The Saddle Maker's Son Part 1

The Saddle Maker's Son.

Kelly Irvin.

To Tim, Nicholas and Angelica, Erin and Shawn, and the little ones, Brooklyn and Carson. You are the reason I rise in the morning each day. Love always.

Then people brought little children to Jesus for him to place his hands on them and pray for them. But the disciples rebuked them. Jesus said, "Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these."

MATTHEW 19:1314.

As a mother comforts her child, so will I comfort you.

ISAIAH 66:13..

DEUTSCH VOCABULARY*

aenti: aunt.

Ausbund: Amish hymnbook bopli, boplin: baby, babies bruder: brother.

daed: father danki: thank you dawdy haus: grandparents' house.

dochder: daughter doplisch: clumsy Englischer: English or non-Amish fraa: wife.

Gott: G.o.d groossdaadi: grandpa groossmammi: grandma gut: good hund: dog.

jah: yes kaffi: coffee.

kinner: children lieb: love mann: husband meidung: avoidance, shunning mudder: mother.

nee: no onkel: uncle Ordnung: written and unwritten rules in an Amish district rumspringa: period of running around.

schtinkich: stink, stinky schweschder: sister.

suh: son wunderbarr: wonderful.

*The German dialect spoken by the Amish is not a written language and varies depending on the location and origin of the settlement. These spellings are approximations. Most Amish children learn English after they start school. They also learn high German, which is used in their Sunday services.

FEATURED BEE COUNTY AMISH FAMILIES.

Mordecai and Abigail King.

Abram (and wife, Theresa) Phineas (and wife, Deborah; children: Timothy and Melinda) Samuel.

Jacob Rebekah (Abigail's daughter) Caleb (Abigail's son).

Hazel (Abigail's daughter) Susan King (Mordecai's sister) Leroy and Naomi Glick.

Adam (and wife, Esther [Mordecai's daughter]) Jesse (and wife, Leila [Abigail's daughter]; children: Grace and Emmanuel).

Joseph Simon Sally.

Mary Elizabeth Will (minister) (and wife, Isabella [Aaron Shrock's daughter]).

Aaron and Jolene Shrock Matthew John.

James Molly Amanda.

Stephen and Ruth Anne Stetler.

Joseph Hannah.

Levi Byler (widower) Tobias David.

Martha Milo Rueben Micah Ida.

Nyla Liam Jeremiah (bishop) and Lena Hostetler.

Vesta.

Elijah Rachel Susie.

Phillip Noah Annie Mary.

Henry Moses.

A NOTE TO READERS OF THE AMISH OF BEE COUNTY SERIES.

If you wonder whatever happened to the Lantz sisters' cousin Franny, be sure to look for the novella A Christmas Visitor in the anthology An Amish Christmas Gift. Franny finds true love all her own. Those readers who are feeling a little sorry for Will Glick, who didn't get the girl not once but twice, worry no more. Read the Sweeter than Honey novella in the anthology The Amish Market. Will finds the woman he's been waiting for all along. Happy reading!.

ONE.

Alone at last. Rebekah Lantz tugged the creaking shed door shut and leaned against it. The folded piece of paper from her sister Leila weighed heavy as a stone in her hand. When had she managed to tuck it into the two-seater Rebekah drove with Susan to and from the school five days a week? Did she slip in while Rebekah was listening to the younger scholars read aloud? Surely not. Leila had a baby daughter to think about now and a husband. She couldn't be roaming the countryside delivering notes.

The fact that she had done just that made Rebekah's stomach rock. Guilt swirled there, mixing with a swelling ache to see her sister and a baby niece who would see her aenti as a stranger. A Plain woman such as herself should forgive. No matter how much Leila's decision to leave hurt. No matter how it left Rebekah with little chance of finding love herself among the young men who looked at her and knew exactly what Leila had done.

Just because Leila had given up everything to follow Jesse into the Englisch world didn't mean Rebekah would leave too. She longed to scream out those words at the next singing. Put them to music. Write her own song. Still, it wouldn't change the look on the faces of those boys she'd known her entire life. Deer caught in the headlights of an Englisch truck barreling toward them on the highway.

She had to open the note, read it. Its weight seemed to increase as each second ticked by. The cracks in the weathered boards of the shed allowed afternoon sun to filter through in stripes like bars. The April sun was warm, as if reminding Rebekah Texas didn't wait around for summer like the northern states did. Her eyes adjusted to the dusky interior after a few seconds. The smells of mold, decaying wood, and dirt floated in the air. Old egg crates, a broken desk, a stack of chairs, a wooden door with white peeling paint filled the small room.

She wasn't a coward.

Swallowing against the knot of apprehension that always choked her when she did something of which her mudder would not approve, Rebekah unfolded the single sheet of notebook paper and peered at Leila's neat block writing.

Dear schweschder, Hope you are well. We must meet. I need to talk to you face-to-face. Come to where the school path meets the road Friday at lunch. I'll be driving the green VW Bug. Can you believe I drive? Give Hazel a kiss for me.

Love, Leila.

Inhaling the ripe scents that reminded her of how everything returned to the earth in the end, Rebekah reread the note a second time. Leila skipped along in life with nary a thought for how her actions affected others. Abdicating her family. Or inviting Rebekah to a meeting that would cause her great trouble if Mudder or Mordecai found out.

Rebekah's job as an aide to Susan King wasn't much, but it was all she had. She would never be allowed to get a job in town. Every day since that Christmas Eve two years ago, Mudder and Mordecai had watched Rebekah, never letting her go far from their sight, as if waiting for her to take flight too.

