MB02 - A Noble Groom (41 page)

Of course, the wild animals had disappeared, likely moving to areas that hadn’t been touched by the fire, where they could survive the harsh winter. Only the wild hares had stayed behind, and even though Annalisa had been grateful for any food at all, she was tired of rabbit meat and ready for the fresh produce of the coming summer.

As Carl had pointed out, at least they would have plenty of acres of land for plowing and planting. The fire had cleared the land for them. This year they could potentially double if not
triple their crops. And when Carl returned, they would harvest the winter wheat and begin the spring sowing.

If only Carl hadn’t decided to go . . .

She sighed again, knowing she wasn’t as tired as much as she was melancholy.

He’d only been gone two weeks, leaving when the ice had finally broken up on the lake, which allowed the steamers to operate. He’d wanted to take his inventions to Detroit. She wasn’t sure what he planned to do with them, but he’d promised he would be back in time for the plowing.

She could only pray it was true, that he hadn’t gotten tired of farm life and decided to return to the Old Country, as his father had begged him in each letter they received.

Carl had asked her if she’d be willing to go back for a visit at some point, and she’d told him that she would. For the present, he’d seemed happy with her and their farm. He’d spent the winter making his inventions and teaching children in the area—those who could manage to walk through the cold and snow to their home.

Bitte, Gott,
she prayed, as she had many times over the past two weeks.
Bring him back safely.

“Hurry, Mama.” Gretchen smiled mysteriously again.

Annalisa switched off the dryer contraption and wiped her hands on her apron. “Very well. I’ll go to the barn.”

She indulged her daughter in a smile and headed into the drizzly April afternoon. What had Gretchen found this time? More dandelions? The first edible roots of the season?

Her stomach rumbled with the constant hunger that had lingered throughout the long winter. With slow, heavy steps she crossed the farmyard and tugged at the barn door, pausing and letting the coolness of the spring breeze soothe her face.

She really was grateful. She had so much more than most of
her neighbors, who had lost everything in the fire. Her barn, tools, most of her animals, and hay had escaped the inferno.

As she stepped inside, she stopped in surprise. One of the lanterns was lit and hung from the rafters, casting a warm glow over the haymow. Someone had spread a blanket and had placed a bouquet of wildflowers in the center—the first blossoms of spring in an array of soft purples and pinks. And next to the flowers sat a basket covered with a towel.

Her heartbeat tumbled over itself with breathless anticipation. “Carl?” She squinted, searching the shadows.

She felt his presence behind her even before she heard the crunch of his boots in the hay. Before she could turn, his hands slid around her waist.

“My beautiful wife,” he whispered against her ear. His breath bathed her neck in warmth. His strong arms pulled her back against his torso, and his lips found the skin beneath her ear.

She gasped and tilted her head, giving him access to her neck, to her very soul.

“How is my littlest princess?”

She smiled at his question and placed her hands over his as he made a leisurely tour over her well-rounded abdomen. “And what if it’s a prince?”

“Then after he’s born, I shall have to set to work immediately procuring another princess.”

Heat bloomed in her middle and fanned into her cheeks.

“I missed you.” His lips descended again to her neck and made a warm trail to her collarbone. “I couldn’t live another day without you.”

“Then it’s a very good thing you came home.” She loved the gentleness of his hands on her belly. “I certainly wouldn’t want you to perish on account of me.”

He gave a soft chuckle.

She craned her neck, moving her lips toward his.

His lips met hers with a passion she’d come to expect from him, a melding that set her on fire.

Before he could deepen the kiss, she broke away and reached for his hands. She tugged him toward the blanket and the flowers and the basket.

He let her lead, his grin knowing, and his eyes as ablaze as her insides. “Don’t you want the picnic I’ve planned?”

“It’s lovely. You’re more romantic than any prince in any fairy tale.”

His grin widened.

“But first I must sate my hunger for my husband’s kisses.”

“You’re not curious what it is I have brought you in the basket?” He bent and pulled off the towel.

