The Saddle Maker's Son (16 page)

He crossed his arms over his chest and tried to imagine what was going through her mind. She was stuck in a shack with a man with whom she spent most of her time arguing. She disliked him
for telling Susan about her secret meeting with Leila. They'd gotten off on the wrong foot.

He didn't want her to be mad. It bothered him. The fact that it bothered him served to irritate him even more. He cleared his throat. She was just a girl. He didn't need girl trouble. He'd had that kind of trouble.

She would be another person about whom he would have to worry.

Someone to lose.

“Maybe we should start again.”

He startled despite himself. Her voice sounded high and breathless. As if she'd been running. “What?”

“I'm Rebekah Lantz. I was new around here about three years ago, so I know how it feels. To be new, I mean. So welcome to Bee County.”

He breathed in and out. A peace offering. A white flag. He couldn't be so mean as to reject her attempt at patching up the rift between them. After all, he'd tattled on her, not the other way around. “I'm Tobias Byler, your new neighbor. Pleased to meet you.”

“Hello, Tobias.” She giggled. A sweet sound in the darkness. “We have lots of mosquitoes, huge horseflies, rattlesnakes, wild pigs, chiggers, many bees, and oh, don't forget the alligators up at Choke Canyon Lake. If you like interesting pets, there are plenty to choose from.”

Her sense of humor was showing. He liked it. Gott help him, he liked it. “Can you forgive me?”

“Forgive you for what?”

“For being a stickler for the rules and telling Susan about your meeting with Leila.”

“You shouldn't apologize for doing what's right.” Her tart tone said he should know better. “It's a sign of weakness.”

“I didn't apologize. I only asked to be forgiven.”

“So you're not sorry?”

“Nee.”

Her sigh was exaggerated. “A fine new beginning this is.”

“It's gut.”

“What's gut about it?”

“I wondered if you'd come out for a ride with me one night—after my daed is better.”

Her breathing quickened. Seconds ticked by. Tobias's chest tightened and his own breathing seemed to stop.

“I reckon I might. I'd give it some thought.”

He exhaled.

She giggled.

“What?”

“You were holding your breath.”

“Nee.”

“You were.”

“The rain needs to stop.” He opened the door a crack. Thunder boomed. He closed it. “I hope Lupe and Diego found a dry spot to wait this out.”

“You said they would.” She sounded wistful somehow. “Besides, they made it here all the way from El Salvador.”

“A long journey.”

“How long did it take you to get here from Ohio?”

“A couple of days. We took it slow.”

“Did you stop in Dallas?”

Where was she going with this? “Nee. We drove around it. Too much traffic.”

She sighed, a sad sound after her earlier giggles.

“Why do you ask?”

“Leila and Jesse are moving to Dallas so he can finish college and go to seminary.”

“And that makes you sad?”

“Would you like Martha to move away?”

“Bruders and schweschders do that sometimes.”

“Jah, but when they're Plain, you get to see them at weddings and on holidays. When Leila goes, we'll never see her again.”

“You don't know that.”

“Don't tell me Gott has a plan.”

“You don't think He does?”

“I reckon He does. I just don't like it.”

Tobias waited a beat or two. Not really expecting a bolt of lightning to hit the shed, but giving it time should Gott deem it necessary. “You think you know better than Gott how your life should go?”

She sniffed, her expression hidden in the dark. “I'm being punished for something I didn't do. It's not fair.”

His mudder dying before she could see her kinner grow up. That was unfair. Life was unfair. “With each new trial, Gott teaches us something new. We learn to see the blessings in what we have. We learn to be content in what we have. We learn to step out in faith, knowing He has our best interests at heart.”

“I try to be content.”

“Try harder.” He was one to talk. “I'll do the same.”

“Why?”

The plaintive note in her voice said she really did want to know. Yet he couldn't tell her. He wasn't ready. Not yet. “Because it's the right thing to do. You know it is.

