The Saddle Maker's Son (19 page)

“I know you like my wife's pie better.”

“How about a compromise?”

Jesse glanced at Tobias. Tobias shrugged. The sheriff's deputy held all the cards. They'd only just now found the kinner. They couldn't lose them again that quickly. Could they?

“What did you have in mind?”

“No offense to you, sir, but I don't know you from Adam.” Wally nodded at Tobias, then slapped his meaty hand on his chest with a thump that would've knocked a lesser man to the ground. “What do you say we take these kiddos out to the farm to see your family and enjoy the holiday? Then they come on back to town to stay with Pastor Jesse and his wife until we get this all straightened out. What do you say to that?”

Lupe shrank against Tobias's chest. Now she saw him as an ally. He rubbed his wrist, thankful she hadn't broken the skin. “We'd rather have them stay with us. They'd rather stay with us. If it's the best you can do, then we'll take it.”

Jesse slapped Wally's arm. “Thanks, pal. We'll take care of them. We won't let them out of sight.”

“You've got a deal.” Wally opened his car door. “But just so you know, don't you kids try any funny stuff. I'm giving you a special pass here. I expect you to honor that and not try to run away.”

“We no run.” Lupe crowded against Tobias. She smelled like her brother. They both would get baths tonight before slipping into Leila's clean sheets. “You no use gun.”

“No guns.” Wally smiled at her. “My daughter Kara will tell you my bark is worse than my bite.”

Unfortunately, Lupe—who could deliver a severe bite of her own when she felt threatened—had other experiences in her short life. Ones Wally's daughter would never have to know. Tobias
waited until the deputy got in and shut his door to lead Lupe to the van. “Put your seat belt on. Jesse is a crazy driver. It comes from starting out as Plain folk.”

He had no idea if she understood. Her perplexed expression said no. “Sorry I bite.”

She did look properly downcast. “It's okay. I'm tough. In fact, I hope you don't come down with something. Biting me can be a dangerous proposition.”

Again the perplexed expression. “Let's go get you a hot dog.”

And a way to stay in America.

Butch's howling did nothing to drown out the sporadic
rat-a-tat-tat
of the firecrackers. Caleb and the other boys were going crazy with their stash of fireworks. They would be shot up before dark. Susan opened the kitchen screen door and let the poor hund inside. Abigail would frown on it, but she was busy cranking the ice cream maker on the front porch. Fourth of July festivities were in full swing. Plain folks had much for which to be thankful when it came to the freedoms their ancestors had not been afforded in their previous homelands before escaping the persecution by coming to the New World. It was good to be reminded.

It also reminded Susan of Lupe and Diego. Had the kinner found safe haven in another place? She shuddered to think what they must be going through out there in their new world all alone. Barely speaking the language. She picked up the washcloth and put it down. Butch whined. She swiped a ham bone left over from supper the previous evening and deposited it on an old platter. She set it on the floor next to the back door. Butch grinned. She was sure of it.

“You're a spoiled old hund, you know that, right?”

“Talking to the hund now, are you?” Martha trotted through the doorway that led from the front room, a pot of baked beans in her oven-mitt-clad hands. “Someone will think you've lost your marbles.”

“And they would be right. Let me take that.”

“I splattered the juice on my apron. Daed insisted on driving the wagon.” Martha handed over the pot. “We were all over the place. I think he hit every rut in the road. Of course, he wouldn't admit how much it hurt his legs and his hip.”

“He's here, then?” The words were out before Susan could reel them in. Of course Levi was here. On crutches, bruised, and battered, but able to stand upright. “I mean, how is he?”

“Hurting, but too bullheaded to admit it.” Martha grabbed a washrag and dabbed at the splotches on her apron, an action that only served to make a bigger mess. “I heard him stumbling around in the dark last night. I got up to help him and he nearly bit my head off.”

“That's just like a man.”

“The doctor wanted him to use a wheelchair and he refused. Said it cost too much.” Martha sounded aggrieved. “If he falls and has to go back into the hospital, it'll cost a lot more than a wheelchair, but you can't tell him that.”

“Men are terrible patients.” Susan didn't really feel the need to say anything. She'd been in Martha's shoes. The younger woman simply needed to vent to someone who would understand. “Just ignore his crankiness and do what needs to be done.”

“Men are what?” Jacob strode through the back door, one hand held high.

“Not the brightest.”

“Hogwash.” Jacob held out his hand. “Burned my fingers lighting a sparkler for Hazel.”

“It's too light still for sparklers.” Susan studied the hand. What wasn't dirty was red. She grinned at Martha. “See what I mean?”

