The Shepherd's Bride. Patricia Davids
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She gave him a bright smile before she unwrapped herself from his coat and jumped down from the cart.
When she entered the inn, she found herself inside a lobby with ceilings that rose two stories above her. On one side of the room, glass shelves displayed an assortment of jams and jellies for sale. On the opposite wall, an impressive stone fireplace soared two stories high and was at least eight feet wide. Made in the old-world fashion using rounded river stones set in mortar, it boasted a massive timber for a mantel. A quilt hanger had been added near the top. A beautiful star quilt hung on display. Two more quilts folded over racks flanked the fireplace.
At the far end of the room was a waist-high counter. A matronly Amish woman stood behind it. Tall and big-boned with gray hair beneath her white kapp, she wore a soft blue dress that matched her eyes. “Good afternoon and willkommen to the Wadler Inn. I’m Naomi Wadler. How may I help you?”
Her friendly smile immediately put Lizzie at ease. “I’m looking for work. Anything will do. I’m not picky.”
“I’m sorry. We don’t have any openings right now. Are you new to the area? You look familiar. Have we met?”
Lizzie tried to hide her disappointment at not finding employment. “I don’t think so. Might you know of someone looking for a chore girl or household helper?”
“I don’t, dear. If I hear of anything, I’ll be glad to let you know. Where are you staying?”
Lizzie glanced out the window. Carl was scowling in her direction. He motioned for her to come on. She turned back to Naomi. “That’s okay. I thank you for your time. The quilts around the fireplace are lovely. Are they your work?”
“Nee, I display them for some of our local quilters. Many Englisch guests come to this area looking to buy quilts. These were done by a local woman named Rebecca Troyer. I’m always looking for quilts to buy if you have some to sell.”
All she had was her mother’s quilt, and it was too precious to part with. “My sister has a good hand with a needle. I’m afraid I don’t, but I can cook, clean, tend a garden, milk cows. I can even help with little children.”
Naomi gave her a sympathetic smile. “You should check over at the newspaper office, Miller Press. It’s a few blocks from here. They may know of someone looking for work.”
Lizzie started for the door. As she reached it, the woman called out, “I didn’t get your name, child.”
“I’m Lizzie Barkman. I have to go. Thank you again for your time.” She left the inn and climbed into the cart again. “They don’t have anything. I wish to stop at the newspaper office. There might be something in the help-wanted section of the paper.”
“Joe can’t move all the sheep without help. I should be there.”
“It will only take a minute or two to read the want ads. I’ll hurry, I promise. Which way is it?”
He gave her directions and she found the Miller Press office without difficulty. Inside, she quickly read through the ads, but didn’t find anything she thought she could do. Most of them were requests for skilled labor. It looked as if going home was to be her fate, after all.
With lagging steps, she returned to the cart. She followed Carl’s succinct directions to the center of town. When the bus station came into view, she felt the sting of tears again. She’d arrived that morning, tired but full of hope, certain that she could save her sister.
It had been a foolhardy plan at best. She stared at the building. “My sister was right. I’m nothing but a dreamer.”
A short, bald man came out the door and locked it behind him. Carl took Lizzie’s suitcase from the back of the cart and approached him. “This lady needs a ticket.”
“Sorry, we’re closed.” The man didn’t even look up. He started to walk off, but Carl blocked his way.
“She needs a ticket to Indiana.”
The stationmaster took a step back. “You’re too late. The westbound bus left five minutes ago. The next one is on Tuesday.”
“Four days? How can that be?”
The little man raised his hands. “Look around. We’re not exactly a transportation hub. Hope Springs is just down the road from Next-to-Nowhere. The bus going west departs at 3:00 p.m. on Tuesdays and Fridays.” He stepped around Carl and walked away.
She wasn’t going back today. She still had a chance to find a job. Lizzie looked skyward and breathed a quick prayer. “Danki, my Lord.”
She wanted to shout for joy, but the grim look on Carl’s face kept her silent. He scowled at her. “Joe isn’t going to like this.”
Chapter Three
“What is she doing back here? I told you to make sure she got on the bus!” Joe looked ready to spit nails.
Carl jumped down from the back of the cart and took Lizzie’s suitcase and her box from behind the seat. He knew Joe would be upset. He wasn’t looking forward to this conversation.
“She missed the bus. The next one going her way is on Tuesday. I couldn’t very well leave her standing on the street corner, could I?”
“I don’t see why not,” Joe grumbled.
Lizzie got down for the cart and came up the steps to stand by her grandfather on the porch. “I’m sorry to inconvenience you, Daadi, but I didn’t know what else to do. I don’t have enough money to pay for a room at the inn until Tuesday and get a ticket home. I won’t be any trouble.”
“Too late for that,” Carl muttered. She had already cost him half a day’s work.
“What am I supposed to do with you now?” Joe demanded.
“I can sleep in the barn if you don’t have room for me in the house.”
She actually looked demure with her hands clasped before her and her eyes downcast. Carl wasn’t fooled. She was tickled pink that she had missed the bus. He half wondered if she had insisted on making those job-hunting stops for just that reason. He had no proof of that, but he wasn’t sure he would put it past her.
Joe sighed heavily. “I guess you can stay in your mother’s old bedroom upstairs, but don’t expect there to be clean sheets on the bed."
Lizzie smiled sweetly. “Danki. I’m not afraid of a little dust. If you really want me to leave, you could hire a driver to take me home.”
Scowling, Joe snapped, “I’m not paying a hired driver to take you back. It would cost a fortune. You will leave on Tuesday. Since you’re here, you might as well cook supper. You can cook, can’t you?”
“Of course.”
He gestured toward the door. “Come on, Carl. Those shearing pens won’t set themselves up.”
She shot Carl a sharp look and then leaned toward Joe. “Daadi, may I speak to you in private?”
Here it comes. She’s going to pressure Joe to get rid of me.
Carl didn’t want to leave. He enjoyed working with the sheep and with Joe. In this place, he had found a small measure of peace that didn’t seem to exist anywhere else in the world. Would Lizzie make trouble for the old man if he allowed Carl to stay on?
Joe waved aside her request. “We’ll speak after supper. My work can’t wait any longer. Carl, did you pick up the mail, at least?”
He shook his head. “I forgot to mention it when we passed your mailbox.”
Joe glared at Lizzie. “That’s what comes of having a distraction around. I’ll go myself.”
“I’ll go get your mail.” Lizzie started to climb back onto the cart, but Joe stopped her.
“The