Something in his tone sent p.r.i.c.kles up Tobias's arms. A hint of something familiar rode the words. A lingering hint of longing. It felt like Serena. "Where did she stay?"

"She and her father got rooms at the same hotel where Mordecai and I stayed. In fact, we ate supper together a couple of times before they had to come back home."

"Sounds cozy."

"It was." David's sharp, chiseled chin lifted. His green eyes held a challenge. "She's kind-they're kind folks. They felt real bad about what happened."

"I'm sure they are and they did. Just be careful."

"I'm not you, bruder."

No, he wasn't, but he was a man now, like any other man, with human frailties that Tobias knew all too well. He bit his tongue to keep from saying more. It was David's rumspringa, his time for making mistakes and learning from them. And deciding his own future. Tobias would have to approach with care or he'd drive David right into Bobbie's welcoming arms.

Bobbie hopped down from the truck cab dressed in a simple blue sundress that flowed below her knees. Her feet were clad in the usual black cowboy boots, and she wore a black cowboy hat to match. No jewelry. No makeup. The same scrubbed-fresh look his sisters had. "Howdy, boys." Her smile was tentative as if she wasn't sure what kind of reception she would receive from Tobias. "I was hoping I'd find you here."

"David was just telling me how your father paid the hospital bill. Thank you."

She shrugged and nodded. "It was the least we could do. It was only right."

"Did you come to order your saddle?" Tobias swung himself over the fence with the ease of much practice. "I have the paperwork with the cost estimate in the shop."

"Sure, we can do that." Her gaze remained on David. His face flushed a deep scarlet. She ducked her head and began to make crosses in the dirt with the tip of her boot. "I wanted to take a look at Cracker Jack. Dad's thinking of selling him."

"I wish he wouldn't do that." The words were out of Tobias's mouth before he could stop them. What did he care if they sold the horse? "I mean, don't sell him on our account. Daed will recover."

"Your dad said the same thing." Bobbie snapped her gum as if to punctuate the thought. "I reckon the only thing that will keep my dad from selling him is if we can show he can be rehabilitated. What do you think, David?"

It was David's turn to duck his head, looking like a little boy on the first day of school. "Sounds like a fine idea to me." The words came out in a stutter. David hadn't stuttered since first grade. "Want me to give it a whirl?"

"Nee." Tobias slid into the s.p.a.ce between his brother and the gate. "If anybody gets on that horse, it will be me."

"You don't break horses." David's face went from red to a shade of purple that reminded Tobias of eggplant. "You're the saddle maker and the bookkeeper."

"I'm in charge while Daed is away." Away. A fancy way of saying hurt and unable to take care of his family. "The decision is mine. I won't have you hurt too."

He couldn't take it. Daed in the hospital was more than enough. He wouldn't risk David too.

"It's just a horse." David crossed his arms over his chest, the words full of bl.u.s.ter. Not the little bruder Tobias knew. "I can handle it."

"Not this time." Tobias turned to Bobbie. "Come up to the shop with me. I'll give you the estimate on the saddle. Ask your dad to give me a few weeks with the horse. Give him time to get to know me. We'll get it done for you."

Bobbie seemed to have trouble dragging her gaze from David to Tobias. "I'll talk to him. He feels real bad about what happened to your dad, though. He won't want anyone else to get hurt."

The look that traveled between David and her crackled with unspoken words. Tobias cleared his throat. "David, you should head home. The kinner have missed you and there's work to be done."

David's glare could've singed Tobias's hair. "How do I get home?"

"Take the buggy and come back for me later-"

"I can give him a ride." Bobbie sounded like a little girl begging for a puppy. "It's no problem. Really. It's on the way."

Tobias gritted his teeth. He'd walked right into that one. "Nice of you to offer, but I think David better stay and muck the stalls first. That way I can work on your saddle, soon as you make a deposit."

She glanced back, not bothering to hide her disappointment. Tobias walked faster. Sometimes a person couldn't move fast enough to avoid temptation. It came at a man like a semitruck out of control on a highway.

Or a girl in a sundress and cowboy boots.

TWENTY-SEVEN.

The smell of bleach and soap blossomed in the air, fresh as flowers. Susan liked the aroma of clean. She stuck the woolly-headed mop in the yellow plastic bucket and stretched her arms over her head. Her shoulders and arms ached, but the ache spoke of a job well done so she didn't mind. Letting her arms relax, she surveyed her work. The Byler kitchen fairly sparkled. The vinyl was old and cracked but clean. The counters were scrubbed, all the dishes washed and stacked neatly in their places. The prep table was clear and ready for making supper. Martha and the little girls tried, but they didn't seem to get that putting something away as soon as a person finished using it saved work later.

