The Way to a Man's Heart (The Miller Family 3) Read online

  “That was called a strike,” Daniel said in her ear. He was sitting directly behind her. “The ball was right over home plate in the strike zone.” He made an indecipherable motion with his hands.

  “She understands the game,” Steven snapped. He’d plunked down in the seat on her right. “She’s not stupid.”

  “No, I’m not,” she said. “But I don’t know why those men in the field keep changing their minds about where to stand. They move to a different spot with each batter.”

  “That’s easy,” Steven said, with an entirely different tone than the one used for Daniel. “Some batters are known for hitting fastballs—hard hits that put the players back toward the wall. Others try to sneak a bunt or a short hit near third base, so the infielders come in closer to the plate.” Steven proceeded to describe other variables in positioning, but Leah’s mind and gaze had started to wander. She spotted Rachel and the other girls surrounded on all sides by males. How did this happen when we had planned to sit together?

  The boys had finagled it! The realization sent a jolt of current up her spine. She’d never felt attractive until this spring, and she had to admit she liked it.

  Without warning, everyone erupted into jubilation. The couple in front of her spilled their soft drinks. “Home run!” Steven shouted, pulling her to her feet. “With the bases loaded—a grand slam!”

  She clapped her hands and whistled through her teeth—a rare talent her father said a girl was better off forgetting. Exploding fireworks filled the sky with a dozen loud booms that would rattle windowpanes for blocks. “A home run,” she repeated with newfound appreciation for the event. Then she sat back down and folded her hands in her lap. It wouldn’t do to look overly competitive. Fans of the other team could be sitting nearby.

  “This is for you, Leah. My treat.” John, looking less bashful than usual, handed her a giant soft pretzel and a soft drink. He had leaned over two people to do so.

  “Danki very much,” she said, taking a bite. “Your next three pieces of Peach Parfait Supreme are on the house.” The mood of the afternoon had altered her acute business sense.

  Before the end of the inning, Daniel returned to his seat with two foot-long hot dogs. “Try this, Leah. It has relish and stadium mustard.” He passed one over her shoulder.

  “Oh, goodness, that’s just how I like ’em.” Just to be polite, she ate the entire hot dog, an accomplishment that greatly pleased Daniel.

  The sun, marking a path across the sky, found its way under her cap brim. The heat, the excitement, and the cuisine were starting to wear her down, but she couldn’t ever remember having so much fun.

  “Another homer,” Steven shouted, “with men on second and third.” He pulled her to her feet to join the fracas. She tried to clap but spilled Coke down her dress instead. She took the spilled soda in stride. Tomorrow she could always wash her dress, but it wasn’t often she saw the home team take the lead in the ninth.

  Much too soon the game was over; the Indians cinched the win in the top of the ninth inning. The crowd roared, fireworks exploded, and Leah, tired but jubilant, joined the others heading for an exit. Steven reappeared at her side. “Here you go, Leah. I bought some nachos. I hope you like jalapenos.” He still looked full of energy.

  She took one glance at the soggy tortilla chips with melted cheese already congealing and felt her stomach take a tumble. “No, danki. You go ahead and enjoy. I’m a little full.”

  Steven didn’t recognize a polite refusal when he heard one. “Just try a couple. I ate a whole plate of them during the fifth inning. They’re really good.” He held them under her nose in an attempt to entice. The jalapenos seemed to multiply in number. She shook her head, and was about to stand firm when they were interrupted.

  “If she doesn’t want any, she doesn’t want any,” Daniel said, coming up from behind them. “Don’t be a pest.”

  Steven’s face turned as red as his ball cap. “Who’s being a pest? You’re the one butting his nose in where it don’t belong. Leah’s only trying to be polite.”

  Things might have gone differently if their group hadn’t spilled into the throng in the main concourse. People, eager to reach their cars, jostled and nudged the line along. Unaccustomed to large crowds like this, Leah felt the tension around her escalate.

  “She doesn’t want any nachos,” Daniel insisted. He reached out to grab the plate away, but in the midst of pushing and shoving the nachos ended up splattered across Steven’s shirt.

