MB02 - A Noble Groom (9 page)

Carl sloshed the scant grainy coffee left in the bottom of his mug. Before he could drain the last cold drop, Annalisa was at his side, coffeepot in hand. Without a word she poured the steaming liquid.

Her features were soft, relaxed, almost peaceful. And even more lovely than before. Was she as relieved as he was that they’d avoided marriage?

He wanted to look into her eyes, to the emotions whispering secrets there. Her gaze darted away, and she would have scurried back to the other women congregated by the stove, but he snagged her sleeve, holding her in place.

Her eyes widened and finally met his.

What did he want from her? Why had he stopped her? “Thank you.” He lifted his mug and grinned, trying to cover his forwardness. “I cannot tell you the last time I had hot coffee.”

She hesitated as if she didn’t know how to respond to his courtesy.

What would it take to make her smile—really smile—at him?

She nodded, then took a step away. But he couldn’t stop watching her as she retreated to the safety of the other women.

When she peeked over her shoulder at him, his heart did an odd flip.

“I think perhaps Carl can help Annalisa,” Pastor Loehe said.

The words forced Carl’s attention back to the men at the
table. Pastor Loehe glanced between Carl and Annalisa, his brows raised and his eyes filled with new interest.

“This might be a very good idea, Herr Pastor.” Peter held up his plate and waved it toward his wife. She rushed to retrieve it from him. “Annalisa can provide his meals in exchange for his days of work. And we will provide his lodging in payment for evening chores.”

Carl’s stomach twisted with panic even though he’d known helping the widow had been part of Matthias’s plan. “Yes, but I don’t know about farming—”

“Not to worry,” Peter boomed. “I was a miner and would have stayed one all my life, but I’ve learned how to work the land and now look at me. I have my own house and will soon pay off my farm.” He waved around at his log cabin hovel as if it were a palace. “Here I’m free. I’m nobody’s slave. I stand on my own feet and can make something of myself.”

From what Carl could tell, they were still as poor as the poorest peasants he’d ever seen.

“You’ll need to give him wages, don’t you think?” Pastor Loehe asked. “You wouldn’t be able to hire a local for just room and board. You must give him some money too.”

“Herr Pastor, you know we have no extra—”

“I don’t want any money,” Carl said quickly, assuaging his guilt. “You’re doing me a great favor by offering me shelter in my time of need. Besides, my efforts to help you will be somewhat inadequate and undeserving of any pay.”

Somewhat inadequate?
Carl could only shake his head. He’d be a
terrible
help. But they’d discover that soon enough.

As their plans became more detailed, and involved too many farming terms he didn’t understand, he could only squirm in his chair and pray he’d locate Fritz Diehl quickly. Even though Carl had already gotten his initiation into the life of a poor man
during the past months of travel, now in Forestville, among real peasants, he felt as out of place as a satin patch on homespun.

Finally, he stood and stretched.

“You’ll sleep in the barn loft.” Frau Bernthal handed him a quilt and nodded toward the open door and the dark spring evening beyond.

Annalisa had a scarf wrapped around her head and was in the process of bundling a blanket around Gretchen’s poor excuse for a coat.

What did Annalisa think of the plans her father had made for her? No one had asked for her input. She deserved to have some voice in the matter. After all, it was her farm in jeopardy, and would be so even more once he touched his hand to its soil.

Without so much as a glance in his direction, she took Gretchen’s hand and stepped out into the blackness.

He managed to fumble out his gratitude to Frau Bernthal for both the blanket and the meal. Then he slung his coat over his shoulders and followed Annalisa outside.

The chill in the air was a welcome relief to his overheated face. And the freshness of the air, with the hint of damp earth, was a pleasant change from the stuffy sourness inside.

He dragged in a deep breath, and the frigidness tickled his lungs. Overhead, the stars spread across the widest expanse of sky he’d ever seen. His scientific reasoning told him the stars only appeared brighter because there were no city lights to diminish their clarity. Even so, the waning gibbous moon and Ursa Minor with Polaris were more brilliant than he’d ever seen them back home.