She drew in a breath. Amidst a loaf of bread, several oranges, and all the spices she loved and needed for her baking, was a crock, similar to the one she’d once hidden under her bed. Like almost everything else in the cabin, the crock had been destroyed. They’d only been able to salvage some of the coins, which they’d used to survive the winter.

“A new jug to use for your savings for the girls,” he said softly.

With trembling fingers she picked it up. She ran a hand over the smooth glazed contour and then met Carl’s gaze. “I love you.”

He smiled. “Check inside.”

She tugged off the cork. Instead of coins, a wad of bills was tucked inside. She gasped. “What’s this?”

“I sold one of my inventions. I have the patent here.” He patted his coat pocket with a grin that filled his face. “I set aside enough to buy a second horse and seeds for planting. But the rest is in there. For our girls.”

Her heart swelled until it hurt. She couldn’t speak past the
ache in her throat. The only thing she was capable of doing was reaching for him and showing him her gratitude and love.

Before she could lower herself and pull him into the hay next to her, the barn door squeaked open.

She froze. The memory of Ward’s attack still haunted her. Even though no one had seen Ward since that fateful day of the fire—even though he’d likely been burned to ashes during his crazy attempt to outride the fire—she still jumped at the thought of being caught in the barn unarmed.

Carl stiffened.

And when she peered over Carl’s shoulder and saw who had entered the barn, she realized why Carl was tense.

It was Vater.

Ever since the fire, he’d been a broken man, especially after Uri had died. The boy had lived for three agonizing days after the fire. She couldn’t help thinking he was better off in heaven, where he wouldn’t have pain or heartache, or the guilt of Hans’s murder that would have eaten away at his soul.

Only after Carl had left for Detroit had Vater finally come to visit. He’d offered to help her with her chores, especially since Dirk was strong and capable of handling most of the chores on his own farm. Over the winter, Dirk had married Eleanor and had become the son Vater no longer had.

Vater’s gaze moved from her to Carl, then back. “Well, it doesn’t look like you need my help anymore.” His voice was tight.

She couldn’t find the words to make him stay, to tell him she didn’t want him to go. Couldn’t she have both Vater and Carl in her life?

“Thank you for helping Annalisa while I was away,” Carl said.

Vater scowled. “I didn’t do it for you.”

“I know.” Carl slipped his arm around Annalisa’s waist and
drew her to his side. “But I love my wife and children more than anything, and I’m grateful to you for making life easier for them during my absence.”

Vater stared at them for a moment, his brows turning placid and his eyes sad. “I’m a stubborn man,” he finally said. “And I’m learning firsthand what Christ meant by His command to forgive seventy times seven.”

His words pried open a crack of hope in Annalisa’s heart. She wanted to rush into his arms like she had the day of the fire. She wanted him to hold her and to feel his love again.

But the stiffness in his shoulders held her back. Perhaps some joys in life were only meant to happen once.

“You’re a good man,” Carl said.

Vater hesitated before stepping forward and looking at Carl squarely. “You’re a good man too,” he said. Then he pulled down the brim of his hat, turned and walked out of the barn.

For a while after he was gone, neither of them spoke. The familiar sounds of the animals surrounded them—Old Red’s contented nickering, Mathilda’s chewing, and the sow’s low grunts.

Annalisa turned in Carl’s arms and reached her hand to his cheek.

His eyes glistened, the deep emotions in his soul reflected there.

“He’s right,” she said softly. “You’re a good man.”

Carl dipped his head lower. “Living here, being with you and the girls, facing the hardships—all of it has shaped me into a better man.”

She smiled and tilted her face up, offering him her lips and the promise of a lifetime of love.

They would face many more hardships in the days to come. They wouldn’t be perfect and neither would their marriage.

But they could still live happily ever after . . . together.