“No matter what happens, you have work to do. Leila is gone. You're here. You're committed to your faith. Wait on Gott's timing.”

Wait on me.
That's what he really meant. Wait on him to have the courage to let another person into his heart. A person he would have to protect. Who might be ripped from him in a single second.

Rain battered the shed roof. Thunder rumbled like a grumpy old man clearing his throat. Her sigh was nearly lost in the cacophony. “Do you have your picture ID card?”

He shook his head, a silly thing to do in the dusk. “Nee, but I will get one if you will.”

Step out in faith, Tobias; step out.

“We'll see how it goes then.”

See how it goes. Was that an admission that their journeys might take the same path? “You sound uncertain. Like you're sitting on the fence.”

“I'm not sitting on the fence.” Her voice was small in the dark. “I'm just trying to find my way to the path.”

“Me too.” For now, that would be enough. He took a breath. Then he took a chance. “Maybe we can find it together.”

It never rained in South Texas. Except this summer, the pattern seemed to have finally broken. The sky had been cloudy for three days, the air laden with humidity, when Susan set out for town, but that was typical Bee County weather. Maybe the drought was over. Finally. She wiped rain from her eyes and squinted. The driving rain and wind made it hard to see the road in front of her. The wagon swayed and creaked as the horse strained against the gale.

The Byler farmhouse couldn't be much farther. Hazel squirmed in the seat next to her. The little girl tried so hard to be brave, but every time thunder boomed she shrieked and clutched Susan's arm. That made it hard to keep the slippery reins in her hands.

“Child, it's okay. We're fine.” She patted Hazel's head for one quick second. The clouds were so dark, the day had turned to night. The ruts filled with water. Lightning split the sky, then receded. “Only a mile or two more.”

“I don't like this.”

“It's just water.” Susan searched for comforting words. “Look
at it this way. You've had your bath for the week. You know how you hate taking a bath.”

“For two weeks.” Hazel sounded only slightly mollified. “You tell Mudder.”

“I'll tell your mudder.”

Abigail would be tickled. By the time a mother got to her fifth child, baths didn't rise to the level of an argument so much anymore. As long as the child didn't stink or make the sheets muddy.

Thunder boomed so close, Brownie shook his long neck and whinnied.

“Aenti!”

“It's okay, sweet pea. Why don't you sing? Pick a song, any song.”

The grip on Susan's arm eased.
“La cucaracha, la cucaracha—”

“The what?”

Another voice, as young and sweet as Hazel's, joined in. Susan craned her head and peered at the road. Right there, in the middle of the road. Two figures. Short, thin, little. Kinner. “What . . . who is that?”

“Diego!” The taller child—Lupe—tugged at the shorter one and headed for the side of the road. “Come.”

Diego apparently had other ideas. He bolted toward the wagon. Lupe whirled to follow. She slipped and fell in the mud. Diego cackled with glee and kept coming.

Susan tugged on the reins. “Whoa, whoa!”

They came to a halt and she hopped down. “Diego? Lupe? What are you doing out here in this storm?”

“Running away.” His face streaked with rain and mud, Diego grinned. “We go to San Antonio.”

“Diego.” Lupe had mud from the tip of her nose to the end of her bare toes. “Stop telling her.”

“Lupe, why are you running away?” Hazel scrambled from the wagon and stomped through the mud with a
splat-splat
. “You can't leave. We haven't finished our baby quilt.”

“Hombre malo
.
Have to go.” Lupe grabbed her brother's arm and jerked him away from Hazel's reach. “We go now.”

“Why?”

“Man in van come to take us away. Hombre malo.”

“In a blue van?”

“Sí.”

“That's the people Rebekah and Tobias told you about. Rebekah's sister and brother-in-law. He's a good man. Very good man. He used to live here with us. Tobias and Rebekah went to talk to them, remember?”

Lupe's face remained woebegone. “I don't want to leave.”

