A Widow's Hope (17 page)

“Exactly! I did no such thing! You’re the one who wanted to buy sheep, not me! This whole trip to Kidron was your idea!” She wished she’d eaten more oatmeal. Her stomach felt queasy from all the bumps in the road.

“Well, a man can hope, can’t he?” He spoke softly, barely above a whisper. Then unexpectedly, he leaned over and brushed her cheek with his lips.

The action astounded and pleased her at the same time. She wasn’t sure which emotion outweighed the other. “Settle down, Mr. Miller.
There’ll be no more of that along the way.” She hoped she wouldn’t fall out of the buggy from shock.

“In that case, I’m glad we’re here. Welcome to Kidron, Hannah.”

As they crested a hill, the bustling town opened before her like a greeting card. Cars, buses, and buggies were everywhere. Amish and English milled about on sidewalks and congregated in parking lots. Seth tugged on the reins to slow the horse as he gently applied the brake. Ahead, a line of vehicles waited at the red light at the bottom of the hill. The pavement widened as the road approached the center of town, allowing buggy lanes on both sides.

“My word,” she breathed. “I hadn’t expected anything like this. What is that building?” She pointed at a rambling structure that had obviously been added to many times. Rooflines went off in many directions to accommodate the steeply sloping lot.

“That’s the hardware store,” he answered.

“
Hardware?
” she asked. Buses were queued in back as though at an amusement park. Cars filled most of the spaces in the parking lot, while Amish buggies were tied at a long row of hitching posts.

“Oh, there’s plenty of hardware inside, for Plain and
Englischers,
besides a restaurant, bookstore, and bakery. Tourists love the place, but nevertheless, it has the best selection of cook stoves, woodstoves, propane refrigerators, and nonelectric appliances in the state. Most of it is way too fancy for Old Order, but the owners keep a good variety of oil lamps on hand—something for everyone.”

“You don’t say.” Hannah craned her neck to watch an Amish woman cross the street carrying one baby while three other youngsters clung to her skirt. “Can we go inside later and look around?”

“Sure, if there’s time.” Seth clucked to the horse as the traffic light turned green. Once through the intersection, they joined two long lines of traffic funneling into a parking lot—one for cars and trucks and the other for buggies and wagons. Both types of conveyances were pulling animal trailers. Two separate worlds melded harmoniously
in the charming little town while a cloud of dust hung in the air from the commotion.

“Welcome to auction day, Hannah,” Seth said, as a young boy waved them into the area for buggies.

“My word,” she repeated, astounded by the hubbub behind the auction barns. “Look, there’s a flea market too.”

Makeshift booths had been set up and an area of pavement chalked off to display all sorts of merchandise. Several Amish women were selling quilts from the backs of their buggies.

“Later in the summer, this is a good place to bring produce, cheese, wool, or anything else you want to sell,” Seth explained. “Most of the English you see aren’t locals, not on auction day. People come from Cleveland and Akron and all over to shop.”

“
Jah,
like Lancaster, I suppose, but on a smaller scale.” Hannah couldn’t help but smile and shake her head. She saw an English farm wife in overalls and work boots, a Plain young woman in a heavy black bonnet, and an overdressed young girl in high heels and a short skirt standing in line at a booth that sold cold drinks.
What a collision of cultures,
she thought.

Seth jumped out and offered his hand. “I need to go to the sheep barn and register so I can get a number.”

She liked the touch of his fingers despite his rough calluses.

He pulled out his pocket watch. “It’s a good thing I aim to buy sheep and not cows, or we’d be too late for good selection. They sell sheep after they’re done with cattle.”

“No one told me what time to be ready,” she said a little stiffly. “We could have skipped breakfast if you wanted to come early.”

“And miss Julia’s cooking? No chance. Anyway, like I said, they sell sheep and goats last. They’re not that popular in these parts, seeing how ornery they can get.” He winked at her from beneath his hat brim.

Hannah opened her mouth to defend her favorite species but changed her mind. Amish women had congregated in groups outside
the main barn, and several pairs of eyes were keenly studying Seth. Hannah had forgotten that although she knew no one, Seth Miller was no stranger in the community. One or two Amish women looked in her direction and then spoke quietly behind their upraised hands. Hannah chose to pay them no mind as she followed Seth to the sheep and goat building, far less grand than the one for cattle.

Nothing could sour her mood. She’d come to town on a beautiful day in May to buy the world’s sweetest, gentlest creature with a man who’d just kissed her. What could be finer? The possibility she might have a beau raced through her blood like wildfire.

“While I register,” he said, “why don’t you check out the sheep in the holding area? See if there’re any you would buy, and any you would avoid. By the time the auction starts, it’ll be too late to tell if they’re worth the bid or not. I’ll meet you outside that door in fifteen minutes.” He pointed toward a white clapboard building fifty yards away.

“All right. I’ll meet you there,” Hannah said, watching him climb the steps to the registration counter. She noticed his broad shoulders and how his muscles flexed beneath his shirt.

Shaking away her thoughts of him, she headed to the pens and began working her way down the rows. She found a perfect group of Cheviot ewes with healthy looking coats and good conformation, sound teeth, and alert eyes. One docile creature let her pull back its gums to inspect its teeth. The other groups of animals wouldn’t suffice no matter how low the bid. She jotted down the lot number of the Cheviots and walked to where Seth had indicated. Just when she thought the day couldn’t get any better, she spotted a sign across the street: Jasper’s Ice Cream. She hadn’t felt this happy since coming to Ohio and had to force herself not to whistle a tune.

“You might be in luck,” she said when Seth joined her.

“I already came to that conclusion myself,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows. “Let’s go inside.” With auction card in hand, he took her elbow, and they entered the clapboard building together. “Perfect
timing—they’re getting ready to start.” Seth looked as excited as a child on Christmas morning.

