The Amish Christmas Cowboy. Jo Ann Brown
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Natalie crossed her arms over her bright red T-shirt. “Sarah, are you listening?”
Watching the two little ones skipping across the fancy rug that cost more than the farm where she lived with her two brothers, Sarah sighed. She faced the impatient ten-year-old who’d inherited her mamm’s glistening black hair and gray eyes. Someday, Natalie would be a beauty like her mamm, but with her lips compressed, she looked like the kind she was.
“I’m listening.” Sarah smoothed her black apron that had gotten bunched against her dark green dress when she’d kept Ethan from falling. For a moment, she wondered what Alexander, the fourth Summerhays youngster, was up to. She would check once she listened to Natalie. Checking her kapp was in place, she asked, “What’s up, Natalie?”
“Did someone order a cowboy?”
Stunned, she stared at the girl. “Why would you ask me that?”
“Because there are cowboys on the porch.”
She struggled not to frown. The kinder had played plenty of pranks on her when she first began working for Mr. and Mrs. Summerhays. Childish practical jokes like a whoopee cushion beneath her and spiders in her glass. She’d laughed along with them, until they’d stopped. Or she’d thought they had.
When she’d been offered the job, she’d seen it as a gift from God. It provided her with an open window into Englisch lives, allowing her to learn what she’d need to know if she decided to move away from the Harmony Creek settlement. Her stomach clenched. She didn’t want to leave her brothers or the wunderbaar friends she’d made since they moved to northern New York last year, but being baptized meant surrendering her dream of helping others.
That dream had been born the day she went to visit her daed in the hospital after a serious barn accident. He’d lost his right arm, and she guessed he might have given up if it hadn’t been for the nurses and physical therapists who’d believed in him. Watching them, she’d decided she wanted to learn to do such work, but that would be impossible if she became a full member of the Amish church. However, a job like a volunteer EMT might be allowed.
“Natalie,” she began.
“There are cowboys out there!” insisted the girl. “If you don’t believe me, look for yourself.”
Sarah took a quick glance at the top of the wide door to make sure someone hadn’t rigged a bucket of water on it. The fancy door was hinged in the middle, and she kept a close eye on the other side...just in case. The August heat battered her like an open oven door.
“See?” demanded Natalie.
Lowering her gaze from the door’s top, Sarah gasped when she saw who stood on the wide porch.
A cowboy!
A real live cowboy!
She stared in disbelief at his wide-brimmed straw hat that looked as if it’d been plucked out of one of her brother Menno’s Zane Grey novels. Though the day was warm, he wore a long-sleeved light green shirt and denims. His black Western boots had scuffed toes. Sun-streaked brown hair fell forward into the bluest eyes she’d ever seen, bluer than a cloudless summer sky.
“Ma’am, is this Ian Summerhays’s place?” asked another cowboy, who tipped his black hat as he came up the steps. He was older, old enough to be her daed, and his slow drawl came, she guessed, right out of the heart of Texas.
“Ja... Yes, it is.” She couldn’t pull her gaze from the younger man, who gaped at her in outright astonishment.
Hadn’t he seen a plain woman before? If he hadn’t, he should still have known it wasn’t polite to stare.
Then, realizing she was doing the same, she cut her eyes to the older man and asked, “Are you looking for Mr. Summerhays?”
“Is he around?”
“He’s in his office.” She didn’t add how rare that was. He spent most days at the stables in Saratoga, about an hour’s drive south.
“Can you let him know we’ve got a delivery for him?” The older man gestured toward a large truck with a massive horse trailer behind it.
South Texas Stables was written on the side of the trailer in fading red letters. Through the narrow windows, motions revealed animals were inside. She was relieved to hear the sound of an air-conditioning unit coming on, knowing the animals would be more comfortable than she was in her bed on a hot summer night when the air was still.
“Of course.” She turned to Natalie. “Please go and let your daed know there’s a delivery.”
The little girl glanced at the men on the porch and, for a moment, Sarah thought she would protest.
Natalie grinned. “I told you there were cowboys out here.”
“You did.” Bending, Sarah said, “Mrs. Beebe said she was going to have a treat for you this afternoon.” The cook knew the youngsters were always ready for a snack. “You can check with her if it’s ready after you let your daed know someone wants to talk with him.”
“Okay, I get it. You want to talk to the cowboy by yourself. Don’t let him sweep you onto his horse and ride off with you into the sunset.” She giggled before running inside.
Sarah hoped neither man had heard the girl. Those hopes were dashed when she aimed a furtive look in the younger man’s direction and saw his frown. His light brown brows were lowered like storm clouds over his bright blue eyes. Intense emotion filled them, but she didn’t know why he was distressed.
After Natalie had rushed away to her daed’s office in the left wing of the house, Sarah looked at the men, unsure what to say next. She wished Mrs. Summerhays were there, but the kinder’s mamm was in Europe, buying items in antiques shops in Paris and Rome and Vienna to create her new vision for the house. Should Sarah ask the two men in? No, three men. Another guy with a cowboy hat walked around the trailer. Leaning against it, the dark-haired man lit a cigarette, startling her. Mr. Summerhays didn’t like anyone smoking near the house or stables.
Her face must have revealed that, because the older man snapped an order at the third cowboy. With a grimace, he dropped the cigarette and ground it out with the toe of his boot.
“Sorry, ma’am,” said the older man. “Ned forgets his manners sometimes.” He aimed a frown at the man by the trailer.
Wanting to put an end to the uncomfortable conversation, Sarah asked, “Was Mr. Summerhays expecting you?”
“We’re a day early, but I warned him we might be. By the way, I’m J.J. Rafferty, and that talkative guy there—” he pointed at the younger man who hadn’t said a word “—is Toby Christner. Toby, show the lady that you can talk.”
“Nice to meet you,” the handsome cowboy said. His baritone voice would have been pleasant on the ear if he’d put inflection in it.
“I’m Sarah Kuhns,” she answered.
J.J. nodded toward her, then looked past her.
Sarah turned to see Natalie standing behind her. “Did you talk to your daed?”
The girl nodded. “He’ll be out in a few minutes. He’s finishing a call.”
“We’ll catch up on a few things,” J.J. said, “while we’re waiting.” He walked toward the truck, motioning for Ned to follow him.
The dark-haired man winked at her before going with J.J.
Toby remained where he was. So did his frown. What was bothering him? Was he upset Mr. Summerhays hadn’t dropped everything to greet them when they arrived? If they’d done business with her boss, they should have known how busy he was. So busy he seldom came home before ten, long after the kinder were tucked into bed. He was gone at dawn to the stables in Saratoga or to New York City, where he did something there