The Amish Bachelor's Choice. Jocelyn McClay

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СКАЧАТЬ hunched a shoulder. “I needed it.” She didn’t look at him as she scrambled into the buggy. But she caught a glimpse of his face before she secured the door. He was not happy.

      She gently slapped the reins against Bess’s back. The mare needed no further encouragement to exit the shed. Ducking her head against the blowing snow, she started a brisk trot toward home.

      No nudging required for the old girl tonight. Ruth tucked the blanket about her on the seat, glad once again that she’d remembered to throw it into the buggy this morning. The mare wanted to get home to a warm barn and hay. Ruth wanted to get home to make sure Rascal was warm and safe. Getting out of the elements herself seemed like a pretty good idea, as well.

      Within moments, the brown back trotting in front of the buggy was splattered with white. Ruth stared apprehensively at the road in the rapidly dimming light of the late afternoon. It was hard to believe that she’d driven in with brown and a bit of green fringing the roadside. Now she was glad to even see the sides of the country road that they’d just turned onto. Hopefully Bess’s judgment was better than her own at knowing where the road ended and the ditch began.

      Ruth was thankful she wasn’t attempting this in the dark. She supposed she had Malachi to thank for that. And for harnessing Bess so she could head home sooner. Ruth saw motion in the small rearview mirror that jutted out from the buggy’s side. A bay and buggy had just turned down her road. Recognizing the rig as the one ready in the shed before she’d left, Ruth frowned. He should’ve gone straight at the intersection. Why was Malachi following her home? It would take him at least five miles out of the way on a horrible night.

      As the temperature dropped, the light dimmed and the howling wind rose further, Ruth became grateful for the companionship on the road. It was the only company she encountered on the long, cold trip. When the buggy lurched as Bess cut the corner short into the lane, Ruth was never more glad to see the building shapes that identified her farmstead in the swirling snow. She darted a look at the chicken coop as Bess pulled hard toward the big barn doors.

      Ruth would’ve gasped when she partially rolled up the buggy door to slip out if the wind had allowed her enough air to do so. The driving snow stung her cheeks and tried to tug her bonnet from her head. To keep from tumbling ahead of its force, Ruth kept hold of the buggy and then of Bess as she worked her way to the doors that shook ominously in their frames.

      Bracing herself for the jerk when she released the latch and the doors suddenly became kites, she almost fell in surprise when two arms reached in front of her to pull the lever back and opened the doors in a controlled, albeit jolting, manner. Securing her attention, Malachi waved her into his own buggy. Bess needed no further instruction, driver or no. As soon as the opening was wide enough, she swept inside. Ruth hustled into Malachi’s buggy. Driving the gelding into the big barn as well, she was instantly enveloped in the smell of hay and livestock. Malachi wrestled the doors shut behind them.

      The sudden break from the force of the driving snow was eerie, as was the wail of the wind as it attacked the barn’s walls. Ruth wobbled her way down the buggy steps, more shaken from the ride than she cared to admit.

      Bess bobbed her head. Ruth knew the mare. She was saying, “I got you here. Now get me my supper.” That reminded Ruth of her other charge. Dashing to the side door of the barn, she wrenched it open. There was a brief, startled call from Malachi before the howl of the wind shut out every other sound. Bowing her head against the buffeting snow, she pushed her way to the henhouse. Her cold fingers were clumsy on the door latch. Biting a chilled lower lip, she worked the frozen bolt from the latch, flung open the door and stumbled in.

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