She had every reason to go...

Until he gave her one to stay

After her father’s passing, Ruth Fisher is required to sell her family furniture business. She plans to leave the Amish community to pursue an Englisch education—until she meets the new owner. Malachi Schrock has ambitious plans for her father’s store, but when the transition sparks an unexpected attraction, could following her heart mean staying in Miller’s Creek forever?

Growing up on a farm, JOCELYN McCLAY enjoyed livestock and pursued a degree in agriculture. She met her husband while weightlifting in a small town—he “spotted” her. After thirty years in business management, they moved to an acreage in southeastern Missouri to be closer to family when their eldest of three daughters made them grandparents. When not writing, she keeps busy hiking, bike riding, gardening, knitting and substitute teaching.

Also By Jocelyn McClay

The Amish Bachelor’s Choice

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

The Amish Bachelor’s Choice

Jocelyn McClay

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-09677-5

THE AMISH BACHELOR’S CHOICE

© 2019 Jocelyn McClay

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

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Version: 2020-03-02

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“I see you don’t have sense enough to keep blankets in your buggy.”

Malachi buckled the halter, and then the oat bag, over Kip’s head. “I’ve been doing a number of things over the past few days. Thinking about blankets hasn’t been very high on the list.”

Ruth huffed. “Wisconsin weather will take a heavy toll on the unprepared.”

“Unprepared? Like not having dog food when you have a dog?”

Ruth scooped up the puppy that trailed at her heels and crossed to Malachi, her hand outstretched for the grocery bags. He shook his head and retained possession of them.

“I’ll help you get to the house. With this wind and your small sizes, the two of you could end up in the next county.”

Aware that he had a point, she didn’t argue. They headed for the exit. “I...I want to thank you for going out of your way and following me home, even though I didn’t need it.”

“You’re welcome.” Ruth could hear the smile in his voice.

Dear Reader,

What you are holding is the realization of a dream!

As soon as I was old enough to fold an 8.5 x 11 paper into a quarter of its size and draw a horse on the front, I have wanted to write stories. It took a little while, and my artistic skills haven’t improved any, but God has helped me realize my writing dream. Everything is better when we trust in Him.

My first interaction with Amish life was when I was at a family reunion in Wisconsin near the location of the fictional Miller’s Creek. We were playing volleyball while listening to the clip-clop of horse hooves traveling the nearby highway when two buggies pulled into my uncle’s property and two young Amish men hopped out to join our game. And that was my introduction to rumspringa. I have been intrigued ever since.

I hope you enjoyed Malachi and Ruth’s romance. I grew quite fond of them, especially because Ruth was my grandmother’s name. I look forward to exploring the relationships of their siblings and friends in Miller’s Creek. I hope you’ll join me.

Thank you again for the great honor you’ve given me of reading my first book. May it be only the beginning of a wonderful adventure together.

Jocelyn McClay

For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, saith the Lord, thoughts of peace, and not of evil, to give you an expected end.

—Jeremiah 29:11

First, I thank God for this amazing opportunity. Thanks always to my wonderfully supportive husband, Kevin. Thanks also to my beta readers, particularly Alyson, who noted to the Iowa crew that my interest in romance novels was more than just a way of avoiding doing dishes years ago. But this is for you, Genna. I couldn’t have done it without you. May there be many more to come.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

Introduction

Dear Reader

Bible Verse

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Epilogue

Extract

About the Publisher

Chapter One

“I wonder if the new owner will change the name? It’d be strange to have it no longer be Fisher Furniture.” Jacob’s words were barely audible over the humming of the lathe.

The blood drained from Ruth Fisher’s face. She hadn’t considered that possibility. Oh, Daed, if missing you wasn’t enough, how can I bear to see your name removed from the business you built? The end of her nose prickled as she swallowed against the lump in her throat.

Widening her eyes against threatening tears, Ruth willed her coworker not to look up from his focus on the spinning chair leg until she eliminated any trace of the effect his words had had on her. She glanced around the workshop to ensure the few others working in the extensive room weren’t paying attention, before tipping her head back and blinking any telltale traces away. No one would see her cry.

The others understood her grief. Friends and neighbors as well as employees of her father’s furniture business had helped her through his difficult passing and funeral. But they were moving on. When Ruth moved on, it would be away from her daed’s legacy. She’d made a promise. She swallowed again, this time against a flash of nausea at the reminder of her recent resolution. It took pinching the skin between her thumb and forefinger to stop any renegade tears. But when Jacob looked up, he was met with clear eyes behind her safety glasses.

“Ach, Ruth, I—I thought you were Isaac,” he stammered, his face flushing to match his red hair.

“He was busy, so I brought the chisels over.” She set them on the bench beside him.

“I—I... It was on my mind as they moved in this weekend.”

Ruth didn’t have to ask who “they” were. Jacob’s family farm was a mile from the Yoder farmstead, empty since Atlee died last winter. Empty until the new owner of Fisher Furniture had bought it.

“My daed and brothers stopped by to see if they needed any help. Mamm and Lydia took a basket of bread and canned goods.” Jacob was obviously excited at the prospect of new neighbors. “Lydia was glad to see that none of the three newcomers had beards.”

Ruth could just imagine. If none of the men had beards, then they were all single. Jacob’s sister was in her rumspringa. Potential courtship and future mates were much on a young woman’s mind during her run-around years. Particularly a girl like Lydia.

“Hopefully they are good workers, beardless or no.” Ruth had different priorities. Even though she’d no longer be part of the business, she wanted to see it succeed. “How are the chairs coming for the Portage order?” They had recently entered into business with a furniture dealer in one of the larger towns nearby.

Jacob’s eyes lit up. “Gut. I like this design. Hopefully it sells well.”

“Ja, hopefully,” she echoed, forcing a smile to her face before turning to head for her own workbench.

Once there, Ruth selected a piece of oak from the neat stack on the scarred wooden surface and picked up a sanding block. She’d hoped for a number of things. She’d even had the hochmut to pray that someone in the district would purchase the business. The glasses slipped down her nose when she winced at the memory that she’d had the arrogance to tell Gott what to do. It wouldn’t happen again. Ruth wrinkled her nose in an effort to push the glasses back up. Well, it shouldn’t happen again. One of the tenets of their faith was demut. There was certainly no humility in daring to give Gott instructions. Thankfully, Gott was forgiving as well as good. He had a plan for her. But apparently it didn’t include having someone she knew buy Fisher Furniture and letting her manage it. This Malachi Schrock had certainly wasted no time in taking over her daed’s business.

Her shoulders slumped as she ran the block over the oak. No single young woman in their district owned a business that employed four men, married and single. The bishop wasn’t going to allow Ruth to be the first, even though she’d worked beside her father from the time she was tall enough to reach a workbench.

Or not tall enough, Ruth remembered with a tremulous smile. Daed had built her a little wooden box to stand on. First, so she could watch him work, her eyes wide with wonder at his deft movements. Then so she could mimic his actions and learn to love the wood, from its first rough surfaces to the feel of it beneath her fingers, soft as a baby’s cheek after multiple cycles of sanding and varnish.

The sale of the business had been the topic of several conversations after church service two weeks ago. While gossiping was frowned upon in the Amish community, sharing of news was another thing entirely. At least three groups of folks Ruth had passed as she poured coffee for the noon meal had been discussing Miriam Lapp’s nephew from Ohio, who’d purchased the business and would soon be moving into the area, along with two of his younger brothers.

