A Beau for Katie (6 page)

Freeman grimaced. He couldn't fault her looks. It was Katie's unnatural nature that made her less than what a proper woman should be. She was too quick to question a man's judgment, and too set in her own ways. No wonder she had to resort to a matchmaker to find a husband.

Not that he hadn't done the same, he grudgingly conceded. Several years earlier, he'd tired of his grandmother's murmuring about him being past time to wed. So, he'd consulted with a matchmaker to try and find a suitable wife. Not Sara Yoder, but a woman in Lancaster. Sara had not yet come to live in Seven Poplars, or he would have gone to her. It would have been easier face-to-face than doing everything by letter.

It turned out the matchmaker didn't have any more success than he'd had on his own. The three girls she'd suggested were all wrong. Different reasons, but all wrong for him. Of course, he'd found the right woman years ago, and she'd chosen another. It had been a bitter pill to swallow, but he'd had to accept it. He knew that his grandmother was eager for him to marry and give her great-grandchildren, but he wasn't going to just settle. If he couldn't find the right woman, one who made him feel eight feet tall, he'd remain a bachelor.

The mantel clock began to chime. “Eight o'clock. That does it,” Freeman declared. “She's late. And what are we supposed to—”

“Good morning!” Katie called out as she came into the kitchen, eyes sparkling with energy, arms full, and cheeks pink with ruddy health. She set a covered basket on the table and whisked off the woven lid. She was wearing a dark green dress that fell a few inches below her knees, dark stockings and low, black sneakers. “Sara made blueberry pancakes this morning, and she had extra,” Katie proclaimed. “I packed hot water bottles around them to keep them warm. And I've got real maple syrup and blueberry compote.” She removed a white apron from her basket, shook it out, and tied it around her waist. “I'm going to just pop them in the oven for a few minutes and then they'll be ready.”

After breakfast, Freeman sat in the bed, eyeing the porch. He wondered if maybe he could walk the couple of feet out the door and to a chair, with his uncle's assistance. It would just make him feel better. He'd only been using the wheelchair three days but he was already sick of it.

Katie wouldn't have it, though.

“Absolutely not,” she declared. “You're still supposed to be keeping your leg elevated. You're going to be off your feet for at least six weeks—”

“That's an exaggeration. The doctor never said six weeks,” Freeman protested. He'd probably be bankrupt by then. Shad would have done something stupid with the mill mechanism and the wheels would stop turning. Customers would start taking their business someplace else. He couldn't afford six weeks off from work.

“Was it six?” Uncle Jehu asked. “I thought it was seven weeks.”

Freeman gritted his teeth, even though he knew from his uncle's voice that he was just teasing. You would think that a man's uncle would take his side once in a while instead of forever siding with either Grossmama or Katie. Men were supposed to stick together.

Ignoring the both of them, Katie sat down in the wheelchair and maneuvered it around the kitchen table. Then she leaned back, bringing the front end up. It was all Freeman could do not to warn her to be careful. He didn't want her taking a spill.

“This is kind of fun.” She lifted one footrest and propped up her leg. “And this will keep your leg elevated just as the doctor ordered. I can put a pillow under, if need be.”

“I suppose you're right,” he said, begrudgingly. If he could get around by himself, he guessed he could deal with the wheelchair for a few days. Anything would be better than lying flat on his back in that bed another day. “I got up myself this morning.”

“That's good,” Katie said. She moved to a kitchen chair and began to remove her shoes and stockings.

“Why are you doing that?” He should have looked away, but he didn't. If she was bold enough to roll down her stockings in front of a man, she couldn't blame him if he watched.

“I mean to do some heavy cleaning. And bare feet wash easier than stockings.” She tucked her stockings into her shoes and slid them under the chair and brought the wheelchair to the side of his bed. “Ready?”

He tried not to grumble as she held the chair so that he could get off the bed and into it. And he only gave a small groan as she lifted his bad leg onto the footrest.

“Your hair still needs trimming,” she said, hands on her hips, regarding him critically. “Are you certain you don't want me to cut it for you?”

“I'll think about it.”

She smiled. “Good. Want to go out on the porch? I saw some things out there that need doing. I thought I might start there this morning.”

Freeman slowly made his way out onto the porch to where he could see the pond and the front of the mill. She brought him a newspaper, a recent issue of
Farm Journal
, and a copy of
National Geographic
from her bag. “I don't know if you like to read,” she said, almost shyly, “but I saw the old newspapers stacked up in that box beside the door, here on the porch, so I thought you must read them.”

