As Martin waited on the por ed God that she hadn’t been near mishap with the hammer Ruth, he thought about her hurt. He’d had an interest in Ruth for a long time—ever since they were children. Even back then, he thought she was beautiful, with her dark brown hair and matching eyes, not to mention her gentle, sweet spirit. During their teen years, when they’d first started attending singings and other young people’s functions, he’d been too shy to ask if he could give her a ride home in his buggy. Then Luke Friesen began courting Ruth, and Martin figured his chances were nil. Now that Luke was out of the picture, Martin hoped he might be able to win Ruth’s heart.

“What’s the matter, Martin? Did you get tired of crawling around on the roof?” Abe Wengerd asked as he clomped up the steps to the back porch.

Martin motioned to the house. “I came here to help Ruth get something to drink for the workers.”

Abe glanced around, then tipped his head in Martin’s direction. “Don’t see any sign of Ruth. Looks to me like you’re taking a break.”

Martin chuckled. “Guess I am at that. But just until Ruth returns from the kitchen.”

“How come you didn’t go in with her?”

“Figured I’d only be in the way.” Martin’s cheeks warmed. “Besides, she asked me to wait out here.”

“Reminds me of the way my Alma used to be.” Abe reached under his straw hat and pulled his fingers through the ends of his unruly reddish-brown hair. “That woman could get me to do most anything.” A shadow crossed his face as he stared down at his boots. “Sure do miss her.”

Martin couldn’t imagine what it must be like for Abe, losing his wife after she was struck by a lightning bolt. Now the poor fellow had six children to raise on his own. Martin wondered whether Abe would marry again—and if so, whether it would be for love or so his children could have a mother.

“Did you come up to the house for a particular reason or just to see if I was loafing off?” Martin asked.

Abe leaned against the porch railing. “From what I’ve seen of your work habits at the harness shop, I’m convinced you’re not the kind to loaf around.” He nodded toward the back door. “In answer to your question, I was heading in to use the facilities.”

“What’s wrong with the portable outhouses that were put up for the workers to use?” Roman Hostettler asked as he stepped onto the porch. “Are they too smelly for your sensitive nose?” He snickered and bumped Abe’s arm with his elbow.

Abe nudged him right back. “They were both in use. I figured you wouldn’t mind if I used the one inside.”

“Don’t mind at all.” Roman pushed the screen door open. “Go right on in.”

When Abe disappeared into the house, Roman flopped into one of the wicker chairs that sat near the swing and fanned his damp face with the brim of his hat. “Sure has turned into a warm day, jah?”

Martin nodded. “That’s why Ruth went into the house to get something cold to drink. As soon as she comes back, we’ll take it to the workers.”

“It’s nice of you to want to help,” Roman said with a sly-looking smile. His brown eyes twinkled, as though he knew Martin’s secret.

Martin’s ears burned with embarrassment. Did Ruth’s dad know how much he cared for his daughter? Would Roman approve of his courting Ruth? He was tempted to ask but decided to bring up another subject instead. “Did you see that hammer fly off the roof a while ago?”

“Sure didn’t. Did anyone get hurt?”

“No, but the hammer almost hit Ruth.”

Roman’s dark bushy eyebrows drew together. “How’d it happen?”

“It was Luke’s hammer. He said it slipped out of his hand.”

“Humph! As much training as that fellow’s had using a hammer, he shouldn’t be losing his grip. That was just plain careless.” Roman’s eyes narrowed as he glanced at the place behind his house where the section of property he’d given Cleon lay. “I never invited Luke to this work frolic. If I’d had my way, he wouldn’t have come.”

“Who invited him?”

“Cleon. He invited Luke and his English boss, John Peterson. Guess he wanted all able-bodied carpenters to help so we could get the job done quicker.”

“Even so, if he knew you didn’t want Luke invited—”

“Since it’s Cleon and Grace’s house, I didn’t think I had the right to say who could help and who couldn’t.” The scowl on Roman’s face was enough to curdle fresh goat’s milk. “Now that I know one of my daughters could have been injured because of Luke’s carelessness, I have a right to say what’s on my mind.” He stood and pivoted toward the porch steps.

“Where are you going?”

“To send Luke Friesen home!”

© 2007 by Wanda E. Brunstetter
ISBN 978-1-59789-272-8
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted
in any form or by any means without written permission of the publisher. Published by Barbour Publishing, Inc., P.O. Box 719, Uhrichsville, Ohio 44683,
www.barbourbooks.com