A Noble Groom (Michigan Brides #2)(69)

Once outside on the street, he took a deep breath of the dusty air and kept his gaze from lingering on the steamers.

He couldn’t run yet. He couldn’t do anything less than make sure Annalisa was taken care of and secure before he took his leave.

In the meantime, he’d have to do a better job keeping his distance from her and making sure he didn’t lead her to believe there could ever be anything between them.





Chapter

15





Carl didn’t have to worry about keeping his distance from Annalisa. As the heat of July blended into an equally hot and dry August, he found himself too busy and weary to think of anything but working and sleeping and squeezing in eating when he could.

He sowed the buckwheat, hoed thistles out of the corn, drew the wheat, and fought potato bugs off the beets. Annalisa was equally busy, tending to the new baby and Gretchen, drying fruit, and preserving vegetables for the winter.

If he thought he’d worked hard to sow the fields, it was child’s play compared to the harvesting and threshing. He was grateful several other neighboring farmers worked together as a team to accomplish the daunting tasks. They moved from farm to farm, cutting and shocking the wheat and oats.

When the time came to do the haying at Leonard’s, Carl almost refused. Leonard had cleared more land than most of the other farmers, and his harvest was bigger. Carl couldn’t begrudge the man for being a diligent worker, but he couldn’t shake his dislike of Leonard for causing the bruises Idette often wore.

He’d rather see the man’s hay rot in his field for the way he treated his wife. Yet common sense told Carl he couldn’t alienate any of his neighbors—at least not before they came to Annalisa’s farm to help her.

Carl walked behind the team and rack. Heat waves danced up from the cracked, parched land, reflecting the sun back on his face. The blue of the sky overhead was gone, replaced by a hazy white glare.

Leonard had already raked his hay into windrows to make the job easier. But the hay was short-stemmed from the scarcity of rain and shattered easily. Even so, they pitched the alfalfa up to Peter, who’d taken a turn spreading the hay around the rack after it was tossed to him.

“Surprised the hay isn’t burning up under this scorching heat.” Peter stopped to wipe the seemingly endless sweat that dripped from his face. “Too bad we can’t have a few drops of the forty days and forty nights of rain God gave to Noah.”

According to all the men, the summer had been the driest one since they’d moved to the settlement five years earlier. Although they’d had a smattering of rain here and there, the crops were sparse and brittle. Annalisa’s crops hadn’t made enough profit to pay off her loan yet. Like everyone else, he was praying for an end to the drought so they could salvage the rest of the crops by the October deadline.

Herr Mueller, from the neighboring farm, halted his work and tipped up his hat. “If only there was something a man could do to open up those clouds.” His face was drawn, and his eyes swept the horizon and the dark clouds that taunted them.

“Instead, we’re burning here in this constant heat.” Peter leaned against his pitchfork.



The dry whirring of grasshoppers and the vibrating of the cicadas had grown louder with each passing hour, as if the heat had become unbearable even for them.

“Maybe if we ride over to those clouds, we could tie them up and drag them over here.” Herr Mueller sighed. “Seems the wind always blows them north of us or dissolves them into dry air.”

The sky was strangely still and devoid of the birds that had been plentiful in the earlier part of the summer. Annalisa had speculated that they’d gone farther north where it was cooler.

“I agree with you, Herr Mueller,” Carl said. “I’ll ride with you and maybe together we can corral those clouds over here.”

“As long as we don’t get any lightning,” another of the farmers said. His brows wrinkled in perpetual worry similar to so many others.

“One spark is all it will take to cause a wildfire.” Carl’s mind lit with images of the hot flames that had consumed Annalisa’s barn and nearly destroyed everything else around it.

Fortunately only two of the piglets had perished in the burning barn. The rest of the animals, including Old Red, had made it out. Carl had managed to construct a lean-to against the cabin to protect the animals, with the promise from the other farmers that they would help Annalisa build another barn before the winter season.

Of course that meant Annalisa would need to take another loan, this one for the boards they would need for rebuilding. But he resolved they wouldn’t worry about how they’d manage the new loan—at least not until the loan on the farm itself was paid off.

If they could pay it off.

He lifted his face to the heavens and prayed silently as he had many times over the past couple of weeks. Rain, Lord. Please send more rain. If they had any hope of saving Annalisa’s farm, they would need more rain. And soon.

Dust gritted Carl’s teeth and coated his tongue. He was more than ready for a water break.

As if reading his mind, Peter straightened and peered into the distance toward the women, who had congregated near Leonard’s cabin.

“Daughter!” Peter waved to Idette. “We need more water. We’re near to falling over from thirst.”