The Shepherd's Bride Page 16

  It was so tempting. Carl would never know if she burned it for him. She laid the letter on the kitchen table with the rest of the mail and went to the stove. Turning back quickly, she snatched the envelope up and held it in the steam rising from the eggs she was boiling to make egg-salad sandwiches. The steam burned her fingers before the glue on the envelope gave way.

  Ashamed of herself, she put the letter back where it belonged and continued fixing supper. A dozen times, she glanced at the table as she worked. Finally, she covered the distraction with a kitchen towel.

  It was not her letter. It was not her life. To read or to destroy the correspondence was up to Carl. She removed the towel and put the letter under the newspaper.

  It was nearly dark by the time he came in. She was seated at the table with a cup of coffee in her hands. “Do we have any sick ones?”

  He hung his cowboy hat on a wooden peg beside the door. “Not yet. At least, none that I’ve found, but I think we’re missing one.”

  “An ewe or a lamb?”

  “A lamb. Number eighty-three had twins, but she’s only got one lamb with her now.”

  “Maybe one of the others stole it.” An ewe without a lamb of her own would sometimes try to steal another’s baby.

  “Maybe. Is there any coffee left?”

  “In the pot. It’s fresh.”

  He poured a cup, blew on it to cool it and took a sip. “Before you leave, will you please teach Joe how to make good coffee? I can’t go back to drinking the shoe polish that he makes.”

  She chuckled. “I will do my best.”

  He looked around the house. “This is nice.”

  She looked around to see what he was referring to but didn’t see anything unusual. “What’s nice?”

  “Coming into a clean house with supper simmering on the stove. You have no idea what a difference it makes after a long, hard day of work outside.”

  “I’m happy that I can ease your way, for you work very hard. Supper will be ready in about twenty minutes.” She pointed to the pile of mail on the corner of the table. “The paper came today, if you want to read it while you wait.”

  “After supper.”

  Lizzie bit her bottom lip to keep from mentioning his letter. Maybe this time he would open it. She got up and began to set the table.

  When they finished the meal, Carl took the mail into the other room while Lizzie cleaned up. She was putting away the last plate when he walked past her, opened the firebox of the stove and dropped the letter in.

  “Supper was good. Thank you. I’ll see you in the morning.” He walked to the pegs by the door and put on his coat and hat.

  Her heart sank. Someone was desperately reaching out to him, and he was just as desperately keeping that someone at bay. She couldn’t remain silent any longer. “If you mark them Return to Sender, perhaps she will stop writing.”

  He paused with his hand on the doorknob, but didn’t look at her. “I tried that once, but it didn’t work.”

  Lizzie heard the pain in his voice and wanted to throw her arms around him and hold him close. It was impossible for her to do so, but knowing that didn’t lessen her desire to comfort him. “I think only someone who loves you very much would remain so persistent.”

  He walked out and closed the door behind him without a word.

  * * *

  Carl continued toward his hut in the dark. He knew the path by heart. He didn’t need to see where he was going. Duncan walked beside him. He looked down at the dog, who had been his best friend for a long time. “Lizzie is like a dog with a bone about those letters. In fact, she’s worse than you are. She’s not going to bury it and leave it alone.”

  She was every bit as persistent as Jenna was. He wished now that he’d never told his sister where he was staying.

  He sat down on the chair outside his door and stared out over the pastures. The white sheep dotting the hillsides stood out in stark contrast to the dark ground. They looked like little stars that had fallen from the sky. Duncan lay down beside Carl and licked his paw.

  Only a month ago, Carl would have enjoyed the peaceful calm of a night like this, but tonight he didn’t appreciate the pastoral serenity. Tonight, he was restless and edgy.

  Lizzie was eager to find out more about him. He saw it every time she looked at him. He heard it in her voice each time she mentioned his letters. She cared for him. He saw that in her eyes, too, even as he struggled to keep his feelings for her hidden.

  If he gave in and told her the truth, what would he see in her eyes then? How would she look at him when she learned he had killed a man? Would he see horror? Revulsion? Pity?

  He leaned his head back against the wall. Maybe it was time for him to move on. It would be best to go before he fell deeper in love with the amazing little woman with smiling eyes. A woman he could never hold.

  Duncan suddenly sprang to his feet and growled deep in his throat. The hair on his neck stood up as every muscle in his body tensed.

  Carl stared out into the darkness, trying to see what had riled his dog. It took a bit, but finally he saw a darker shadow streaking along the hillside on the opposite side of the creek. He stood up to get a better look. Was it a coyote or a dog?

  He realized as the animal crested the hill that it carried one of his lambs in its mouth. A second later, it was lost from sight. Duncan took off after it at a run.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The day Joe came home from the hospital was the day of Clara’s wedding.

  Carl watched Lizzie try to keep a brave face as they waited for the van that would bring Joe home, but he could see the strain she was under. The days since she had mailed her quilt money had gone by without a single word from her sisters. He had no idea what had gone wrong with her plan, but she wore the look of a woman who was barely hanging on to hope.

