The Amish Cowboy's Homecoming Read online

  “Whoooooa…” The girls said in unison, gazing at Grace with matching expressions of amazement. Grace was tempted to add that she’d been a horse trainer for most of her life but didn’t want to brag.

  “That is so dang cool,” Lola said.

  “Yeah,” her friend added. “Majorly impressed, here. I love your top. Is it homemade?”

  Grace smiled and ran her hands down the sleeves of her sweater, feeling its softness. “My mammi knit it for my mother when she was my age. Mammi—that means grandma.”

  “Oh, awesome.”

  “I like your boots,” Grace said to Lola, returning the compliment.

  “Danke,” she said with a little smile, then grabbed Grace’s arm. “Is it okay if I say that?”

  Grace laughed. “Of course!”

  “Hiya.” Isaac was suddenly beside her, sliding in to take his place right at her side, causing Grace to take in a breath of surprise. “Here. I knew the line would take a while, so I thought we could split this in the meantime.” He handed her a sticky bun wrapped in a napkin. It was still warm. “Got extra napkins in my pocket.”

  “Danke,” Grace said, her heart warming at his thoughtfulness.

  “Ohmigosh… That is soooo sweeeet.” Hollis was gazing at them, her hands pressed over her heart. “Did you see that, Lola?”

  “Yes. And I totally just died a little.” She leaned over to speak quietly to her friend. “He’s a total hottie.”

  “Um, hello, yeah, like I didn’t notice that small fact.”

  Isaac looked at Grace, confused amusement in his eyes. “You’ve been making friends,” he said, leaning down to her, speaking Pennsylvania Dutch. He was so close that Grace felt his warm breath against her face.

  “How long have you been together?” Lola asked.

  “Do you have kids? I bet they’re adorable.”

  It took a moment for Grace to register what they were talking about. She lifted her eyes to Isaac, who was looking down at her, eyebrows bent.

  Simultaneously, they stepped away from each other.

  “Friends,” Grace said to them, pointing back and forth at herself and Isaac. “Just friends.”

  “Noooo.” Lola said with a big frown, her shoulders slumping.

  “Truly?” Hollis added. “That breaks my heart. Are either of you with anyone else?”

  “Married, you mean?” Grace asked. “Nay. Single.”

  “Ah!” Lola perked up. “Well then. It might totally happen.” She narrowed her eyes and nodded sagely. “I have a feeling about you two. Oh! You’re next in line!”

  “It was nice visiting with you,” Grace said, smiling at both of them. “It made the time go by.”

  “I was afraid you wouldn’t want to talk to us,” Hollis said. “Gunner’s brother said Amish people don’t mingle with anyone else. But then we got in line behind you and you looked so friendly, and…” She lifted her shoulders. “We decided to try.”

  Grace felt a bigger smile spreading across her face. “I’m so glad you did. I hope you have a wonderful day.” She turned to Isaac, who’d already ordered two cups of soup.

  “Want crackers?” he asked.

  “Sure,” Grace said, feeling sunny beams from heaven shining down.

  She felt good inside and gratified she’d decided to engage with the English ladies. Being with mostly plain folk made her sometimes shy around other types of people. But they’d been very respectful to her, interested, and so amusing.

  “Bye,” Hollis said, waving her fingers as they walked away.

  They thought we were a couple, Grace couldn’t help remembering as they strolled to a picnic table. Was the assumption impertinent? Or had they seen something in how they behaved together?

  “You have a crumb right there.” Isaac reached out and touched the corner of her mouth with his pinkie finger.

  At the touch, Grace felt a wave of heat gush through her chest, sending tingles down her arms and hands, leaving a strange sort of giddiness in her head. It was the same kind of feeling she’d had when he’d shown her his breaking style, and then again when he’d held her around the waist when they’d switched seats in the buggy.

