The Amish Christmas Cowboy. Jo Brown Ann
she asked.
Instead of answering her, he asked, “Is Bay Boy okay?”
“He’s shivering,” she said, glancing at the other paddock, “but he’ll be okay.”
“You’ve got a way with horses.”
When she saw how he gritted his teeth on each word, she said, “You are hurt! Where?”
“I twisted my ankle. It’ll be okay once I walk it off.” He pushed himself away from the rail and took a step to prove it.
With a gasp, he sank to his left knee and grasped his right ankle.
She scanned the yard. Where was Ned? She didn’t see him anywhere.
“Alexander,” she shouted, “go inside and call 911. Right now!”
“I can call them from here.” He pulled a cell phone out of his pocket.
“Quickly!”
Later, she’d remind Alexander he wasn’t supposed to have his phone for another week. He’d gotten in trouble while prank calling his friends because he was bored. By mistake, he’d reached the private phone of the police chief in the village of Salem. She wondered how the boy had retrieved his phone. She’d asked Mr. Summerhays to put it in his wall safe. With a grimace, she guessed Alexander had watched his daed open it often enough that he’d learned the combination. She’d have to find another way to make him atone for bothering the police chief.
At that thought, she added, “Dial carefully.”
He averted his eyes, a sure sign he knew a scolding would be coming his way once Toby was taken care of.
The call was made, and Alexander reported the rescue squad was on its way. He gave her the phone. Dropping it into a pocket under her black apron, she looked at Toby, who was trying not to show his pain.
Just as he hid every other emotion. What was he worried about revealing?
* * *
Everything, in Toby’s estimation, had gone wrong since J.J. had pulled the truck into the Summerhays’ long drive. The moment Toby had gone to the door and found an Amish woman there, he should have known this wasn’t going to be like other deliveries they’d made on this trip from Texas. He hadn’t guessed he’d be hurt by a horse he’d trained himself. A beginner’s mistake. After years of working with horses and convincing them it was better to behave, he should have been prepared for every possible move Bay Boy could have made.
At the worst moment, as the cat decided to chase something right under Bay Boy’s nose, Toby had let himself be distracted by Sarah and how the reflected sunlight off her gorgeous red hair seared his eyes. Dummkopf, he chided himself. He spent the past dozen years avoiding relationships, romantic or otherwise, and he’d been at Summerhays Stables less than two hours and already was thinking too much about her.
“Ned?” he managed to ask.
Sarah shrugged her slender shoulders. “I don’t know where he went. Komm with me,” she said in a tone that suggested he’d be wasting his time to protest. He guessed she used it often with the Summerhays kids. “You need to get your weight off that ankle before you hurt it worse.”
He wasn’t sure he could hurt it worse. Each time he took a breath, stabs of pain danced around his ankle, setting every nerve on fire.
“I’m fine right here.” The idea of moving was horrifying.
“There’s a bench on the other side of the fence. You can sit there until the EMTs arrive.”
She didn’t give him a chance to protest. Squatting, she moved beneath his right arm, which she draped over her shoulders. The top of her kapp just missed his chin. She put her arm around him. With a strength he hadn’t expected, she assisted him to his feet. His face must have displayed his surprise.
“I’ve been wrangling four kinder, cowboy,” she said in an easy copy of his boss’s drawl. “One bumped-up cowboy is easy.”
“I’m sure it is.” He glanced at where the kids were watching, wide-eyed.
Why hadn’t she sent them into the house? He didn’t need an audience when he hopped along like a hobbled old man.
Pride is a sin. His daed’s voice ran through his head. Daed had always been skilled at preaching the dangers of hochmut. Maybe if he’d been a bit less judgmental, the family could have settled somewhere instead of continuously moving to another district.
Sharp pain coursed up his leg and down to his toes. Had he broken something? He didn’t think so. Was it only a sprain? Each movement was agonizing.
“It’s not far,” Sarah said.
To herself or to him? His weight must have been wearing on her slender shoulders, though she didn’t make a peep of complaint.
A scent that was sweet and woodsy at the same time drifted from her hair. She was careful to help absorb each motion as she helped him from the paddock and out onto the grass.
“This is far enough,” he said, panting as if he’d run across Texas.
“You’re right.” She hunkered down and let his arm slide off her shoulders.
“I’m sorry if I hurt you.”
“I’m okay.” She smiled, but her eyes were dim enough to confirm he was right. Her shoulders must be aching.
Toby was grateful when she waved the kinder aside and urged them to let him get some air. He thought they’d protest, but they turned as one when the distant sound of a siren resonated off the foothills, rising beyond the stable.
“They’re coming!” the older boy—Toby couldn’t recall his name through the curtain of pain—shouted.
The siren got louder moments before a square and boxy ambulance appeared around the side of J.J.’s trailer. The kids let out squeals of excitement, but Sarah hushed them. Had she guessed every sound reverberated through his throbbing ankle?
Two men jumped from the ambulance. Each one carried emergency supplies. Shouts came from the direction of the house, and Toby recognized his boss’s anxious voice.
What a mess he’d made of this! The boy he’d once been would have offered a prayer to God to bring him fast healing, but he couldn’t remember the last time he’d reached out to God. He didn’t want to make that connection, either, remembering how his Heavenly Father seemed to stop listening to his prayers when Daed had moved them yet again before Toby had even finished unpacking the two boxes he took with him from one place to the next.
“Hi, Sarah!” said a dark-complexioned EMT who wore thick glasses. “What happened here?”
She explained and introduced Toby to the man she called George. The other EMT, a short balding man, was named Derek. They worked on the volunteer fire department with her brothers.
He didn’t want to know that. Everything she said, everyone she introduced him to, every moment while depending on someone threatened to make a connection to the farm and the community beyond it. To say that would sound ungrateful. He needed to focus on getting on his feet again so he could help with their next delivery.
As they knelt beside him, the two EMTs began asking him question after question. Ja, he replied, his right ankle hurt. No, he hadn’t heard a cracking sound when he stepped wrong. Ja, he’d stepped on it after feeling the first pain. No, it didn’t radiate pain except when he’d hopped to where he sat.
“Let’s get a look at it,” George said with a practiced smile. “Sorry if this hurts.”
That was an understatement. When George shifted Toby’s right foot and began to slip off his boot, the world telescoped into a black void of anguish sparked with lightning.
“Stay with us, Toby,” crooned Derek