end up as firewood for the man with black teeth.” The girls each took an arm to support her, and she sagged between them.
Jesse inspected her. “Your ma doesn’t look so good,” he told Jonas. “You want me to get the doc? He’s inside the saloon playing poker.”
The woman’s eyes went round as she cast a startled glance toward the establishment. She drew in an outraged breath and straightened, giving an offended sniff. “Danki, no.”
“You’re welcome.” The cowhand staggered sideways a step.
Luke steadied him. What he needed was a couple of hours of hard riding to sweat the whiskey out of his blood, but they couldn’t leave the Switzers stranded in the middle of the street with nothing. Especially when they thought the Lord had sent him to their aid. Luke didn’t think it all that likely the Lord would send him here to retrieve a drunk cowhand and rescue a stranded Amish family, and he certainly didn’t think the Lord expected him to desert his herd long enough to deliver them forty miles east to Troyer. Still, he wouldn’t feel right walking away without doing something.
He dug cash out of his vest. “I really am sorry I can’t help.” He pulled out some folding money and thrust it into Jonas’s unresisting hands. “Here’s enough to pay for a couple of nights lodging and to send a message for someone to come get you.”
Jonas stood looking at the money as though he’d never seen cash before. Luke touched two fingers to his hat brim and nodded a farewell to the women, and then he grabbed Jesse by the arm and marched him away. With a minimum of trouble, he got his unsteady buddy in the saddle. When he’d mounted himself, he pointed Bo toward the eastern edge of the settlement. Jesse fell in beside him, though he was starting to look a bit pasty, and his hat sat unevenly on his head.
At the end of town, Luke glanced over his shoulder. The Switzers had not moved. They stood watching him leave, looking for all the world like lost children. Guilt knifed him in the gut. They looked as though they had no idea what to do with the hand they had been dealt.
Chances were, they didn’t.
From what he could recall, Amish folks kept pretty much to themselves. Had Jonas and his womenfolk ever stayed in a boardinghouse before? Did they even know what a telegraph was?
Ride on, Luke. You’ve done all you can, and more than most would. You can’t spare the time to help them find their wagon.
But at the sight of the girls in long black dresses with their white head coverings, and of Jonas in his suspenders, his conscience refused to be soothed. With a sigh, he halted.
“Wait here.”
Jesse drew his horse up to a stop. “Where you going?”
“Don’t ask questions. I won’t be a minute.”
He turned Bo and headed back toward the waiting family. They watched his return with fixed gazes. When the horse stopped in front of them, all four heads turned upward, their eyes fixed on him expectantly.
“The boardinghouse is there.” He pointed at a building down at the western end of the short road.
They looked but didn’t move.
He spoke slowly, as if to children. “You go inside and ring the bell. The owner’s name is Mrs. Minerva Gorham. Tell her you need a place to stay and that you want to send a tel-e-gram. She’ll help you out.”
Emma’s head shot upward. An angry flame erupted in her eyes, and her lips tightened. “Come, Papa. We need to get Maummi out of the sun.” She gripped her grandmother’s arm, turned, and set off toward the boardinghouse at something short of a march, pulling the old woman along with her.
Luke stared after her. What had ruffled her fur? She looked as mad as a barn cat in a rain barrel.
Jonas followed their progress for a few seconds and then turned back to him. “I thank you, Mr. Carson. The Lord truly did send us help.” He folded the money, removed his straw hat, and tucked it carefully inside. When he’d replaced the hat on his head, he looked back up at Luke. “After you deliver your cows in Hays, go a few miles farther to Apple Grove. Ask for the farm of Bishop Miller. He will see your money returned to you.”
Luke chuckled. “Just like that? I walk in and say, ‘I helped Jonas Switzer over in Gorham, and I’m here to get my money