called out to her.
She jolted and looked in the other direction. Two men sat in the horse-drawn wagon, staring at the barn.
“Stay here,” Cara whispered firmly before stepping outside.
Ephraim held the girl’s stare, feeling as if he’d seen her somewhere before. She certainly wasn’t someone he’d met while doing cabinetry work. With her short crop of blond hair, tattered jeans, a tight sweater-shirt that didn’t quite cover her belly, he’d remember if he’d been in her house.
But those brown eyes… Where had he ever seen eyes that shade of golden bronze…or ones filled with that much attitude? On one hand, she gave off an aura of a bit of uncertainty, perhaps an awareness that she wasn’t on her own property. But there was something else, something… cynical and cold.
She stepped away from the barn. “Is there a problem?”
“I was wondering the same thing. You’re on private property.”
“Yeah, I didn’t figure this was a national park or anything. I’m just looking around. The old place has character.”
“Thanks, but it being old is a cause for potential danger. I’d prefer you kept moving.”
“I bet you would. I’m sure you’re real concerned about my safety.”
The sensation of remembering her made his chest tingle. Maybe she was one of the fresh-air teens from New York the Millers sponsored each summer. They usually didn’t arrive until mid-June, but… “Are you from around here?”
A bit of surprise overtook the hardness in her eyes for a moment. “Is that the Amish version of ‘Haven’t we met before?’”
Ephraim’s face burned at the hint that he was coming on to her. He removed his hat, propped his elbow on his leg, and leaned forward. “It was the polite version of ‘I want you off my property.’ But if you’re a newcomer to the area who’s out for a walk, I was willing to be nice about it.”
She raised an eyebrow, and he got the feeling she was holding back from telling him what she really thought. He’d had enough experience with her kind of Englischer women from his days of living and working among them to know that her restraint wasn’t out of respect as much as self-serving interest.
She dipped her fingertips into the front pockets of her jeans. “Like I said, we just stopped in for a minute. I didn’t think a brief look around would cause such a fuss.”
Slipping his hat back on his head, he considered his words. Dry Lake had plenty of teen troubles sometimes, and in his caution he was probably coming across more harsh than he should. “I…I—”
Deborah screamed. Ephraim scanned the area and spotted her running toward them and motioning. “It’s Daed. Hurry!”
Ready to dismiss the unusual stranger, he slapped the reins against the horse’s back and the rig took off.
Cara slid through the barely open barn door while keeping her eye on the horse and wagon as it headed down the road. The man who did the talking was every bit as cold and personable as winter with a tattered coat. She’d seen it too many times before—good-looking, strong men as unfeeling and heartless as the dead. “Come on, sweetie. We’ve got to go.”
“No, Mom. Come look.”
One glance at Lori erased a bit of stress and fatigue. It felt odd to grin, but the furry black pups, already weighing about five pounds, were sprawled across her daughter’s lap, sleeping soundly while she petted them.
Lori gazed up at her. “We can’t leave. They like me.”
Was that a trace of awe and excitement in her daughter’s eyes and voice?
Cara knelt beside her and stroked a puppy “They’re real nice, Lorabean, but we can’t stay here. Heartless Man might come back.”
“Please, Mom.” Lori’s brown eyes reflected a desire so strong, so hopeful, as if every empty promise the Santas of the world offered at Christmas could be salvaged by granting her this one request.
Cara sat cross-leggedly, wondering what it could possibly hurt to give Lori a few hours with the
She jolted and looked in the other direction. Two men sat in the horse-drawn wagon, staring at the barn.
“Stay here,” Cara whispered firmly before stepping outside.
Ephraim held the girl’s stare, feeling as if he’d seen her somewhere before. She certainly wasn’t someone he’d met while doing cabinetry work. With her short crop of blond hair, tattered jeans, a tight sweater-shirt that didn’t quite cover her belly, he’d remember if he’d been in her house.
But those brown eyes… Where had he ever seen eyes that shade of golden bronze…or ones filled with that much attitude? On one hand, she gave off an aura of a bit of uncertainty, perhaps an awareness that she wasn’t on her own property. But there was something else, something… cynical and cold.
She stepped away from the barn. “Is there a problem?”
“I was wondering the same thing. You’re on private property.”
“Yeah, I didn’t figure this was a national park or anything. I’m just looking around. The old place has character.”
“Thanks, but it being old is a cause for potential danger. I’d prefer you kept moving.”
“I bet you would. I’m sure you’re real concerned about my safety.”
The sensation of remembering her made his chest tingle. Maybe she was one of the fresh-air teens from New York the Millers sponsored each summer. They usually didn’t arrive until mid-June, but… “Are you from around here?”
A bit of surprise overtook the hardness in her eyes for a moment. “Is that the Amish version of ‘Haven’t we met before?’”
Ephraim’s face burned at the hint that he was coming on to her. He removed his hat, propped his elbow on his leg, and leaned forward. “It was the polite version of ‘I want you off my property.’ But if you’re a newcomer to the area who’s out for a walk, I was willing to be nice about it.”
She raised an eyebrow, and he got the feeling she was holding back from telling him what she really thought. He’d had enough experience with her kind of Englischer women from his days of living and working among them to know that her restraint wasn’t out of respect as much as self-serving interest.
She dipped her fingertips into the front pockets of her jeans. “Like I said, we just stopped in for a minute. I didn’t think a brief look around would cause such a fuss.”
Slipping his hat back on his head, he considered his words. Dry Lake had plenty of teen troubles sometimes, and in his caution he was probably coming across more harsh than he should. “I…I—”
Deborah screamed. Ephraim scanned the area and spotted her running toward them and motioning. “It’s Daed. Hurry!”
Ready to dismiss the unusual stranger, he slapped the reins against the horse’s back and the rig took off.
Cara slid through the barely open barn door while keeping her eye on the horse and wagon as it headed down the road. The man who did the talking was every bit as cold and personable as winter with a tattered coat. She’d seen it too many times before—good-looking, strong men as unfeeling and heartless as the dead. “Come on, sweetie. We’ve got to go.”
“No, Mom. Come look.”
One glance at Lori erased a bit of stress and fatigue. It felt odd to grin, but the furry black pups, already weighing about five pounds, were sprawled across her daughter’s lap, sleeping soundly while she petted them.
Lori gazed up at her. “We can’t leave. They like me.”
Was that a trace of awe and excitement in her daughter’s eyes and voice?
Cara knelt beside her and stroked a puppy “They’re real nice, Lorabean, but we can’t stay here. Heartless Man might come back.”
“Please, Mom.” Lori’s brown eyes reflected a desire so strong, so hopeful, as if every empty promise the Santas of the world offered at Christmas could be salvaged by granting her this one request.
Cara sat cross-leggedly, wondering what it could possibly hurt to give Lori a few hours with the
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