The Amish Quiltmaker’s Unattached Neighbor (The Amish Quiltmaker #6)

Chapter 8

A ch ! Sometimes Ada wished she weren’t so stubborn or so determined to be right. She rolled over on her sleeping bag and groaned as pain shot up her neck, down her arms, and across her back. It was still dark, but she wasn’t even going to attempt to go back to sleep. Her glow-in-the-dark camp clock said 4:45 a.m., and that was gute enough. She’d slept maybe a total of three hours during the night, and at some point, a body just had to admit defeat.

Sighing at her lot in life, Ada sat up and mentally listed all the things that weren’t getting done at home because she was sitting in a tent trying to win an argument that she didn’t even know if she wanted to win. If she won, Tabitha Hoover would win, and Ada didn’t want to be on Tabitha’s side about anything. Besides that, Ada was beginning to think she didn’t want Enos to go back to Pennsylvania, even if that meant she and her family would lose the six acres that maybe they didn’t need so badly. They certainly didn’t need those acres as badly as Enos did. A rift between neighbors wasn’t worth six acres.

Ada growled and punched her pillow. There was still the principle of the thing, and there was still the fact that Ada was in charge of the farm, and if she let Enos have the six acres, she’d not only be failing herself, but she’d be failing her family too. They depended on her to stay strong and make the right decision.

But it was getting harder and harder to stand on principle, especially when Enos gazed at her with those brown eyes or handled the horses as if he was born with reins in his hand or worked obsessively from dawn until dark. How could Ada oppose him when it seemed that the entire world was against him?

The brightest spot of camping so far, besides watching Enos work the horses with those strong arms and broad shoulders, was the romance novels Beth had given her. Ada had spent the whole day reading the next book in the Liza series, where Liza’s stubborn cousin met her match and then almost shot him before they decided they loved each other. This one featured a runaway train and a bad guy with a handlebar mustache. Ada had stayed up until almost ten reading with a flashlight. Beth would be delighted to know Ada liked her books. Ada wasn’t about to tell her.

Ada dressed as quickly as she could, tying a bandanna instead of her kapp around her head. A bandanna was more appropriate for camping, and she didn’t want her prayer covering getting dirty. She unzipped the tent, hoping to get to the bathroom and back before Enos came out to the fields and took down her tent. Outside, she glanced toward Enos’s house to see if any lights were burning. She gasped, and her heart skipped three beats. Just on the other side of the fence stood a small, one-man tent with a faint light glowing inside.

Oh, sis yuscht ! He was the most aggravating, infuriating man in the whole world, and if she had a tomato, she’d throw it at his tent and teach him a messy lesson.

Ada found her spatula and her flashlight, stormed toward the small tent, and awkwardly and gingerly scaled the fence between them. For as much as both of them went back and forth, they really needed a stile. She’d have to get her bruder -in-law Menno on that.

Much as she didn’t want to ruin what precious little sleep Enos got, Ada was madder than a wet hen, and if she woke him up, it would be entirely his own fault. She smacked the top of Enos’s tent hard with her spatula half a dozen times, and whatever light was on inside bobbed up and down. Vell , she’d gotten his attention. Hopefully she’d made him as mad as she was.

“Ada,” he groaned, in that deep bass voice that made Ada think of spun silk. He unzipped his tent and crawled out, fully dressed and gripping a flashlight in his fist. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“I asked first,” he said.

Ada propped her hand on her hip. “I’m so sorry,” she said sarcastically. “Did I disturb your sleep?”

He momentarily distracted her by running his fingers through his tousled hair. Ada hadn’t realized how dark it was. “As a matter of fact, you didn’t. I was just about to get up and start plowing. I need to have the horses back by tonight.”

“You borrowed them?”

“Amos Burkholder let me rent them for a couple of days.”

Amos Burkholder had plenty of land and plenty of money. Why was he renting his horses to Enos when he could afford to lend them out? He should take pity on a neighbor in need. “Did you sleep out here last night?”

“As you can see.”

“Why?”