Martha's gaze didn't connect with Susan's and she didn't seem to hear her speak. Her natural peaches-and-cream complexion had gone rosy. She ducked her head, dropped the washrag, bent to pick it up, and kept her head down as if trying to hide her face.

“Water is the best I can do.” Susan bustled to the tub sitting on the counter. “They bought ice to make the ice cream, but it's already in use.”

“That's okay.” Jacob's tone was distracted, his gaze on the back of Martha's head. “I don't know why I came in. It doesn't hurt at all.”

He tugged his hand from her grasp, whirled, and stalked toward the door. At the last moment he stopped and looked back. “We're planning to play volleyball in a while. You should play.”

“You talking to me?” Susan looked from him to Martha and back. “My back has been hurting lately—”

“Not you. Martha.” Jacob's face turned another shade deeper into a red that reminded Martha of Beeville's volunteer fire engine. “I mean you can play, too, but—”

“I have to help out with my daed.” Martha still didn't look at Jacob. Susan wanted to grab her by the kapp and force her to make eye contact. But she didn't. Meddling in courtship was not considered a nice thing to do. “He's still lame, you know?”

“He'll be fine. I'll take care of him.” Heat scorched Susan's face. “What I mean is, I'll make sure he gets fed and has a comfortable place to sit.”

“Nee, really I should—”

“Really you should play volleyball.” Susan snagged the washrag from Martha's hand. “Go on, now.”

“The game hasn't started yet.”

“Go. Show Hazel how to use the sparklers. Obviously this oaf can't handle it.”

“Hey, who are you calling an oaf?”

“Go on, get out of my kitchen. I have food to cook.”

Martha scurried past Jacob, who made a show of backing away so as to give her room to get through the door. His hangdog expression made him look an awful lot like Butch with his ham bone.

A lot like Mordecai the first time he set eyes on Abigail Lantz.

Romance was in the air. Susan sighed. It was lovely to see in young folks.

It would be nice to see it in older folks too.

When had she become so dissatisfied with her life? She'd been perfectly happy to be a teacher. Well, almost. When had the longing become so strong?

When Levi Byler drove up to her school with his load of kinner, that's when.

Hogwash and balderdash.

She whirled and picked up a wooden spoon to stir a fresh batch of lemonade. Ice would be nice. Being content with Gott's plan would be nice.

“Mighty hot today.”

She stirred so hard the lemonade sloshed over the side of the glass pitcher and ran down her hands.
Breathe.
She turned, the spoon still in her hand. “July in South Texas.”

Levi clomped into the kitchen, leaning heavily on gray metal
crutches. He paused but continued to sway. A small Band-Aid over his left eye seemed to be the only outward indication of the other wounds he'd received from Bobbie McGregor's horse.

“I heard there might be some lemonade in here.”

“Indeed there is.” She snagged a plastic tumbler from the shelf, turning her back to him so he couldn't see the rosy heat that surely meant red blotches crawled across her neck and cheeks. “Have a seat on the porch and I'll bring you a glass. They took all the ice for the ice cream maker.”

“I think the girls are making more of a mess than they are ice cream.” She heard no
clump, clump
of his crutches. He still stood there. “I reckon I can carry my own glass of lemonade. No need for coddling.”

“Which hand were you planning to carry the glass in?” She let her gaze fix on his crutches. “It's not coddling. It's neighborly.”

He opened his mouth, then closed it.

She managed to pour the lemonade without spilling a drop. She almost chortled at the thought.
Lord, take this silliness from me.
“I'll carry it to the porch. You first.”

“Nee, you first.”

A standoff. The man was stubborn.

She tromped past him and through the doorway without looking back. Butch followed her, making a wide berth around the stranger on crutches. On the porch she settled Levi's glass on the bushel basket turned upside down between two haggard-looking lawn chairs so used that the seats hung low in memory of the many users' behinds that had sat in them in days past.

Butch headed directly to the ice cream maker. The hund had a fondness for ice cubes. The girls shooed him away, but not before Hazel tossed him a cube he caught neatly in his wide mouth.

Abigail had disappeared to unknown parts, leaving Nyla, Ida, and Hazel to take turns cranking the ice cream maker. They seemed to be arguing over whose turn it was. Susan could remember what it was like to consider it a badge of honor to crank the ice cream. Now her shoulders and arms were thankful to let someone else wear the badge.

“Have a seat. Do you want some cookies to hold you over until the barbecue?” She swished at the seat with her apron, dispersing a cloud of mosquitoes that buzzed her ears as they departed in an angry huff. “I have peanut butter and sugar.”

“Nee. Keep me company for a bit.”

For a second it seemed the mosquitoes still buzzed her ears, making it hard to understand. “What?”