“I do like to read in the evening,” he said, giving her a genuine smile. “When my chores for the day are finished. But where did you get these magazines? They aren't ours.”

“My brother Robert takes the
Farm Journal
and he saves them for me. It's last month's, but there are some good articles.”

“And the
National Geographic
?”

She colored a faint shade of pink. “Mine. I know it isn't accepted reading for most Amish, but there are good articles about African wildlife and killer whales and all sorts of topics that even the deacon couldn't object to.”

“So you're a reader, too.” He studied her closely. He wouldn't have thought her a reader. Most Amish weren't, but that held even truer for Amish women. “Maybe we have more in common than I thought. It was thoughtful of you to bring them; I appreciate it. I've seen issues of the
Geographic
before. I don't know why I haven't subscribed to it. They're interesting.”

“I thought so. I know our
ordnung
teaches us to live apart from the world, but that doesn't mean we should be ignorant of it.”

Maybe he'd been hasty in his judgment of Katie Byler, he thought. She wasn't a bad sort, once you got to know her better. He sighed and looked around at the yard and sparkling surface of the pond and took a deep breath of the fresh air. It felt good out here. Small fish were feeding near the surface, and he could just make out some of them jumping.

“You know, if you like to make fishing lures,” Katie said. “Maybe we could bring some of your tools into the house. You could work on them at the kitchen table or even in bed. It would give you something to do...to help pass the time.”

He nodded. “That might be a good idea. If you wouldn't mind, I can make a list of what I'd need. My workshop is over at the mill.”

Katie had found a four-foot stepladder and unfolded it.

“What are you doing?” He'd seen the broom and thought she meant to sweep the porch, which could certainly use it. He had to admit that the porch was a little cluttered. There was a bucket with scraps for the chickens, a couple of fishing poles, a rake, a folding chair that he'd carried in to mend one rainy day, before he'd had the accident, and a few tools and cardboard boxes. “Why do you need a ladder?”

She used the broom handle to point at a bird's nest along the eaves.

There was a rip in the screen at the far end of the porch that let the swallows in. They'd made nests here in the spring when they were raising babies. Actually, they'd made four nests, two from the previous year. He winced. Had it been two winters ago that a tree branch had fallen and torn the screen? He should have cleaned away the old bird nests. The swallows wouldn't use the old nests next year. They'd build new ones.

“You need to get someone to fix that hole,” she pointed out. “You can't keep mosquitoes out without mending that screen.”

“Haven't noticed they're bad. Besides, the barn swallows eat the mosquitoes.”

“
Ne
, but I'll doubt you spend much time on the porch. And birds belong outside, not in. They make a mess.” She looked around the space and sighed. “Not that you'd notice, I suppose.” She climbed the ladder, revealing neat ankles and shapely bare feet before he realized he was staring and looked away.

“Are you calling me dirty?” he asked, not really offended. She had very high arches, and she seemed nimble. She certainly wasn't afraid of heights like Susan had been. He'd tried to get her to climb the steps to the top floor of the mill once, and she'd gone white-faced and clingy on him.

Katie used the broom to knock loose one of the swallow nests. “Now don't go all huffy on me, Freeman,” she said between whacks. “I can't imagine how one man does all the work it must take to run this mill, even with the help of an apprentice.”

“Hired man,” he corrected. “I told Shad that I'd make him my apprentice if he showed promise. I'm still waiting.”

“It must be a trial, trying to find good help.”

He didn't bite on that one.

“What kind of a name is Shad?” she asked. “Sounds English. Is he English?”

“Shad Gingrich?
Ne
, his name is Shadrach. From the Bible. The fiery oven.”

“Oh, that Shadrach. I didn't know there were any Gingrichs around here.”

“There aren't. Shad's from Ohio. Uncle Jehu is a friend of his grandfather. He boards at a farm down the road. His family wanted Shad to learn the trade and sent him here to me. He's a little young, though.”

“How young?”

“Twenty-one.”

“I thought you were twenty when you took over the mill here,” she pointed out.

“But he's young for his age,” Freeman said quickly. “Milling's serious. You can get hurt around the gears if you're not careful. And you can do a lot of damage to the equipment. It's expensive to repair and difficult to replace parts. There aren't many stone mills still in operation in this country. It's a dying art.”

“All the more reason for you to have an apprentice, maybe more than one in case one doesn't work out.”