“We don't want you to leave.” Susan smoothed the girl's wet bangs from her eyes with gentle fingers. She looked like a half-drowned kitten. “But we also want to do things the right way. Can you understand that?”

Lupe ducked her head. “What if right way is back to frontera?”

“Doing the right thing isn't always easy.”

“Nothing easy.”

The rain chose that moment to stop. A sliver of sun peeked through clouds that collided, then parted. “You're right. Life isn't easy, but nobody promised it would be.”

To her utter surprise, Lupe leaned her face into Susan's apron. One sob, then another escaped. “I tired.”

“Me too.” She hugged Lupe's cold, wet body against her. “We have to go back so Jesse and Leila can help you figure out what to do so you can stay. Running away isn't the answer.”

“We could go fishing.”

Susan turned to look at Hazel. The little girl squatted in the middle of the road, mud squeezing between her bare, plump toes. “See, the night crawlers are out.” She held out a fat worm pinched between two muddy fingers. The brownish-gray worm dangled and wiggled as if trying to get its footing to no avail. “Mordecai says these are the best for catching fish.”

Lupe slipped from her grasp and knelt next to Hazel. “My papi is going to take us to California. We're going to go fishing. Mi abuela said so.”

Hazel grinned. “Do you want to take some worms? Is California far? They could be like Pedro, your pets. Until the fish eat them.”

Of all things to be talking about now. “Hazel, put the worm down. This is no time for—”

“Hey! Hey, Susan!”

Susan pivoted in time to see Tobias emerge from a shack tucked along the other side of the fence that separated the road from Byler property. Right behind him came Rebekah. No one followed. Just Rebekah and Tobias.

“Well.” She couldn't think of a thing to say. “Well.”

“We were looking for the kinner.” Rebekah's clothes were wet, wrinkled, and muddy. When she turned to look at Tobias, who was equally bedraggled, she revealed a huge muddy blotch on the back of her dress where her behind would be. “Then it stormed.”

Lupe hopped up, grabbed Diego's hand, and took off running. “No, no,” Diego yelled, but Lupe didn't stop. They careened across the road. Lupe shoved her brother through a gap in the fence and they disappeared into a dense thicket of juniper, live oak, mesquite, and nopales.

“Lupe, stop.” Tobias raced after them, his long stride eating up ground. “Stop, we only want to help.”

Rebekah scampered past him, thrust herself through the same gap, and disappeared after them.

Susan looked at Hazel, who stared back, her tiny face perplexed. “Should we go too?”

“Maybe. Maybe they'll come back for you.”

Hazel grinned. “Diego likes me.”

“Child!”

She shrugged. “I like him, too, but not like that. He's not Plain.”

“That's right.” The sooner Hazel learned these things, the better. “Your poor mudder has been through enough.”

She took Hazel's hand and together they squeezed through the gap and tried to follow the path left by the others. A shriek made her stop in her tracks. Hazel smacked into her from behind. “Hey.”

“What was that?”

Susan picked up speed, moving in the direction of the distinct sound of a child crying. Still holding Hazel's hand, she burst through the stand of trees where she found Rebekah on the ground in a gully filling with rainwater. She clutched at her ankle, her face etched with pain. Tobias knelt next to her, his hand outstretched as if he would touch her. He looked back. His hand dropped. “Gut, you're still here. We'll need your wagon.”

“The kinner?”

“They got away.”

Horses were like people. Some were stubborn, others docile. Some, like children, had wills that had to be bent before they could become hardworking members of society. Tobias contemplated Cracker Jack from his seat on the split-wood fence that comprised the corral outside the saddle shop. The horse stood in the corner, grazing on a tiny patch of weeds that had sprung up in the hard, cracked dirt.

A blazing, late June sun beat down on Tobias's straw hat. Sweat trickled down his temples and tickled his ears. Why was he standing at the corral fence instead of inside working on the cutting saddle? Because all he could think about when he picked up the skiving knife was Daed. And Rebekah. And Lupe and Diego.

