An Amish Christmas Blessing E-Book

Patrick E. Craig

• Herausgeber: P&J Publishing
• Kategorie: Religion und Spiritualität
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 294

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025

Beschreibung

An Amish Christmas Blessing invites you into the heartwarming story of Abigail Harris, a fourth-generation member of the Amish Hirschberg family separated from her community her entire life. Through a series of events she arrives unannounced at her uncle Jürgen’s ranch in the San Luis Valley of Colorado, an uncle she has never met. Abandoned there by her companion, Abigail finds a place in Jürgen’s home and heart. As the holiday season approaches, Abigail embarks on a profound journey of awakening as she explores the intricate tapestry of her family’s past—a past woven from both her Amish and Jewish roots. With the spirit of faith guiding her, she unravels the rich history of her ancestors—Gerd and Emily Hirschberg—and the powerful legacy they’ve left behind.
In this enchanting tale by Patrick E. Craig, a story filled with love, tradition, and spiritual discovery, Abigail learns to embrace her family's diverse beliefs, ultimately coming home to her family’s greatest heritage—faith in Christ.
Patrick E. Craig has written many award-winning novels in the Amish Romance, Amish Mystery, Redemptive Romance and Historical Fiction genres. Now he returns to his Amish beginnings with a new book that may become the first book in another heart-warming series.

Leseprobe

An Amish Christmas Blessing

Patrick E. Craig

Praise for Patrick E. Craig’s Books

An Amish Christmas Blessing.Wow, you are in for an amazing read with this book, it’s a dual time slip read packed full of history, family, community and faith. As I was reading I realized that this genre may be one of my favorite kinds of book. It’s like being immersed into a family throughout generations of trials, blessings and love.

Cherese Akhavein - Reviewer

“I haven’t cried like this in a while. When The Hummingbirds Danced In A Honeysuckle Skyis a stark examen of redemption. With unfiltered beauty, Patrick Craig draws the darkest of masculine and feminine trauma to the impossible, hoped for light of undeserved, tender, most patient love. To give, without thought of return, to sacrifice without reserve, and constancy, this is what you’ll find in Craig’s muscular narrative of what it means to be saved… from oneself. ”

Ann Malley, author of the Diamond Dog Series

I would certainly recommend When the Hummingbirds Danced in a Honeysuckle Sky as a poignant exploration of reconciliation and legacy that is perfectly paced and powerfully told.

K.C. Finn, Five Star Review — Reader’s Favorite

Patrick E. Craig has once again written a book that will take you deep into the heart of Amish country. The Quilt That Knew is a delightful and intriguing plain and simple mystery.

Vannetta Chapman, USA Today bestselling author

I have over 500 books on my Kindle, but only nine books are listed under "Favorite Christian Books". Three of those nine are the Apple Creek Dreams Series. The characters are believable, lovable, flawed human beings.

Amazon Reader

For my Grandmother, Nettie Patrick Craig, whose picture sits on my writing desk and whose family fame as a true Irish shanachie has inspired me in my writing journey for many years.

Acknowledgments

To all my readers, old and new, who encourage me to continue on this writing path.

Cover by Cora Graphics Simona Cora Salardi

www.coragraphics.it

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

An Amish Christmas Blessing

Copyright © 2025 by Patrick E. Craig

Published by P&J Publishing

P.O. Box 73

Huston, Idaho 83630

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-publications Data

Craig, Patrick E., 1947-

An Amish Christmas Blessing / Patrick E. Craig

ISBN 979-8-9937031-1-4 (pbk.)

ISBN 979-8-9937031-0-7 (eBook)

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, digital, photocopy, recording, or any other—except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the prior permission of the publisher.

Printed in the United States of America

Created with Vellum

Contents

A Note From Patrick E. Craig

1. The Visitors

2. Abandoned

3. Heritage

The Amish Menorah

Dust and Thunder — 1936

Gefährliche Tage

Emily

A Refuge

A Light for the Darkness

Hearts Entwined

New Life

I Am The Light

Betrayed

Who Has Believed Our Report?

Hear Oh Israel

America

4. Awakening

5. A New Beginning

A Light In The WIndow

Adina

Snow—December 1945

Dachau—April 1945

The Menorah

The March—May 1945

To Seek and To Find

Who Has Believed?