Ruth was chagrined to discover, when she overheard people talking after church yesterday, that her life continued to be a subject of interest. This time, the discussion among the women, and probably some of the single men, was when she’d marry, now that her father was gone and the business sold. A few speculative glances had been cast her way when certain names were mentioned, gauging her reaction.

Ruth had made sure her normally expressive face revealed nothing.

Jacob’s name was one mentioned with a side-glance yesterday. Ruth’s lips twitched. According to her newly married friends, finding it hard to breathe around a man was a sign he might be Gott’s Chosen One for her. She had no difficulty breathing around Jacob, whom she’d known since back when she could wear buttons. He was nothing more than a casual friend, and the only time he made her heart beat harder was when she observed and appreciated his skill on the lathe. The women of the district could speculate all they want, but she wouldn’t be walking out with Jacob Troyer.

Her smile faded. She wouldn’t be walking out with any Amish man now that she was leaving the community as she’d promised her daed.

Ruth grabbed a tack cloth and swiped it across the oak’s surface, surprised she hadn’t worn a hole in the wood. She stroked a thumb along the grain. Today, not even working with the wood brought her the peace and joy it normally did.

But peace required gelassenheit. Submission didn’t come naturally to Ruth. Sometimes it didn’t come at all. Putting down the cloth, she picked up the sanding block and deftly applied it. Inhaling deeply, she relished the aroma of fresh lumber inherent to the room. Gelassenheit. Bits of sawdust danced in the air as she exhaled slowly through pursed lips, trying to clear her mind to Gott’s will.

So the new owner had arrived in Miller’s Creek with his two brothers. Ruth’s hand paused, her eyes resting on the other occupants of the room. Her heart beat heavily as she wondered what the addition of three more men would mean for her father’s loyal employees. The strokes across the wood resumed with jerky motions.

Ruth didn’t know what she needed to do, but she was determined that the men would keep their jobs. Dropping the block on the counter, Ruth folded her hands in her lap and bowed her head. She would pray and accept Gott’s will for her fellow workers and herself. Ruth squeezed her eyes shut. Hopefully His will would journey the same road as her plans.

* * *

The horse flicked his ear back toward the buggy, probably wondering if he was going to get down now that they’d arrived at their destination. Malachi figured the gelding was glad to be hanging its head over the hitching post. He frowned at the foam-flecked brown neck. Experienced with horses, he knew the animals could feel the tension of the driver through the reins. The poor bay had completed a trip full of nervousness running down the lines. No wonder his coat reflected his agitation. Malachi resolved to keep this visit short or find a place where he could stable the standardbred. It was warm for November, but he wouldn’t leave a hot horse for long out in it.

Sighing, he set the brake and stepped down from the buggy. As he passed the gelding, he paused to stroke the horse’s sleek, sweaty neck. It wasn’t the bay’s fault. He was fine for a rented animal. Malachi ran a hand down the iron-hard leg to where the brown coat turned to black, smiling when the gelding responded by lifting his hoof.

In fact, he might buy the bay. He and his brothers would need several buggy horses. Samuel would be replacing his courting buggy as soon as they settled in, probably before. Gideon, as well. Malachi shook his head at the thought. His brothers had grown faster than the passing years justified.

His smile faded as he straightened to regard the building in front of him. At least the horse was something he could try out before purchasing. Unlike the small farmstead he’d bought sight unseen. Or the business before him, which he was now owner of. Another deep sigh lifted the suspenders that crossed his shoulders.

He wasn’t impulsive. Far from it. Malachi knew himself to be like Barley, one of his father’s draft horses back in Ohio. A plodder. Barley hadn’t moved fast, but his steady and deliberate pace had plowed, planted and harvested many fields. The seed that’d culminated in Malachi’s move to Wisconsin had germinated long ago. Things had been getting difficult back in Ohio. Malachi was surprised he’d survived there this long. Some type of change had been needed. He’d prayed that Gott would provide him with direction. When he’d heard of this opportunity, he’d snatched it up like a horse snapping at an insect during blackfly season.

Hopefully this’d been Gott’s answer. Once he’d settled on his course, Malachi hadn’t paused in his plodding forward long enough to check.

The furniture shop was a good investment. He’d reviewed numbers available on the operation before he’d made the offer. It was a well-run business and Malachi was excited to be part of it. But it was a big change. He wasn’t fond of changes. This purchase had prompted several of them in his life. Walking through that door would hopefully wrap up the last and biggest one.

After giving the bay a final rub on the forehead, he headed up the stairs. A cheery jingle greeted him when he swung the door open. Malachi’s tense shoulders eased slightly as he inhaled the familiar scents of wood and stain. His lips curved. This was what he knew and loved. It would be all right.

An encompassing glance revealed a well-ordered showroom. His experienced eye recognized the diverse furniture’s primary wood as oak, with a few pieces of cherry, maple and walnut. Stepping farther into the airy room, he ran a hand over the back of a chair that tucked into a large dining table. Malachi nodded in approval at the smooth surface. He straightened abruptly and turned to the back of the store when he heard the sound of a door opening.

An Amish woman stepped through, a ready smile on her face. Her auburn hair was tucked under her kapp, a few strands threatening to escape the confines. She headed in his direction before halting abruptly. Reaching up, she touched the safety glasses on her face, hastily pulled them off and set them on the sales counter. With flushed cheeks and a sheepish smile, she turned back to him.

“Good morning. May I help you?” she inquired as she approached, her black shoes making no sound on the glossy wooden floor.

He couldn’t help returning the smile. Her grin became full and moved to her eyes. Eyes that lifted briefly to his hat before returning to his face. Malachi yanked the black felt from his head and held it in front of him. “Guder mariye,” he returned the greeting. “My name is Malachi Schrock. I was told to meet Bishop Weaver here this morning.”

The warmth faded from her face like the temperature of a fine October day upon the approach of an early-winter storm. Malachi didn’t realize how much he’d appreciated its glow until he was facing frost in her green eyes.

“Ah. The new owner. The bishop isn’t here right now. If he told you to meet him, I’m sure he’ll be in as soon as he can.” Even her voice had changed from June to December.

Malachi raised his eyebrows. The families that’d greeted him and his brothers at the farmstead had been quite cordial. Some of the young women, enthusiastically so. Obviously, this woman worked here. Just as obviously, he wasn’t welcome. He slowly shifted the brim of his hat between his hands. Hopefully this attitude wasn’t the consensus of his new workforce.

Upon reaching him, the woman clasped her hands together at her waist, regarding him coolly. The top of her head, even with the thick soles on her shoes, barely reached his chin.

“If you have any questions about the business, I’d be... I will answer them for you.”

Happy had been the omitted word that hung in the silence of the room. She was not happy to have him here, not happy to answer his questions. Malachi sighed. He didn’t know what he might have done already to offend her. He’d only been in the district a few days and the store a few minutes.

Malachi had never been a business owner before, but he’d run a large furniture operation for his previous employer in Ohio. To his knowledge, all those he’d supervised had been quite content with his leadership. He intended that to be the case here. Apparently, he had some ground to make up.

Glancing back toward the front door, he noted the hat rack at its customary location just inside. Malachi took a moment to put his hat on one of the pegs before turning back to the young woman. He suppressed a smile. She reminded him of a fierce bantam hen.

“What would you like to tell me about the business?”

His mild, open-ended question seemed to surprise her, but she recovered quickly. “It’s a well-run operation.”

Malachi nodded solemnly. “I noted that from the bookwork.”