  When Grace realized she’d never felt that way before, the tiniest voice in the back of her mind wondered if that might be how it felt when you were falling for someone.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Isaac knew bringing Grace here had been an inspired idea. He just hadn’t realized how much fun he would have, too. If they weren’t listening to one of the many auction callers, or snacking on a funnel cake, they were laughing or pointing out funny things to each other. Grace had taken to the mud sale like a fish to water.

  Every so often, he worried that John wouldn’t approve of Isaac inviting his daughter to spend the day with him. But he managed to block that out of his head every time he saw Grace smile.

  “What do you think of that one?”

  “Uh-uh.” Grace tilted her head. “See the sway in his back? I wouldn’t bid more than fifty.”

  They were standing front row at the fence, arms resting on the top rung, watching the horses up for auction being paraded in and out of the ring. It was almost one p.m., and the chilly start to the day had turned quite warm. Isaac had already taken off his coat and left it in their buggy, leaving him in his best white shirt and black vest.

  Grace had removed her black sweater and tied it around her waist. It wasn’t common for an Amish woman to openly display her figure in public or in private, but she’d told Isaac how special the sweater was to her and she didn’t want to risk it being stolen.

  Isaac knew her decision wasn’t out of vanity. Though he’d been fighting an inward battle with himself to stop noticing the curves of her body. It made him remember how he’d touched her in the buggy when they’d switched seats. Despite what he knew was right, it made him want to touch her like that again.

  “Pretty,” Grace said when a rusty-brown American saddlebred mare trotted into the ring. Her mane was dark brown and she had a white splotch on her forehead.

  “Remind you of someone?” Isaac asked.

  Grace smiled and dipped her chin. “I miss him. Is that silly?” She was wearing dark sunglasses that she’d purchased at a stand, so Isaac couldn’t read her eyes. But he was pretty sure they’d be rimmed with sentimental tears.

  “He’s a good boy, our Cincinnati,” he said. “I miss him, too. We’ll get to those three training sessions tomorrow.”

  When she turned to examine the mare, Isaac kept his eyes on her profile. From personal experience, he already knew her skin was soft and warm and sometimes smelled of lavender. He could sketch her smile blindfolded, and the blueness of her eyes could be matched only by the heavenly sky—a work of art painted by Gott.

  “I heard that. Are you bored?” she asked, suddenly turning to him.

  Isaac flinched, realizing he’d just…sighed.

  Sighed while looking at her. While thinking about what a special woman she was. How he couldn’t get her out of his mind lately no matter what the distraction.

  “Nay, uh…” He ran a fist under his chin, realizing the danger he’d put himself in. “Just admiring the…the gaul. It’s going to get top bid.”

  “How can you tell?” Grace rested her chin on her hands. “I can barely understand him. Is that English or Dutch? Sounds like gibberish to me.”

  She was obviously referring to the auctioneer. He was an Amish man with some kind of microphone attached to his head. His voice was speedy singsong, the typical rushed rhythm of an experienced auctioneer.

  “You have to let your brain go kind of soft,” he said. “You’ll pick up the cadence after a while.”

  “Jah,” Grace said. “And if I were asleep, I’d probably understand him even better.”

  Isaac laughed, always enjoying her little jokes.

  “
Sold!” The auctioneer banged a gavel on his table and the crowd around them erupted in cheers. An older Amish man near the front lifted his arms over his head as if he’d won a grand prize.

  “How much did she sell for?” Grace asked.

  “Uhhh.” Isaac struggled to remember the last bid he’d registered. But the auctioneer had already moved on to the next horse, his singsong rhythm over the speakers making it impossible for Isaac to think.

  “I missed it, too,” he admitted. “Must be out of practice. Want to walk around?”

  Grace’s face brightened and she gripped the strap of her bag. “I should pick up a little something special for the girls—oh! and I saw a booth back there that sells essential oils.”

  Isaac grinned and shook his head. “Are you truly into that stuff?”

  He’d meant it as a joke. Because really, wasn’t the woman more intelligent than to waste her money on a magic potion?

