both too young to own one. Two more bug-in-their-beans pre- rumspringa boys who were feeling their oats already, Ella thought. They couldn’t wait for their running-around time, couldn’t wait to court a girl.
“Hey, Ella!” Mose Raber, a distant cousin, shouted. “Where’s Aaron? We got to show him this buggy!”
“He’s in the barn. I’ll send him out!” she called back. Since Andrew seemed to want to steer clear of people, no use to get these excited kids chattering away at him too in their Deutsche dialect he wouldn’t understand. What if the bishop hadn’t been able to tell everyone in the church yet that they were harboring an Auslander for a while?
Ella was surprised to find that Aaron was teaching Andrew with her horse and buggy. “We knew you were going to the mill, so we thought we’d hitch up for you while I show him,” Aaron said.
That kindness didn’t sound like Aaron lately—or had Andrew suggested that? “ Danki, but I can do it. Besides, Mose and Sol are outside to show you a courting buggy. It’s okay if you go out to say hi. I can show Andrew.”
Could it be, she thought, that the Lord had set this up with perfect timing? Andrew might not be going with her to the mill, but she had him to herself again. How she wished he’d tell her something about his real life.
“Aaron said your horse’s name is Fern,” Andrew said, interrupting her thoughts as he patted her mare’s flank.
“Right. See the little leaf mark on her forehead, like a fern? What else did he say?”
“That you always curry her before hitching up, but he’d skip that part right now. And that she used to be a champion pacer and could do almost eight miles an hour instead of just six, like the slower horse your dad lets him use.”
“Speed,” she said, giving Fern a few quick strokes with the curry brush. “Both my brothers like fast buggies, new leather and speed. I do too, and if I blow Fern a kiss she goes even faster.”
He smiled. “I’ll remember that. The love of speed sounds universal to me—something the Amish have in common with the world.”
“I know what universal means,” she replied, trying not to sound testy. “You had to leave behind a fast car, I bet.”
“Not a sports car, though. I went for a black BMW—corporate image.”
He had actually told her something personal. “Oh, I see.”
“I don’t mean to talk down to you, but I suppose you think I’m speaking a foreign language sometimes.”
“Like you think about us, I guess. And never the twain shall meet, my grandfather used to say.”
“But we are meeting, and I want to learn your ways. I admire much about your life.”
“Okay, then,” she said, tossing the curry brush onto a hay bale. She hoped Andrew didn’t notice she was blushing over a compliment as simple as that. She stroked Fern hard with the palms of her hands a couple of times where she’d brushed her, whispering, “Ser gut, ser gut, mein Fern.”
She picked up some of the tack Aaron had already taken from the pegs along the wall near the stalls. “Here’s what to remember to harness a horse and hitch him or her to the buggy.” She named the different parts of the tack while she used each, then reviewed. “Collar around neck, breast strap between forelegs, crupper under tail…”
“That under-tail stuff can be dangerous, right? Got to watch out on that back end.”
She turned to look directly at him for the first time since she’d started harnessing. “You mean, what we call horse apples? Mostly, that happens when they’re grazing in the field or especially on the road. It’s one of the things some English hold against us, that and they say these steel wheel rims on the buggy cut into the asphalt. But we have a right to be there too, and we put up with fumes and noise and the danger of being hit or run over.”
“I never thought about outsiders disliking the Amish for anything. Do they harass or retaliate against you? Could that be a reason
“Hey, Ella!” Mose Raber, a distant cousin, shouted. “Where’s Aaron? We got to show him this buggy!”
“He’s in the barn. I’ll send him out!” she called back. Since Andrew seemed to want to steer clear of people, no use to get these excited kids chattering away at him too in their Deutsche dialect he wouldn’t understand. What if the bishop hadn’t been able to tell everyone in the church yet that they were harboring an Auslander for a while?
Ella was surprised to find that Aaron was teaching Andrew with her horse and buggy. “We knew you were going to the mill, so we thought we’d hitch up for you while I show him,” Aaron said.
That kindness didn’t sound like Aaron lately—or had Andrew suggested that? “ Danki, but I can do it. Besides, Mose and Sol are outside to show you a courting buggy. It’s okay if you go out to say hi. I can show Andrew.”
Could it be, she thought, that the Lord had set this up with perfect timing? Andrew might not be going with her to the mill, but she had him to herself again. How she wished he’d tell her something about his real life.
“Aaron said your horse’s name is Fern,” Andrew said, interrupting her thoughts as he patted her mare’s flank.
“Right. See the little leaf mark on her forehead, like a fern? What else did he say?”
“That you always curry her before hitching up, but he’d skip that part right now. And that she used to be a champion pacer and could do almost eight miles an hour instead of just six, like the slower horse your dad lets him use.”
“Speed,” she said, giving Fern a few quick strokes with the curry brush. “Both my brothers like fast buggies, new leather and speed. I do too, and if I blow Fern a kiss she goes even faster.”
He smiled. “I’ll remember that. The love of speed sounds universal to me—something the Amish have in common with the world.”
“I know what universal means,” she replied, trying not to sound testy. “You had to leave behind a fast car, I bet.”
“Not a sports car, though. I went for a black BMW—corporate image.”
He had actually told her something personal. “Oh, I see.”
“I don’t mean to talk down to you, but I suppose you think I’m speaking a foreign language sometimes.”
“Like you think about us, I guess. And never the twain shall meet, my grandfather used to say.”
“But we are meeting, and I want to learn your ways. I admire much about your life.”
“Okay, then,” she said, tossing the curry brush onto a hay bale. She hoped Andrew didn’t notice she was blushing over a compliment as simple as that. She stroked Fern hard with the palms of her hands a couple of times where she’d brushed her, whispering, “Ser gut, ser gut, mein Fern.”
She picked up some of the tack Aaron had already taken from the pegs along the wall near the stalls. “Here’s what to remember to harness a horse and hitch him or her to the buggy.” She named the different parts of the tack while she used each, then reviewed. “Collar around neck, breast strap between forelegs, crupper under tail…”
“That under-tail stuff can be dangerous, right? Got to watch out on that back end.”
She turned to look directly at him for the first time since she’d started harnessing. “You mean, what we call horse apples? Mostly, that happens when they’re grazing in the field or especially on the road. It’s one of the things some English hold against us, that and they say these steel wheel rims on the buggy cut into the asphalt. But we have a right to be there too, and we put up with fumes and noise and the danger of being hit or run over.”
“I never thought about outsiders disliking the Amish for anything. Do they harass or retaliate against you? Could that be a reason
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