Martha had changed the sheets and pillowcases on Levi's bed first, while Susan dusted and cleaned the front room. It didn't seem right that she should see Levi's room. None of her business how he stacked his pants or hung his shirts. Or didn't.

Everyone was relieved that Levi was coming home. Because they missed him and needed him back, but also because it took their minds off Lupe and Diego. Gone almost two weeks now. Probably in San Antonio by now. With their father, Gott willing. Or captured by Immigration and returned across the border. Or corralled by the awful men who'd brought them here in the first place with ill intent.

Gott's will? She couldn't be sure. They're only kinner, Gott; protect them. Keep them safe from the bad men out there who would take advantage of them. If You're willing, bring them back to us. We'll take care of them.

She had no children of her own. She could take care of them. No problem. Gott, can You hear me?

She was too proud, thinking she could do it. Or anything on her own. Gott made those decisions, not a simple woman like herself. Shaking her head at her own thoughts, Susan opened the back door and carried the bucket outside. She emptied it and put both items away. Time to start supper. She'd suggested chicken and dumplings and pecan pie for Levi's homecoming dinner and Martha had agreed, especially after she realized Susan was offering to cook.

The dark circles around her eyes and dispirited efforts with a sponge had clearly indicated the girl was worn out. Maybe now that Levi was headed home, she'd be willing to let Susan and Rebekah help out more.

"They're here, they're here!" Liam streaked through the back door and zipped past her toward the front room. "Daed's here. He's here."

Despite the sudden, painful lurch in her own heart, Susan chuckled. The child tickled her fancy in every way. She dried her hands, pretending to herself that they weren't shaking, and followed him out to the front porch. Sure enough, Mr. Cramer's van, covered with dust and the splatter of bugs on the windshield, was parked just behind the horse posts. The middle door opened and Mordecai hopped out, his hand on his hat to keep it from blowing away in a hot July wind that kicked up dust bunnies and tumbleweeds across the barren landscape.

Liam hurled himself into the van and into his father's lap with a resounding smack. Levi's arms wrapped around the boy, whose squeals drowned out any words his father might have said.

Mordecai laughed, that deep belly laugh that made Susan smile. "Easy, suh, your daed's a little sore. You don't want to break any more of his bones."

"He's fine." Levi's voice was m.u.f.fled, his face buried in Liam's s.h.a.ggy blond hair. "He's a jumping bean and a wiggle worm all rolled into one."

"We have strawberries, Daed, big ones, you want to see? I picked a bunch of them." Liam hopped from the van, tumbled to his knees, and rocketed to his feet, seemingly unaware of the dirt that clung to his pants. "We can have some for supper. How about that? I'll clean them myself. You like strawberries, right?"

"I do, suh." Levi's voice had an odd tremble. "Why don't you go get them ready? I'll be along in a minute."

Mordecai swatted Liam on the behind. "Go on, you heard your daed. Skedaddle. He'll be at the house when you have the berries ready."

An eager grin plastered across his face, Liam darted away. Mordecai watched him go, then turned to Susan. "Howdy, schweschder. We're home."

"Indeed you are. It's good to see you." It was. The King household had been far too quiet without his steady commentary on the events outlined by scribes in the Budget or the silly tall tales he liked to weave for spellbound Hazel and Caleb those long summer nights sitting in sagging lawn chairs in the front yard, watching the sun go down and swatting mosquitoes. "Abigail has missed you."

"Unlike you, who would prefer I not mess up the kitchen with my honey, beeswax, and candles?"

"If you're fishing for a compliment, you'll find none here." All the same, she allowed herself a small pat on her brother's shoulder. Never a better brother had existed. "How is the patient?"

"The patient isn't patient and he's not a patient anymore." Levi pulled himself so that his legs, encased in dark-navy orthopedic boots up to his knees, dangled from the edge of the van seat. His tan had faded, leaving his skin pale. Pain deepened the lines around his eyes and mouth. "He's ready to be in his own home."

Mordecai tugged a set of gray metal crutches from the backseat and held them out. "Have at it."

Levi frowned. A growl much like that of Butch when a cat intruded on his territory told Susan exactly what the man thought of the crutches. He thrust out his hand and grabbed Mordecai's offering. "For now."

Now Susan understood. Levi didn't want his son to watch him struggle to use crutches and extricate himself from the van.

"I'll get your bag and pay Ralph."

Mordecai disappeared behind the van, leaving Susan to watch Levi as he struggled to heave himself from the van and onto the crutches without toppling over in the dirt. She didn't dare ask if he needed help. His expression made that obvious.