  “Hey, do not make fun of me.” She pointed at him, as if reading his mind. “And aren’t you supposed to be getting supplies for my daed?”

  “I’ve been doing that along the way,” he said. “You’ve just been distracted.”

  “Ahh.” She lifted her chin. “Almost too much to take in. What’s that?”

  Isaac looked to where she was pointing, but Grace was already walking in that direction. “Goat yoga,” she said, reading the sign outside a small tent. “What do you suppose that is?”

  “Why don’t you take a look?” He knew what yoga was, or had heard of it, at least. Englishers had all kinds of complicated ways to exercise. With plain folks, they naturally spent their time outside, working or playing, and walking most everywhere they went.

  Grace gasped. “It’s kids!” She whirled around to him. “Look, they’re climbing on that woman’s back!”

  Inside the tent were about a dozen colorful mats on the ground. The people lying on them or kneeling on them were frozen in all sorts of strange body poses. Grace was right…most of them were engaging with one or more of the goats running around.

  Isaac wasn’t sure exactly what he was watching, but all of the people inside—mostly Englisher women—were giggling and laughing in delight.

  “Should I try?” Grace said. She hadn’t turned to him and probably wasn’t actually asking his permission. She didn’t need it, anyway.

  “May I?” she asked in English to the person in charge. It cost her five dollars for fifteen minutes, but Grace didn’t hesitate about handing over the money. She tore off her sunglasses, kicked off her shoes, and practically ran to one of the open mats, lowering onto her hands and knees. A tiny white goat immediately trotted over, bleating in her face.

  “Aren’t you coming?” she asked Isaac, laughing as her new friend leaped up, landing right in the middle of her back.

  “There aren’t any men,” he said to her in Dutch.

  “Oh, gracious, too embarrassing for you?” She waved him away, the goat still balancing in place.

  With fifteen minutes on his hands, Isaac could round up the rest of the items on John’s list. Or he could stand there and ogle inappropriately at Grace.

  Mirroring the English woman on the mat next to her, she’d stood up straight, balancing on one foot while the other leg was bent, the bottom of that foot pressing into the inside of her standing leg. She was also holding the little white goat in her arms.

  He had no idea how she wasn’t falling over.

  From the position of her body and her purple dress, Isaac could see quite a bit of her leg, almost up to her knee. He shut his eyes and turned around, not needing that image branded on his brain.

  “I’ll be back when you’re done,” he said to Grace, sending the quickest glance at her.

  “Fine, fine.” She barely gave him a goodbye wave before she slowly squatted down onto the mat, the nimble goat climbing to stand on the tops of her shoulders.

  Isaac needed fresh air. He needed to clear his eyes and brain and try to focus on something besides Grace. “The new plow hitch,” he said to himself, remembering the tasks he still had to accomplish that day. He squared his shoulders and marched toward the farming equipment.

  After shaking out his hands and offering a few silent prayers, he worked quickly at making the rest of the purchases. Everything was boxed and in the back of the buggy by the time the fifteen minutes were up.

  He found Grace outside the goat yoga tent, chatting with another Amish woman. Her cheeks were pink from exercise and her eyes glowed. “This is Louisa,” Grace said when Isaac joined them. “She’s from Honey Brook, too.”

  “Ah. Pleasure,” Isaac said. “Good to meet you.”

  “Isaac King.” Louisa crossed her arms and nodded. “Grace was just telling me about you.”

  “Is Levy here?” Grace asked, practically cutting off her friend’s last word.

  “Jah,” Louisa said. “He’s over at the center ring with his brothers and cousins. Apparently, there’s some kind of race for the men about to happen. Obstacle course, I think it’s called.” She rolled her eyes but smiled. “That husband of mine will do anything to one-up his brothers.”

  “Obstacle course?” Isaac asked, looking over the crowd in the direction of the center ring. “Huh.”

  “You want to race, too?” Grace said. “What is it with men and the need to play around in the dirt?”