The ice in her green eyes melted slightly. A shrewd spark began to replace the frost. “The employees are extremely capable and loyal. They’ve all worked here for some time and are very valuable to the business.”

His lips twitched slightly at her artfulness. “That is gut to know.”

“New accounts have been established with some of the larger Englisch furniture stores. We are starting to get a backlog of orders. It’s probably time to hire more workers.” She eyed him closely, gauging his response.

So this woman knew that his brothers were joining him in the business. Even without telephones, news spread fast in Amish communities. While his brothers would work with him, he had no plans to change the workforce at this time. Not until he understood their abilities and how they benefited the operation. Malachi respected that she was trying to protect the current employees. He also recognized that she was trying to lead him. Plodder he might be, but he didn’t like being pulled by the halter. “Are you falling behind?”

Her mouth opened in a perfect circle before snapping closed. “Not at all! I just wanted to assure you that there was ample work to be done.”

“Gut. I look forward to reviewing the orders.” He regarded her quietly. “You mentioned we. How long have you worked here?”

For a moment, her eyes clouded. “My father was Amos Fisher, the previous owner. I can’t remember a time when I didn’t come to work with him.”

Malachi frowned in sympathy for her loss at the same time a chill ran up his spine. A managing female in the business. Just what he’d left Ohio to avoid. He continued his study of the woman in front of him. She returned his scrutiny. Malachi drummed his fingers slowly against his pant leg. Perhaps there would be one immediate change to the workforce after all.

They turned in relieved unison when the door jingled to announce a new arrival.

The tall man who entered nodded to the woman before hanging his hat and extending his hand to Malachi.

“I am Ezekiel Weaver. You are Malachi Schrock?” He continued at Malachi’s nod, “Welcome to Miller’s Creek. I see you’ve met Ruth Fisher. I’m sure she was sharing how glad we are that you’re coming to live in the community.”

“Something like that.” Malachi’s eyes returned to the young woman’s. Her smooth cheeks flushed under his regard.

The bishop dipped his head in approval. “Gut. She can tell you a lot about the business.”

“So I’m discovering.” So the bishop wasn’t aware of the young woman’s animosity. Malachi wasn’t going to be the one to share the news. Except for the situation in Ohio, where evasion had seemed the more prudent choice, Malachi addressed his own battles.

Bishop Weaver turned to the young woman. “Ruth, do you have a place where we can talk in private?”

“Certainly.” She gestured to the door of a small office. The bishop entered and shut the door after Malachi joined him, leaving the young woman on the other side. Malachi winced at the expression on her face. Her exclusion from a discussion regarding the business certainly hadn’t smoothed any waters for him. The bishop might be glad that Malachi was now in the community, but on the other side of the door was someone who clearly wasn’t.

Chapter Two

Ruth’s cheeks were so hot they had to be flaming red. Granted, she deserved the ample dose of embarrassment from her behavior toward the new owner. If her grossmammi had been alive, she’d have admonished Ruth. Keep your words soft and sweet. You might have to eat them. Ruth could almost hear Grossmammi’s tranquil voice repeating the Amish proverb.

It hadn’t been the words so much, Ruth recalled. The words were true. Her coworkers’ jobs were on her mind. When things were on her mind, Ruth expressed them. It’d been the attitude used in delivering the words that would be hard to choke down if served back to her. And the new owner was well within his rights to serve up a banquet.

Ruth banged her head gently against the side of a nearby hutch. Her prayer kapp slipped farther down her hair at the contact. She couldn’t have made a worse first impression if she’d tried. Reaching behind her head to address the familiar task of repinning the kapp, she glanced up and froze. Yes, apparently she could. For meeting her eyes through the window between the office and the showroom were the keen blue ones of the new owner. Ruth jabbed a final pin in her hair, whirled around and swept through the door into the workroom.

It wasn’t the heavy bang of the door as she came through that focused all the attention in the workroom on her. They’d obviously been watching for someone to enter. Four sets of curious eyes observed Ruth as she slid her hands down the front of her apron. The noise in the room abated as machines shut down.

Benjamin had returned from collecting a load of lumber. Ruth figured he was the one who’d shared the news of the occupant in the office. He’d have passed the buggies out front, recognized the bishop’s and noted the unknown rig when he’d driven the team around the back of the shop. Her suspicion was confirmed when his voice carried across the now-quiet room. “Is he here?”

Ruth cleared her throat. “Ja. He’s in the office talking with Bishop Weaver.”

“What do you think?” The questions began as the men crossed to her.

I think that my life is about to change. But Ruth knew that wasn’t what these men wanted to hear. “He seems a fair man.” At least she hoped so. Impressions could be deceiving. Look at the one she’d certainly left him with.

“Does he know furniture?”

“I’m not sure about that. He looked like he was admiring the workmanship on that oak table and chairs you built, Isaac.”

Some of the tension in their postures reduced with their laughter at her teasing.

“He knows that it’s a gut business, that you do gut work and that we have many customers to keep us busy. He is not a fool.” At least, she hoped not. “I’m sure he’ll meet you soon.” He would, or she would say something to him about making an effort to greet the anxious men.

Ruth smiled and gestured behind her. “You can go through the door to gawk and act like you’ve nothing better to do, or you can go back to work and demonstrate how industrious you are, should he poke his head into the workshop today.”

The four men, two bearded, two not, nodded and turned back to their tasks. If she said it would be all right, it would be all right. They trusted her judgment.

Ruth’s smile faded as soon as their backs were turned. She felt the weight of that trust pressing down on her shoulders. Pressing her down into the floor until she felt like she was barefoot instead of wearing the sneakers that provided comfort for long hours on her feet. A trust she didn’t know if she deserved, but one she would do her best to uphold.

If there was no one to support her, well, she was growing used to that.

Ruth wove through the benches, equipment and various works in progress, and came to a stop at the far reaches of the large room. Pressing her lips together to keep them from quivering, she quietly surveyed the rough pieces of oak neatly stacked in the corner. Another Amish proverb crept across her mind. A man should not grieve over much, for that is a complaint against Gott. She compressed her lips more tightly. Chalk it up to another way in which she was disappointing Gott, for she certainly was still grieving.

And what was over much? Daed had only been gone a month. Daed, who’d been father, teacher and companion, had left a staggering void here at the shop and in the now-echoing silence of the farmhouse they’d shared. It might’ve been different if her father had remarried after her mother’s death when Ruth was born. But he hadn’t, much to the disappointment of all the available women in the district. Instead, he’d raised numerous eyebrows rearing his daughter by himself. It’d been just the two of them. And now that it was just her, she still felt his loss like a missing limb.

It wasn’t that she didn’t have friends. Ruth enjoyed visiting with the other single women at church and afterward every other Sunday. Or at least she had before Daed got sick. But between covering for his work at the shop, keeping up their household and caring for an ill father, she hadn’t had time to go to the social gatherings like quilting. As it’d meant more time with her father, she couldn’t regret the trade-off. Besides, now that the new owner was here, she had all the time in the world to join in those events, at least until she left.

Crossing to a cabinet, she snagged a fresh sanding block. Ruth reached up to pull her safety glasses into place from where they usually perched on the top of her head, but her searching hand only tapped hair and her kapp. As her hand dropped to her side, she wondered where she might have left them. Vividly, it came back to her. They were in the showroom, on the counter. Where she’d set them before she knew who he was. When her initial thought upon seeing the blond, broad-shouldered stranger had been how attractive he was and that she didn’t want him seeing her in heavy plastic glasses. Where he still might be, rightfully thinking that she was the Wicked Witch of the West from a book she’d read to her daed while he was sick. But she wasn’t going to venture anywhere near the showroom right now.