A second later he thumped his way up the steps, shoulders hunched, grunting with each step. He paused long enough for Susan to open the screen door before plunging through the doorway with a determined air.

"Sit here." She scurried past him and scooped up a basket of sewing from the couch. "You can stretch out your legs and it'll be easiest for you to get back up."

He kept walking, his crutches smacking against the wood in an angry staccato.

"Or not."

He glanced back. "Going to my room."

To search for his pleasing disposition, perhaps. "I'm making chicken and dumplings for supper."

The thumping stopped. Levi pivoted, his face a study in conflicting emotion. "Did Martha forget how to cook?"

"Nee, I offered." She smoothed her ap.r.o.n with both hands, hoping he couldn't see how they trembled. No one made her feel this way. Ever. Not even John, her long-ago suitor who'd tired of waiting and taken another as his fraa. "Your dochder has worked hard while you've been gone. There's a singing tonight. I thought maybe she should go."

"And she'd like to go?" He sounded aggrieved. His first night home and his daughter wanted to go out. He wasn't a child, after all. "She should, then."

"I would like for her to go." Susan crossed her arms. No need to be snippy, even if he was uncomfortable and tired. "As you should. We talked about this, remember? You brought it to me."

The grumpiness in his face disappeared. "Indeed we did." He turned and began his slow step-and-swing progress toward the hallway. "Danki for all you've done."

"Haven't done much of anything."

"Chicken and dumplings are my favorite." Some of the pique had faded from his tone. He slowed, then turned once again, this time all the irritation gone. He smiled. He had a smile that made her think of Christmas morning and her birthday all rolled into one big, happy, family holiday. "I reckon it would hit the spot after all that hospital food."

After a few seconds she remembered to close her mouth. Then speak. "I best get started on the dumplings." The slight stutter made heat rise on her neck and ascend into her cheeks. "I have a pecan pie in the oven."

The smile widened over a beard just starting to go silver. "Another favorite. I guess Martha told you that."

"Martha and I had a chance to talk about a lot of things."

"She's a good girl." He tapped his way around to face the hall once again. "I'll be out to wash up in a bit."

She doubted that. Fatigue rounded his shoulders and made each step slower. "It'll be a while. Rest a spell. I'll call you when supper is ready."

His head bobbed. The shoulders rounded more. It took a few moments, but eventually he disappeared into the hallway that led to his bedroom.

Mordecai's deep, sandpaper-rough chuckle wafted in the air behind her. Susan whirled and faced her brother. "What's so funny? A man in pain who's too tired to think straight?"

"My schweschder in lieb. I never thought I'd see the day." Mordecai crossed his arms over his broad shoulders, grinning like a hund on the hunt. "He's cranky now. You're seeing him at his worst. If you still get all riled up, then it must be something."

Something, but she couldn't say what. "I'm not riled up. I don't get riled up."

"Sure you do. Remember that time Lilly poured bleach in with the load of dark clothes and washed all the color from your dresses? You were riled up then."

"That was different. She was a silly little girl who hated doing laundry." Their sister would do almost anything to get out of doing laundry and sewing. The joke was on her. Now she had eight kinner of her own. The piles of laundry must be endless and the treadle sewing machine worn out. "She did it on purpose."

"Nee, she didn't know better." Mordecai always defended Lilly. Who said big brothers didn't play favorites? "Besides, she made up for it later."

Later, when Mudder pa.s.sed and they were on their own. Then everyone pitched in. "We're going to stand here and argue about something that happened twenty-five years ago?"

"You haven't forgotten."

Good and bad, she remembered it all. The hot, humid afternoons in the kitchen with steaming pots of boiling water to bathe jars for canning. The rows of canned tomatoes, green beans, and pickles. "I don't forget."

"That's for sure."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Mordecai snapped his suspenders, his eyes brilliant. "I just mean it's about time you let go of your role as caregiver for others and have your own family."

"Gott's will."

"Exactly. Don't stand in His way."

"I'm not. I would never."

"We'll see. It takes courage to step out in faith, especially when it comes to people like Levi."

"What do you mean like Levi?"

Emotions warred in Mordecai's face. The pinched, dark look she remembered from his days as a new widower caring for a son with devastating injuries slid across his face like a cloud filtering the light of a brilliant moon. "I see a lot of myself in him. Me, before Abigail came along."

"I do too." Susan schooled her voice to keep the pain she felt for him at bay. "Gott is gut. He gave you a second chance at lieb."

"You could be Levi's second chance."

"That's really up to him. I haven't seen any indication."

Mordecai c.o.c.ked his head, his eyes squinted as if against the sun. "He showed you his bad side. That's a good indication."