Wonderful Lonesome
Read Wonderful Lonesome Online
Authors: Olivia Newport
Tags: #Christian Books & Bibles, #Literature & Fiction, #Amish & Mennonite, #Historical, #Romance, #Amish, #United States, #Religious & Inspirational Fiction, #Religion & Spirituality, #Christian Fiction, #Inspirational
© 2014 by Olivia Newport
Print ISBN 978-1-62836-631-0
eBook Editions:
Adobe Digital Edition (.epub) 978-1-63058-602-7
Kindle and MobiPocket Edition (.prc) 978-1-63058-603-4
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted for commercial purposes, except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without written permission of the publisher.
All scripture quotations are taken from the King James Version of the Bible.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual people, organizations, and/or events is purely coincidental.
Cover design: Faceout Studio,
www.faceoutstudio.com
Published by Shiloh Run Press, an imprint of Barbour Publishing, Inc., P.O. Box 719, Uhrichsville, Ohio 44683,
www.shilohrunpress.com
.
Our mission is to publish and distribute inspirational products offering exceptional value and biblical encouragement to the masses
.
Printed in the United States of America.
Table of Contents
Elbert County, Colorado
May 1914
T
he front right wagon wheel, below Abigail Weaver, dipped sharply then lurched out of the hole. At its creak, she winced and eyed Willem Peters on the bench beside her.
Willem pulled the reins in, and the dark stallion responded. “I’d better look.”
Willem dropped off the bench, stepped mindfully over the hitch, and squatted to inspect the bent hickory wheel.
Abbie twisted to watch. “Did it break?”
Willem scratched his forehead with his middle finger. “Not that I can see. Maybe the back side of one of the spokes cracked.”
Abbie expelled a breath. “When did that hole happen anyway?”
“Who can say? At least it doesn’t seem too deep.” Willem stood. “We will be all right.”
We will be all right
. Willem’s favorite expression.
Willem hoisted himself up to the bench. “There’s an
English
wheel maker in Limon. I can ask him to take a look while you wait for Ruthanna’s train.”
Abbie nodded, glad to have Willem beside her again. He clicked his tongue and the horse began to move. Limon was only another two miles.
“Do you have your mother’s list for Gates Mercantile?” Willem asked.
“She hates having to buy flour.” Abbie squinted her brown eyes. “It’s like losing last year’s wheat all over again.”
“Your family is not alone in losing the crop. We all feel it.”
“I know. I hope they’ll take her eggs in payment.”
“They always do. Everybody needs eggs.” Willem glanced at Abbie. “Do you think your mother wants to go home?”
Abbie shook her light brown-haired head. “Colorado is home now. She wants to be here as much as I do. I think she’s written to every relative we have, though.” Abbie reached into the leather bag and ran her fingers along the ridges of the coarse envelopes.
“I promised Albert Miller I would check for his mail. Remind me, please.”
Abbie turned her face away and allowed herself a small smile. She liked it when Willem said things like that, the way he depended on her in the mundane.
“Where first?” Willem raised his green eyes in the direction of Limon. “Mercantile? Feed store? Post office? Wheel maker?”
“Someday we’ll be able to do more of those things for ourselves.” Abbie set her jaw. “Once a few more families join our settlement, we’ll have the tradesmen to provide what we need.”
“Speaking of tradesmen, remind me to check with our very own cobbler about my new boots. We’re blessed to have someone to make our shoes.”
“God is
gut
.” Abbie peered toward the outline of Limon. “How much time do we have before Ruthanna’s train?”
“I’ll tell you what. Give me your list and letters, and I’ll drop you at the station and start on the errands. That way you can enjoy Ruthanna. She’ll be ready to talk your ear off as usual.”
“That’s one of the things I love about her.” Abbie smiled. “Does it count if I remind you now to pick up the Millers’ mail?”
One of Willem’s cheeks twitched in amusement. “No one can accuse you of not fulfilling your promises.”
Abbie stood on the platform and bent at the waist, back straight, to peer down the tracks. Her dark dress seemed somber among the spray of colors and hats of
English
women preparing to board trains, but the sensation was fleeting. Abbie had no wish to be
English
. Perhaps Ruthanna would bring news of other families who wanted to join the settlement. The price of land was certainly attractive. Abbie’s father had put his savings into his Colorado farm and tripled the acreage he had owned in Ohio. Willem had rented his acres in Ohio, but here he was a landowner. Every family in the settlement had a similar story.