Well, she’d sanded without glasses before. Ruth returned to the corner, pulled a stool to the nearby bench and reverently picked up a flat piece of the oak.

She closed her eyes. If she tried hard, she could still see her father’s handling of the wood. It’d been the last thing he’d worked on before he died. Every year for Christmas, Daed would make her a piece of furniture. The rocker was to be this year’s gift. He’d tried to work on it, tried to hurry when he knew his time was running out, but the illness overcame him. Whenever she wanted to feel close to her father, she worked on the rocker. With dismal results. Because anytime she tried, like now, unshed tears burned her eyes.

This would not do, especially today. Ruth reluctantly tucked the oak back with the other unfinished pieces and wiped her sleeve across her eyes. As she lowered her arm, she caught the movement of the door to the showroom opening. All eyes in the room focused on the man who stepped through. Ruth took a deep breath. Time to start a new approach and hope her previous one hadn’t obliterated her coworkers’ options. Another Amish proverb popped into her head. A smile is a curve that can straighten out a lot of things. If only it were that simple. But it was worth a try.

* * *

Normally, Malachi strove to avoid being the center of attention. Emphatically strove to avoid it. Today, he knew there was no possibility of evading scrutiny. He was new. He was unknown. And he had some control over their lives. Until that changed, his actions and presence would be closely watched.

Looking out over the well-ordered workroom, he briefly met the eyes of the occupants, nodding at them as his gaze swept over their locations. Four men. And her. The fierce bantam hen. The distance to where she stood at the back of the room didn’t diminish the energy that almost vibrated from her.

Whereas the men immediately returned his acknowledgments, there was a heartbeat or two from when his eyes met hers and he nodded to when she returned the nod. Apparently she’d thought better of her initial greeting, because after another beat or two, a smile curved her lips. It didn’t reach her green eyes as he knew it could, from her initial response in the showroom. But it was an effort at least, albeit one that looked more like a grimace. Malachi wondered if it covered gritted teeth.

Not something he intended to explore or address today. He’d come in at Ezekiel Weaver’s invitation for an official meeting. Malachi didn’t know why the bishop needed to make it so official when a simple visit at Malachi’s new farm would have sufficed. Perhaps, in having such an obvious meeting at the business, the man was attempting to extend over the new owner some additional authority as the district’s bishop. Perhaps it was to make a point to the old owner’s daughter. The man surely had his reasons. Malachi wasn’t going to pursue them. He would establish his own path.

He made his way into the workroom, stopping to review and admire some projects, inspect equipment and visit with his new employees. In their own way, the four men expressed their welcome and interest in working for him.

Jacob, one of the two single men, was the most talkative. He also introduced himself as a nearby neighbor. Benjamin, the other unmarried man, was quiet but quick with a nod or smile. His eyes were sharp, taking in everything without being obvious. Isaac and Nathaniel, the two married men, were congenial and accepting. All of them seemed very capable in their work. All seemed ready to give him a chance. Except her.

She didn’t approach him and Malachi didn’t go back to greet her. An omission that perhaps had been a mistake, he reflected, as he went down the steps to the patiently waiting gelding. Ach. He wasn’t going to retrace his steps now. He’d already met her. The rest of the workforce was aware of that. If they wanted to speculate about what they might perceive as an exclusion, so be it. He couldn’t control their thoughts. He hadn’t meant anything by it.

Except, Malachi realized as he climbed into the buggy and lifted the reins, maybe he had. Maybe he’d been unconsciously indicating that he was now in charge. Malachi winced as he released the brake. That hadn’t been his intent, either. He had no problem with unmarried women working. He’d worked with some back in Ohio. Most were very intelligent. He had sisters who were sharper than some of the men he’d worked with.

The truth of it, Malachi admitted as the clip-clop of the bay’s hooves signaled a ground-eating trot back to what was now the Schrock farm, was that he wasn’t prepared to face the buzz saw of energy that radiated from her. His lips quirked. To think he’d be intimidated by a slip of a woman whose kapp barely reached his chin. Malachi’s gaze took in the surrounding countryside that rolled by, his countryside now.

Well, he’d learn how to deal with her, one way or another.

Chapter Three

Bess trotted down the road at her usual lackadaisical pace. Ruth couldn’t summon the energy to urge the mare to go any faster. She was in no hurry to get home to an empty house where the only sounds other than what she created were cracks and groans as the old structure settled.

Jacob, Isaac, Nathaniel and Benjamin had been encouraged by the short visit with the new owner. The reins dropped farther into her lap as Ruth sighed. Malachi Schrock. She supposed she should start thinking of him by his name and not as “the new owner.” He wouldn’t always be the new owner. One day he’d just be “the owner.”

And she’d be gone.

A black-and-white blur, accompanied by energetic yapping, darted into the road. Bess shied away from it, causing Ruth to smack herself in the chin as she jerked the reins up to regain control. Guiding an agitated Bess into a nearby field lane, she set the brake. Heart pounding, Ruth looked around to identify the problem. A border collie puppy bounced out from under the buggy and plopped his rump down a few feet from the buggy step. He looked up at Ruth with his pink tongue lolling out one side of his grinning mouth, one ear up and one down. His eyes above the black button nose sparkled, as if waiting for Ruth to respond to his actions. She couldn’t help smiling.

Securing the reins, Ruth hurried down from the buggy and squatted next to the pup. He rested his front paws on her bent knees. The white tip at the end of his black tail wiggled on the gravel as he showed his appreciation for her attention.

“Oh, you sweetie.” Picking up the pup, she cuddled him against her chest. His warm squirming weight fitted into her arms, and her empty heart, like a puzzle piece. Closing her eyes, Ruth hugged him and smiled as he licked her cheek. Her eyes popped open and both she and the pup turned their heads at the exasperated call from up the lane.

“There you are, you rascal. Are you all right, Ruth?” Hannah Lapp strode down the lane, a frown on her pretty face. “I’m so sorry. We can’t seem to keep the little stinker inside. All the rest of the pups stay put, but this one must be some type of magician, because he keeps escaping. Much to the dismay of the chickens and the pigs and the goats, and basically everyone on the farm.” She stopped beside Ruth, hands on her hips as she regarded the errant pup.

“I don’t think he made a good first impression on Bess, but no harm’s been done. In fact,” Ruth added after tucking her chin against the pup’s soft head, “he’s just what I need right now.”

Hannah eyed her quizzically.

“The new owner came in today.” The words were mumbled into the top of the puppy’s head but her best friend heard them.

“Oh, Ruth, I’m so sorry.” Hannah placed a hand on Ruth’s shoulder. “I know how hard that must’ve been for you.” Ruth had shared her feelings about the loss of the business with Hannah yesterday after church.

“Certainly made it real. No going back now.”

“It is Gott’s will. He’ll take care of you. You just have to trust in Him.”

The pup wiggled to get down. Ruth reluctantly let him out of her arms. Arms that immediately felt emptier than the release of the warm weight justified. She knew her friend was right. Hannah had always had the gelassenheit that Ruth knew she should be practicing. But she couldn’t just let things be. She couldn’t help doing what she could to make things turn out the way she thought they should.