The Delay—July 1945

A Light in the Darkness—Monday, December 17, 1945

In His Hands—Friday, December 21, 1945

Almost Christmas—Saturday, December 22, 1945

A Light For Christmas—Monday, December 24, 1945

The Homecoming

6. Decisions

7. A Christmas Blessing

Epilogue

About the Author

Praise for Patrick E. Craig’s Books

More Books by Patrick E. Craig

The Porch Swing Mysteries

The Apple Creek Dreams Series

The Paradise Chronicles Series

The Islands Series

A Note From Patrick E. Craig

I wrote The Amish Menorah as a standalone story almost seven years ago. Elk Lake Publishers included it in The Amish Menorah and Other Stories, an anthology put together by several men who write in the Amish fiction genre. The Amish Menorah introduced my readers to Gerd Hirschberg, an Amish farmer in the Rhineland during the tumultuous years of the Nazi rise to power in the late 1930s, and Emily Weissbach, a Jewish girl Gerd found hiding in his barn, and their adventures escaping from the Nazis. Then a few years after, I wrote another story, A Light in the Window, based on the life of Gerd and Emily Hirschberg after they came to America. I contributed the story to a different anthology of Amish stories, A Christmas Collection, but I have always wanted to weave the two stories together. So now I am giving my readers An Amish Christmas Blessing and introducing a fourth-generation member of the family, Abigail Harris. In the story of Abigail’s awakening to her heritage, both in the Amish community and the Jewish faith, and finally to a family heritage of faith in Christ, I am including the two stories I wrote previously. I am doing this hoping the story of Gerd and Emily and their descendants will reach a wider audience. So, enjoy, and may this book be a blessing.

Patrick E. Craig

Chapter One

The Visitors

Abigail Harris woke from her nap. It was hot in the Volkswagen. She felt grungy and sweaty. They had been on the road for two days, on their way to upstate New York to a friend’s house. Now, because of some bad luck, they had taken a detour to Colorado.

The trip came into being a week earlier in L.A., when Tommy Martin, her boyfriend, came home from one of his ‘meetings.’ He flung himself down on the couch in the ‘living room’ of his mother’s basement where they were living, put his hands behind his head, and stretched out.

“Pack your gear, Abby. We are blowing this popsicle stand.”

“What?”

“Yeah. I need to meet some friends in New York. There are big things about to happen, and I don’t want to miss out.”

“Well, how long will we be gone, Tommy?”

Tommy shrugged and grinned. “I don’t know. A while.”

“But what about my job?” She could see the anger flare up on his face.

“Always about you, isn’t it, Abby?”

“But…”

“Forget your job. There are a lot more important things to worry about than your job.”

“But it’s the only source of income we have. You’re not working, and…”

“Gonna throw that in my face again? Don’t you see that I have important work to do? I can’t get all hung up working nine to five. That’s not who I am. After this trip, I’m gonna be important.”

“Well, how are we going to pay for this… trip?”

“You’ve got some money in the bank. We’ll use that.”

“But that’s all I… we… have.”

Tommy stood up. “Don’t throw excuses at me. How much do we have?”

“About two thousand dollars.”

“Good. That should get us there with plenty to spare.”

“But what do we do if it runs out?”

“Leave that to me. I have some connections in New York, and I can scam some money from them. So, don’t worry. It won’t run out.”

It did.

The car broke down in Albuquerque. They barely made it to a gas station outside of town. The man who worked there promised he could fix Volkswagens. He couldn’t. They spent three hours at the Denny’s across the street and $1,700 at the parts window. They got in the car and sat. Tommy was angry.

“I never should have bought this hunk of junk.”

Abigail looked at Tommy, then looked away.

You didn’t buy it; I did. You just registered it in your name.

“So, what are we going to do now, Tommy?”

Tommy scowled. “Just cool your jets, I’m thinking.” He sat for a minute. “Say, didn’t you say you have relatives in Colorado?”

Abigail nodded. “Yes, a great-uncle, my grandmother’s brother.”

“What was the town?”

“Grandma Adina told me she grew up near a town called Alamosa.”

Tommy nodded. “Hand me that map.”

Abigail dug in the door pocket and brought out the map. Tommy pulled it out of her hands and spread it out. “Okay, we are in Albuquerque.” He put his finger on the map and traced a line north. “Here it is, Alamosa, Colorado. And guess what? It’s only about two hundred miles north of here. That’s only four hours. We’ll go there, and you can borrow some cash.”

“But, Tommy, I’ve never met Uncle Jürgen. I can’t just go barging in there and ask for money.”

Tommy looked up. “You can, and you will. We have one hundred and fifty dollars left. That won’t even get us to Kansas City. If you can borrow three or four hundred, we’ll have just about enough.”

