Robin Lee Hatcher (5 page)

The dun mare thrust her head over the top rail of her stall and nickered at him.

“Hey, girl.” Jakob stroked her forehead. “How’s that leg doing?”

With a gentle push, he moved the mare back from the gate, then opened it and entered the stall. She nickered again, this time at the filly who had scurried to her opposite side, startled by Jakob’s sudden presence.

He ran his hand over the mare’s neck and shoulder, then down her front left leg to the fetlock. She lifted her hoof at his gentle touch, and he inspected the cut he’d been nursing for the past week. The wound was healing nicely.

“You’ll be out of here soon.” He glanced over the mare’s back at the filly. “And you, too, little one.”

He exited the stall, then tossed hay into the manger before leaving the barn. Once outside, he glanced toward the house to check on the children. He’d left them in the small fenced yard, playing in the shade of a poplar. One, two, three. All accounted for. And no one was crying. So far, so good.

Of course, it wouldn’t last for long. Soon one or more of them would need attention, either because of a fall or a dirty diaper or a fight between siblings. Not to mention suppertime was approaching. He supposed another meal of bread, cheese, and cold meats wouldn’t kill any of them.

What was he going to do? He couldn’t go on like this. In a few more weeks, the first cutting of alfalfa would be ready. He couldn’t be out in the fields from dawn to dusk and tend to the children, too. He’d have to have help.

If he hadn’t spent all that money to bring Karola from Germany …

Wait a minute.
He stopped suddenly.
She owes me.

He’d paid for her steamship passage and train fare with the understanding that she would become his wife upon arrival. He’d even done the honorable thing when he learned she hadn’t received the letter that detailed what had happened to him in recent years—he’d offered to pay her way back to Germany. But she’d refused that offer. She’d refused to go home, while at the same time refusing to marry him. It seemed to him that she got exactly what she’d wanted—to live in America. And he was the one who’d paid for her to have that privilege.

Oh, yes. She owed him plenty.

Chapter Six

H
ave you asked God what he wants you to do?” Her mother’s question continued to plague Karola throughout that first night at the Shadow Creek Hotel, and the answer, when it came, brought her no comfort.

Not only hadn’t she asked God what he wanted her to do before she came to America, she hadn’t asked him what he wanted her to do in years. When was the last time she’d prayed— really prayed? Not the liturgical prayers repeated as part of a Sunday morning service along with the rest of the congregation, but a heartfelt petition to the Lord.

Years.

As dawn pinkened the cloud-spattered eastern horizon and the sky began to change from pewter to blue, Karola stared out the window at the sleepy town’s main street.

“O God, when did I let it happen? When did you become just another obligation in my life instead of my Lord and Comforter?”

The waning of her faith hadn’t happened overnight, she realized. It hadn’t been a conscious turning away from the God of her father and mother. It had taken time and disappointment and resentment. It had taken pride and stubbornness. Mostly, it had taken neglect. She had ignored God, except for Sundays, and even that had been because it was expected of her to be in church, not because she’d gone to worship him.

Fighting tears of regret and shame, Karola closed her eyes. “Forgive me, Father God. Forgive me for my pride and selfishness and willfulness. Show me what to do now, Lord. I cannot take charity from Mr. Gaffney for long. I must find work and a place to live. Guide me, I pray, and keep me close. Do not allow me to stray ever again.” She sat very still for a long while before she made the sign of the cross, whispered, “Amen,” and opened her eyes.

Across the street, just west of the Lutheran church, she saw a man, black bag in hand, exiting the building that bore the sign,
Doctor’s Office, Andrew Cooper, M.D
. She watched as he placed his bag in a buggy, then climbed in and took up the reins. The large sorrel in the traces didn’t wait for a slap on its hindquarters but stepped out briskly, as if sensing a need for urgency.

Karola stepped closer to the window, her gaze moving down the street, suddenly curious for a more thorough look at Shadow Creek.

Next door to the doctor’s office was a grocery where a man in a white apron was unfurling a green awning above the large window. Beyond the grocery was a barbershop and then a cigar store, and at the far end of the block stood another church, this one made of brick.

From what she could see of it, the town of Shadow Creek seemed a good one, the merchants successful. The buildings appeared clean and in good repair. Surely she would be able to find some kind of work here. There must be a bakery; perhaps the owner needed help. She had worked beside her father since she was a child, so she had ample experience. Or she could hire on as a cook somewhere. And she was a good seamstress. She made all of her own clothes. There must be a call for that, even in a small town.

Karola turned from the window with a new sense of purpose. She wasn’t without options. She was young. She could work hard and make a home for herself. She didn’t need a husband. She only needed to keep faith in God.

I will look to you, Lord. I will trust you to guide me. I will
never turn away from you again. No matter what tomorrow
brings, I will follow you.

Jakob hitched the team to the rail outside the hotel, then lifted Aislinn into his arms while his older children scampered down from the back of the wagon.

“Mind your manners,” he cautioned them sternly before leading the way inside.

