His New Amish Family Page 5

  Paul unbuckled the harness and lifted it from Frankly’s back. The tall black gelding shivered all over, happy to be unburdened. After hanging the tack on the wooden fence, Paul opened the gate and let the horse loose. Frankly trotted to the center of the corral. He put his nose to the ground and turned around in a tight circle several times before he laid down and rolled onto his back. He wiggled like an overgrown puppy scratching in delight. Paul would have to groom him again before putting him in a stall for the evening.

  When the horse finally got to his feet, he shook all over, sending a cloud of dust flying about him. Paul realized that Clara had followed him to the fence and stood watching the horse, too. “Was your trip successful?” he asked.

  “The man I went to see wasn’t home. I left a note asking him to come and see me.”

  “Have you tried calling him? Almost every Englisch fellow has a cell phone these days.”

  “I did call his home but no one answered. He doesn’t have a message machine. I don’t think he has a cell phone.”

  She sounded depressed. He wanted to lift her spirits but he wasn’t sure how. She believed the farm belonged to her but Paul didn’t see how she could be right. The Amish, like many Englisch, took great care to make sure their property passed legally into the hands of their heirs.

  She pushed back from the fence. “What did you find in the house?”

  “Twenty-two spiders, six mice, a box of newspaper clippings, several bags of material scraps and a box of old carved wooden toys. I decided to tackle the attic and show you how brave I am.”

  “I’m rather glad you did. I wasn’t looking forward to it. Were the toys horses, cows, sheep and a collie dog?” she asked with a sad smile.

  “That’s exactly what I found.”

  “I remember playing with them as a child...” Her voice trailed away as a car turned in the drive. It was Ralph.

  He and another man got out of the car. Ralph looked over the property with a heavy frown in place. “I don’t see that you have gotten much done, Mr. Bowman.”

  “I have finished the inventory of farm equipment and I’ve started in the house. I’ll begin moving the machinery out of the buildings and into the open tomorrow.”

  “I see you’re still hanging around, Clara. Maybe this will hasten your departure.” He turned to the man with him. “This is my attorney, William Sutter.”

  A distinguished-looking man with silver hair wearing a fancy Englisch suit stepped forward. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Fisher. I have here the signed and notarized trust document with the amendment attached naming Mr. Hobson as your uncle’s heir, also signed and notarized. I hope this lays to rest any question about the validity of Mr. Hobson’s ownership of this property. I was present at the signing and I assure you that your uncle executed this change of his own free will.”

  He handed the papers to Paul. Paul glanced over the documents and handed them to Clara. “It looks legal to me but I’m no expert.”

  “Fortunately, I am,” William Sutter said without smiling.

  Clara studied the documents and handed them back to Mr. Sutter. “This is not my uncle’s signature. This is a forgery.”

  Hobson threw his hands in the air. “Unbelievable.”

  Paul stepped closer to Clara and spoke in Pennsylvania Deitsch so the two men could not understand what he was saying. “Be reasonable, Clara. A notary must have proof of the person’s identity before affixing their seal. Without a driver’s license, your uncle would have needed two people who knew him to vouch for him in front of a notary.”

  “I don’t care what you say, that is not my uncle’s signature.” She switched to English. “Who vouched for him? I want to speak to the notary. Where can I find him or her?”

  “I was one of the people who vouched for Uncle Eli.” Ralph shoved his hands in his front pockets. “The other doesn’t matter. Now you’ve seen the amendment and now you know the place is mine.”

  “I will never accept that my uncle deeded this property to you.” She turned pleading eyes to him. “Paul, can’t you see that he is lying? Tell me that you believe me.”

  Chapter Four

  Clara desperately wanted Paul to say he believed her. Someone had to believe her.

  He didn’t. She saw it in his eyes. Ralph and his attorney were too convincing.

  She was right and that was what mattered. But how could she prove it? She prayed God would show her the way.