“You're quick to give advice on a trade you know nothing of.” He looked up at her. “What makes you think I can afford the price of a second hired man?”

“Apprentice. Take on one younger and he won't cost you as much, and he'll be more willing to take advice. And if you could afford to pay my wages, and I'll only be here temporarily, you can use that money to employ another apprentice.” She climbed down, swept the fallen nest and the dirt around it into a dustpan before moving her ladder. “Wait,” she said. “Is that Shad coming out of the mill?”

Freeman looked where she was pointing. “
Ya
, that's him carrying a fishing pole. Maybe planning on taking a little leisure on my time when he should be working. Shad!” he shouted. “Shad!”

Katie leaned the broom against the house. “You know, I think you'd heal faster if you weren't so out of sorts all the time. And maybe you'd be in a better mood if you could get out to the mill yourself and see what's going on.”

“What? You think I can roll the wheelchair down these steps to the backyard?”

She gave him the same look a mother might give a trying child. “What you need is a ramp, and an apprentice who has time to go fishing has time to build a ramp.” She started toward the screen door that led to the yard.

“Where are you going?”

“To tell Shad he needs to find the materials to build a ramp.”

“You can't do that,” he said.

She whipped around. “Can't do what?”

“Give my hired man orders.”

“I can't?” She smirked. “Watch me.”

He stared after her as she marched across the yard intent on having her own way. And then, he couldn't contain himself. He saw the humor in it and laughed.

Chapter Five

B
y noon the following day, Shad was well on his way to completing a wheelchair ramp from the house to the sidewalk, and Freeman supposed he should have been pleased. But Katie had invited him to join them for the midday meal and afterwards, when the family sat drinking iced tea on the porch, he'd had to watch Shad making calf eyes at Katie and praising her for her cooking. Every time Katie glanced in the boy's direction, Shad flushed to the roots of his hair. Finally, when Shad remarked for the second time on the amazing qualities of her blackberry pie, Freeman lost patience. “Time you were getting back to work, don't you think, Shadrach?”

“Oh, let the boy digest his dinner,” Grossmama said. “He's been at it since early this morning.”

Katie glanced up from the elaborate cat's cradle pattern Jehu was attempting and smiled at Shad. “And a good job he's making of it, too.”

Shad clutched his straw hat and turned strawberry red up to his ears. It was clear to Freeman that he was smitten with Katie. Every time she opened her mouth, he stared at her as if he expected pearls of wisdom to tumble out.

“Should be finished by supper time,” Shad boasted. “Or tomorrow morning at the latest. Solid as the Temple of Jerusalem.”

“And we know what happened to that,” Freeman quipped.

Katie chuckled, and for an instant, Freeman thought she was laughing
at
him rather than
with
him, but when he looked back at her, he saw that her attention was fixed on Uncle Jehu's string and the tangle he'd made of it.

“Maybe not quite right,” Uncle Jehu said before adding his own laughter to Katie's. “I think I need a little practice on Grossmama's spinning wheel.”

“A little,” Katie agreed. “And Freeman's right. I should be getting back to work, too.” She glanced at Freeman. “I brought Sara's hair scissors. After I get the dishes cleared away, I could cut your hair for you.”

“Got stuff to do of my own.” Grossmama looked at Uncle Jehu. “I could use your help, Jehu,” she said.

“My help?” His uncle was trying to untangle his string.

“If you can spare the time.”

“
Ya
, time's something I've got plenty of,” Uncle Jehu said.

The four of them quickly scattered: Shad to resume his hammering, Freeman's grandmother and uncle to do whatever it was she needed doing, and Katie to clean up the kitchen. Freeman sat there on the porch for a few more minutes.

He had to admit that minus the birds' nests and the boxes and all the rest of the clutter, the porch looked a lot better. The floor could do with a fresh coat of paint, and he still had to fix that torn screen, but Katie had scrubbed and swept and scrubbed some more. From somewhere, she'd found a large crockery butter-churn, gray with a blue wheat design, one that hadn't been used in several generations, and planted tarragon, rosemary and lavender in it. The lip of the churn had a big chip out of it, and there was a hairline crack down one side, but it looked handsome standing by the door, and the herbs made the porch smell fine.

He couldn't get to the mill until Shad finished the ramp, but Katie had promised they'd get him there by the next afternoon. It would take a big load off his mind just to make certain everything was all right with the mechanism and the grain stores. He wanted to check on his cats, too. Shad said he was feeding and watering them but he worried that their water wasn't being changed regularly.

