Toby would be stuck at the fancy stables. Not that he wouldn’t have liked to spend more time getting the horses he’d worked with acclimated, but he’d hoped to use the time without Ned to ask J.J. about starting a small herd of his own. It would give him deeper roots on the ranch, something he’d never had while living with vagabond parents.

He hoped the rough seams on his denims wouldn’t snag the smooth lustrous material on the couch. He made sure his worn boots weren’t anywhere near the expensive upholstery or the wood that looked as if it’d been whitewashed. Everything about the house shouted the owners had spent a bundle on it.

They should have worried more about comfort, he thought as he sat. The chairs and sofas seemed too fragile and tiny for a full-grown man. His boss looked as if he perched on nursery furniture, because his knees rose to his chest level.

While Sarah served them lemonade, Ned kept trying to catch her eye. She stiffened each time he came close, but kept a smile in place as she told the youngsters they could have lemonade in the breakfast room.

Toby guessed she was their nanny. He thanked her when she handed him a glass that was frosted from the humidity, though the air-conditioning was keeping the house cool.

Ned moved too near to her when she offered him a glass. His broad hand closed over the glass and her hand. Her faint gasp brought Toby to his feet.

J.J. didn’t stand as he fired a glance at Toby, a warning to sit. At the same time, his boss asked, “Why don’t you drink that while you check on the horses, Ned?”

“I—”

“Never hurts to check again.”

Ned gave Sarah a broad smile but aimed a scowl at Toby as he strode out of the room.

J.J. motioned for Toby to remain sitting. Toby wasn’t sure why. Did Sarah have any idea that Ned was going to be remaining at the farm while Toby and J.J. left to deliver the rest of the horses?

Wishing he had an excuse to leave the ornate room where most of the surfaces seemed to be covered with gold leaf, Toby sipped the tart lemonade. Sarah still appeared uncomfortable, he realized, as J.J. smiled at her.

“May I ask you a personal question, young lady?” he asked.

Toby swallowed a silent moan. He recognized that grin. His boss was about to shake up what he considered a dull discussion. When J.J. looked at him, Toby guessed what his boss was about to ask. If he could think of a way—any way—to distract J.J., he would have. Stopping J.J. was about as easy as halting a charging bull with a piece of tissue paper.

“Of course.” Sarah squared her shoulders, preparing herself for whatever J.J. had to say.

“Are you Amish?” J.J. asked.

“I am.”

He chuckled and hooked a thumb toward Toby. “Like you. How do you say it, Toby? Like you, ain’t so?”

“You’re Amish?” A flush rushed up her cheeks, and he could tell Sarah wished the question would disappear.

Toby nodded as he waited for her to ask one of the next obvious questions. The ones he was always asked. If he was Amish, why was he traveling with J.J. and Ned delivering horses? Where did he live when he wasn’t on the road? Was he related to—or knew—someone connected to her? He hated the questions as much as he hated the answers he’d devised to skirt the truth.

Almost fifteen years ago, when he’d first gone to work for J.J., he’d answered those questions. He’d explained traveling wasn’t new to him. It was the life he’d always known. His parents had moved from one Amish settlement to another, seldom staying longer than six months, sometimes less than a week before heading somewhere new. They’d done that for as long as he could remember. He’d learned not to establish close relationships because soon he’d be leaving them behind. How could he have fun flirting with girls when he’d be going soon, breaking her heart as well as his own?

His life had changed after the family had arrived at a settlement in southern Texas. They’d stayed eight months. Toby had found work he loved: training horses at J.J.’s ranch. When his parents left, he’d stayed. The ranch was perfect for him. People and horses came and went. He didn’t have to worry about being the only outsider.