On the path leading away from the Bernthal cabin he could make out the form of Annalisa hurrying away and Gretchen’s legs pumping hard to keep up.

He started after them. “Annalisa.”

She halted and peered over her shoulder.

“Wait.” He hastened to a jog, hoping she would wait but afraid he would spook her into running away from him.

He easily overtook her. “You shouldn’t be out alone at night. Allow me to walk you and Gretchen to your home.”

She started quickly forward. “We’re safe here. I’ve walked this path many times, even in the dark, and I’m still alive.”

“But Gretchen’s tired.” He touched the thin blanket draped over the girl’s head. “I’ll give her a ride on my back.”

Gretchen pulled away from Annalisa and looked up at him. The moonlight reflected the curiosity in her eyes. “Ride, Mama?”

Carl knelt. “Climb on. You can pretend you’re the princess and I’m your magic talking horse.”

Gretchen smiled and in an instant was upon his back amidst Annalisa’s protests.

He straightened and hoisted the girl up, blanket and all. She weighed little more than his coat. “Now all you need to say is ‘Move along, horsey’ and I’ll be at your command.”

“Move along, horsey” came her sweet reply from behind him.

Annalisa peeked at Gretchen and then pivoted to face him. Even in the moonlight he could see the surprise that rippled across her features.

He grinned. “Gretchen cannot possibly traverse the difficult trail without her trusty horse.”

“Move along, horsey,” the little girl called out again.

He cocked his head, waiting for Annalisa’s acquiescence. “Besides, I wanted the chance to talk with you and make sure you’re in agreement with the plans your father and the pastor made.”

Her lips parted as if she wanted to say something but didn’t know how to begin. For a long moment her gaze tangled with his, and she studied him like he was a riddle.

Finally she started forward with long strides. “I don’t know quite what to make of you, Herr Richards.”

“Carl,” he said. The name Herr Richards only served to remind him of his deception. The less he heard it, the better.

“Does it really matter what I think of the plans my vater and Herr Pastor have made?”

“Of course it matters,” he said, increasing the length of his footsteps in order to keep up with her. “It’s your life and your farm. I think you should have some input into the decisions being made.”

“They’re only being wise and trying to do what’s best for me.”

“Then you agree with their plans to utilize my help with your farm work until your groom arrives?”

“If it will help me save my farm, then I really have no choice.”

“Save your farm?”

“The payment on the loan is due after the fall harvest. If I don’t pay the remainder, then I’ll forfeit the land.”

“Won’t your father help you?”

“Nein. He’s in the same situation as me and all the other immigrants. We must
all
repay the loans on our land by the end of the five years of living on it. If we can’t, then we must leave.”

The eerie
hoo-hoo hoo-hoo
of a great horned owl came from overhead. Even though he knew the sound was nothing more than a proud declaration of strength, he peered with unease into the dark woods surrounding them.

Seemingly unconcerned by the potential for danger, Annalisa navigated around the deep ruts and puddles that comprised the road.

“So what you’re telling me,” he said, scrambling to make sense of her predicament with her farm, “is that if you don’t have help, you might lose your land?”

“Ja. I’ll have to default on the loan.”

From his back, Gretchen gave a noisy yawn.

He wasn’t sure if he wanted to pursue the matter any further, but he couldn’t seem to stop his next question. “If I’m not here to help you, will you find someone else?”

She hesitated in front of a large puddle, which looked more like a pond.

Holding the weight of Gretchen with one arm, he reached to steady Annalisa with the other.

But the moment his fingers came into contact with her elbow, she jumped back as if he’d stung her. “I’ll be fine,” she said, skirting around the mudhole. Then her foot slid down the slippery edge, and before he could catch her, she was up to her ankles in muddy water.

She gasped and looked down at her submerged feet.

He bit back a smile. “I can see that you’ll be very fine.”

She tossed him a glare.

He couldn’t keep from grinning.

“I
will
be fine.”

“I can see that you’re a strong woman.” He tried to rein in his humor and add gentleness to his tone. “But I’d like to help you—if you’ll let me.”