Hannah couldn’t stop grinning as he guided her toward two empty seats in the small arena. People were filing in, taking their seats, and talking with great animation. She settled herself primly on the bench but clapped her hands when they brought in the first group of animals to be sold.
Who knew an auction could be so much fun?

Hannah was so busy having fun, she failed to realize she was the only Plain woman inside the building. But that fact didn’t escape notice of several Amish men in the bleachers.

And they didn’t look pleased.

B
efore the bidding starts, tell me about this breed you checked out,” Seth whispered.

Hannah cocked her head to one side and considered carefully. “They’re Cheviots—a robust breed that won’t mind your cold winters. They graze well on hilly pastures like the ones in Holmes County. They tend to be a little excitable, but the ewes make good mothers. They produce lots of twins too. Very hardy lambs, not genetically predisposed to illness as in some breeds. Their wool is easy to hand spin.” Hannah was surprised by how much she remembered.

“Good breed for meat lambs?” Seth asked, pulling on his beard.

She frowned unwittingly. “
Jah,
I’ve heard some say as much.”
Not that I know from personal experience. I haven’t sold a single lamb to a packinghouse.

“Sounds like a good breed. What about this particular lot?” He was looking at the paper she had jotted the number on.

“You’re taking a chance when you buy at auction. Some dishonest shepherds try to sell off sick animals to the unsuspecting, but those six look fairly healthy—no discharge from the eyes, not much squinting, coats look decent. I could only check the teeth of one ewe, but they weren’t bad. Didn’t see any manure to check for good, firm pellets.”

Seth laughed, drawing attention from people seated nearby. “I won’t even ask how you evaluate a critter’s manure.”

“Shush,” Hannah murmured. “They’re starting.”

An Amish teenager prodded the first group of Suffolks into the auction pen.

Hannah tried to study the animals huddled together while Seth craned his neck for a better look. The half-dozen Suffolks, with their black faces and bare legs, were young and skittish. They were sold after a few bids to an elderly buyer, and an odd pair of beasts was brought in next.

“What are those?” Seth whispered, not wanting anyone to hear his question.

“Angora goats,” she whispered back. “I might add some of those one day. You shear them just as you would a sheep, but you get a better price for their wool. Always a decent market for angora, unless keeping warm in winter goes out of style with the English. Plus, you never have to worry about a goat eating the wrong plant in your pasture and poisoning itself.” She wished she’d taken her own auction number. “I hate to say it, but they are smarter than sheep.”

Seth scrunched up his features with contempt. “Goats—no thanks. A goat chased me up a tree once when I was a boy. That varmint wouldn’t let me down for two hours. I got a whippin’ on top of that for being late for supper! I suppose my pap wanted me to risk getting butted all the way home by those horns. Didn’t seem fair to me.”

Hannah held her fist to her mouth to hold back laughter. “What did you say to the billy goat? I’m sure you said
something
that started the disagreement.”

Seth watched the proceedings in the ring with a grin that stretched from one side of his face to the other. He leaned over to whisper in her ear, “I said his mother and sister were a pair of worthless grass-eaters, same as him.”

“I knew it! You provoked him. I happen to love
goat’s milk and goat’s milk cheese and goat’s milk fudge.” Hannah folded her hands in her lap.

Seth tore his attention from the ring just for a moment. “None of which can you get from a billy.”

Hannah opened her mouth to argue, but right then the group of Cheviots darted into the arena. “That’s the lot I examined. Don’t look too excited, or the price will bid up quickly,” she instructed, trying to look as nonchalant as possible.

Soon an Amish farmer established an opening bid, and two other farmers, both
Englischers,
joined in. Others had recognized the quality of the stock not usually found at auction barns. The bidding hopped back and forth around the room in lively fashion.

Hannah nudged Seth. “Now might be a good time to jump in with your number card,” she whispered. “Hold it high to get the man’s attention when you call out your bid.”

Seth sat motionless, content to watch the action as an interested observer.

“Seth,” she said, “those Cheviots are worth the price.” She poked him in the ribs with her index finger.

But by the time the words left her mouth, the bidding was over. An English farmer and his son marched down to sign a paper at the desk. That lot of sheep was ushered through the door on the right while the next lot was paraded in on the left. Hannah chewed the inside of her lip.
Am I being too pushy?
She looked around at the human occupants in the arena and noticed for the first time several pairs of eyes on her instead of on the livestock down front. Three elderly Amish men were frowning in her direction.

Hannah folded her hands in her lap and offered no further bidding advice.

Seth seemed content to merely watch the goings-on anyway. Within ten minutes the whole business was over, and people began to file out. It was then that she noticed all the other participants were male. The air seemed to go out of her lungs.

Hannah could say nothing, but she felt the stares of several Plain people on her.

“Are you hungry, Hannah?” Seth asked, once outdoors. “Let’s go find the booth that sells sausage sandwiches. I’m starved and have been thinking about them all morning.”

“All right,” she answered. “That sounds good.” The buyers leaving the barn scattered in all directions, going about their business.
I probably imagined those men staring at me,
she thought.

Seth took her arm as they crossed the street to a vendor selling lunch and cold drinks. Hannah waited at the picnic table while Seth bought them sausage sandwiches with baked beans and cold iced tea.

“
Danki,
” she said, unwrapping her sandwich. “Next time, I’ll provide the lunch.”

“So there will be a next time? I’m glad to hear it.” He took a bite of his sandwich with gusto.

Hannah felt a blush rise up her neck but knew anything she might say would only heighten her embarrassment. She began eating instead. “I’m curious. Why didn’t you bid on the Cheviots?” she asked after dabbing her mouth with a napkin. The onions and grilled peppers were greasy but delicious.