  He wondered how long it would be before he saw her smile again.

  Outside, the sun was shining. A soft breeze turned the windmill beside the barn and stirred the new grass in the pastures in small, undulating waves. Carl had moved the entire flock close to the house, but he was still losing a lamb every other night.

  Lizzie became as nervous as a June bug in a henhouse when the van finally rolled in. And well she should be. She was the reason Joe ended up in the hospital in the first place. Carl knew Joe had forgiven her, but he was worried that Joe might not let her forget it anytime soon.

  When the driver got out and opened the door, she rushed down the steps with an offer of help. To Carl’s surprise, Joe calmly accepted Lizzie’s offer and allowed her to help him out of the car. He walked haltingly with a walker, but managed well enough.

  With Carl on one side and Lizzie on the other, they were able to help Joe up the steps and into the house. Once inside, he looked around and sighed deeply. “You have no idea how good it feels to come home.”

  “I have your room ready, Daadi. Would you like to lie down now?”

  “No, I’m sick of being in bed. I would like to sit in my chair for a while.”

  “Of course.” She hovered beside him as he crossed into the living room and sank with a deep sigh of relief into his overstuffed chair. She quickly arranged a footstool and pillows so he could elevate his legs. She had been paying close attention to the home-care instructions the hospital had mailed to her.

  Carl was delighted to see his friend looking so well, if a bit weak and worn-out. “You have two hundred and seventy-eight new lambs.”

  “How many ewes did we lose?”

  “Only two.”

  “And how many lambs have we lost? Every day I watched the rain running down the windows of the hospital I was thinking about my poor babies out in such weather.”

  “We didn’t lose any to the weather.”

  “Are you serious?”

 
; “Lizzie has been busy bottle-feeding six of them.”

  “That’s a lot of work,” Joe said, looking at her with admiration.

  “I don’t mind. They’re adorable, but any praise must go to Carl.” She turned her earnest eyes in his direction and he saw admiration in them, but also something more. He saw an echo of the way he felt about her.

  “Carl worked day and night to make sure the sheep had the best possible care. He went out in a snowstorm to look for lambs. He brought back two that lived because of his dedication.”

  Carl decided the bad news could wait until after Joe had rested.

  Joe looked around the room. “Where’s Duncan? I didn’t see him when we came in. He normally raises a ruckus when there’s a car around.”

  “I have him on guard duty with the flock.”

  Lizzie knelt beside Joe. “We can talk about this later. Daadi, you need to rest.”

  “Coyotes?” Joe’s sharp eyes drilled into Carl and ignored Lizzie.

  “A big one.”

  “How many has he gotten?”

  “Four.”

  Joe pushed himself up straighter in the chair. “You know what has to be done?”

  “I won’t touch a gun, Joe. You know that.”

  “A gun?” Lizzie’s eyes widened with shock. “You aren’t thinking about shooting it, are you?”

  Joe gave her an exasperated look. “A coyote that starts killing sheep won’t stop. It has to be put down.”

  “Isn’t there another way?”

  “What other way?” Joe asked.

  “I don’t know, but it doesn’t deserve to be shot without trying something else. We could trap it.”

  Carl remained silent. Each word of Lizzie’s protest cut like a knife. She couldn’t bear the thought of him killing a wild predator. How appalled would she be if she knew the truth about his deed? He grew sick at the thought.

  Joe patted her hand. “Women! Soft hearts and soft heads. My rifle is in my room, Carl. You know I wouldn’t ask you to do this if I could do it myself. The sheep can’t defend themselves.”

  Carl nodded. Lizzie’s eyes begged him not to do it. He looked away. He didn’t want to kill anything, but better that she hate him for thinking about shooting a coyote than to know the truth. Maybe this way she would see that he wasn’t worth trying to save.

  Maybe he could stop loving her if she stopped looking at him as if he was her hero.

  * * *

  Lizzie couldn’t decipher the expression on Carl’s face. It was as if he had suddenly turned to stone. There was a lack of life in his eyes that troubled her.

  “I’m surprised your sisters aren’t here,” Joe said, pulling Lizzie’s attention away from Carl.

  “I have not heard from them,” she said. Her disappointment and worry were too heavy to hide.

  “Oh. I thought they had the means to join you. Naomi Wadler stopped in to see me and she mentioned that you were selling a quilt to pay for their bus fare. Did you change your mind?”

  “I sent them money. However, it may have been too late or my uncle may have intercepted it. Clara’s wedding was moved up after I left. The ceremony was to take place today.”

  He sank back in his chair. Lines of fatigue and pain appeared on his face. “So she is married to him, the man you don’t like and don’t trust. I’m sorry for her. And for you.”

  “It must be God’s will for her. Perhaps her kindness will change his heart and make him a husband she can respect and admire.”

  Joe laid a hand on Lizzie’s head. “I have been a fool and so I must pay the price, but I’m sorry you must pay it, too. What will you do now?”

  “I love it here. The people of this community are so warm and loving. I even like the sheep now much more than I did when we had to shear them.”