Enos ran his thumbs down the length of his suspenders, making sure they were straight. “I told you. I don’t want to drag your dead body off my land. If a bear or a coyote or Arthur Tripp comes looking for a victim, I won’t be able to hear your screams from the house. The only way to make sure you’re safe is to sleep out here with my rifle and my ax.”

“Are you planning on using the ax or the rifle on Arthur Tripp?”

The corners of his mouth twitched upward. “I like how your one eyebrow goes up like that when you’re mad.”

“Oh, I’m not mad. I’m furious. You work your fingers to the bone, and you deserve a gute night’s sleep.”

He didn’t seem to care about getting a gute night’s sleep. “So do you.”

“There’s no reason both of us should be sleep-deprived. You work too hard. You need your rest.”

“But, Ada, I’m doing this for you. I don’t want you to die.”

“I’m not going to die.”

“We’re all going to die. I just don’t want you to die by frostbite, stampede, coyote, or wolverine,” he said, counting out all the horrors on his fingers.

“There are no wolverines in Colorado, and I don’t want you to die from lack of sleep. If you get sick from exhaustion or bad night air, who will take care of your farm? You can’t afford to be laid up in bed.”

“Unlike you, I enjoy camping, and I sleep very well in a tent.” He patted the top of his tent as if to prove how well put together it was. “It was nice and cool last night. I slept with the flap open.”

“Can you even roll over in that thing?”

“I don’t need to roll over, except to grab my rifle and my ax. They’re right next to my sleeping bag and ready to go should you need me.”

Ada gave him a sour face. “I won’t need you.”

“You might.” He turned and tromped toward his house.

“Where are you going?”

“I’ve got to get those horses hitched to the plow. I’m burning daylight.”

Ada looked into the sky. “There is no daylight to burn, and you are going to kill yourself by working too hard.”

He turned and tilted his head to one side. “Go away, Ada. You’ve already proven to be a very sharp thorn in my side.”

Now he was just being contrary. “So, you admit it’s painful to sleep in a tent.”

“If my sleeping in a tent concerns you so much, you know what you must do. Choose wisely.”

“Very funny,” Ada said. She gave the back of his head the stink eye, then turned and walked as fast as she could to her house. She was as stubborn as he was and more determined than ever to be right. No one was awake as she went to the bathroom, poured more kibble into Pepper’s bowl, slipped two apples into her apron pocket, and made herself a peanut butter and jam sandwich. She took a bite and was halfway out the door when she changed her mind, turned back, and made Enos a peanut butter and jam and a peanut butter and honey sandwich, just in case he didn’t like one or the other.

She tripped quickly back to the field, where the sunrise colored the eastern sky a soft shade of yellow. Enos had the horses hitched, and he was just pulling his work gloves from his back pocket. “Do you like peanut butter and jam?”

“Do you like bothering me?”

“That must be a yes.”

Ada handed him the peanut butter and jam sandwich, and he took a big bite. “Mmm,” he said. “Strawberry freezer jam. Probably one of my favorite things in the whole world.”

Ada didn’t know why his praise pleased her, except that she had made the jam herself and Beth thought it was too sweet. Enos didn’t seem to think there was anything wrong with it. She watched him polish off the sandwich in five bites, then handed him the one with honey. “Do you like honey?”

“Who doesn’t like honey?”

“Menno doesn’t. It gives him hives.” She gave him the sandwich, then pulled the apples from her pocket and fed them to the horses.

“That’s nice of you,” he said.

“I love how excited they are when they get a treat.”

Enos donned his work gloves. “ Denki . That was a wonderful nice breakfast.”

Ada shut one eye and examined the plow. The tine harrow was light enough that Enos could guide it and the horses at the same time. The middle buster plow was another story. It had to cut deep into the dirt. Keeping it and the horses going in a straight line took an amazing amount of strength and, as Enos surely knew, two people. “It wonders me how you are going to plow and guide the horses at the same time,” Ada said.

He was silent for several seconds. “I’ll manage.”