He needed a distraction. If Rebekah hadn't turned her ankle, maybe they would've caught up with Lupe and Diego. Maybe they wouldn't have been gone a week now. He blew out air and wiped sweat from his forehead with his sleeve. Or maybe they would've run faster and farther.

He needed to work. No animal was beyond saving. He slid off the fence and let his knees bend when his boots hit the dirt in a
soft
plunk
that sent a grasshopper flying across the dandelions and crabgrass.

Adopting an amble, he began the trek across the expanse of dirt and weeds that separated him from the animal that had almost killed his father. Cracker Jack's head came up. He tossed his long, graceful neck and nickered.

“Hey, friend. Nothing to worry about here.”

Cracker Jack shook his head in a startling response that looked very much like a “no.”

“You have to learn.” He kept his voice soft and singsongy the way Daed always did. “We all have to be broken to the will of another.”

The horse whinnied and trotted toward the farthest corner.

He had a long memory, no doubt.

Tobias whistled, a tuneless collection of notes that came from nowhere and trailed away to nothing. Cracker Jack's ears perked up. He snorted and pranced. “Are you dancing for me? I'd like nothing more than for you and me to get to be friends before Daed comes home from the hospital. To get you in shape would do us all good.”

Tobias returned to his whistling as he held out one hand. Cracker Jack's ears went back. Not a good sign.

The rumbling of a vehicle engine sounded in the distance, getting louder and closer with the velocity of someone who knew the road well. Cracker Jack whirled and trotted back to his original feeding spot. Without turning his back on the animal, Tobias glanced toward the road. Mr. Cramer's dust-covered, once-white van rolled into the parking lot in front of the Glicks' building. It lurched to a stop by the corral gate. David emerged, his scruffy black duffel bag in one hand. Mr. Cramer raised a massive hand
in a wave, made a wide circle, and left, a cloud of dust hanging in the air behind him.

What was David doing back? Tobias back-stepped toward the gate, putting some space between himself and the horse. He turned and strode to the fence. “What happened? How's Daed?”

“Ornery and a terrible patient.” David dropped his bag on the ground, climbed up onto the fence, and wrapped his long, skinny legs around the top railing. “He sent me home. Mordecai refused to be cowed into submission. He's still there. Daed said it was crazy to spend all that money on a hotel room for no reason.”

“When can he come home?”

“They've got him up, doing physical therapy like a hundred times a day. He doesn't like it much. I think he has a lot of pain, but he won't admit it.”

“So no time soon?”

David shrugged. “If he has his way, he'll be home in a few days. Less if he throws a big enough fit.” His gaze flitted over Tobias's shoulders. “What are you doing in there?”

“I'm working with the horse. He still has to be broken.”

“That's my job.”

“I can do it too.”

“You never have.”

“Things change.” He would do this. Tobias would step into Daed's place. It was time. “You can have the next one.”

More engine noise. A customer maybe. That would be good. Nary a single one had graced the door of their saddle shop since the day of Daed's accident. A sign on the road and another on the turnoff to the highway hadn't helped. A huge, shiny black pickup truck with chrome wheel covers that glinted in the sun pulled into the lot. Not a new customer. Bobbie.

“She came to the hospital. Did you know that?” David swiveled and heaved himself from the fence. “In Corpus, I mean. She drove all the way down there to make sure Daed was okay. Her father insisted on paying the bill.”

“Mordecai let him?”

“He said a person who wants to make something right should be allowed to do so, especially when it's in the best interest of our meager emergency fund. Jeremiah and Will agreed.”

“Did she see Daed?”

“She did. Stayed a couple of days.”

Something in his tone sent prickles up Tobias's arms. A hint of something familiar rode the words. A lingering hint of longing. It felt like Serena. “Where did she stay?”