“But, Tommy…”

“Be quiet, Abby. Just start thinking about how you’re going to sweet-talk the old geezer. You know, use your feminine wiles, all that stuff.”

Abigail didn’t like it, but it seemed like their only hope.

Jürgen Hirschberg heard the car before he saw it.

Timing’s off; it’s missing badly, one of them little German cars…

He watched as the Volkswagen Bug crawled around the corner of the barn and into the barnyard. It jerked to a stop and sat for a minute. Then two people emerged—one, the driver, a young, scrawny-looking man with longish hair and a scowl, and the other, a pretty young blonde. The blonde spoke first.

“Mr. Hirschberg?”

“Yes?”

“I’m Abigail Harris.”

“That should mean something to me?”

“I’m Yvette Harris’s daughter.”

“And?”

“Yvette was Adina’s daughter.”

“My sister, Adina?”

“Yes.”

“What are you doing here?”

Jürgen noted the surprised look on the girl’s face.

“Well, I’m your niece, uh, great-niece…”

“And you’re expecting a parade, maybe?”

“But, Mr. Hirschberg…”

“What?”

“Well, I’m your niece, and I was hoping you might…”

Jürgen shook his head. “Look, I’m a busy man. I’m getting ready to go to work and a woman who claims to be my niece, a woman I’ve never met or even seen a picture of, a woman accompanied by a scruffy-looking hippie, this woman drives into my yard, and I’m supposed to kill the fatted calf. Gather around the campfire and sing ‘Kum Bayh Yah’? I don’t think so. Now, state your business and then get on down the road. I’ve got work to do.”

The young man took a half-step forward. “Why you, you can’t…”

Jürgen just looked at him. “Finish that step and what you are about to say, and it may be something you will regret for a while.” He turned back to the girl. “Now! State your business and then get off my place.”

The young man scowled again, but his mouth stayed shut, and he didn’t move.

The girl walked around the car and took hold of the young man’s arm. “Let me speak to him, Tommy.” She turned back to Jürgen. “We are here because we need your help. We have been traveling across the country, and our car broke down. Getting it fixed took most of our traveling money…”

“You got cheated.”

“Excuse me?”

Jürgen pointed at the car. “If you spent money and the ‘fixer’ claimed he fixed it, you got cheated. The timing is way off, and I can tell by the little blue puff of smoke from the exhaust you pumped out when you downshifted, the engine rings are bad. What made you think you could get across the country in this pile of junk?”

The kid spoke up. “I don’t have to listen to this stuff. What does he know about…?”

This time Jürgen walked right over and stood above the young man, who cowered back. “What is there about keep quiet or I’ll throw you bodily off my place that you don’t understand?”

The girl interposed herself between the two men. “Please, Mr. Hirschberg, I’m sorry. Tommy won’t say anything more, will you?” She gave Tommy a hard look. Tommy lowered his eyes. “No.”

“In fact, Tommy, why don’t you sit in the car while I talk to my uncle.” Tommy looked at her and then at Jürgen, who towered at least five inches above him. He turned and climbed back into the car.

“Now, Uncle Jürgen…”

“Mr. Hirschberg will do.”

The girl blushed. “I’m sorry… Mr. Hirschberg. I really am your niece. I can show you my birth certificate and tell you everything you need to know about my mother and some about my grandmother, Adina.”

Jürgen shook his head. “Look, young lady, what you say may be true; you may be my niece, but I don’t know you from Eve. Around here, we judge a person by the company they keep and the gut feel you get when you meet ’em. So far, you’ve failed.”

“Okay, I understand we didn’t make a good first impression…”

Jürgen chuckled. “An understatement.”

“Okay, I haven’t gotten off on the right foot, but as of now you are my only hope. I’m… we’re in trouble and we need your help.”

“So, you hoped you could gin up some family connection and hit me up for something. Money, no doubt.”

The young woman took a deep breath. “You’re right. I’ll get right to the point. Tommy and I are going to see some friends in upstate New York. Our car broke down. The repairs were expensive, and they took most of our money. If you could just help us—well… help me—maybe loan me a few hundred dollars, enough to get to New York, I promise I will pay it back as soon as I get there.”