Levi eased into the chair, his face creased with pain. “Keep a man company. I could use some adult conversation. All Martha ever says to me is
Rest, rest, rest
, and
How's the pain, how's the pain, did you take your pill? Why didn't you take your pill?
”

His mimic of his daughter's high-pitched, anxious voice was nearly perfect.

“She's concerned for your well-being because she loves you.”

“I know that.” He sniffed. “The boys are too busy to talk. Between the shop and the farm, I barely see them at the supper table and then they fall into bed, tuckered out from carrying the load that is heavy on their shoulders.”

“They all have broad shoulders, just like you do.”

Had she just commented on his broad shoulders? The earlier heat returned, this time in scalding measure. “I mean—”

“Sit down. You're giving me a crick in my neck.”

Susan sat. Silence ensued, broken only by the girls' giggles at the other end of the porch. The late-afternoon heat bore down
on her. Sweat trickled down her temples. She took a surreptitious swipe at it. A horsefly buzzed her nose. She swatted it away. “Did you know Bee County wasn't named for bees?”

Levi's woolly gray eyebrows danced over his dark-emerald eyes, causing the bandage to buckle and smooth. “Don't reckon I did.”

“Nee, it was named for Bernard E. Bee Sr., who served as secretary of state and secretary of war for the Republic of Texas.”

“The Republic of Texas?”

“Jah, Texas was a country. More than once I think. I can't keep the Texas history all straight the way Mordecai does.”

“So this tidbit of information came from Mordecai. Figures.”

“What do you mean?”

“He does love a good piece of trivia, your brother does.”

“He does.”

They both chuckled. The silence that followed didn't seem as uncomfortable.

Topics of conversation were as scarce as rain in the summer in South Texas during the long drought that seemed to perhaps have passed this year. Kinner. A person could never go wrong with the weather and kinner. “I think your concern for Martha that you mentioned at the school picnic is no longer a concern.”

“How so?”

“What do you think of my nephew Jacob?”

“Seems like a decent young man.”

“He is.”

“And?”

“They might be playing volleyball together about now.”

Levi tapped his boot on the wood slats under his feet. “I always liked a good game of volleyball.” His tone was wistful.

“You'll play again. Before you know it.”

“My horse-training days are over, though.”

Susan certainly hoped so. “Leave it to the younger folks.”

“Are you saying I'm old?”

“I'm saying neither one of us is as young as we used to be.” Too old for courting, it seemed. “That can be a good thing.”

“How so?”

“An older person knows what he wants and has enough experience to recognize if what he wants is something he should have.”

“I know I have enough kinner.”

Maybe Mordecai was right. Maybe Levi's thoughts had run parallel to her own. To the heart of the matter. How could he know this was so important to her? Or was it a shot in the dark? “Every one of them is a gift from Gott, don't you think?”

“He gives and He takes away.”

“Because He knows what is best.”

Levi grunted, whether from pain or agreement Susan couldn't say. “I think a person should keep his heart open to the possibility that he hasn't seen all that Gott can do with a situation. Gott's plan is enormous, mammoth, and so incredibly vast that we have no idea how great and gracious it truly is.”

“Now I know where Mordecai gets it.”

“What? His faith?”

“His gift of words.”

“All our gifts come from Gott, including kinner. He decides when enough is enough.”

The silence settled again. Susan let the cooing of mourning doves settle the tremor in her chest. She had overstepped her bounds. How did she know when enough was enough? Levi had his nine kinner. She had none. Would being mudder to a brood
that large fill the void in her heart where her own kinner surely should be?

“I expected to see Lupe and Diego running around here when I came home.” His gaze dropped to his hands in his lap. He bent his head as if studying something. He had something silver, a tool, in his hand. He turned it round and round. “Surprising how a person can get attached to strays.”

That was the truth, whether the stray was a hund with a black patch around one eye that gave him the rakish look of a pirate, or kinner who taught her that a hund was called a
perro
in their language. “I keep thinking they'll show up again. Jesse is searching for them at the detention center. He goes up once a week to take donations.”

“More likely one of those Border Patrol agents has caught up with them and carted them back to the border.”

Or they made it to San Antonio and found a way to start a new life. The life their grandmother sent them here to find. Susan and her family might never know the truth, but it was nicer to think of the fine possibilities rather than the dark and painful ones. A person had to have hope. For a better future. For herself and for others.

She fought the urge to squirm in her chair. His squeaked as if he'd given in to the desire. “Don't get me wrong.”

“Wrong about what?”

“I understand wanting children. Catherine and I wanted them, all of them.” Pain painted the words a white-hot color. “Until the last one. Gott forgive me.”