A Noble Groom (Michigan Brides #2)(5)

Vater’s voice rose to dominate all the others. “If she doesn’t have a husband, she’ll lose the land.”

“Why not sell it to Ward since he wants it?” someone said.

“Nein, I won’t sell—” Annalisa caught herself and reined in her words, even though everything within her rose in objection. How could she stand back and let them sell her home and property to a crook like Ward? Where would they live? What would she do? She had no training or skills. How would she take care of Gretchen?

She pressed a hand to her abdomen. And maybe she’d have another life to care for. With the increasing nausea and the tenderness of her bosom, she had begun to suspect she was with child. It wasn’t good timing. But she was sure she would love a new baby as passionately as she loved Gretchen.

As far as she could see, babies were the only good that came out of marriage.

But it would mean she must work all the harder. And how could she do that if she allowed Ward to take over the farm?

Thankfully, Vater was already shaking his head. “That dummboozle is as bad as Pharaoh enslaving the Israelites. We’ve already fought to free ourselves from the slavery of the dukes and barons of the Old Country, and we won’t allow any man to control us again.”

A chorus of jawohls and nods met his words.

“I won’t give that man the satisfaction of buying Hans’s farm, even if he puts a gun to my head.” An angry scowl creased the thick beefy roundness of Vater’s face. “If we let him build that sawmill, he won’t do us any favors. He’ll only empty our pockets by overcharging us for boards.”

Like everyone in the room, Annalisa knew Vater’s hatred wasn’t directed so much at Ward as it was at Baron von Reichart, the nobleman whose selfishness and cruelty had cost Vater the life of his oldest son.

If not for Baron von Reichart, they might never have left their homeland and all their family.

If not for Baron von Reichart, they might not have had to give up mining and learn a whole new way of living.

If not for Baron von Reichart, Vater would have two cherished sons, instead of one.

“Nein,” Vater said. “We’ll find a way to help Annalisa keep the farm.”

“Why bother helping her?” Leonard said. “As reckless as Hans was, she won’t be able to pay off the loan by next fall anyway.”

Annalisa ducked her head and moved away from the wall. Even in his death, Hans was still shaming her. She bustled toward the shelves where she had left her pies cooling earlier when she’d brought them from home, and she refused to meet the gazes of the other women.

No one else needed to say anything. They all knew Leonard was referring to Hans’s foolishness with their money.

“If she loses the farm next fall, so be it,” Vater declared. “But at least the land will default back to Jacob Buel, and Jacob is a good businessman. He despises Ward as much as we do. I have no doubt he’ll find another Deutscher to loan to.”

Idette whispered into her ear, having followed her to the pies. “Don’t listen to them. They’re all dummboozles.” Her sister’s scandalous tone mimicked their father’s.

Under normal circumstances, Idette’s playful banter would have cheered Annalisa. But not today. Not when she was tired and sick . . . and worried. She might be free from Hans and all of his problems, but she’d gained an even bigger problem. She had exactly one year to pay the remainder of the loan on the farm or lose everything. The loan had been set at four hundred dollars plus interest, and she still had over one hundred left to pay.

After Hans’s poor management of their profits, she was already behind on what she needed to earn. Without the help of a strong man to run and maintain the farm, she was doomed.

Annalisa slipped her hand under the pie, baked from the last of the apples she and Gretchen had picked early that morning. The earthenware pan was warm against her palm, and she breathed deeply of the sugary cinnamon scent.

“Let’s hide the pies.” Idette reached for the other pan. “Then we can eat them for ourselves later.”

“Ach, you’re as silly as always.”

Idette flashed her an impish grin.

But Annalisa’s lips were stiff, like the crust of day-old bread. Her sister was only trying to coax a smile from her, but how could she ever smile again? Not now with so much at stake.

She wound her way to the table and slid the pie onto the edge near Herr Pastor. Then she stood back and watched his face.

His eyes lit, and he rubbed at the whiskers on his chin as if making space for more crumbs. “Annalisa, you bake the best pies I’ve ever tasted.”

The words of praise spread warmth to her heart as they usually did. What had she done wrong that Hans had never praised her?

She slid a fork under the perfectly flaky piecrust and lifted out a wedge for Pastor. She’d hardly slid it onto his plate before he sank his fork in.

Vater reached for his plate, and his eyes regarded her with narrowed seriousness. “I’ve made up my mind. The only thing left for me to do is write to my brother, Matthias, in Essen and ask him to find a young man from among our kin to come over and marry Annalisa.”

The other men chorused their agreement.

Their calls fueled Vater’s plan. “Herr Pastor,” he said eagerly, “will you write the letter this very night? Then we can post it tomorrow.”