A Noble Groom (Michigan Brides #2)(70)
Peter’s booming voice carried across the distance, causing the women to turn their heads. Some were working on the big meal they would eat together at the end of the day. Others surrounded the ash hopper and were making lye from the ashes they’d brought for the occasion so that after hog butchering they could combine the lye with lard to make soap.
Carl wished he were tinkering around with the ash hopper rather than haying. Earlier, when he’d briefly examined the hollowed-out log used as a trough to store the ashes, his mind had designed a more efficient method for turning the ashes into lye.
He rested his pitchfork and wiped his sleeve across his forehead, which was sticky with flecks of hay. He breathed out a sigh of relief as Idette and another one of the farm wives started toward them with buckets of water.
For as long as he remained in this community, he had to remember his primary responsibility was farming, not inventing.
Annalisa’s well-being over the winter depended upon him and his work. He had no time for leisure experiments. He reminded himself that once he was in Chicago with Fritz, he’d have all the time he wanted for his inventions. He could endure farm life for another month, until after they finished the harvesting, couldn’t he? He’d survived spring and most of the summer. In fact, he was surprised at how he’d not only survived, but how much he’d learned and grown through all of the labor.
If only he had the means to help Annalisa pay off her farm loan. Then he could count his time in Michigan a success.
He was ashamed to think of all the money he’d once expended on his expensive lab equipment, and all the time he’d given to his experiments. Compared to the daily struggles in this place simply to survive, his previous life now seemed frivolous, nothing more than the playtime of a rich nobleman’s son. What he wouldn’t give to have just a fraction of that money back. He’d not only be able to help Annalisa pay off her loan, he’d be able to provide many of the things they needed.
His gaze flitted over the group of women, until he found Annalisa sitting on a bench next to the cabin, changing Sophie. The shade hid her, but even so, he couldn’t deny his attraction to her.
“My daughter Annalisa is a fair and comely woman,” Peter said.
“She is indeed.”
Peter turned to look at Carl, his brow rising. Whenever Peter stared at him with his deeply probing eyes, Carl couldn’t keep from wondering if he was seeing his father there, for certainly he must have noticed Carl’s physical resemblance to the baron, his despised enemy.
“It’s too bad we haven’t received a letter from my brother, Matthias,” Peter said. “I’d like to know what’s happened to Dirk to delay his coming.”
Carl suspected that Peter’s cousin had died on the ship while making the crossing. He could think of no other explanation for why Matthias had not written to let them know of the delay, except that Matthias didn’t know Dirk had died and had assumed the man had arrived as planned.
“Maybe he’s dead,” offered Herr Mueller, vocalizing Carl’s suspicions.
Peter peered at Annalisa. “I need to have Herr Pastor write Matthias another letter to find out what happened.”
“I agree,” Carl said. “Even so, the letter would likely take months to reach Matthias. And you probably wouldn’t hear back from him until next spring.”
“And will you stay this long to help Annalisa?”
At Peter’s question, the eyes of all the other men turned upon Carl, burning into him like the sun that was beating down on his back. The sourness of horse and man sweat mingled with the sweet earthiness of cut hay.
He shook his head. “I can’t. I’ve already made plans to move to Chicago—”
“If you stay, I’ll let you marry Annalisa in the spring.”
Marry Annalisa in the spring? Carl glanced at her again. She had turned and was watching them. When her gaze collided with his, she ducked her head and resumed dressing the squirming infant.
“Although I didn’t hold out much hope for you when you first arrived,” Peter continued, “you’ve turned into a hard worker.”
Carl nodded his thanks. “I didn’t hold out much hope for myself either.” When he thought back to the man he’d been when he first arrived, he wasn’t so sure he could go back to being that man again. He’d been weak and arrogant and naive.
Could he even return to the same lifestyle? How could he live with everything he needed or wanted at his disposal, now that he knew how hard others labored for the things he’d always taken for granted, like a filling meal or clean clothes?
“Besides, I see the way you look at my daughter.” Peter grinned. “And I know that you would take her to your bed as your wife if you could.”
The others guffawed, and Herr Mueller slapped Carl on the back. He was just glad that his weeks having to live with Annalisa hadn’t brought about anything more than a few raised eyebrows and whispers. He supposed everyone else had been too busy dealing with the typhoid to worry about him and Annalisa.
Heat crawled up his sweat-drenched neck, and he avoided looking at Annalisa again.
“If we’ve heard nothing from Dirk or Matthias by spring, then the farm and Annalisa will be yours,” Peter said as if offering him a prize mare. “You’ll be free to do with her as you please.”