Standing, Ruth wistfully watched the puppy explore the territory around the end of the lane, the white tip of his tail waving like a flag over his chubby ebony back. Here in the abnormally warm November afternoon, the tension of the day faded as she watched the inquisitive pup. She didn’t look forward to entering an empty house, but at least she could do it with a more peaceful attitude than when she left work.

The pup wandered over to sniff at the buggy’s wheels. After confirming that Bess was going to tolerate the small investigator, Ruth turned to Hannah to share a grin at the puppy’s antics and found her friend eyeing her speculatively.

“I think you do need him.”

“What?” Ruth tried to recall the last bits of their conversations. They’d been talking about Gott. Of course she needed Gott. Everyone needed Gott. That was a given and one Hannah wouldn’t have bothered to voice. Before that they’d spoken of the new owner. Hannah couldn’t be thinking that Ruth needed Malachi Schrock, could she? A vivid image of the first moment she saw Malachi popped into her head. Her heartbeat had jumped at the sight of his tall form and intelligent eyes. It’d quickened even more at the smile he’d sent her across the showroom floor. Then her stomach had dropped when he’d said his name.

“No, I don’t need him.” Ruth held her hands in front of her as if to ward off the traitorously tempting thought. “We might not get along at all.”

“Oh, but I think you already do.” Hannah nodded to Ruth’s feet, where the puppy was nipping at her shoelaces.

“You mean the puppy?” Ruth stared blankly at the busy dog.

“Who did you think I meant?”

Ruth wasn’t going to go there. “I never thought about adopting a puppy.” She knelt and was immediately rewarded with the wash of the pup’s tongue on her fingertips. A great longing washed over Ruth. She looked up at her friend. “Do you really mean it?”

Hannah laughed. “We don’t raise them to keep them all. We’d be overrun.”

Ruth wrapped her arms around the pup and stood up. Now that the idea was planted, she couldn’t let it go. “I’ll pay you what he’s worth,” she vowed, mentally wincing at the hit to her funds because she knew the value of the border collies the Lapps raised and sold.

“I think we can work something out. Right now the greater value to us is regaining the peace that he continually disturbs. We might pay you to take him off our hands.” Hannah rubbed the panting puppy’s head.

“When can I take him?”

Hannah raised her eyebrows as she considered the question. “I don’t see any reason why you can’t take him with you today. Socks has begun to wean them. Let me get you some of the food they’ve been started on so you’ll have something for him to eat until you can get back into town. You’re sure you want to do this? I didn’t mean to talk you into something you’re not ready for.”

Ruth bent her cheek to touch the pup’s head. He twisted in her arms to try to lick her. “I may not be ready, but I can’t think of anything I want more right now.”

* * *

Ruth settled the pup in her lap and waved to Hannah before picking up the reins. A hastily assembled puppy survival bag rested at her feet. Bess flicked her ears toward the buggy, questioning what the new passenger was doing there. Ruth smiled as she checked for traffic before backing out of the lane. Let the old girl pout. Ruth was as happy as she could remember being before her father had come home from seeing the Englisch doctors and confirmed what was making him feel weak and lose weight was the cancer they had both quietly feared it to be. The smile stayed on Ruth’s lips, curving up self-mockingly at the corners when she felt a warm wet spot growing on her lap.

The pup didn’t seem to mind, as he curled into a ball and fell asleep. Ruth clicked her tongue, urging Bess to increase her speed. For the first time in a long time, she was eager to get home. Even if it was to start teaching her new roommate a few basic rules.

* * *

“I think rules are going to come easier for you than for me,” Ruth admitted later that evening. “You’re smart, and you should be, as border collies are one of the most intelligent breeds. I’m just afraid I’m not smart enough, or disciplined enough, to teach you what you need to learn.”

Perhaps it had been a mistake to get a puppy, particularly with her plans. But after spending the evening with him—feeding him, taking him out several times, setting up a bed and later having him rest at her feet while she knit—Ruth knew she couldn’t bear to part with the pup and face an empty house again.

Ruth reintroduced him to the bed they’d made together. She sat beside him as he settled into it, stroking his soft head before she slipped away. Only moments after she’d settled into her own bed, the cries started.

The whimpering tore at her heart. Leaning over the edge of the bed, she saw two miniature white paws propped up against her mother’s Wedding Ring quilt.

“You’re supposed to be a working dog. You will be shunned by border collies everywhere for this unacceptable behavior. You won’t be able to eat from their dish. Or share treats with them. Why, I’d even be surprised if they allowed you to join them in working the sheep.” While lecturing him, she lifted him to join her on the quilt. The pup licked her fingers. Ruth giggled. The sound and feeling of the long-absent action surprised her. Giggling again just because it felt good, she settled the pup on the bed. They both snuggled in, comforted by each other’s presence.

* * *

Her nose was cold. The weather had obviously turned overnight. Ruth nestled deeper under the covers until a sensation swept over her that something was missing. Her eyes flew open. The pup! Quickly sitting up, she patted around the bed in the predawn dark to determine he wasn’t on the quilt beside her. Swinging her feet out from under the covers, she gasped as they hit the cold floor. Lighting a lamp, she saw a puddle near the door. Apparently she hadn’t woken up soon enough to suit the pup.

“How long have you been up, and what else am I going to find?” Her teeth chattered in the chilly air as she snagged her robe from the foot of the bed and shoved her arms into the sleeves.

Wide-awake now, Ruth foraged for an old towel. Locating one, she looked through the open door into the living area. Of course, the pup had found the knitting she’d set beside her chair and was doing battle. And winning. Ruth wondered how many stitches she’d lost in the confrontation.

Hearing her footfalls in the bedroom, the pup raced through the door to investigate, almost knocking Ruth over. He licked her bare toes that curled on the cold floor before they both went to inspect the puddle by the door.

“This is neither approved nor appreciated behavior,” Ruth admonished as she cleaned it up with the towel. “Housebroken does not mean the house gets broken.” The pup chased the dangling ends of the cloth as it moved. Lifting him into her arms, she rested her cheek on his downy head.

“Do you need to go outside so we can get the rules sorted out?” Slipping into her shoes, she glanced out the window to see patches of frost on the ground in the first faint fingers of light. Snagging a cape from a peg by the door, she draped it around her shoulders and stepped out into the brisk morning. A hint of rose to the east heralded the sun’s future appearance. It was pretty now but could mean a weather change before evening. Might be prudent to throw an extra blanket in the buggy just in case.

The pup squirmed to get down. Ruth released him, hoping it was a sign that he wanted to do his duty. Instead, it was a sign he wanted to explore the underside of the porch.

Shivering at the wind that blew against her bare legs, she followed the pup around the yard, stomping her feet against the hard ground to keep warm. The pup was in no hurry. Apparently all he’d needed to do this morning had been accomplished already.

“If you’re not going to do your business, we might as well set up a place for you during the day. Besides, it will get us out of the wind.” Ruth hurried to the henhouse, abandoned since it had become more efficient to buy eggs from their neighbor instead of raising a few chickens herself. The puppy bounded along behind her, eager to investigate new territory.

The farmstead had several outbuildings. A hog house, a corncrib, a shed for machinery. All unused since Ruth and her daed began spending so much time at the shop that it made more sense to trade and purchase goods than grow everything themselves.

The henhouse had been one of the last buildings to empty. As soon as she ducked inside the door, Ruth sighed at the immediate relief against the whipping wind. She cast a critical eye over the dimly lit interior. Thankfully, she’d cleaned it thoroughly after the last of the hens had gone. A few adjustments and a warm bed should make it a worthy daytime home for the pup.