  Paul folded his arms over his chest and turned to Ralph. “I noticed an antique cabinet that contained a very old bible in the living room. I won’t sell a family bible at auction.”

  “I want everything sold,” Ralph stated firmly.

  “If you don’t want to keep it, then it rightfully belongs to Clara and her children. I will not sell it.”

  “It’s mine and I want it sold!”

  Paul shook his head. “I won’t do it.”

  The attorney held his hands wide. “Gentlemen, is it worth squabbling over?”

  His resolve evident, Paul said nothing. Ralph gave in. “Fine. It’s hers. It’s in German anyway.”

  Paul was confusing her again. He didn’t believe she owned the farm but here he was standing up to Ralph over her family bible. She honestly didn’t know what to make of him but she was thankful he understood the importance of keeping the bible in her family.

  Paul pulled a notebook and a pen from his pocket. “I need to know who you want to do the land survey for property boundaries.”

  Ralph glanced at his attorney. Mr. Sutter smiled. “The sale of farm property doesn’t require a new survey. The historical boundaries of the farm are adequate.”

  Paul looked skeptical. “Are you sure? It’s unusual.”

  “Let the new owner pay for a survey if he wants one,” Ralph said. “I’m spending enough to get rid of this place as it is.” He pointed at Clara. “When is she leaving?”

  “Never,” she said.

  “As soon as she can locate a suitable home for herself and the children,” Paul said quickly. “Her situation is unusual given her child’s special needs. Having her live here awhile longer won’t make any difference to our sale date.”

  Ralph looked ready to argue but his attorney forestalled him. “He’s right. There’s no point making waves. We want this sale to go smoothly.”

  Ralph’s scowl deepened. “All right. Have it your way.”

  The attorney bowed slightly to Clara. “If you will excuse us, we must get going. We have another meeting.” The two men went back to the car and drove away.

  Clara stared at Paul. “That’s it? You are just going to stand there and let Ralph get away with this?”

  “I don’t have a choice. He is the legal owner.”

  “The document they showed you is a forgery and I’m going to prove it.” Her shoulders slumped as she realized he was looking at her with pity in his eyes.

  “I’m sorry, Clara.”

  “Nee, you aren’t. You wouldn’t get your commission if I prove he’s lying.”

  “I’m sorry you believe I would let that cloud my judgment.”

  She wasn’t sure what to believe about him. Was he working with her cousin to steal her inheritance or was he the innocent party he appeared to be? She had no way of knowing. She stiffened her spine. “Where are the items from the attic?”

  “I left the boxes in the kitchen and put some things in the rubbish bin.”

  “I want to go through it all.” She didn’t meet his gaze.

  “Of course.”

  If he sounded defensive, she could live with that. Sophie’s life might depend on her making the right decisions here. She liked Paul but she had no way of knowing if she could trust him.

  * * *

  Two days later, Paul took a seat at the table in his uncle’s kitchen while his family gathered around. His uncle, his broth
er, Mark, and his cousins Samuel and Joshua were present. His aunt Anna finished filling everyone’s cups with fresh hot coffee and then took a seat at the foot of the table. Paul looked at them and took a deep breath. “I need some help and I’m not sure where to turn.”

  “This is about the auction you are holding soon?” Mark asked.

  Paul nodded. “Ralph Hobson asked me to sell the farm he inherited from Eli King. Onkel Isaac, did you know the man?”

  “Can’t say that I remember him.”

  “He was Millie King’s husband,” Anna offered.

  Paul turned to her. “Did you know the family well?”

  “Not well but Millie and I served on a few committees together. The Haiti relief quilt-auction drive was one we both served on for several years. I think Millie passed away about five years ago. She never had any children, poor soul.”

  “Did she talk about her nephew or niece?” Paul asked.

  “Let me think. I believe she said she had one Englisch nephew and an Amish niece who married a fellow from Pennsylvania. That’s all I recall. Why?”