  Then things happened so fast Leah wasn’t sure what took place. A fist shot out that connected with Daniel’s nose with an audible thud. Then a returning punch landed smack in Steven’s solar plexus, doubling him over and causing him to gasp for air.

  “Leah!” a female voice yelled. Sarah Yoder, Rachel’s married older sister, pulled her out of harm’s way.

  “That’s enough!” bellowed Sam Yoder, Sarah’s husband. “You two should be ashamed of yourselves.” He yanked Steven upright none too gently, while he shot Daniel an expression that could have curdled cream.

  Apparently they were ashamed, because the fight ended as quickly as it began. But the damage had been done; they had attracted plenty of gawking from passersby.

  Leah’s face burned with shame.

  Yet a small thrill inched up her spine too. Those men were fighting over me. As distasteful as fistfights were, Leah felt flattered that their tiff was over her.

  Flattered, yet embarrassed…and a little queasy.

  Sarah and Sam Yoder, who’d come along with another married couple as chaperones, looked mad as hornets. Daniel, with spots of blood on his shirt from his nose, and Steven, with melted cheese down the front of his clothes, looked mortified.

  Would word of the altercation get back to the bishop? Most assuredly it would. And Leah had been at the center of the disagreement. She suddenly didn’t feel buoyed by the attention anymore. How did it look to Englischers when all they heard about Amish folk was their peaceful, gentle nature? Leah realized the seriousness of Daniel’s and Steven’s actions during the walk back to the bus. Sarah Yoder was frowning. Sam looked furious. And Rachel looked frightened, along with most of the others as they exchanged glances with Leah and the two brawlers.

  In addition to humiliation and anxiety, irritation jumped into her stew of emotions. Did I ask those boys to fuss so much over me? Have I ever encouraged their attention and frequent visits to the diner?

  She certainly hadn’t wanted all the snacks they’d bought as her stomach roiled in protest. The bus ride back to Holmes County would be no Sunday picnic. She would soon be in trouble with her parents and maybe the bishop when gossip reached his ears. With so much to contemplate, she slumped down in the seat next to Rachel.

  “Don’t worry. My sister will calm down by the time we get home,” Rachel whispered. “And this will soon blow over.” But her pale face indicated that even she didn’t believe her optimistic words.

  Leah snatched the ball cap from her head and scrunched it into her purse. Closing her eyes, she planned how to explain the mess to her parents. Fortunately, when the bus dropped her off at home, her daed had already gone to bed.

  Julia sat at the kitchen table sipping tea when Leah pushed open the door. “There you are. How about a cup of fresh mint tea? I just picked the leaves today,” she said. With Leah’s affirmative nod, Julia continued, “And I made a double batch of your favorite Spellbinder bars. Can’t let you think your mamm forgot how to bake now that we have a professional in the house.” A smile brightened her tired face.

  Leah slipped into a chair at the table. “Danki, but can I eat a couple bars for breakfast? It feels as though Curly kicked me in the stomach from all the junk food I ate at the game.”

  “All right.” Julia studied her while stirring a teaspoon of maple syrup into the tea. “What’s wrong, daughter? You look worse than from a simple bellyache.”

  Leah met mamm’s gaze and began to relay the entire disgraceful story.

  When s
he had finished, Julia shook her head and clucked her tongue as any mother would. “Sounds like you need to think long and hard about the messages you’re sending to the boys of this district. You might not be responsible for that fistfight, but I suggest you reconsider encouraging those hotheads.” She paused to sip her drink. “You have one reputation. You need to handle it like a porcelain doll.”

  Leah didn’t fully understand what she meant by messages or the comparison to a breakable knickknack, but she was too tired to ask questions. She wanted to swallow a couple Tums and sleep until noon.

  “Take your tea to your room and don’t forget your prayers,” Julia said. “Ask God for insight for how you might have prevented this unpleasantness. Then go to bed.”