Ada guessed that his mater had refused to help, though maybe Enos hadn’t even asked her. But Ada wouldn’t say anything about that. Enos didn’t need to be reminded of his hardships. “Much as I want to sit in my tent and read all day, I’d be wonderful selfish not to help you.” She yanked the reins from his hands and moved to the left and a little in front of the plow. “Okay then. Are you ready?”

Ada would have slept in that tent a whole month to see Enos’s expression at that very moment, even though he barely moved a muscle. His eyebrows traveled a fraction of an inch up his forehead, and a faint smile tugged at his mouth like a thin breeze pulling at a kite string. “You want to help me? Your worst enemy?”

Did he truly believe he was her worst enemy? Was he? Ada squared her shoulders. “You may be my worst enemy, but you’re also my neighbor, and I finished the second book in the series last night so I don’t have anything new to read.” She decided not to mention that if it weren’t for her, Arthur Tripp would have had this whole field plowed by now. She gave him a wry twist of her lips. “Besides, this is my land. Who’s to say I won’t harvest the potatoes in the middle of the night and keep them for myself?”

He nodded as if he’d already thought about it. “That’s one of the reasons I’m sleeping in that tent, so you won’t try anything tricky. I’m a very light sleeper.”

“So do you want my help or not?”

Enos was too smart to refuse her offer. There was no way he could plow the field by himself. “You’ll need gloves.”

Ada handed him the reins and ran to the tent where she had some gloves she’d used to help Clay set up the tent. She put them on and ran back to the horses.

He looked at her as if she were an angel who had just descended from heaven. “If you were any other woman, I would ask if you know what you’re doing, but I have no doubt you know how to do this.”

Ada’s heart felt as if it would leap out of her chest. “I know how to do a lot of things.”

“Doesn’t surprise me at all.”

She turned away to hide a very wide smile. If Enos saw it, he’d know how to break down her defenses. “What are their names?”

“The horses?”

“ Jah .”

Enos pointed to the lead horse. “This is Jeddy. Trotter is the smaller one.”

She held one rein in each hand. It was the best way to guide both horses. “I’m ready. Tell me if I go too fast or too slow.”

He nodded and tightened his hands around the plow. He had the hard job—keeping the plow in the ground without letting the horses run away with it.

Ada jiggled the reins. “Hup, hup. Hup, Jeddy. Hup.” The horses moved forward, with a slight pause when they met resistance from the plow digging into the ground. Ada’s job guiding the horses was harder than it looked. She had to keep the horses moving in a relatively straight line, the fence her only guide. The ground was bone dry, and the horses and plow kicked up a fair bit of dust.

She was breathing heavily after about fifteen minutes. She glanced at Enos. It was a cool morning, but sweat trickled down the side of his face, and his shirt would be soaked by mid-morning. Behind them, four gulls and seven or eight smaller birds snatched up worms and other critters unearthed by the plow.

When they got to the end of the row, Ada pulled back on the reins and pointed to the fence. “Look.”

A brownish red hawk sat on a fence post eyeing them with keen interest. Enos chuckled. “He’s waiting for us to dig up a mouse. You can see how dangerous it is to camp out here. That hawk could peck your eyes out.”

Ada shot him an exasperated look. “He’ll get you first. Your tent is a lot flimsier than mine.”

“But if he eats me, I won’t be able to protect you. You really should sleep at home for your own safety.”

After eight water breaks and a dozen more birds, they finished plowing the field. Enos propped his hands in his hips and gazed down the last furrow. “That went faster than I thought, even though we had to plow around your inconvenient tent.”

Ada folded her arms across her chest. “But it’s a very spacious tent and very comfortable to sleep in.”

He rolled his eyes. “It is not. You hate that tent, and I don’t wonder but you’re up half the night punching your pillow and adjusting your sleeping bag.”

He was exactly right. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Enos Hoover.”

They both turned as someone called to them from Ada’s yard. Beth opened the gate and came trotting across the field. “I’ve been watching you plow all morning. Good job.”

“ Denki ,” Enos said. “I couldn’t have done it without Ada.”