  “Hobson thought the house was empty but his cousin, a widow with two children, has been living there for some time. She was away when Eli died so Hobson didn’t know it. They each claim to be the rightful heir.”

  Isaac added a lump of sugar into his coffee. “This sounds like something the Englisch law must settle. Is there a will?”

  Paul shook his head. “A trust. That’s the real problem. Hobson and his lawyer have what they claim is a legal document making Hobson the new owner but Clara says her uncle’s signature on it is a forgery. The papers that prove she gets the place are missing.”

  “What do you know about Clara?” Mark asked.

  “Not much. She belongs to Gerald Barkman’s church now. Her little girl has a genetic illness. She has to sleep under blue lights at night.”

  Anna pressed both hands to her cheeks. “Oh, how sad. My cousin Sarah in Pennsylvania had two boys who passed away from the same thing years ago. Children with the disease all die before they are grown. Such a hard burden for a young mother to bear. I will pray for her and her child.”

  “Actually, her daughter can live for many years if she gets a liver transplant,” Paul said.

  “Really?” His aunt smiled. “Then praise God for the doctors who do such work.”

  “Clara was counting on the sale of her uncle’s farm to pay for the surgery. Now you can see why I’m sorry I accepted this job. It doesn’t seem right to put her and her kinder out of their home and take away her daughter’s chance to be well.”

  “We must care for widows and orphans as the Lord has commanded us to do. Is her church helping her?” Isaac asked.

  Paul stirred his coffee. “I don’t know. I assume they are but none of them have been around when I’ve been there.”

  Isaac pulled on his beard as he often did when he was deep in thought. “That doesn’t sound like Gerald or Velda Barkman. They are good and generous members of the faith. I’m sure they will help her.”

  Joshua leaned back in his chair. “I think this woman needs an Englisch attorney but if this man has the law on his side, she will have to leave.”

  Paul turned to him. “Do you know an attorney who might help an Amish widow with limited funds?”

  “What you need is an estate planning lawyer,” Samuel offered. He was the oldest of the Bowman brothers and a thoughtful man.

  Paul’s hopes rose. “Do you know one?”

  Samuel shook his head. “I don’t. Sorry.”

  “Anna and I have worked with one to set up our wills,” Isaac said. “His name is Oscar James. He has an office in Berlin. He might help. I will ask and let you know.”

  Paul looked at all their faces. “I guess the real question I want to ask is should I resign from this contract?”

  “Did you accept it in good faith?” Isaac asked.

  “I did but that was before I knew the situation,” Paul said.

  Isaac leaned forward. “Do you believe the man has the legal right to sell the property?”

  “After the papers I saw and after hearing from his lawyer, I think he does but something about Ralph Hobson is off. He keeps stressing that he’s in a hurry to get rid of the property but he could sell the place tomorrow if he wanted. It’s goot farmland. So why did he hire me to set up an auction that will take weeks of work? Clara is his cousin. You would think he would help her instead of throwing her off the property.”

  Mark folded his hands on the tabletop. “Is the widow a pretty woman?”

  Paul felt everyone’s eyes on him. The heat began rising in his cheeks. “I hardly noticed.”

  Joshua nudged Samuel. “A telling answer if I’ve ever heard one. Paul notices every woman from sixteen to sixty.”

  “This isn’t a laughing matter,” Paul said. “Besides, I’ve only known her a few days.”

  His aunt laid her hand on top of his. “You must ask yourself if you truly distrust Mr. Hobson or if your dislike stems from the way he is treating his cousin. He has known her far longer than you have.”

  “He warned me not to believe what she said because she is crazy. She is a determined desperate woman but not a crazy one.”

  “A man’s word is his bond. You must honor the contract you made with Hobson unless you have irrefutable evidence that he is cheating this woman,” Isaac said. “Every man is a child of God and innocent until proven otherwise, even those we dislike. We cannot judge him. We can and will aid this young mother in whatever way is necessary to make sure she and her children do not suffer because of this situation.”