  Leah counted her blessings all the way up the stairs, not waiting to kneel beside the bed. She’d expected a much worse lecture from her mamm. The topic might not be finished once her daed heard the story, but at least she didn’t have to pray for God’s guidance this time. The answer came to her like a lightning bolt. Steven, Daniel, and John would get no further attention from her beyond simple customer courtesy. She would concentrate on cooking and baking—things she enjoyed best anyway.

  As they say, “No good deed goes unpunished.”

  Jeff Andrews had given his assistant every onerous stable chore during the ten days after Matthew confronted him. He’d had to muck out stalls, scrub water troughs, and mop the floor in the men’s bunkhouse, all because he’d seen Andrews administer an injection.

  For all the good it had done. Matthew hadn’t seen a vet visit the yearling’s stall, and the colt was still limping. But at least the trainer had suspended his workouts to give the leg time to heal. Andrews muttered under his breath every time Matt walked by. Despite his good intentions, things had gone from bad to worse. Last night Matthew had prayed long and hard for the right path to take. On the one hand, he liked the work and jobs for horse trainers were hard to come by. Getting fired would put building a house further into the future, just as courting Martha had become a distinct possibility. On the other hand, he’d forged a special bond with the colt in stall twenty-three. Somebody had to speak up for those who communicated with a shake of their mane or the toss of their head.

  By dawn, as the birds raised a ruckus outside his window, he had known the answer. A man got only one chance to do the right thing, but he had to look at himself every morning in the shaving mirror.

  “Mr. Macintosh, sir?” Matthew asked, after knocking on the owner’s partially closed office door.

  “Come in, come in,” a voice boomed.

  Matthew stepped into his employer’s office for the first time. Even when he’d been hired, the interview had been in the smaller stable office. In a side wing off the house, this room had floor-to-ceiling bookcases on three walls while the fourth had windows that overlooked rolling pasturelands. Mr. Mac glanced up from his scattered papers.

  “Excuse me, sir,” Matthew said. “The foreman said I could find you here.” He took a step closer to the huge old-fashioned desk.

  “What can I help you with, son? I’ve been hearing good things from the owners of every horse you work with. What exactly do you whisper into their ears?”

  Matthew smiled. He liked his nickname once the movie reference had finally been explained to him. “I tell them if they do what they ought, there’ll be extra sorghum in their feed.”

  As Mr. Mac laughed, Matthew shuffled his feet and cleared his throat. He didn’t want to waste time with small talk because his courage might evaporate at any moment. “Mr. Mac, I don’t enjoy tattling on another man, especially on one who knows his stuff and works mighty hard for you. But I saw something that wasn’t right, something that has bothered me ever since.” He paused to collect his thoughts.

  “Go on, son. Speak your mind.” The stable owner studied him curiously.

  “A vet needs to look at that colt in stall twenty-three. I think he might have a torn ligament in his foreleg. Andrews injected something meant to reduce swelling, but I think it’s more serious than a strain.”

  His boss stared at him. “Have you talked about this with the other assistant trainers?”

  “No, sir. I discussed it with Andrews but no one else. I care about the colt, but I ain’t out to ruin a man’s reputation.”

  Mr. Mac pursed his lips together. “I’ll mosey on down and take a look at the colt myself. I’ll just happen to notice…that way Jeff won’t fire you for going over his head, and he would be within his rights. If a vet is warranted, one will be here today. You can be sure about that. But in the future, do your job and learn what you can from Andrews. That guy knows this business inside and out.” He pulled down his reading glasses and peered at Matthew over the top of them. “Whereas you, son, still got plenty to learn.”

  Matthew had a bad taste in his mouth for the remainder of the day. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but it sure wasn’t Mr. Mac turning a blind eye to Andrews’ shenanigans.

  Those who wink at wrong cause trouble. Proverbs 10:10 was one of his pa’s favorite Scriptures.

  He just got a firsthand look for himself.

  Jamie wished he’d taken a course on time management in college, because being in two places at the same time wasn’t easy. Since the successful dinner meeting three nights ago, he’d put in fourteen-hour days to catch up on paperwork and get ahead with chores. His father was pleased but his wife had grown sullen. They had no time alone but plenty of company at every meal. Late in the evening before they went to bed, he would hold her in his arms on the porch swing. Only then would Emma laugh with him as they talked of their future.