  “But you aren’t going to stay,” Carl said softly.

  “I can’t leave them there. I have to go back.” She tried to gauge his reaction to her decision, but she couldn’t. Tears blurred her vision.

  “You can’t go until I’m fit,” Joe grumbled.

  She rose to her feet. “Of course not. I promised I would stay as long as you need me. I should go feed the orphans. Carl will stay with you to make sure you don’t overdo it.”

  “I don’t need a babysitter.”

  Lizzie escaped out the door before she heard Carl’s reply. He was used to handling Joe. She knew he would manage without her. She gathered the baby bottles and milk replacer and went down to the barn where the orphans lived now. After only a week, they had outgrown their warming boxes. They slept now in an empty stall at the back of the barn.

  She sat down on the hay among them, and as they pushed and shoved for her attention, she held their soft bodies close one at a time and gave in to her tears.

  She was responsible for her own heartbreak. She knew better than to fall for Carl, but that hadn’t stopped her from embracing every dear quality he possessed. It was so easy to love him.

  In the long years ahead, she would look back on their days together and remember what it was like to share the joys and pains of everyday life with him. She would never forget the way he made her feel.

  If only she knew he would find his way back to his faith, she wouldn’t mind leaving so much.

  After she finished feeding the orphans, she returned to the house and went up to her room. She pulled a sheet of paper from the small desk by the window and sat down to write a letter. She raised her pen to her mouth and nibbled on the end of it as she considered what to say. Finally, she started writing.

  Dear Jenna,

  You don’t know me, but I am a friend of Carl King’s. He lives and works on my grandfather’s sheep farm here in Ohio. I have only recently moved here, but I soon became aware that you write to Carl every week. I hesitate to tell you this, but Carl burns your letters without reading them. He does not know that I am writing to you.

  When I first met Carl, he told me he is in the Bann, but he will not say why he has been shunned. His situation weighs heavily on my heart for I have come to care for him a great deal.

  Lizzie lifted her pen from the paper. She didn’t just care for Carl. She loved him. She always would.

  A tear splashed onto the page as she began writing again.

  Carl keeps all rules of our faith, except that he will not attend our services. I have seen him standing outside of our place of worship, close enough to hear the preaching and singing and yet not be a part of it. His separation from God is painful to see, for I know that it is painful to him, too.

  It is my hope that with some understanding of Carl’s past, I can help him to return to the faith he clearly loves. He refuses to tell me anything. I’m hoping that you will. I value Carl’s friendship and his trust. I risk losing that which is most dear to me by writing to you, but what Carl stands to gain is so much more important.

  Please forgive me if you find this intrusion into your affairs offensive. I mean no harm. I don’t do this lightly, but only with the very best of intentions. If you do not answer this letter, I will not bother you again.

  Your sister in Christ,

  Elizabeth Barkman

  When she finished the brief missive, she folded it and slipped it into an envelope before she could change her mind. Carl was stuck in limbo. He couldn’t move forward with his life until he had received forgiveness from someone in his past. If that person was the author of his letters, then perhaps letting her know how much Carl desperately needed her forgiveness would spark their reconciliation.

  She didn’t delude herself into thinking Carl would approve of her actions. He would be furious with her.

  She composed a second letter. This one was to her sisters telling them that she would be returning in a few weeks. As much as she longed to see them, she dreaded returning t
o life in her uncle’s home. How would she bear it after knowing a better way existed?

  She took her letters down to the mailbox in the early afternoon when she knew the mailman was due to go by. If there was a letter from Mary or from her sisters and they were coming, Lizzie wouldn’t send the ones she had written, for it meant she would be staying in Hope Springs.

  The postman handed over the mail. “I see you have a new crop of lambs out there. How did it go?”

  “Busy. Joe is home from the hospital now. You are welcome to bring your son and pick a lamb whenever you like.”

  “We’re going to be gone on a family vacation for a week, but we’ll do it sometime after we get back. Do you want to mail those letters?” He pointed to the ones in her hand.

  She finished looking through a handful of junk mail. There was nothing from her family. She nodded. “I guess I do.”

  Her conscience pricked her all through the day and kept her awake until long into the night. She had no right to interfere in Carl’s personal affairs. It was prideful on her part to think what she said would matter.

  Where was Clara tonight? Was she at the home of her new husband? How was he treating her?

  Lizzie pulled her pillow over her face to shut out her fears. It didn’t work.

  * * *

  Carl attributed Lizzie’s long face to her grief at not being able to help her family. She didn’t say a word as they finished the morning chores and turned out the youngest lambs with their mothers. She barely spoke to the orphans as they clamored for her attention.

  On the way back to the house, he said, “You’re awfully quiet today.”

  “Am I?

  “Do you have something on your mind?”

  “A lot of things.”

  “Such as?”

  “Number ninety-four doesn’t seem to have enough milk for her triplets. We may need to supplement one of them with milk replacer.”

  “Just what we need, another mouth to feed in the orphan pen.”