  All the men around the table nodded. It wasn’t something they said; it was the way they lived their lives.

  Paul sighed with relief. He knew this was what his family would say. Together they would find a way to take care of Clara and her children.

  * * *

  “Paul is here and he has the biggest horses I have ever seen.” Toby left his place at the window overlooking the lane and ran to the front door.

  Clara was busy drying Sophie’s hair with a towel. “I want to see,” Sophie said, trying to wiggle off the kitchen chair.

  “You may go see after I am done with your hair. Toby, do not run near the horses.”

  “I know. I wonder if Paul will let me drive them.”

  “Don’t pester him,” Clara cautioned. “He has work to do. He is not here to entertain a curious boy.”

  “I’ll behave,” he said, shutting the door behind him on his way out.

  Sophie crossed her arms in annoyance. “Toby gets to do everything.”

  “He gets to do more because he is older. When you are older, you will do more things, too.” Clara closed her eyes and prayed that God, in His infinite mercy, would allow Sophie to grow old.

  “How come boys get to do things that are so much more fun?”

  Clara laid aside the towel and began the task of combing Sophie’s long thick curly hair. “What kind of things do you mean?”

  “Toby used to milk the cow and you never let me do it. He can throw hay out of the loft with a pitchfork and I can’t.”

  Clara chuckled. “Most boys would consider those things chores and not fun.”

  “Then boys are silly.”

  “Sometimes they are.” Clara tied Sophie’s hair back with a ribbon and patted her shoulder. “Go outside now and let the sun dry your hair. You can watch but I don’t want you to get in Paul’s way. Is that understood?”

  “Yup.” She hopped off the chair and headed for the door.

  “And stay away from the horses,” Clara cautioned but Sophie was already out the door.

  Clara finished cleaning up then moved to the sink and looked out the kitchen window. Both her children were standing on the fence at the corral watching Paul unhitch his team from the wagon. The huge carame
l-colored Belgians, with their blond manes and tails, stood quietly as he worked around them.

  She found herself as eager as her children to see Paul again but she resisted the urge to go outside. Her mind was in a constant state of turmoil where he was concerned. Such giddy foolishness over the mere sight of a fellow was better suited to a teenage girl, not a widow of twenty-eight with two children.

  For the past few days, she had tried to sort out her feelings about him with little success. He was a hard worker. It was easy to see that. He enjoyed the children and took special care when they were around. He made them laugh. That was certainly a point in his favor. Once, she caught him enjoying a game of hide-and-seek with them. He would make a good father one day but why wasn’t he married already? She had married at nineteen and was a mother by twenty. She guessed Paul’s age to be twenty-four or twenty-five. Most Amish were married by the time they were twenty-two or twenty-three. Was he interested in someone? If she knew more about him perhaps she could decide if she should trust him.

  She noticed him watching the house and she stepped away from the window. No point in letting him think that she was interested in him. She wasn’t. She had better things to do than gawk at him while he worked.

  Her steadfast resolve lasted less than an hour. Before she realized what she was doing, she was back at the window watching him work and entertain her children.

  She was relieved when he left in the early afternoon without speaking to her but she was quickly regaled with stories about him from Toby and Sophie when they came in. Paul was nice and funny and he knew everything about the machinery Eli had collected. Whatever his flaws, he knew how to endear himself to children.

  The following morning, she left her uncle’s ancient propane-powered washing machine chugging away on the back porch and walked around the house to check on her children. They were both sitting on one of Paul’s draft horses. Their short legs stuck out straight from the horse’s broad back. Sophie giggled when the horse reached around to nibble at her bare toes.

  Paul was using the second horse to pull a broken wagon out into the sunlight from her uncle’s shed. He had a dozen various pieces of equipment lined up along the side of the barn. She could see it was hard work. His shirt was already damp with sweat. He had his sleeves rolled up and he stopped to mop his brow with them.