and the females followed behind. The soft lilt of an accent gave the words a foreign sound. “Sir, our wagon and oxen were taken by thieves. Will you help us?”
Luke met trusting brown eyes and felt a stirring of discomfort. “Sorry, mister. I have a herd of two thousand head milling around a couple of miles from here, and I’m running behind on getting them to market.”
The smile faded, replaced by a forlorn countenance, complete with sad eyes.
Jesse took a step toward the ladies and spoke to the taller girl. “You’re kind of young to be a nun, aren’t you?”
“I’m not a nun. I’m Plain.”
Jesse’s head cocked sideways as he stared at her face. “Aw…you wouldn’t be so plain if you’d smear on a bit of rouge and put on a pretty dress instead of wearing that black sack. You ain’t ugly.” He flashed a grin.
The younger girl giggled, and the old woman drew herself up with a sharp intake of breath and a look that would have seared a rock.
Luke smacked the back of Jesse’s head and knocked his hat down over his eyes. “Not that kind of plain, you numb wit. That’s what they call themselves. They’re…” He searched for the word.
“We are Amish.” The bearded man extended a hand. “I am Jonas Switzer. These are my mother and daughters.”
The old woman continued to scowl and the younger girl giggled again. The oldest daughter dropped her head demurely in acknowledgement of the introduction. Long dark lashes lay for a moment against the soft curve of her high cheekbones. Jesse was right about one thing. This particular woman was a far sight from ugly.
Luke shook Jonas Switzer’s hand. A strong grip, his skin rough and calloused. The hand of a man who has known hard work. “Luke Carson.” He jerked a nod toward Jesse. “This disrespectful knothole is Jesse Montgomery.”
“Hey! Is that any way to talk about your best point rider?” Jesse jerked away from his grip, wavered on his feet for a second, and then caught his balance.
If it hadn’t been true, Luke would have been quick to correct him, but besides being a pain in the backside, Jesse was the best point rider in his outfit and a longtime friend.
“You say thieves took your wagon?”
“Ja. They went that way.” Jonas pointed toward the western horizon. “They left us with nothing.”
Luke took off his hat and scratched his head. “I understand your dilemma, mister, but I don’t have time to help. I’m being paid to get Simon Hancock’s cattle up to the railhead in Hays. We’ve been on the trail for two months. Our lead group got spooked yesterday, and we rode a hard stampede right up until dark and then spent half the night gathering strays. We’re at least a dozen miles off course, and I have less than a week to get the herd to market.”
True, the train wouldn’t leave until Monday, and at the pace they had kept they would arrive by Friday if nothing else delayed them, but there was no sense cutting it closer than he had to.
The younger daughter stepped up beside her father. “Papa said the Lord would send help, and when we saw you we knew for certain that He’d answered our prayers.”
The old woman plucked at her sleeve. “Still your tongue, Rebecca.”
“’Tis the truth. Isn’t that right, Emma?” Despite her protest, she stepped back beside her grandmother and lowered her head demurely.
“She does speak the truth.” Emma’s soft, low voice fell on his ears like a warm breeze on a chilly night. “What we’ve lost are only things, but without them we have nothing. If the Lord places it in your heart to help us, you will have our gratitude.”
Dark blue eyes rose to meet his. The trust he saw in them, and also in her father’s, stirred something in his chest. Something he didn’t like.
The voice of reason came from an unlikely source. “Sorry, folks. We don’t have time to chase down a wagon and steal it back from a bunch of thieves.” Jesse plucked off his hat, smoothed his hair, and put it back on his head. The slur had become less pronounced, but his movements were still slow and overly careful.
Once again, Luke couldn’t argue with him. These seemed like nice people, but he didn’t have time to spare. “I’m sorry,” he told Jonas. “I wish I could help.”
“Ach!” The grandmother slapped a hand to her chest and wilted against her elder granddaughter. “My hutch will