Mudder blamed Leila's exposure to the Englisch world while working at the day care in town for all her actions. Not love. For surely it was love that made a person do these strange, inexplicable things. Rebekah wouldn't know. How could she when the boys avoided her like poison ivy? At nineteen, Rebekah had no special friend and no chance of having one.

Pressing the note to her chest, she closed eyes that burned with tears she refused to shed. In the two years since Leila had left, Rebekah had never seen her sister or the baby Grace, now ten months old. Why now? And with such short notice? Plenty of time to forgive and forget, as she was called to do. Yet here she stood with pain and anger barricaded together behind the walls of a hardened heart.

She had to see Leila. If for no other reason than to say those words. Saying them was the first step in letting the past go. Leastways, that was what the bishop would say.

A sound, like a m.u.f.fled sneeze, broke the silence. Rebekah jumped and dropped the note.

The one place she'd thought to be alone.

"h.e.l.lo?"

Nothing. Apprehension filled her lungs, making it hard to breathe. Her heart pounded. Rebekah scooped up the note and took two steps back. She put her shaking hand on a broken desk that leaned against the wall. "Who's there?"

Something or someone scuttled along the far wall behind the stack of egg crates. Rebekah took a step toward the door. "I know you're there. I'll go outside and you can come out. I won't hurt you."

Such bravado.

What if a prisoner had escaped from the prison near Beeville again? Memories of her brother-in-law Phineas's bruised face and bloodied arm spun through her mind's eye. Phineas and Deborah had escaped and the prisoner from the McConnell Unit had been captured, but not before damage had been done.

She whirled, jerked open the door, and stumbled into the fresh air and light.

A young girl shot past her, dragging a little boy by the hand. The boy, dressed in faded blue jeans and a gray T-shirt that might have been white at one time, stumbled and fell to his knees. A filthy, bedraggled Mickey Mouse backpack weighed him down. The girl, who looked eleven or twelve, paused and jerked him to his feet. They were both all bones and no flesh, all angles and points. Their faces were dirty, their dark hair matted to their heads. Tears streaked the boy's face.

"Wait, wait, who are you?" Rebekah hurled herself after them. The girl sped up, headed for the stand of live oaks, hackberries, and junipers at the edge of the school yard. "Stop! We have food. Comida."

The girl halted. She swiveled and stared back at Rebekah, the expression on her brown face a mixture of hope and suspicion. Her arm went around the boy, who looked about Rebekah's little sister Hazel's age, maybe five or six. His almond-shaped eyes were huge in his thin face. "Comida?"

Rebekah had studied Spanish in an old textbook she'd found in a secondhand bookstore for almost three years now, in hopes of one day being allowed to cross into Mexico when the older folks made their trips to Progreso to the dentist or to buy medicines. She knew what the words were but had no idea if she was p.r.o.nouncing them correctly. "Food. Co . . . mi . . . da. Are you hungry?"

The girl nodded hard. "Mi hermano tiene hambre."

They were brother and sister. Who they were and why they were in the district's schoolhouse shed didn't matter as much to Rebekah as the idea that children were going without food. She pointed to them, then the schoolhouse, and put her hand on her chest. "You come inside with me."

The boy began to back away, dragging his backpack with him. He shook his head, fear etched across his elfin features.

"You want me to bring the food to you?"

The girl tugged at her brother. "S."

"No one will hurt you, I promise. What's your name? Nombre?"

The girl c.o.c.ked her head toward the boy, who pressed his face against her shirt. "Him Diego." She thumped her chest. "Lupe."

"I'm Rebekah." She tapped her chest with her index finger. "Wait here. I'll be back. Don't go anywhere. No one will bother you out here."

She dashed across the yard, hopped over the two steps that led to the small porch, and tugged open the door. Inside, she skidded to a stop. The first graders stood at the front of the room, reading aloud to Susan. The middle grades wrote essays while the older boys and girls graded the younger children's arithmetic tests.

She sidled over to where Susan stood, arms crossed, a patient smile plastered on her plump face. "There you are. You said you were going to get your lunch box from the buggy. I thought maybe you decided teaching wasn't for you and went home." Susan chuckled and patted Mary on the shoulder. "Good job. Molly, you're next."

"I need to tell you something." Rebekah leaned in and whispered, not wanting to get the entire school riled up. "Over by the stove."

Susan's eyebrows arched. "Caleb, come listen to Molly read for me."

Grinning, Caleb popped up from his seat. Knowing her younger brother as she did, Rebekah a.s.sumed he was thrilled to get out of writing his essay, even if only for a few moments.

Susan followed her to the long cabinets that lined one wall, providing storage s.p.a.ce for lunch boxes and school supplies. "Something wrong?"

"Nee. Well, maybe. I don't know." Rebekah drummed her fingers on the countertop. She had a peanut b.u.t.ter and wild-grape jam sandwich in her cooler. Two oatmeal cookies. Some cold fried potatoes. Not enough for two hungry children. "I found two kinner hiding in the shed."

Susan swung around toward the rows of desks. Her hand went up, her chubby finger pointing, and she began to count in a whisper.

"Nee, not ours. I'm not sure where they came from, but-"

"Did you ask them where they came from?" Susan's schoolteacher voice commanded an answer. "What were they doing in the shed?"

"Hiding, I guess-"

"Why?"

"I don't know. They don't speak much English."

"They're from Mexico?"

"I don't think so. They sounded . . . different."