Beth grinned. “If it weren’t for Ada, you wouldn’t have had to do it at all.”

Ada wanted to protest. Loudly. Beth was telling the absolute truth, but whose side was she on?

Enos looked at Ada as if he didn’t care that all this extra work was her fault. “That’s true, but sometimes we have to make sacrifices for what we think is right.”

Did Enos agree with her little camping protest? Was he on her side or was she on his side? The lines of the argument were so blurred, Ada didn’t even know what was right anymore.

Beth giggled as if the whole situation was the funniest thing she’d ever heard. “I’m not blaming anyone for anything. It looks like you two work very well together. I think it’s cute.”

Cute? What did Beth mean by “cute”? Ada didn’t like it, and she didn’t like the way the heat crept up her neck when Enos looked at her.

Beth pointed to Ada and then to Enos. “We don’t really have time to figure out what this is. I’ve got yummasetti in the oven, and you are both invited to lunch.”

Had Beth lost her mind? “ Yummasetti ? You don’t know how to make yummasetti.”

Yummasetti was a traditional Amish dish with ground beef, cheese, and lots of cream. It was appeditlich , but Ada rarely made it herself. She didn’t want to give Dat a heart attack.

“I’m trying all sorts of new recipes from your recipe box. It’s not private, is it? You never said it was private.”

Ada bit her tongue. It wasn’t private, but it was neat and well organized. If Beth had done anything to jumble Ada’s orderly filing system, Ada was going to be very irritated. “Not private,” she said, almost breathless at the thought of Beth filing yummasetti under C for casserole instead of D for dinner.

“Oh, gute ,” Beth said. “So will you come? I made two pans of it, and I’m afraid I’ll have tons of leftovers. Mary and Clay and Menno and Joanna are coming. Cathy Larsen was over earlier this morning, and I invited her too. She said she wants to see the fireworks, though I’m not sure what she means. I think she’s excited to taste yummasetti. It’s like a Fourth of July party in your mouth.”

Enos concentrated too hard on unhitching the horses. “I appreciate the invitation,” he said, without looking up, “but I need to make lunch for my mamm .”

Beth’s face lit up. “She can come too. I made plenty.”

It was obvious by his reluctant expression that Enos didn’t want to bring his mater . She couldn’t go anywhere without deeply embarrassing her son. Ada didn’t want Tabitha to come either. She’d ruin lunch, for sure and certain giving everyone at the table indigestion.

But Enos deserved a stick-to-your-ribs meal for all his hard work this morning. Of course the yummasetti might not be edible, but at least it would be warm. And Enos didn’t need the added burden of cooking for his mater , which was no doubt a thankless job. Ada had been with Enos all morning, but they’d barely said ten words to each other. It would be very pleasant to sit down to a meal together and talk about farming and water and Amos Burkholder’s fine using horses.

Would she rather have Enos and his mater , or no Enos at all?

A few days ago, Ada wouldn’t have believed she was even asking that question. She most certainly wouldn’t have believed the answer.

“ Cum and eat with us,” she heard herself say. “And bring Tabitha. You’ve worked hard this morning.”

He gazed at her doubtfully. “So have you.”

“ Wunderbarr ,” Beth said. “We’re eating in half an hour.”

“I’ll have to bring the buggy. I don’t think Mamm can walk that far.”

Beth nodded. “Okay, we’ll eat in forty-five minutes. Will that give you enough time?”

Enos pulled a watch from his pocket. “It should.”

Ada’s heart did a little jig. She’d have just enough time to shower, rub gute- smelling lotion on her hands, and put on her prettiest dress, though why she suddenly cared about such nothings was anybody’s guess.

Enos patted Jeddy’s head. “I appreciate your kind invitation, but if I’m not there at twelve-fifteen, start without me. I don’t know if Mamm will feel up to it.”

Ada’s mouth felt as dry as sandpaper. Enos’s mamm was the sourest, most abrasive person Ada had ever met. Tabitha would never feel up to it. They’d all be disappointed.

Ada hated to be disappointed.