The reflection from the moonlight turned her eyes into a deep purple. She searched his face as if she didn’t know whether to believe him.

He held out his hand to assist her from the mudhole.

His mind told him that he needed to leave Forestville and these generous people as soon as he could make other arrangements—that he probably shouldn’t have come here in the first place. But at that moment, looking into her eyes, he didn’t know how he could leave her to fend for herself.

Gretchen’s head drooped against his back and her body grew slack. He turned slightly. “Is she asleep?” he whispered.

Annalisa peeked behind him. Her expression turned tender and she nodded.

He held out his hand to her. “I’ll only stay if you would like me to.”

She stared at it but didn’t make an effort to accept his offer.

She lifted her eyes, and the questions and uncertainty within them told an unhappy story—a story of hardship and pain.

While he was stuck in Forestville, could he change that too? Could he possibly bring just a little bit of joy to those eyes?

A waft of night air tugged at her scarf and curled around a loose strand of her hair. She gave an almost imperceptible sigh and raised her hand toward his outstretched hand.

When their fingers touched, he noticed hers were thin and cold. But there was something soft and feminine about them that made his chest swell with protectiveness.

He assisted her out of the hole and back onto the road.

Water oozed from the worn leather of her boots, and the edge of her skirt dripped. He ought to rush her home before she caught a chill. But with her hand in his, he couldn’t make himself let go.

Another gust of wind rattled the bare branches of the maple trees that lined both sides of the road.

She focused on her wet shoes. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure. I am, after all, a magic horse tonight. And magic horses always rescue damsels in distress.”

At his words, her fingers trembled, and she tugged her hand away, leaving him longing for more of her touch.

She started forward again. This time she avoided all puddles and kept one step ahead of him. Within a few minutes they reached the door of her cabin. She gently retrieved Gretchen from off his back, and with a shy nod she whispered, “
Guten nacht,
” before disappearing into the dark interior.

He stared at the closed door for a moment, wondering at the strange longing within his heart.

Then just as quickly he spun away and berated himself. He must remember he needed to be careful. He couldn’t afford to get into trouble again. Trouble might have been his companion in days past, but he wouldn’t let it accompany him here. Not now, not this time.

Chapter
5

Annalisa added a stick of dry maple to the fire and peered through the oiled paper covering the window to the growing light of dawn.

Carl was late.

She’d even gotten up early that morning so that she could be ready for his arrival. She’d milked the cow, separated the cream, refilled the woodbox, and swept the floor. And then she’d started breakfast.

There wasn’t much left in the hole in the ground that served as her root cellar. But she’d found a couple of potatoes that hadn’t sprouted too much. She’d sliced them and fried them in lard. While they’d sizzled, she’d used some of the last of the buckwheat batter and made pancakes to go with her freshly boiled maple syrup.

Of course, she didn’t have any bacon or ham for the meal. She’d long ago used every bit of the pig she’d slaughtered last fall except for the fat. Still, she’d added a few slices of her dwindling supply of dried apples to the top of the potatoes, hoping the fruit would distract Carl from what he was missing.

She rearranged the fork and the mug next to the tin plate, then glanced disparagingly toward the three-legged frying pan she’d moved to the edge of the heat of the fireplace. The meal had been ready since half past six, the time Hans had always wanted it ready after he came in from doing barn chores. He wouldn’t have tolerated a lukewarm, soggy breakfast—especially one without meat.

She smoothed loose hairs back into the braid she’d carefully plaited. She could only pray Carl wouldn’t notice that his breakfast was ruined or how sparse it was.

“Where is he, Mama?” Gretchen sat on a braided rug near the hearth. At two and a half, the girl had the daily job of cleaning the globe of the barn lantern. She held the glass as carefully as Annalisa had taught her and wiped away the splotches of black smoke with a rag.

“I’m sure he’ll be here soon.”

But what if he’d decided he didn’t want to help her after all? She’d seen the way he’d kept looking at the door during the meal at her parents’ house. In spite of his ready smile, she’d caught a glimpse of a haunted restlessness in his eyes. Whatever his past, he was obviously still running from it.