Ian and Laura were both behind the front desk.

Ian—a slimmer, younger version of his father—grinned when he saw Jakob. “Sure, and we weren’t expecting to see yourself in town again so soon. You must’ve come to see the lovely Miss Breit.” His grin broadened. “You’ll find her in the dining room, having herself a bite of breakfast.”

Jakob scowled, not liking the man’s merry tone, as if this were all some sort of joke.

Before Jakob could move on, Laura stopped him. “Let me tend the children while you see to your business.”

He chose not to refuse the offer, quickly passing the toddler into her open arms. With a glance, he reminded Maeve and Bernard that they were to behave, then strode away.

His gaze found Karola the instant he entered the dining room. Wearing a dress of lemon yellow, she was seated before a large window. The morning light spilled through the glass to create a halo effect around her upper body. She looked almost … angelic.

Remember why you’re here.

As she lifted a cup to her lips, Karola glanced toward the doorway. Her eyes widened slightly when she saw him, revealing surprise or distress; he couldn’t be sure which. She set the cup down without taking a drink.

He strode across the room and stopped beside her table. “Karola.”

“Jakob.”

“I need to talk to you.”

She looked out the window. “There is nothing more to say. I cannot marry you. I was wrong to think I could. We are strangers to one another, and you do not want a wife.”

“That may very well be, but I need one. That’s why I sent for you.”

He saw her shoulders rise and fall with a deep sigh.

“You
owe
me, Karola.”

This drew her gaze back to him. “You would
force
me to marry you against my will?”

He grunted, an irritated sound of dismissal. “That isn’t how I do things. The last thing I want is an unwilling woman sharing my home.”

“Then what is it you do want?”

He pulled out the chair opposite her and sat down. “I want you to take care of my children. I sent for you because I believed you’d be good to them. I still believe it, despite how bad things went yesterday.”

“Jakob, I cannot—”

He felt his temper rising, and his voice rose along with it. “You got what you wanted, Karola. You wanted to come to America. Well, here you are, and I paid for every mile of the journey without getting anything in return. You don’t want to marry me? Fine. So be it. But we had an agreement, and since you’re the one who reneged, I think it’s only fair that you work off the debt you owe me.”

She stared at him. “Reneged?” Confusion—and perhaps fear—sounded in her voice.

“It means to break one’s commitment, to go back on your word.” He drew in a deep breath, trying to calm himself, then blew it out slowly. “I’ll give you the same salary as I did the housekeepers I hired last year, and I’ll apply it against the cost of getting you here. When the debt’s paid off, you’ll be free to go if you want. That’d be about right after the harvest is in.” After the harvest, he should be able to look after the children himself. He’d have the winter to figure out what he should do next.

“And where would I live?”

He looked up at her soft question.

“Miss Joki is right. I cannot stay under your roof. There would be gossip.” A frown pinched her golden eyebrows. “I had thought to find employment in town. If you pay me no salary, I cannot continue to stay in this hotel. And how would I get back and forth each day? I have no horse.”

“I already thought of that. There’s a small cabin on my land, up the hill from the main house. It was the old homesite. A little bit of work, and it’ll be a suitable place for you to stay at night. Not even the worst of the town busybodies could object to that arrangement.” He leaned forward, arms resting on the table. “So, what’s your answer?”

Karola looked down at her hands, folded now in her lap. She could refuse. What could Jakob do to her if she did? Nothing really.

Or she could offer to pay him back once she found employment. She certainly didn’t want to be beholden to him. She even supposed it was fair for him to say she owed him. Regardless of the missing letter that might have stopped her from coming to America, the fact was she
had
come and he
had
paid her expenses.

I did promise God, only this morning, that I would trust him
to show me the way
.

Of course, this was not what she’d expected when she made that promise. Not even close. She didn’t like the idea of working for a man who was angry with her, who held an obligation over her head to get what he wanted.

“Karola?”

She glanced up. Jakob no longer looked angry, she realized. Instead, he looked … exhausted.

His next words confirmed the thought. “I need your help. I can’t afford to hire anyone else. I spent what I had to spare to bring you here. Once the harvest is in, I’ll be able to look for someone else to take care of the house and the children. It’s only about five months.”

Compassion tugged at her heart. Until harvest was in. That wasn’t such a long time.

“The children need you, too.”

That did it. The last of her resistance crumbled. “All right, Jakob. I will come to work for you. Until after the harvest.”

“’Tis a fine idea,” Tulley Gaffney pronounced when he heard the news from Ian. “A fine idea, indeed. ’Twill be a help to them both. More than either of them may know.”

“Is that a matchmakin’ twinkle I see in your eye, Da?”

Tulley laughed. “Could be. Could be. You know I’d be wantin’ nothing but the best for the lad. I loved Siobhan like she was me own daughter, and I’m sorry she’s gone, God rest her soul. But gone she is, and ’tis time Jakob found himself a bit of happiness.”