People made a habit of dropping unwanted cats and kittens at farms or along rural roads. And he'd always had a soft spot for strays, so much so that his neighbors had brought him any they found. He wasn't sure how many cats he owned now, but he took his responsibility seriously. He provided good veterinary care and nutritious food for them. In return, the cats kept his grain stores free of rodents. He'd explained to Shad how much to feed the cats and to be certain they had fresh water every day, but Shad didn't like them. So how did he know the boy was actually caring for the cats as he should? And if he was feeding them, he certainly wasn't giving them attention, petting them or calling them by name. Some were tamer than others, but Freeman knew every cat as an individual and he was concerned for their welfare.

Shad's hammering made it difficult to think, so Freeman gave up his comfortable spot on the porch and rolled the wheelchair into the kitchen. Katie was at the sink, soap bubbles up to her elbows, scrubbing away at a large pot. “Nearly done there?” he asked.

“Almost.” She turned to smile at him. “Last one.”

“You can cut my hair if you're set on it. You've run on about it so much that I suppose I'll have to let you trim it up to get you to stop harping on it.”

She laughed. “I suppose I have been annoying.” She turned the pot upside down on the drain rack and dried her hands on a towel. “I see you shaved yourself this morning.”

He rubbed at his chin. He thought he'd done a passable job. He'd gotten the job done with a nick or two. He didn't think it looked half bad. But he could see by the amused expression in her eyes that she had a different opinion.

“I'll need the razor to shave the back of your neck, so I may as well trim up those rough spots on your chin,” she offered.

“Doesn't matter much one way or the other.”

“It might, if you have company on Sunday. It's visiting Sunday, and it might be nice if we...I mean, if you...invited someone over. You need contact with friends, especially other men.”

“That's true,” he admitted. “I have a lot of fondness for my grandmother and Uncle Jehu, but it would be good to hear what someone else has to say. Nothing against you, you understand, but you're a woman.”

She shrugged. “I am that.” She gave him a half smile. “So, it's settled. Your uncle said that he'd be glad to invite whomever you want. And I'll be happy to make some food for your guests and run it over on Saturday. It's always nice to have something to offer them.”

“That's decent of you.” Today, she was wearing a gray-blue dress. He liked the blue with her yellow hair. It suited her.

“I'll be glad to do it.” She went to her basket and found the scissors. “I'd rather not do this in the kitchen,” she said. “I've just swept the floor, and it's hard to get up all the little bits of hair.”

“Sounds like you've done this before. Cut a man's hair.”

She nodded. “I always cut my
dat
's, and my brothers'. My mother isn't so good at cutting hair.” She smiled. “It always ends up crooked.”

“How about yours? Do your haircuts end up crooked?”

“Not yet.” Her eyes lit with mischief and she opened and closed the scissors rapidly. “But there's always a first time.”

He groaned. “Great.” He glanced around. “So if not here, where? The back porch?”

“Too noisy with all that hammering,” she said. “How about the front porch? It's not screened in, and with that little breeze, most of the stray hair will just blow away.” She picked up the scissors, a comb and a towel that lay folded on the counter and walked purposefully toward the hallway that also led to the living room and the front entrance hall.

“What about me?” he called after her. “Aren't you going to push me out there?”

She stopped, turned, and gave him an amused look. “
Ne.
I am not. Like you told me yesterday, your leg is broken, not your arms. You can manage.”

This time when he laughed, she laughed with him.

* * *

“You should have seen him, Ellie,” Katie said as she removed a still-warm egg from one of the row of hens' nests along the back wall of Sara's chicken house. “He talks about not liking to be dependent on others, then he's asking for this and that. He wants iced tea with extra ice, coffee with more milk than coffee, dumplings with extra broth.” She shook her head. “It never ends.”

Ellie slid her hand under a clucking hen and pulled out two eggs. “He likes the attention, I suppose.”

Katie deposited her egg gently in the straw-filled basket. Sara's chicken house was so new that you could still smell the new lumber and the large casement windows were still relatively clean. The floor was ankle-deep with sawdust, and the laying boxes and roosts were painted a lovely shade of gray-blue. Katie had always been fond of chickens; they were such useful birds. She had never seen a henhouse as nice as this one, and she secretly vowed that when she had her own home, she'd have one built that was just as well-designed.

“Is he handsome?”

Katie inspected another nest. There were three eggs here, two large and one small, probably laid by one of the young pullets. “I suppose. But it's a man's character and not his looks that are important.”