Author’s Note

In the mid-1800s, hundreds of thousands of Germans immigrated to America. While there were a variety of reasons for the mass immigration, many of the Germans left to escape the oppressive social system that existed in their homeland. The division of the people into classes was left over from the feudal system of the Middle Ages in which the nobility ruled the serfs. As Germany struggled to move into modern times, the lingering effect of such class differences was a seedbed for oppression, poverty, and abuse.

The German community in
A Noble Groom
immigrated from Saxony Germany to Sanilac County, Michigan, and formed Colonial Saxonia. As miners, they had originally intended to settle in the Upper Peninsula and mine there, but due to reports on the severity of the weather in the northern parts of Michigan, they decided to settle instead farther south, in Forestville.

The land around Forestville in the Thumb of Michigan had once been a former logging community and was being parceled off and sold in forty-acre tracts to potential farmers. The land was covered with a tangle of dead trees, stumps, and
fast-growing brush. The soil was rich for farming but would take an incredible amount of hard work to clear and make suitable for the kind of farming that would support the families.

Spurred on by the prospect of owning their own land and becoming prosperous—something they could never have in the Old Country—the German immigrants began the arduous task of clearing the land for farming. At first, only a few of them could afford horses or oxen or farm machinery. If there were roads, they were indeed as horrible as what I’ve described. Winters were dreaded. When navigation on Lake Huron ended due to the ice, the settlements were left to fend for themselves. Supplies in stores dwindled quickly, and settlers had to learn to be resourceful with the little they had until spring.

While I took some liberty with the dates and details of this particular German community for the sake of my story, it was my hope to bring to life the essence of an immigrant community, the rigors of farming, and the struggles of the early settlers. They really did have to plow among the stumps, clear their land by burning the slashings, and face the unethical and discriminatory practices of people who viewed Germans as “dirty.” They faced incredible hardship and illness, including a typhoid fever outbreak in 1881.

Most devastating of all was the Great Fire of 1881. By September of that year, no penetrating rain had fallen for almost two months. Streams had dried up, the vegetation of the fields and woods had become tinder, and the earth was parched. Even under such dry conditions, some farmers still resorted to the common practice of burning their land to clear it.

The area became a dangerous tinderbox.

When a major weather front moved through the area, bringing with it violent winds, the fires fanned into a raging inferno. Witnesses reported that in some places the fire marched in a great
wall of flames, sometimes one hundred feet high. It moved across Michigan’s Thumb area in four hours, burning and destroying everything in its path until finally it reached Lake Huron and burned itself out.

Hundreds of cattle, sheep, and hogs lay dead along the roads. Few trees and buildings were left standing. Nearly three hundred people died, and thousands were injured and left homeless. Some hid in wells and survived, while others suffocated and perished. Some buried themselves in fields or took refuge in root cellars or in rivers. Those closest to Lake Huron sought refuge in the cool waters of the lake and found themselves standing next to wild animals.

As news of the devastating fire reached Clara Barton, she organized her Red Cross to bring relief to the area. Previously the organization had been used mainly in times of war. But Barton had a vision for using the Red Cross during peacetime as a vehicle for getting relief to people during times of major disaster, whether natural or man-made. The Michigan fire of 1881 provided an opportunity for her to broaden the scope of the Red Cross, which helped it become the organization we know and love today.

As you close the pages of this book, I pray you will find the story of the immigrants inspiring as you persevere through the challenges in your life. May their courage give you fresh determination and hope.

And most of all, may you know God does indeed care for you. Even when He seems busy with more important matters, I hope you’ll have a new awakening of His nearness, especially during your darkest moments of pain.

Jody Hedlund
is an award-winning historical romance novelist and author of the bestselling
Unending Devotion
and
The Preacher’s Bride
. She holds a bachelor’s degree from Taylor University and a master’s degree from the University of Wisconsin, both in social work. Jody lives in Michigan with her husband and five busy children. Learn more at
JodyHedlund.com
.

Books by Jody Hedlund

The Preacher’s Bride

The Doctor’s Lady

Unending Devotion