“She and her father got rooms at the same hotel where Mordecai and I stayed. In fact, we ate supper together a couple of times before they had to come back home.”

“Sounds cozy.”

“It was.” David's sharp, chiseled chin lifted. His green eyes held a challenge. “She's kind—they're kind folks. They felt real bad about what happened.”

“I'm sure they are and they did. Just be careful.”

“I'm not you, bruder.”

No, he wasn't, but he was a man now, like any other man, with human frailties that Tobias knew all too well. He bit his tongue to keep from saying more. It was David's rumspringa, his time for making mistakes and learning from them. And deciding his own future. Tobias would have to approach with care or he'd drive David right into Bobbie's welcoming arms.

Bobbie hopped down from the truck cab dressed in a simple blue sundress that flowed below her knees. Her feet were clad
in the usual black cowboy boots, and she wore a black cowboy hat to match. No jewelry. No makeup. The same scrubbed-fresh look his sisters had. “Howdy, boys.” Her smile was tentative as if she wasn't sure what kind of reception she would receive from Tobias. “I was hoping I'd find you here.”

“David was just telling me how your father paid the hospital bill. Thank you.”

She shrugged and nodded. “It was the least we could do. It was only right.”

“Did you come to order your saddle?” Tobias swung himself over the fence with the ease of much practice. “I have the paperwork with the cost estimate in the shop.”

“Sure, we can do that.” Her gaze remained on David. His face flushed a deep scarlet. She ducked her head and began to make crosses in the dirt with the tip of her boot. “I wanted to take a look at Cracker Jack. Dad's thinking of selling him.”

“I wish he wouldn't do that.” The words were out of Tobias's mouth before he could stop them. What did he care if they sold the horse? “I mean, don't sell him on our account. Daed will recover.”

“Your dad said the same thing.” Bobbie snapped her gum as if to punctuate the thought. “I reckon the only thing that will keep my dad from selling him is if we can show he can be rehabilitated. What do you think, David?”

It was David's turn to duck his head, looking like a little boy on the first day of school. “Sounds like a fine idea to me.” The words came out in a stutter. David hadn't stuttered since first grade. “Want me to give it a whirl?”

“Nee.” Tobias slid into the space between his brother and the gate. “If anybody gets on that horse, it will be me.”

“You don't break horses.” David's face went from red to a
shade of purple that reminded Tobias of eggplant. “You're the saddle maker and the bookkeeper.”

“I'm in charge while Daed is away.” Away. A fancy way of saying hurt and unable to take care of his family. “The decision is mine. I won't have you hurt too.”

He couldn't take it. Daed in the hospital was more than enough. He wouldn't risk David too.

“It's just a horse.” David crossed his arms over his chest, the words full of bluster. Not the little bruder Tobias knew. “I can handle it.”

“Not this time.” Tobias turned to Bobbie. “Come up to the shop with me. I'll give you the estimate on the saddle. Ask your dad to give me a few weeks with the horse. Give him time to get to know me. We'll get it done for you.”

Bobbie seemed to have trouble dragging her gaze from David to Tobias. “I'll talk to him. He feels real bad about what happened to your dad, though. He won't want anyone else to get hurt.”

The look that traveled between David and her crackled with unspoken words. Tobias cleared his throat. “David, you should head home. The kinner have missed you and there's work to be done.”

David's glare could've singed Tobias's hair. “How do I get home?”

“Take the buggy and come back for me later—”

“I can give him a ride.” Bobbie sounded like a little girl begging for a puppy. “It's no problem. Really. It's on the way.”

Tobias gritted his teeth. He'd walked right into that one. “Nice of you to offer, but I think David better stay and muck the stalls first. That way I can work on your saddle, soon as you make a deposit.”

She glanced back, not bothering to hide her disappointment. Tobias walked faster. Sometimes a person couldn't move fast enough to avoid temptation. It came at a man like a semitruck out of control on a highway.

Or a girl in a sundress and cowboy boots.