“So you aren't interested in him?” Ellie asked.

“Of course not
.
Whatever gave you that idea? I told you, the man is too set in his ways. I only agreed to help out there as a favor.”

Ellie was quiet for a minute, then she said, “I was just thinking. Sara is clever. Do you think she might have placed you in Freeman's household because she thought the two of you might make a match?”

Katie made a face. “Sara wouldn't do that, would she?” She thought for a moment and then shook her head. “Doesn't matter. Freeman doesn't think that way about me. I'm not even sure that we could be friends. It seems like everything I say, he has something to say back.”

“
Ach
, a shame.” Ellie removed two more eggs from the last nest. “Sixteen. That's two more than yesterday. Sara will have eggs to sell soon. Johanna, down the road, has regular egg customers. English. She said she could take any extra we have and sell them for Sara.”

Katie took the basket. “Did Sara tell you that I had a letter from Uriah today?”

“From your Kentucky Uriah, personally? Not from his father?”

“Ya.”

Ellie pushed open the chicken house door and held it for Katie. “See, you spoke too soon. He
is
interested.”

“I don't know.” Katie sighed and pulled a letter from her apron pocket. She set the egg basket on the grass. “Listen to what he says and then tell me whether you think he's interested.”

Ellie folded her arms and waited expectantly.

“It starts with
Kathryn
. Not
Dear Kathryn
, just
Kathryn
.”

“Go on.”

“You are of an age and mind to marry,”
Katie read.

Ellie rolled her eyes. “Romantic.”

Katie nodded. “He continues...
I am the same. Sara says that you have been baptized into the Old Order Amish Church and are in good standing with your community. Likewise. I am building a house and need a wife. If you are of a mind, I will send money for a train ticket. Best you come to Kentucky. This is the busy season for my crops and lumber mill. If you are agreeable, write and say when you are coming. I am hard-working, respectable, and not the best with words. We are not strangers because we grew up next door. I remember you were kind. My bishop tells me marriages built on faith and respect are solid ones. If you come we can see if we are a good match. If you decide not, I will pay your way back home without ill will. Your friend, Uriah.”

Ellie nibbled at her lower lip. “Gets right to details, doesn't he?”

Katie stifled a giggle.

“But you think he's a good person?”

Katie nodded. “He was a gentle boy. Never complaining. Sweet.”

Ellie pointed at the letter in Katie's hand. “I'm not sure his sweetness comes across there.”

“
Ne
, it wouldn't. In school, he would never speak up, but he got good grades in math and he always included the younger children in games.”

“Kind, then.” Ellie considered. “So he could be a disaster...or a treasure. Hard to tell.”

“Exactly.” Katie picked up the basket of eggs and started toward the house. “Which is why I'm trying to decide if I should accept his offer and go to Kentucky and find out.”

* * *

The mantel clock chimed nine times and Freeman paused and looked at his grandmother. “It's getting late,” he said. “Should I end here?”

“Ne,”
she answered. “Don't stop yet. You're just getting to the exciting part.”

“Go on,” his uncle urged.

Freeman shifted the large German Bible on his lap and continued reading from
Exodus
, the story of Moses leading the Israelites out of slavery in Egypt. He kept on until he finished the passage and then closed the holy book. “How's my High German?” he asked.

His grandmother nodded. “Better, much better.”

“You would make a good preacher,” Uncle Jehu said. “You're content to let God's message speak for itself, and aren't tempted to add your own words.”

“Don't wish that on me,” Freeman said. Being chosen as preacher for a community was a great responsibility that lasted a lifetime. It wasn't one he would ask for. If it came, he would accept, but he'd never felt that he was called to serve the Lord that way. “There are many better shepherds among my neighbors.”

His grandmother took the heavy Bible and carried it back into the front room. Freeman cherished the book. It had been passed down to him from his great-grandfather on his father's side, and it was a possession that he valued greatly. “Thank you,” he called after his grandmother. “I should be the one doing that.”

“And you will,” Uncle Jehu said. He rose and went to the sink and came back with a glass of water. “In case you get thirsty in the night.”

His grandmother returned. “I see Katie's been busy in there, as well. That girl's a whirlwind for cleaning.” She came to the bed and kissed him on the cheek. “You look so much better, Freeman. I've been worried, not so much over the broken bone in your leg, I knew that would heal, but I've been concerned about you. But I can see that your spirits have risen. You're more your old self.”