Ruth regarded the small run outside, considering what could be quickly done to eliminate all potential escape routes. The weave of the fence was small enough that he couldn’t get out, but not so big he could get stuck, so no adjustments needed there. The pup assisted the investigation by tugging on Ruth’s untied shoestrings. She bent to secure them and gave him a rub on his head. “Hannah was right—you are a rascal.” Gently cupping his muzzle, she met his happy eyes. “In fact, that might be a fitting name for you. I dub thee Rascal Fisher.”

Releasing the newly christened pup, Ruth stood, setting her hands on her hips. “So, Rascal. I need to get some tools and fix that hole under the gate. Hannah said you were a magician at getting out. I wouldn’t recommend that today, as it looks like the weather is going to turn and I won’t be around to check on you.”

Worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, Ruth debated taking the pup to Hannah’s farmstead. “I don’t want them to think I can’t handle you. I know I can, but it will just take a little preparation. And you shared a shed and a run like this with your siblings and mother. You should be all right.” She worried her lip a little more. “I hope.”

Turning to look for the pup, Ruth caught him in midsquat. “Good boy! That’s just what we needed. Let’s go inside for some breakfast while we figure the rest of this out.”

By the time she secured Rascal’s shelter, Ruth was running late. Bess’s reluctant pace didn’t help. The mare kept ducking her head against the wind that was blowing in her face. The sky was piling gray in the west. Ruth urged the mare to hurry whenever Bess’s feet started to drag. She knew Malachi was going to be at the shop today. In fact, he might already be there.

Bouncing on the seat helped Ruth expend nervous energy. More important, it helped keep her warm. She was grateful she’d remembered to bring along an extra quilt and glad she’d taken a moment to roll down the curtain doors of the buggy against the wind, but she was going to be late. She had never been late for work before. Ever. The others would be waiting for her to open the door.

She’d taken a moment to stop at the mailbox of her nearest neighbor and stick in a message, asking if they’d check on the pup during the day. They had two daughters who still attended school. Ruth was hoping the girls wouldn’t mind the chance to play with a puppy. Providing, she amended with another uneasy glance at the sky, they did it earlier in the day before some weather hit.

When she and Bess swept into the shed behind the woodshop, several other horses nickered in greeting. Ruth counted the bays in the makeshift stalls and her heart sank. They were all here. Plus one. Hurriedly, she unharnessed a grouchy Bess, wiped her down and guiltily gave her a offering of extra hay.

Cheeks flushed with more embarrassment than cold, Ruth dashed in the door. The recalcitrant wind took the opportunity to blow a gust that jerked the door from her chilled hands and bang it hard against the wall. Hastily shutting it, she turned to find all eyes in the workshop looking in her direction.

There were four sets of eyes she knew well. Upon seeing her, they nodded and returned to their work. But two new workers regarded her curiously. They watched as Ruth made herself walk sedately over to the coatrack, remove her black cape and bonnet, and hang them with the other coats there. They continued to observe her as she crossed to the cabinet and removed the safety glasses that she’d retrieved from the showroom yesterday—after she was sure he’d left. Since they were younger versions of the blue-eyed, blond man who also regarded her steadily, she figured they were the brothers who had come to join what had been her daed’s business.

Ruth put on the glasses and turned to face the new owner. Some type of barrier seemed prudent before meeting his gaze. Malachi didn’t say anything, just flicked a glance to the clock over her head and raised an eyebrow before returning his impassive blue eyes to her. Even in his silence, Ruth felt severely chastised.

Swinging around to avoid his penetrating gaze, she grabbed the first project she could put her hands on and set to work. Struggling because her palms were now sweaty—not a good combination with the work she was doing on the wood—she took a moment to calm herself.

She was never late. With or without her father there, she’d always been the first one to the shop and the last one to leave.

It didn’t take long before the familiar sounds and smells of the workshop lulled Ruth into her version of peace. Surprisingly, the morning went fast. Malachi didn’t come near her, although he worked and visited with the men. Every time someone entered the sales shop, he looked over at Ruth, who always stopped what she was doing and went to greet the potential customer.

Having forgotten her lunch at home and not wanting to leave the shop during that break as she’d arrived late, Ruth took advantage of the empty office off the showroom to eat an apple she’d left in there when she’d been the sole resident. Looking out through the observation window into the showroom and farther to the street, she could see snowflakes joining the whipping wind. Ruth shivered. What a change in a day, but that was Wisconsin weather.

Wiping her hands with a napkin after disposing of her apple, she sighed. He still hadn’t spoken to her. She wasn’t sure what that meant. He hadn’t come by to check the work she was doing. Did that mean he trusted her, or did it mean that it wouldn’t matter what she did, so he didn’t care? It shouldn’t matter to her, as she was leaving. But she liked to know—no, she needed to know—where she stood on things. Squaring her shoulders, she ran her hands down her apron. Well, if he didn’t talk to her this afternoon, she’d go talk to him.

On her way back to her workstation, Ruth paused to observe the two brothers, who were preparing to bore bolt holes for the frame on an oak headboard. Malachi’s siblings were a good-looking pair. Like their brother, she thought to herself. It said in the book of Samuel that man looks on the outward appearance, but Gott looks at the heart. The new owner’s—Malachi’s—heart was probably good, something she had yet to discover, but his appearance was...distracting. And she didn’t need or want distractions. Not of that nature.

Absently watching the brothers work, she abruptly straightened. They might be good-looking, but they were boring the holes on the wrong side of the bedpost. Ruth strode over.

“They need to go on the other side.”

The older one looked up from the drill he’d pressed against the wood and swiveled his head toward her. The younger one lifted his safety glasses to the top of his blond hair.

“What?” Their inquiry came at her in a duet.

“You’re boring the holes on the wrong side of the post. This headboard has beveled panels on the side facing the mattress. If you bore the holes for the frame there—” she pointed to where the drill bit rested “—the design will be facing the back of the bed, probably pressed against a wall. Benjamin did too good a job on the panels’ bevels to have them adorned with cobwebs against a wall.”

The brothers looked at her as if she had two heads. Ruth put her hands on her hips. Didn’t they have any women with brains in Ohio? Their gazes flicked behind her. Ruth didn’t have to look to know who was approaching. She could tell by the tingling that moved up her neck. Malachi must be focusing his judgmental blue eyes on her again.

“What seems to be the issue?” he asked mildly, moving into her peripheral view. She didn’t turn her head.

The older brother nodded toward her. “She says we’re putting it on backward.” His tone implied that she couldn’t possibly know what she was talking about.

Other sounds of the workshop filled the room, but their little knot was silent as Malachi’s encompassing gaze swept over the headboard. Sweat gathered between her shoulders.

“She’s right.”

“What?” the siblings echoed again.

“There’s a design on the side opposite of where you’re drilling. You’d have put it on backward. If you aren’t going to use your two sets of eyes, at least check things twice before you drill. Or cut. Or anything else.” He looked over at her. “Thanks for the catch, Ruth.”

“Even though the business won’t have my father’s name on it anymore, I still want it to be thought of as having superior craftsmanship and service.” Ruth started for the back of the shop. She stopped abruptly. Sweet words. A smile. She sighed heavily. Oh, Mammi, how wise you were. Head bowed, she strode back the way she came until brown shoes under blue cloth pants came into view. Tilting her chin up—way up, it seemed—she met his eyes. “Thank you for your support. I appreciate it. I...I didn’t mean to be...snappish.”

