A Widow's Hope (7 page)

“
Jah,
sure.” Seth might have said more on the way to the house but his tongue had stuck to the roof of his mouth. He considered asking Hannah to fetch Phoebe to save time but remembered how scared the child had been of a new face. No sense causing a ruckus if Phoebe decided to fuss. When he found his daughter with the children in the parlor, he couldn’t find Hannah. But by the time he hitched the
horse into the traces, he spotted her sitting on the second bench of his carriage. “What are you doing back there, Hannah? Come sit up front with Phoebe and me. There’s enough room, and she’ll stay warmer wedged between us.”

Hannah obliged by climbing into the front. Phoebe looked upset, but she didn’t start crying. Once on the road, Seth questioned his decision to suggest she sit up front. The seat wasn’t all that wide for three of them, and he hardly knew the woman. She belonged in the backseat where she’d originally put herself. Now he’d have to sit with this stranger only inches away, and he couldn’t think of a single intelligent thing to say.

Hannah broke the uncomfortable silence by speaking first. “I’m grateful for the ride, Seth. I can’t wait to check on my sheep. They’ve suffered enough on the trip. You know how livestock can get banged around in those trucks, especially on twisty mountain roads.”

“
Jah,
that’s true,” he agreed, clucking at the horse to pick up the pace.

“I’m anxious about them and eager to get them off that truck and into their new pasture.” Her voice was filled with emotion.

“Hold on a minute. My
bruder
wants me to tell the driver to come back tomorrow. He refuses to take delivery on the Sabbath.”

“Hmmm,” she agreed, nodding enthusiastically. “And that’s what we’ll do too, unless the driver can get them off and maneuvered into the pasture without our help. Maybe I can ask one of Simon’s English neighbors to help.” Hannah glanced at Seth with a hopeful smile.

“I don’t know about that. Simon doesn’t like asking for help unless it’s some kind of emergency. I don’t rightly think this qualifies.” Seth looked away, not liking to disappoint a woman.

“Oh, but it does.” Hannah smoothed the folds from the lap blanket and tucked it around Phoebe’s legs. “I’ve got baby lambs in that truck. I fear they’ll get trampled if not released. They’ve probably been separated from their mothers during the whole trip. You know how loading animals can turn into a melee. Some might die if they can’t
nurse.” Her voice had dropped to barely above a whisper. “And then there’s the matter of the truck wheels sinking into the soft ground.”

Seth gave his beard a pull, trying to sort all this out. The matter had been crystal clear when his brother had explained the situation. But Hannah had made some excellent points. Nobody wanted to see any lambs die if they could be unloaded without much help on their part. Simon didn’t need a tractor-trailer mired in his driveway. And he sure wanted to help the widow if there was any way he could.

In the end, Hannah Brown got her beloved flock off the truck and properly fed and watered. Seth joined her at the fence rail once he’d thanked the English driver for his extra work. She was watching her brood wander over the low hills toward the riverbank. Phoebe squealed with delight upon spotting twin lambs nursing from their mother. Hannah thanked him profusely for asking the driver to unload the flock.

He had a feeling, however, that Simon wouldn’t be quite so pleased even with the truck safely on its way back to Lancaster.

As Seth counted the large number of new lambs, it occurred to him how a sheep operation might be exactly what he needed to increase his farm revenue. They would be far less labor-intensive than expanding into a full dairy operation. This could be the idea he’d been asking for in his nightly prayers.

He watched as Hannah retrieved her crook from under the porch and then marched off through the meadow looking like Bo Peep from the picture books. His heart tightened uncomfortably against his chest wall. He probably shouldn’t breathe so deeply in the cold air. Hannah Brown seemed to be a kind, gentle soul—one he could learn from if he wanted to start his own sheep operation.

Simon had forgotten how it felt to be lonely. He enjoyed the loving companionship of a good wife and four healthy
kinner.
But Seth remembered the days after Simon first met Julia while they had been visiting an aunt and uncle in Pennsylvania. After their return home, his shy, backward brother had stumbled through his chores
like a lovesick duck after its mate had been killed. He wrote her a letter every night, although most he burned in the woodstove instead of mailing. He invented excuse after excuse why he needed to travel back to Pennsylvania until finally their mom and dad made him admit the truth—he was in love.

His private, circumspect brother was head-over-heels in love with Julia. Their father had taken pity on him and sent him to live with their uncle for a year so that he and Julia might court properly, even though it left their farm shorthanded.

Simon may have forgotten what loneliness felt like, but Seth hadn’t. Usually his chores kept him too busy to dwell on it, but every now and then it would creep up on him like a snake in the woodpile.

For some reason, Hannah had become a burr in the sock of his older brother. And until that matter straightened itself out, he could at least be her friend. Everyone needed a friend, especially a widow who had moved to a new land.

Especially a widow with sparkling green eyes and skin the creamy color of that first perfect peach of summer.

O
h, good grief,” Hannah muttered with both hands planted firmly on her hips. “With an entire pasture around you, must you all crowd into one small spot?” The question had been directed at brown speckled animals without enough manners to glance up from their munching. Most were muddy up to their bellies, their wool not looking like anything
Englischers
would want to knit into sweaters or hats.

She tightened the shawl around her shoulders and scanned the nearby fields. The sun felt warm on her cheeks and soon would melt the last lingering snow along the fence line. A few of the animals had wandered away from the gate to graze. But most, true to their reputation, preferred to remain close to where Seth had placed two water troughs. Since their arrival, they had already eaten the new spring grass down to roots and churned the area in which they had congregated into a sea of mud.

She stepped up onto the lowest fence rail. “You are not pigs,” she called. “Do not turn this into a pigpen.”