  Louisa laughed as she adjusted her kapp. “I don’t know, but they’ve all got it.”

  Isaac wasn’t about to deny it. He’d run plenty of obstacle courses in his day, mostly at mud sales just like this one. He’d won first place a few times, but his pride was never even bruised when he didn’t. It was about the challenge and the fun, seeing if he could do better than last time.

  “Mercy me, Isaac King, the look in your eyes,” Grace said. “I supposed we better get over there and sign you up.”

  “You don’t mind?”

  She shook her head. “It’ll be fun to watch.”

  By the time they arrived at the center ring, there was quite a crowd, both plain and English folks. The racers—a pretty even mix of plain and English men—were already getting lined up. Isaac paid the entry fee then took off his hat and black vest, handing those to Grace to hold.

  “Good luck,” she said with a big smile, but then she shrugged. “Though I’m not sure I’m supposed to say that. Have fun, at least.”

  Isaac returned her smile, adrenaline already pumping through his blood. “Danke.” He gave her one last look, rubbed his hands together, then strolled over to take his place along the inside of the fence.

  “Howdy,” the man next to him said. He wore torn jeans and a shirt that Isaac recognized as supporting a sports team.

  “Hi,” Isaac replied.

  Neither of them spoke again. Isaac was concentrating on the layout of the obstacles, the path of the race. First, they would be climbing over huge tractor tires, then jumping over logs. Next was a wooden wall they’d probably have to scale. The other side of the wall might have a rope, and he’d swing down. A balance beam about three feet off the ground was after that, then what looked to be a set of wooden ladders to climb.

  Before he could see the rest of the course, a voice came out of the loudspeakers.

  “Runners, take your mark!”

  Isaac’s muscles flexed, blood rushing, heart racing. The crowd cheered.

  “Go!”

  His boots dug into the ground, giving him a fast start. The hurdles were easy, and Isaac had a good rhythm going as he leaped over the tires, logs, and ropes that he hadn’t noticed before. He could hear grunts from the men behind him, so he slowed his speed slightly, letting them get closer.

  He was first over the wall, but when he landed, he didn’t move out of the way fast enough before someone landed right on top of him. They both fell to the ground, Isaac’s face in the soft dirt.

  “Sorry
,” said a panting voice. “Are ya okay?”

  “Fine,” Isaac said, rolling up to his knees, dusting dirt out of his eyes. “Don’t let me stop you,” he said to the other man, encouragingly. “You could still win.”

  The guy scrambled to his feet and headed off toward the balance beams.

  After having to dodge yet another flying body jumping off the wall, Isaac knew he would never beat his best time. It didn’t bother him that he wouldn’t win, though he was determined to finish the race strong. He climbed the ladder with ease, accidentally swallowing only a little bit of dirt. What he hadn’t been able to see before was the final obstacle.

  Up ahead, the ground took a gradual decline, then a sharp incline. In the middle were three large puddles of water, probably created with shovels and a water hose provided by the volunteer fire company. Isaac quickly gauged that the one to the far left must’ve been the shallowest of the three because the few racers ahead of him were choosing to trudge through that one.

  Just as he was about to take that path, he noticed Grace standing at the fence by the finish line. Even from that distance, he noticed that her face was pale, and she was clutching the front of her apron. The worried look in her blue eyes while she watched him was unmistakable.

  Had she witnessed him take that crash at the wall? And the next one? Had she also noticed that he was suddenly limping? Just a little twinge of pain. He was so close to finishing, though, and really, there was nothing he could do to take away her fear.

  Or was there?

  In the split second he had before reaching the puddles, Isaac noticed that not a single racer had gone through the one on the far right. As he got closer, he realized why.

  Before his body could even respond, the decision was made. He managed to send Grace a lightning fast glance before he leaped into the air, hitting the water in what the Englishers called a belly flop.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Grace couldn’t breathe. As she scrambled over the fence, a part of her brain heard the crowd burst into some kind of roar—laughing, howling, she couldn’t distinguish.