His gaze held hers. Ruth’s heart thudded in quiet beats until he spoke. “I want the business to be successful and well respected, too.” He paused, as if he was going to say more, but then he seemed to think better of it and just nodded.

Ruth took that as the end of the awkward situation, turned on her heel and headed back to where she would attempt to lose herself in the wood. And to try not to worry about the business. Or the pup. Or—she glanced through the glass portion of the door at the increasing volume of whipped snow outside—the weather.

Chapter Four

Malachi’s lip twitched as he watched the diminutive figure stride away. That had to have been hard for her, Miss Nothing-Good-About-Having-You-Here. But she’d done it. His eyes narrowed as he watched her expertly resume the project she’d been working on. He’d been talking with his new employees. To every query, the response was the same: “Ask Ruth. She’ll know.” Was there any part of the business the woman didn’t have her hand in? He could tell from the tone of the unprompted responses that she was respected.

He hadn’t talked with her this morning. She’d looked like a cornered badger when she’d come in late. If she thought she’d been snappish a moment ago, he was thankful he hadn’t approached her then. From his conversations with the men, he’d determined that she was always the first to arrive. So something must’ve happened this morning. She seemed more straightforward than to slacken her efforts just because ownership had changed. The recent interaction showed she cared about the future of the business. The question remained, would she have a future in it?

“Who’s she?”

Malachi turned to see his twenty-one-year-old brother watching Ruth as she assembled what appeared to be a small rolltop desk at the back of the workroom.

“The previous owner’s daughter.”

Samuel rolled his eyes. “Oh, no. Not one of those again.”

Malachi allowed a small smile in commiseration of the sentiment. “Ja.”

“She going to haunt your steps like the other one did?”

His eighteen-year-old brother, Gideon, joined the observation of the auburn-haired woman, who fortunately wasn’t aware of the scrutiny. If she glanced up, the “cornered badger” look would return, complete with hisses and snarls, Malachi thought as his smile progressed to a one-sided grin. Actually, Malachi mused, the analogy fitted pretty well. Badgers were small in stature, protective, blunt and aggressive. Like someone he’d recently met.

“She’s not as pretty as Leah.”

Malachi’s smile evaporated at Gideon’s comment. Yes, with her blond hair and thick-lashed eyes, the daughter of his boss in Ohio had been very attractive. But for some reason, the comparison to Ruth seemed unfair.

“This one works here. It couldn’t be much worse.”

“Samuel, what could’ve been worse is if she hadn’t caught your mistake and we created an error for a customer on our first day on the job. Or had to waste labor and materials to do it over.” The younger men’s eyes dropped before their brother’s steady gaze.

“Ja. You’re right about that.”

“Is the quality of work something I need to be concerned about going forward?”

“Nee. If only to make sure that she doesn’t catch us at it again.” Samuel nodded toward the back of the room.

“Gut.” Malachi dropped a hand on each brother’s shoulder. He was surprised at how muscular those shoulders had become as he gave them a brief, encouraging squeeze. “I’m glad you’re with me on this adventure. It would’ve been harder to leave Ohio without you.”

“You did the right thing.” Gideon earned another squeeze with his support.

“Let’s hope so.” Malachi patted their backs before dropping his hands. “Let’s get some work done today. Show that the Schrock brothers know their way around building furniture.”

Work was accomplished, but it tapered off in efficiency as the intensity of the weather picked up. Malachi watched his employees repeatedly glance up at the encroaching darkness that dimmed the skylights, the primary source of light for the business. Or go to the window and look outside at the growing storm, usually with hands on their hips and a worried expression on their faces. All except his single female employee. She stayed at her task until he could determine the project was indeed a petite rolltop desk. With the ominous change in the weather, no one entered the showroom to distract her from the work.

It was past midafternoon when Malachi called to get their attention. He waited until the machines had been turned off and the hums and squeals of the equipment died down so they could hear him.

“We want to get the work done on time for our customers. In order to do that, we need to ensure that you are safe and sound to come in and do it. We have storms in Ohio, and I’ve heard that the Wisconsin ones can be quite fierce, as well. We’re closing up early today so you can get home and check on your families and livestock before the storm gets worse.”

Although nothing was said, Malachi could tell by the relaxation in the tense faces watching him that his new employees appreciated the early release. He wanted his workforce safe. He was also striving to establish trust as their leader. Working hard in the long run did not always mean working all the time.

The men didn’t need further instructions. Workstations were quickly cleaned up and equipment and materials put away for the day. Malachi saw his brothers by the coatrack, outer gear on and obviously ready to go. He frowned. There was some work in the office he wanted to finish before he left today. Malachi walked toward them, intending to instruct them to wait a bit before they hitched up the buggy. One of his new employees, Jacob, a beardless young man with red hair, was visiting with them as he put on his coat and hat.

Practiced at reading Malachi’s expressions, Samuel grimaced when he saw his brother’s face. “Ach, you’re not ready to go yet. How long must we stay?”

Before Malachi could open his mouth, Jacob spoke. “I live just a mile up the road from the old Yoder place. The house with the corncrib by the end of the lane. You two could come home with me and he could pick you up on the way by.”

Obviously pleased with the offer from Jacob, whose age appeared to fall between Malachi’s and his brothers’, Samuel and Gideon looked hopefully at Malachi. It seemed a reasonable solution and one where they would get to know their neighbors better. Malachi nodded. “I’ll see you there later.”

The young men eagerly headed for the door and pulled it open. They slapped a hand to their heads as the vicious wind threatened to blow their black hats off. Gideon, the last one through, struggled to pull the door shut behind him. It finally closed with a hard click.

Malachi turned to see Ruth, whose workstation was in direct line of the gust, looking at the closed door with wide eyes and arms hugging her shoulders. They were the only ones left in the room. Tools and delicate pieces of wood were neatly arranged about her. She’d still been working.

“Time to go.” Malachi tipped his head toward the door that rattled against the gusting wind.

She turned back to her bench. “I was late getting here. I need to put my time in.”

Stubborn woman. Malachi strode over to the partially assembled desk. “Nee, not today. I won’t have it said that I let you freeze in a ditch on your way home from work.” Green eyes turned to him and spoke clearly that he did not let her do anything. Fortunately, she was prudent enough not to voice the words. He held her gaze. Really, the woman didn’t need any aid in freezing. The outdoor weather would probably be ambient temperature for her.

Finally, she nodded and efficiently began putting away her work. Picking up a few pieces of oak to hand to her, Malachi ran his fingers over the smooth finish. The surface felt like silk under his experienced fingertips. He ran his eyes over the intricate joints in the desk. It was amazing craftsmanship.

“Beautiful work.” He handed her the wood.

Taking it apprehensively, she flicked a look up at his face, judging his sincerity. “Denki.” The rest of the pieces were gathered up quickly, as if to indicate she didn’t need his help.

Malachi raised his eyebrows. Apparently it had been a temporary truce. The badger had returned. He wove his way through the workshop, now empty and quiet, to the showroom door. At the door, he looked back at Ruth. Once he was out of her orbit, her efforts had slowed and she appeared to be working on the desk again. Malachi frowned and jerked the door open with more force than necessary. Stubborn woman, indeed.

Deciding the tasks he’d hoped to finish could wait for another day, Malachi grabbed his coat and hat from the office and secured the front door of the store. Ruth looked up as he reentered the workroom. She scowled and had the rest of her work put away by the time he reached her.

