Runaway Amish Bride. Leigh Bale

       Chapter One

      Abigail Miller sat primly on the edge of a tall-backed chair and stared at Jakob Fisher, his long fingers clenched around the letters Abby had given him.

      He paced the length of the spacious living room in his home, his blue chambray shirt stretched taut across his overly broad shoulders and muscular arms. Even his black suspenders looked tight against his solid back. He had just arrived from working in the fields, and his plain trousers and black boots had dust on them. His dark hair was slightly damp and curled against the nape of his neck, confirming that the April weather was unseasonably warm. His straw hat sat on a table where he’d carelessly tossed it twenty minutes earlier. His high forehead furrowed as he scowled at his mother.

      “I can’t believe you told this woman I would marry her,” he muttered.

      Naomi Fisher met her son’s gaze. She sat beside Bishop Yoder on the sofa, her hands in her lap. The friction in the room was palpable. Abby couldn’t help wishing she had never come to Colorado. Even the abuse she had suffered back home in Ohio at the hands of her father and elder brother was preferable to this humiliating scene.

      “I didn’t make the offer, mein sohn. As you can see from his letters, your father did this, just before he died.” Naomi spoke in a quiet, matter-of-fact voice, her expression calm but resolute.

      Jakob handed the letters back to Abby. Several pages escaped her grasp and drifted to the floor. She bent over to gather them up, then placed them neatly inside her purse. They were like a shameful reminder that she’d done something wrong, but she hadn’t. She’d merely agreed to what she thought was a marriage proposal.

      “Did you know what Daed had done?” Jakob asked.

      “Ne, I didn’t know anything about it. Not until today. I just thought Abby was coming to Colorado to visit us,” Naomi said.

      The bishop cleared his voice. “Your vadder told me of his plans, although he led me to believe that you had agreed to the offer of marriage. I thought it was all arranged. I’m sorry that I didn’t speak with you about it before now.”

      Jakob stopped dead and stared at the man. “Ne, I knew nothing. Why didn’t Daed tell me about it? I never would have agreed to such a scheme.”

      Abby flinched at the irritation in his voice. She felt devious, as though she had plotted behind Jakob’s back. She shifted her weight, wishing she could disappear. Wishing she were anywhere but here. She had arrived by bus only two hours earlier. Naomi, Bishop Yoder and his wife, Sarah, had been at the station to meet her. After traveling for twenty-six hours, Abby was hungry, exhausted and relieved to see a friendly face. She’d climbed into the back of the bishop’s buggy and he had driven her here, to the Fishers’ farm just nine miles outside town. She thought she was coming here to marry Jakob, the only man she’d ever trusted. Now, she realized she’d made a huge mistake.

      “I’m already married. Susan is my wife,” Jakob said, his voice sounding hoarse with emotion.

      Abby jerked her head up at this information. Jakob had a wife? When had that happened? Obviously, Jakob hadn’t known about his father’s offer until this morning. Even among the Amish, an arranged marriage was considered old-fashioned. But Abby had suffered a lifetime of abuse at the hands of her father and elder brother, Simon. Desperate to escape, she had agreed to come to Colorado. Naomi had been childhood friends with her mother. Fourth cousins, to be exact. Abby had been a girl when they’d left Ohio, but she still remembered them.

      Naomi lifted her head, her eyes shimmering with moisture. “Susan is gone, but your children still need a mamm. Perhaps that is why your vadder contacted Abby and told her to come here.”

      “My children have you to mother them. They don’t need anyone else. And it wasn’t Daed’s place to find me a wife,”