  But today they were headed to a family wedding in Winesburg. And because he’d recently been so industrious, they would spend the night with his in-laws. Emma had baked and cooked and packed two hampers. The look of joy on her face was worth every mile of the two-hour drive.

  “Mamm, daed,” she called when she spotted them outside the building where the wedding would take place. She walked as fast as she could without running.

  “Hurry up, daughter,” Simon hollered. “It’s time for the service to start.”

  “Save me a seat,” Jamie called to her. “I’ll unhitch the horse and be right there.”

  News and gossip would have to wait until the three-hour preaching service that included the exchange of wedding vows was over. Then after the wedding dinner, they would have an afternoon of socializing.

  When he and Emma finished eating, she hurried off to join a group of young matrons while Jamie spotted his brother-in-law sitting alone in the shade. He headed in that direction. “They’re starting a game of horseshoes if you want to join in,” Jamie said.

  “I’d rather just sit and think. Got plenty on my mind these days.” Matthew’s words sounded as downcast as his face looked.

  “Prefer to be alone to sort it out?”

  “Nah, I’d appreciate your company.” Matt gazed up with hangdog eyes. “I did the right thing, Jamie. I went to Mr. Mac with what I’d seen. Although he called in a vet, he pretty much told me to mind my own business and do what I’m told.”

  Jamie sighed and plopped down next to Matt in the grass, despite his Sunday clothes. “Sometimes doing the right thing comes with a price,” he said softly.

  “That seems to be true for me. The trainer treats me worse than before, if that’s possible. Even though Mr. Mac acted like he noticed the colt limping on his own, I think Andrews knows I went over his head.”

  “People who do bad things always believe other people do too,” Jamie said, and then he immediately realized his mistake. “Not that you did a bad thing—”

  “I’m glad I told Mr. Mac. At least a vet came to treat the horse. I don’t care what Andrews thinks about me.” Matthew leaned his head back against the tree.

  Jamie knew his brother-in-law cared a great deal. It was normal to want to get along at work, but he let it slide. This would be one long row to hoe for Matthew with no easy solution, so he changed
the subject. “Say, I wanted to tell you my standardbred buggy horse is minding every one of my signals and commands. You did a world of good with him and with me too. Even my dad can hardly believe he’s the same horse.”

  Matthew’s expression brightened considerably. “Ach, you’re not used to buggy trainin’, is all. I didn’t really do that much.”

  “That’s not true. Even my friend Sam was impressed with the change in temperament, and he is used to buggy horses. I don’t feel right not paying you, Matt. All you got for your trouble was a plate of Emma’s fried chicken.”

  “And fine fried chicken it was. Consider us square.” Matt rose to his feet and brushed off his trousers. “I miss Emma’s chicken. Nobody does it better, but don’t tell Leah I said that.”

  Jamie decided now was a good time to speak his mind. “You know I meant what I said about Sam Yoder being impressed. Apparently it’s not only ex-Englischers who run into trouble with balky horses. Have you ever thought about offering your services to Amish folk? Lots of people buy horses at auction and break them instead of training them because they don’t know any better. You could advertise the services you’re good at in the community. People could turn a bargain nag they bought at auction into something worthwhile.”

  Matthew was staring at him skeptically, but Jamie also saw wheels turning in his head. Then he said, “I earn a good salary at Macintosh Farms. Nobody will come close to paying me what I earn there.” He broke eye contact and gazed off at the fields. “I need to save money to build a house. Lumber and nails aren’t getting any cheaper. I would like to get married before I turn seventy.”

  “True, it would take time to establish a reputation and get the word out, but I think there’s money to be made. Lots of Amish are breeding horses to sell and starting riding academies and farm vacations for tourists. They could use your services too. At least give it some thought. You’d be your own boss and wouldn’t have to deal with the likes of Jeff Andrews ever again.” Jamie stopped and caught his breath. Talking someone into a life-altering decision wasn’t a good idea. This was something his young brother-in-law needed to decide for himself.