Malachi waited while she tugged on her cape and tied her bonnet. He was going to make sure she went out the door and headed home. He frowned at the thinness of her cape as he followed her black-clad figure to the door. “I’ll help you harness your horse.”

“I can do it myself. Besides, I have to go to the store first.”

Malachi stopped in his tracks. “What? Conditions are dangerous out there. You need to get home.” The exasperation that colored his tone was a stranger to him. It’d never been there before. “Whatever it is will wait.”

“No, it won’t. I have responsibilities.”

“So do I. I’m responsible for making sure you get home safely.” He was tired of talking to the back of her black bonnet. Fortunately—or unfortunately—she whipped around and he found himself facing blazing green eyes and what looked like a few freckles on the cheeks under the encompassing brim. A dainty chin tipped up toward him above the big black bow.

“No. You are not. I’ve been taking care of myself for some time now. I don’t need you to take care of me on your first day here. I’m going to Piggly Wiggly before I head home.” Turning to jerk open the door, she almost tumbled into the wall when the force of the wind hit the portal. Recovering quickly, she bent her slight frame against the gusts and headed down the street to where Malachi had learned the grocery store was located. Her figure soon disappeared in the whipping snow. Shaking his head, Malachi locked the door and headed for the shed. Stubborn woman, he muttered to himself again. Even a badger was wise enough to get out of a snowstorm.

* * *

Ruth didn’t know what made her cheeks more red, the blasts of wind that threatened to steal her breath or embarrassment and self-disgust at her behavior. Another proverb came to mind as she ducked her head against the blowing snow. It is better to give others a piece of your heart than a piece of your mind. She felt the staccato beat of snow pelting the top of her bonnet, like it was trying to tap the reminder into her head. Well, he had enough pieces of her mind to put together a puzzle by now. A piece of her heart? That was an amusing thought, even beyond the fact that he’d surely been baptized by now, and was therefore remaining Amish. And she wouldn’t be. Therefore, not even a splinter of her heart would be allowed to consider his direction.

Besides, there wasn’t room in her heart and mind for anything right now beyond fretting over the safety and security of the puppy, something she’d been doing all day. Was she responsible enough in her care for him? Was he smart enough to stay out of the weather? Unlike his new owner?

That brought her back to the abrupt discussion at the workshop. As she and the new owner were leaving, she’d had the discomfiting realization that not only would she not be the one to open the shop every day, something she’d done for years, she’d also no longer be the one to close it up at the day’s end. So she’d latched onto the one thing she knew she could handle in accountability, her own care. After the way she’d lashed out at his offer, worrying about herself might be the only thing she had left to do. She might not have to worry about a job anymore, and she wasn’t ready to leave just yet. Dear Lord, please help me keep my mouth shut.

Exiting Piggly Wiggly a short time later, she was almost blown back into the sliding doors. Ruth looked beyond the grocery store’s parking lot to where the road was no longer visible and sent up another fervent prayer. Please, Lord, I hope it is Your will that Bess and I get safely home to the puppy. Please don’t let my stubbornness affect the two animals in my care.

The relief from the blocked wind when Ruth entered the shed housing the horses was indescribable. So was her surprise at seeing Bess almost harnessed. Ruth dropped her bags by the wheel of her buggy and raced over to help. Looking up at her approach, Malachi seemed to take in the snow-crusted cape and bonnet.

“Did you get your important shopping done?” There was a curtness in his voice she hadn’t heard before. Ruth winced, knowing she deserved it.

“Ja,” she said breathlessly, reaching under Bess to hand him the girth. Her chilled hand touched his and she jerked it back. He paused momentarily, as well. Bess stomped her foot, encouraging them to get on with it. Ruth hurriedly renewed her efforts, careful to keep her hands on her side of the mare. She didn’t want to explore the feeling that’d shot up her arm at the touch of his cool fingers.

Lifting up the shafts of the buggy, she guided Bess between them. Malachi was doing the same to a bay gelding. Faster than her at connecting the straps and buckles that safely secured the horse to the buggy, he came around to her side to help her finish. When he saw she was almost ready, he picked up her dropped bags and moved to set them in the buggy, glancing in the open sacks as he did so.

“You went out in a blizzard to get a dog toy?”

Ruth hunched a shoulder. “I needed it.” She didn’t look at him as she scrambled into the buggy. But she caught a glimpse of his face before she secured the door. He was not happy.

She gently slapped the reins against Bess’s back. The mare needed no further encouragement to exit the shed. Ducking her head against the blowing snow, she started a brisk trot toward home.

No nudging required for the old girl tonight. Ruth tucked the blanket about her on the seat, glad once again that she’d remembered to throw it into the buggy this morning. The mare wanted to get home to a warm barn and hay. Ruth wanted to get home to make sure Rascal was warm and safe. Getting out of the elements herself seemed like a pretty good idea, as well.

Within moments, the brown back trotting in front of the buggy was splattered with white. Ruth stared apprehensively at the road in the rapidly dimming light of the late afternoon. It was hard to believe that she’d driven in with brown and a bit of green fringing the roadside. Now she was glad to even see the sides of the country road that they’d just turned onto. Hopefully Bess’s judgment was better than her own at knowing where the road ended and the ditch began.

Ruth was thankful she wasn’t attempting this in the dark. She supposed she had Malachi to thank for that. And for harnessing Bess so she could head home sooner. Ruth saw motion in the small rearview mirror that jutted out from the buggy’s side. A bay and buggy had just turned down her road. Recognizing the rig as the one ready in the shed before she’d left, Ruth frowned. He should’ve gone straight at the intersection. Why was Malachi following her home? It would take him at least five miles out of the way on a horrible night.

As the temperature dropped, the light dimmed and the howling wind rose further, Ruth became grateful for the companionship on the road. It was the only company she encountered on the long, cold trip. When the buggy lurched as Bess cut the corner short into the lane, Ruth was never more glad to see the building shapes that identified her farmstead in the swirling snow. She darted a look at the chicken coop as Bess pulled hard toward the big barn doors.

Ruth would’ve gasped when she partially rolled up the buggy door to slip out if the wind had allowed her enough air to do so. The driving snow stung her cheeks and tried to tug her bonnet from her head. To keep from tumbling ahead of its force, Ruth kept hold of the buggy and then of Bess as she worked her way to the doors that shook ominously in their frames.

Bracing herself for the jerk when she released the latch and the doors suddenly became kites, she almost fell in surprise when two arms reached in front of her to pull the lever back and opened the doors in a controlled, albeit jolting, manner. Securing her attention, Malachi waved her into his own buggy. Bess needed no further instruction, driver or no. As soon as the opening was wide enough, she swept inside. Ruth hustled into Malachi’s buggy. Driving the gelding into the big barn as well, she was instantly enveloped in the smell of hay and livestock. Malachi wrestled the doors shut behind them.

The sudden break from the force of the driving snow was eerie, as was the wail of the wind as it attacked the barn’s walls. Ruth wobbled her way down the buggy steps, more shaken from the ride than she cared to admit.

Bess bobbed her head. Ruth knew the mare. She was saying, “I got you here. Now get me my supper.” That reminded Ruth of her other charge. Dashing to the side door of the barn, she wrenched it open. There was a brief, startled call from Malachi before the howl of the wind shut out every other sound. Bowing her head against the buffeting snow, she pushed her way to the henhouse. Her cold fingers were clumsy on the door latch. Biting a chilled lower lip, she worked the frozen bolt from the latch, flung open the door and stumbled in.

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