“And why is it you’re thinkin’ Miss Breit can give him that?”

“’Tis a feelin’, me boy. Just a feelin’.” Tulley winked at his son. “Haven’t I always had a way of knowin’ these things?”

“Aye, Da. That you have.” Ian smiled and shook his head. “But I’d not be too sure about those two. ’Tis a poor beginnin’ they’ve made, if you’d be askin’ me.”

Tulley rubbed his chin, as if considering his son’s words. “You’d be surprised the good that can come from poor beginnings, me boy. I’ll be having you remember I said so.”

Chapter Seven

28 May 1908
Shadow Creek, Idaho

Dear Father and Mother,

I write to let you know I arrived safely in America and
am now in Shadow Creek. The ship crossing went without
mishap as did the train ride across this vast country.
I am still very tired after such a lengthy journey, but it is
exciting to be here at last.

I want you to know that Jakob and I are not to be married,
but you should not worry. I was not abandoned. It
was a mutual decision. I am to have my own place to live,
a small cabin near the mountains, and will have employment
caring for three small children who lost their
mother a year ago.

Jakob is their father.

I know that will surprise you as it did me, but Jakob is
not to be blamed. He, too, was surprised that I did not
know as he had written to me of the circumstances. Of
course, I never received that letter, and I am left to wonder
if I would have come if I had known the whole story.

For one more night, I shall stay at the hotel in Shadow
Creek. Tomorrow, I shall move into my cabin. I took the
opportunity today to become acquainted with the town
that is to be my home. The hotel proprietor’s daughter-in-law,
Laura, was gracious enough to be my guide.

Laura Gaffney is about my age and quite personable.

I hope she and I will become good friends. She and her
husband, Ian, both work at her father-in-law’s hotel.
Laura is in charge of the restaurant and is an excellent
cook. The Gaffneys have no children, but I recognized the
yearning in Laura’s eyes when she saw a mother with her
children on the street. It was a look that touched my heart,
for I have known the same yearning. I have wondered if
I will ever have children of my own. I wonder still since
I remain without a husband.

Shadow Creek is not much larger than Steigerhausen,
but it is dissimilar in every other way. It is laid out in a precise
square with three streets running east and west and
two running north and south. Nearly all of the businesses
are on Main Street, with two church buildings on the east
end of town and two church buildings on the west end of
town. I will be attending the Holy Shepherd Lutheran
Church with Jakob and his children and have already met
the pastor. His name is Rick Joki. There is also a Catholic
church (the priest is Father Patrick, whom I have also met),
a Presbyterian church, and a Methodist church.

Everything is new here by comparison with our country.
Shadow Creek was founded, I am told, around the
time I was born. The valley is bordered by mountains to
the west and east, and the land rolls gently and is rather
treeless, except along the streams. Higher up on the
mountains, however, there are more trees, and I am told
the colors of the changing aspen are beautiful in the fall.

Laura’s father-in-law, as I mentioned above, owns the
hotel. His name is Tulley Gaffney. He is from Ireland, and
I do not believe I have ever met another quite like him. He
is tall, even taller than Jakob, and of much greater girth.
His hair is bright red, and he has thick, bushy eyebrows of
the same startling shade and green eyes the color of the
forest meadow where we used to picnic. But it is not only
his physical appearance that makes him seem different
from others. It is his joyous and quite boisterous nature.
There is something contagious about it, I think.

I was introduced to many people today, but I will only
share about one more in this letter so that I will have
other things to tell you when I write again.

The millinery shop is owned by a widow woman
named Nadzia Denys. Her parents and her husband were
all from Poland, but she was born in America. Perhaps
thirty years of age, Frau Denys is quite formidable. She
is sturdy, like the stone wall beyond the Steigerhausen
mill, and plain of face. At first when we entered her small
shop I thought her unfriendly, for she did not smile. I
thought perhaps she did not know how. But then she said
to me, “You must be Miss Breit,” and I said, “How did
you know?” and she said, “Shadow Creek is a very small
town.” At this point, Laura Gaffney laughed, a merry
sound that filled the shop from corner to corner. This, I
think, was what caused Frau Denys to smile, and when
she did, it revealed a wide gap between her two front
teeth. I think this is why she tries not to smile.

Frau Denys makes beautiful hats and bonnets, and
there was one especially that I would love to have purchased.
You know how much I like pretty hats. This one
was made of yellow straw trimmed with sky blue feathers
and a large rosette of blue-and-white striped fabric.
Both of the other women encouraged me to try it on, but
I declined, knowing I do not have money to waste on
something as frivolous as a new bonnet. But it was lovely,
all the same.

Before I close this letter, I must tell you that I believe
God brought me to America. I know you have worried
about me and have prayed for me. Your prayers have
been answered, I think. I have asked God to forgive me
and to guide me, and I know that I am changed in a way
I cannot put into words. Be assured that I am comforted
by the words you have taught me all of my life and
believe those words and God will help me find the
answers I need.

Your loving daughter,
Karola Breit