Twenty-four trains a day shuddered into this station. Limon, Colorado, was on the Union Pacific line as well as the Rock Island. As much as Abbie wanted her Amish church members to be able to take care of their own needs and provide for each other, she knew this town of five hundred was crucial to the settlement’s survival. The trains made the distance from their families seem less daunting.
Distant rumbling turned thunderous as the train approached. Abbie sucked in her bottom lip, her stomach fluttering. Four weeks without her best friend was too much time apart. Ruthanna’s only letter in that interim had revealed she would travel with cousins into western Kansas and then continue to Limon alone and arrive on this day. Brakes squealed now as the mass of steel slowed to a lumber and halted. Abbie scanned in both directions, not knowing which train car Ruthanna would emerge from. She did know that Ruthanna’s favorite apron to wear over her black dress was the blue one. Abbie instinctively looked for fabric dyed in this distinctive Amish shade. Her intuition was rewarded when her friend stepped off the train just two cars forward of where Abbie stood.
In only seconds, they locked in an embrace that wobbled from side to side.
Ruthanna finally pulled back, her blue eyes gleaming under white blond hair. “I’m thrilled to see you, of course, but where is Eber?”
Of course Ruthanna would have been expecting her husband to meet the train. “He’s under the weather,” Abbie said.
“Eber is ill?”
“Just the last few days, but it keeps him up at night. I saw him this morning and sent him back to bed. He was pale as a corpse, and Willem was coming into town anyway.”
Concern flushed through Ruthanna’s face.
“He’ll be fine, Ruthanna.”
“You sound like Willem. I should not have left Eber.”
“Of course you should have.” Abbie picked up Ruthanna’s small suitcase and they began walking. “You must insist that he hire some help, though. A bit more rest would work wonders. Now tell me all about Pennsylvania.”
Ruthanna’s face brightened. She put her hand on a gently rounding belly. “I am so glad I waited to tell my parents about the baby in person.”
Abbie grinned. “Your
daed
loves the
kinner
.”
“Now they will have to visit us. Perhaps next spring, after they can see how well we’ve done with this year’s harvest. They cannot resist a grandchild.”
Ruthanna adjusted her
kapp
. The train ride had worn her out more than she wanted to admit to Abbie. She had seen other women sick while they were with child, but she had not known how exhausting it could be to fight the nausea for hours on end. At night she slept in exhaustion, but still she dragged through the days.
“Have you heard of anyone who wants to come and join us?”
Abbie’s question was just what Ruthanna expected. “Not precisely.”
“Is anyone even considering it?”
Ruthanna sighed. “Everyone thought we would have a minister by now.”
“So did we. We have twelve households—some of them are even three generations. That’s enough for our own minister.”
“I’m not sure anyone else will come until we have a minister. They have a hard time imagining how we can go an entire year without a church service and communion.” Ruthanna inhaled the loose dirt that always hung in the air on the Colorado plain and coughed. This did nothing to settle her stomach.
“I suppose I cannot blame them,” Abbie said, “but surely God could put the call on a minister to visit us more often until someone from our congregation can be ordained. I shall pray more fervently.”
Ruthanna moistened her lips with what little saliva she could muster. “Also, everyone knows what happened to last year’s crops. I received many questions about that as well.”
“But that is not fair. Even farmers in Pennsylvania or Ohio can lose a crop if the weather is not favorable.”
“You have to admit that the advertisements that brought us out here failed to mention some important factors.”
Abbie waved a hand. “I do not believe anyone intended to deceive. The first men did not yet know for themselves how little rain there was. Acres and acres of land were available with no need to clear thousands of trees before planting. A new family can get a crop in the first spring they are here. Certainly that’s still an attractive truth.”
Ruthanna smiled and put a tongue in the corner of her mouth. “You are nothing if not persistent, Abigail Weaver. I cannot think of anyone who wants our settlement to succeed more than you do.”
“We are so close! A few more families, a minister, a good crop this year.”
Abbie’s pace had quickened with her enthusiasm, and Ruthanna could not keep up. “Abbie, I need some cold refreshment and a place to sit that is not in motion.”