Again her beloved flock refused to dignify the chastisement with a response. At this rate, the entire pasture would be reduced to swampland. And Simon wouldn’t be happy about that. She knew she’d annoyed him yesterday when she had asked Seth to ask the
driver to unload. But what other choice did she have? This morning she had prayed for a smooth transition of her wool business with a minimum of disruption to the Miller household. One glance at her mud-caked flock told her that was not to be.

Hannah didn’t wish to appear ungrateful, but the field Simon had given her was too small. Her sheep were used to grazing over a much larger area—and on higher ground. A pang of longing filled her heart for her beloved Lancaster County. Spring had already arrived back home, bringing snowdrops, windflowers, and the first purple crocus. Her neighbors had finished plowing and tilling their fields, and some had even begun to plant hay and wheat. The farms of Holmes County seemed weeks behind those of Pennsylvania. But something else was curdling her morning glass of buttermilk. Hannah knew she should have waited to move the flock from Lancaster County until the sun had a chance to dry things up. With snow still melting in the hills, the pasture was far too wet. This was the first sunny day since her arrival. She’d just introduced sixty animals onto land where the grass hadn’t had a chance to come in. Her hungry mob could quickly overgraze even a lush pasture. “Humble yourselves, therefore, under God’s mighty hand, that he may lift you up in due time. Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you.” The Scripture she’d read last night in First Peter reminded her to be patient—not the easiest assignment.

At least she hadn’t lost any of her new lambs enroute. As she watched a playful pair trying to nurse, Hannah felt something tickling her left temple. A crawly sensation coupled with a muffled buzzing sent a shiver up her spine. A bee or hornet had crawled under her
kapp!
Though she possessed no fear of any of God’s creatures, she preferred stinging insects keep to themselves. With a shriek, she jumped down from the rail and yanked off her
kapp.
Even after shaking her head side to side furiously, she still heard the insistent buzzing as the insect crawled closer to her scalp. In sheer panic Hannah pulled the pins from her bun and shook out her hair. Her thick
hair fell across her shoulders and down her back in a tangle, but the bug finally flew off. With her heart pounding in her chest and her breath coming in great gulps, Hannah laughed at her overreaction. The bee was probably just as glad to be rid of her. Bowing her head, she closed her eyes and whispered a silent prayer as her heart rate returned to normal. It hadn’t stung her! The early hatchling would live to taste summer nectar, and she wouldn’t have a painful goose egg on her forehead.

Hannah repinned her hair and replaced her
kapp
before walking into the boggy pasture to count the sheep and check for any injuries she might have overlooked during unloading. Hurt or sick animals often hid in the middle of the flock, so as not to be singled out by coyotes or other predators. As she wandered further from the gate, nothing appeared out of the ordinary among the tired, cranky beasts. She prodded animals lying down to their feet with her crook. Their bleating and complaining sounded particularly unhappy, as though they were displeased with their new Ohio home. She knew most of them were probably hungry and would need supplemental feed.

Just as her thoughts turned to Julia’s strong coffee or a soothing cup of chamomile tea, Hannah stepped into an old gopher hole. Icy cold water immediately filled her boot. “
Ach,
” she muttered as she tried to pull out her foot, which had become wedged in the narrow hole. When she finally got her foot loose, the boot remained behind in the smelly muck. Reluctantly she reached into the hole to get her boot back.

Hannah Brown, twenty-eight years old and an experienced farm wife, stood balanced on one foot, with a muddy boot in one hand and a muddier foot held aloft, and no dry place to sit down and sort things out. The bottom ten inches of her dress were wet and encrusted with mud. Her stockings had turned the color of a sheep’s underbelly, and even her white apron was speckled like a robin’s egg.

Back home, she would have been wearing Adam’s old muck boots, which reached her knees. She used to tuck her long skirt inside the
boots, allowing only enough leeway for easy movement, and then stomp through the fields without soiling her clothes. Nobody had lived close enough to witness her unladylike appearance. Now she lived in a houseful of onlookers, including four impressionable
kinner,
a deacon in the district, and a sister who desperately wanted her to adjust to the community. Still, she might have to pull them out of the trunk.

Hannah considered her limited options: She could tromp into Julia’s spotless kitchen and leave a messy trail in her wake. Or she could go to the pump house to clean up—but then she chanced running into Simon. She probably looked as silly as she felt and preferred keeping a low profile. Her third option involved washing her feet in the stream with temperatures barely above freezing. But the icy water that flowed down from melting snow asked no questions and offered no suggestions.

She decided to chance on freezing to death and headed toward the creek.

After washing out her sock and shoe, Hannah leaned back on her elbows and laughed at her predicament with her feet knee-deep in cold water. This wasn’t the first time she’d made a mess of things. And it certainly wasn’t her first foolish decision. But it was the first time she didn’t have the sympathetic eyes of Adam as her only witness.

Hannah Brown, surrounded by six people, including four children, felt very much alone.

But alone or not, her sheep weren’t getting enough to eat, and that problem wouldn’t go away on its own. Replacing her sock and boot, she shivered all the way back to the house. With some of the money Thomas paid her for the farm, she would buy feed to last several months. By then the grass should have thickened up in the pasture. She had relied on Adam in such matters but no longer had that luxury.

She dug through her trunk under the porch and found her books on the care and feeding of sheep. Without Adam or Thomas or
her
daed,
Hannah had only books to tell her what to feed, how much, and how often. But somehow the cracked leather bindings and creased pages of her texts reassured her. Even the smell of mildew didn’t offend her senses as she scanned the index. Books had become her only friends in her new land, so until she made others of the human variety, she would take comfort here.