“Emma. What are you doing here? I thought you were with Jonas and your grandmother and… those other Amish men. I figured they must be friends.”
“From our district. The older one is the bishop.” She cut her gaze away for a second. No need to describe Amos.
“Ah. He didn’t look very happy to see you.”
An understatement, but that wasn’t what she wanted to talk about. She glanced around. The stockmen were halfway down the aisle, forcing the stream of cattle into an empty stall. Though she would prefer to sit with Luke face-to-face for this important conversation instead of craning her neck to see him up on his horse, time was short. Papa would return soon, and her chance to talk with Luke would be gone.
“I would like to talk to you about something important.”
His glance swept the moving cattle before returning to her. “I’m a little busy right now. Can it wait an hour or so?”
An hour? Papa would return in a few minutes. She shook her head. “No. We must talk now.”
Reining up, he took off his hat and scrubbed his fingers through his hair. “Emma, we’ve had several opportunities to talk but you were never in the mood. Yet you pick now? Your timing could be better.” He shoved the hat back on his head.
This was not going as she’d hoped. She turned to scan the town behind her, looking for Papa’s hat amid the people on the street. The muscles in her stomach tightened into knots. “I want to know—” Her throat closed on the embarrassing words. With a hard swallow, she tried again. “Luke, will you become Amish?”
His expression closed, and for a long moment he stared at her. A thousand thoughts darted through her mind, each one pressing against the other like the cows that surrounded them. Foremost among them was the realization that the idea of becoming Amish had never occurred to Luke. Which meant he had never considered a life with her.
Which meant she had badly misinterpreted his feelings.
A measure of composure returned, and he slowly shook his head. “Emma…I don’t…” Words appeared to fail him. “I’m not…”
Hurt and humiliation rose from a sick ball in the pit of her stomach. “You’re not what?” Her tone snapped, and she didn’t bother to filter the emotion.
His hand rose, and he rubbed it across his mouth. “I’m not an Amish man. I’m sorry. I have my own beliefs. You are good folk, but…”
He didn’t have to finish the thought. But she was not Englisch. Hot, angry tears sprang into her eyes. No, not angry. Embarrassed. She had offered herself to him, only to be rejected. What must he think of her? She lowered her head toward the ground. Her mind emptied of any response she might make, any words that would restore her dignity and allow her to escape with her pride intact. Instead, she turned blindly to make her exit.
“Emma! Don’t!”
She refused to stop, refused to prolong this humiliating discussion any further. Her head down, her vision blurry with unshed tears, she stretched her pace to almost a run.
In the next moment, she was surrounded by cattle. They pressed her on all sides, lifting her up and hurtling her sideways. Her feet left the ground but she remained upright, swept into the stocks in the midst of the herd. She struggled to move, to free herself, but the smelly hides that surrounded her covered hundreds of pounds of solid flesh. They pressed together, and her breath left her lungs. A searing pain stabbed her chest, and she couldn’t move enough to gasp in a breath. Somewhere in the distance she heard her name, but panic had a firm grip on her. How could she even think about answering when she couldn’t manage to breathe?
Then panic receded as fog settled over her oxygen-deprived brain.
I’m going to faint. And then I’m going to die. They’ll bury me on the farm beside Mama.
Dimly, she was aware of shouts nearby. The wall of beef moved. Air entered her lungs in an agonizing rush. She sank toward the ground.
And then strong arms encircled her. The pain in her side sent white-hot stars dancing in her vision as a panic-stricken voice rumbled through a mouth pressed close to her ear. Luke’s voice.
“I’ve got you. Thank God, I’ve got you.”
TWENTY-NINE
The doctor’s house sat one street over from the center of town, close enough that the noise from the saloons and even the bawling of the cattle in the stockyard carried