Faith scowled at him. “They’re very delicate animals. They can’t carry a rider bigger than a two-year-old. Had you asked permission to ride one of them, I would have told you that. You could have seriously injured Myrtle.”
“Or you might have been injured yourself,” Clara added in a small voice.
He liked that she was thinking of the child. The recent deaths of his brother and sister-in-law had left him in charge of their three small children. He gazed at Micah’s belligerent face. They were still finding their way with each other. Micah was having a much harder time than his younger brother and sister.
The boy was only eight, but he wasn’t too young to learn responsibility and respect. “Micah will work off any damages that are owed, Mrs. Lapp. Go up to the house, boy. We’ll talk about this later.”
Micah’s chin came up. “I’m not scared of you.”
Ethan managed to keep a stern face, but it was difficult. Micah was so much like his father had been at that age. Always ready to scrap with his bigger, older brother. Ethan summoned a forbidding tone. “You should be. Don’t make me tell you twice. Go!”
Micah’s defiance crumbled. He bolted toward the house. The fire in Faith Lapp’s eyes cooled as she watched the boy race up the front porch steps. Her expression turned to one of sympathy when she looked back at Ethan. “I know how troubled a boy can be when he has lost his parents as Micah has. It was the same with my nephew when Kyle first came to me. It takes time, and it takes attention to help them recover.”
Why did women always think he needed a lecture on how to manage the children? He’d already had plenty of that from his aunts. Was he ever to have any peace? “I’ll handle Micah in my own way. Is there anything else?”
He shoved the barn door wide open and led his team of draft horses out. Faith moved aside, but Clara shrieked and threw up her hands as she scurried backward, almost falling in her haste. The horses snorted and tossed their heads, jerking him off the ground for an instant. Terror-stricken, Clara covered her face with her hands. What was wrong with her?
He calmed his animals. “Easy, boys, easy.”
Faith wrapped her arm around Clara’s shoulders and moved her to the side. “Clara is frightened by large horses. Would you take them away, please, Mr. Gingerich?”
“An Amish woman who is afraid of horses?” He would have laughed at the idea, but the proof of it was cowering before him.
“Only big ones,” Clara admitted breathlessly. She had her eyes scrunched shut.
“These are big,” he acknowledged as he led them past the women to the nearby pasture gate. He owned two teams of massive Belgians, among the largest of all draft horse breeds. They were his most prized possessions. He loved their strength and their power, their placid nature and their willingness to work as hard as he asked without flagging. How could anyone be afraid of such gentle giants?
When he turned them loose in the pasture, Fred and Dutch took off at a thundering gallop, bucking like colts and nipping playfully at each other. He never grew tired of watching the matching sorrels with their sleek red-brown coats and blond manes and tails. They were beautiful to behold.
But he had more than his horses to look after now. He had three kinder to care for. One of them was bent on getting himself into trouble at every turn. Ethan came back to stand by Faith. Now that the horses were gone, Clara had her eyes open. It was easy to see she was embarrassed by her reaction. Her cheeks were bright red. Her gaze was focused on her hands clasped tightly in front of her. “I’m sorry I made a fuss. I wasn’t expecting to see them.”
He took pity on her. “My sister-in-law would shriek at the sight of the tiniest spider in the house. Everyone is afraid of something.”
Clara gave him a tremulous smile, a reward for his kindness. “My father’s team of draft horses bolted and ran over me when I was six.”
“Were you badly hurt?” he asked.
The bright color was fading from her cheeks. “Nee, their big feet missed me by the grace of God.”
“It’s not so surprising. My teams pay close attention to where they put their hooves. They don’t like to be tripped up. But you didn’t come to talk about horses. What kind of damages do I owe for the injury to your animal, Mrs. Lapp?”
“Myrtle seems to be all right. She had a bad fright more than anything. She may be skittish for a few days, but I think she’ll recover.
“You let me know if she starts ailing. I’ll send Micah to work for you for the next three days, if that’s agreeable.”
“If you are sure you don’t need him here.”
“I can spare him for the mornings. Is that acceptable?”
Faith nodded. “Ja, it is. Perhaps if he learns more about alpacas, he’ll be careful around them. I’m afraid Myrtle spit on him. It will take a few days of airing for the smell to get out of his clothes.”
“Serves him right. I’ll see that he’s punished for what he did.”
Clara’s gaze snapped up and locked with his for an instant before she looked down again. “He’s only a little boy.”
“He’s old enough to know better. I don’t tolerate careless or wild behavior around my animals. He knows that. If there’s nothing else, I’ve got two more horses that need to go out to pasture. They’re big ones, too,” he added.
Clara flinched at his remark. He regretted sounding short-tempered, but before he could form some kind of apology, the women turned and walked away.
His eyes stayed on the gently swaying figure of Clara as she and Faith went down the lane. Clara Barkman. He wasn’t familiar with the name. Was she a local woman? He didn’t attend the same church group as his neighbors, so he hadn’t seen her before.
She stopped and glanced back for a moment. He raised a hand to wave. She suddenly rushed to catch up with Faith. He watched until they rounded the bend in the road, but she didn’t look back again. She was a pretty woman. Was she married?
He shoved aside the thought. It didn’t matter. He wasn’t interested in her or any woman. Clara might be pretty, but a pretty face didn’t mean much. He had loved one beautiful woman beyond all reason. She said that she loved him, too, but she had married another man. A man he had introduced her to... His best friend. Their betrayal of his trust cut deep. He didn’t know if it would ever heal although he tried his best to forgive them.
Jenny’s beautiful face hid a selfish nature. She decided not to settle for a poor fellow with only his horses and his heart to offer her. She wanted a secure life. She found it with a man who owned a big house and his own factory. An Englisch man. That she had to turn her back on her Amish faith hadn’t deterred her any more than it had kept his mother from leaving.
Ethan rubbed his hand over his chest, but it didn’t lessen the ache those memories caused.
He returned to the barn and brought Rosie and Golda out. After checking them over, he turned them loose in the pasture, too. Golda took off at a gallop to catch up with the boys, but pregnant Rosie buried her nose in the long grass and began tearing up mouthfuls near his feet. He patted her sleek shoulder. “Eat good, little mudder. I need a strong, healthy hutsh from you.”
Rosie and her colt would be the foundation of his business as a draft horse breeder and trainer. Up until now, he’d made a living by logging, but with the addition of the children in his life, he needed a way to earn a living that didn’t take him away from home for much of the fall and early winter. It was his new plan for the future, but he knew God had a way of changing a man’s plans without warning.
He settled his hat lower on his brow as he glanced toward the house, where Micah was waiting for him. He’d never expected to raise his niece and nephews. He drew comfort from knowing he was doing what his brother would