Jürgen laughed. “Young lady, I may have been born at night, but I wasn’t born last night.” He saw the crestfallen look on Abigail’s face. “So, you thought that blood might be thicker than water. Just because you have some obscure family claim, I’m supposed to reach in my pocket and hand you some money? That’s not how life works.” Then Jürgen saw the tears on her face. He thought for a moment and then took a deep breath. “Stay here. I’ll be back in a minute.” Jürgen walked several steps away and stood looking at the sky for several minutes. He nodded and then he turned and walked back. He looked at the disheveled girl standing in front of him for a long time. Then he spoke.

“Okay, tell you what. I got some chores that need doin’ around here. I’ll let you stay for three days and work. I’ll feed you and give you a place to stay. If you do a good job, I’ll pay you each one hundred and fifty dollars. Then you can go on your merry way. What say you?”

Abigail’s face brightened. “That would be fine, Uncle… Mr. Hirschberg.” She turned to the car. “Tommy, Tommy, Mr. Hirschberg has offered to pay us if we do some work for him.”

Tommy’s door opened, and he stuck his head out. “What kind of work? Does it have anything to do with cows?”

“Horses, Mr. Tommy. We raise horses here.” Jürgen pointed to the barn. “If you go in there, you will find a row of thirty stalls. All of them need to be mucked out.”

“What’s mucked out?”

Jürgen walked to a shed a few feet away. He opened the door, went inside, and began bringing out tools. When he finished, there were two pitchforks, two shovels, two brooms and a wheelbarrow.

“Mucking out stalls is how I keep my barn clean. Very simple. First, you scoop out the manure and the soiled straw they sleep on. Put it in the wheelbarrow and take it out to the manure pile behind the barn. Replace the bedding and sweep the surrounding area. Takes about an hour a stall. Figure three days will be plenty for the two of you to get the barn done. You can start in the morning.”

Tommy looked around. “So where do we sleep?”

“You two married?”

Abigail turned a light shade of red. She looked down. “No.”

Jürgen pointed to the girl. “I've got a spare bedroom upstairs for you.” He pointed at Tommy. “You’ll sleep out here.”

Tommy bristled. “Wait a minute, we live together. You can’t tell us…”

Jürgen raised his hand. “You may live together in your house, but not mine. That’s the way it is. My house, my rules. Take it or leave it.”

Tommy glared at Jürgen and then at Abigail. “You gonna let him tell us we can’t sleep together?”

Abigail shrugged. “It seems like we don’t have a choice.”

“There’s a cot with blankets in the bunk room at the end of the barn. Toilet, sink, shower, everything you’ll need.”

“What about food?”

“I said I’d feed you, didn’t I? Soup’s on the menu. I eat at five o’clock sharp in the kitchen. And I mean sharp.”

At 5:15, Tommy Martin strolled into the kitchen. There were no pots on the stove, and Jürgen and Abigail were finishing a bowl of soup.

“Hey, sorry I’m late. I fell asleep in the car. Where’s the soup?”

Jürgen looked up. “I said sharp. The soup’s put away. Come back for breakfast. 5:30 a.m.”

Tommy looked at the old man, his mouth open. “As in 5:30 in the morning?”

“Any other 5:30 a.m.?”

“But I’m hungry now. Gimme some of that bread.” He reached for the loaf of shepherd’s bread on a cutting board by Jürgen. Suddenly, a steel grip immobilized his arm.

Jürgen rose and took Tommy by the coat front. “Look, kid, I don’t like you. I don’t like people who go into another man’s house without so much as a ‘by-your-leave’ and try to take things. Now when I say you can stay and work, I’m only doin’ it because your girlfriend was upset, and she seems like a nice young lady. But you? You kinda put me off my feed. So, if you want to make some traveling money, you’ll follow my rules. If you do that, I’ll feed you and give you a place to sleep for the next three days. Then you can be on your merry way. Is that understood? Just nod.”

Tommy nodded.

“That means breakfast is at 5:30. Folks who show at 5:31 don’t eat. Understood? Just nod.”

Tommy nodded again.

“Good, we understand each other. So now, since I don’t have a TV, there’s nothing more for you here. If I was you, I’d go bed down and get some shut-eye. 4:30 comes awfully early in the San Luis Valley.”

“4:30? But I thought you said 5:30?”

“Well, you better get up at 4:30 so you can make yourself presentable before you show up on time at my table by 5:30. Presentable as in showered and shaved. Understood? Just nod.”

Tommy nodded.

Jürgen released him. “Good night, Mr. Tommy.”

Tommy turned and walked through the door, glaring at Abigail as he left.

Abigail, who sat silently through the exchange with Tommy, watched him go and then spoke up. “Really, Mr. Hirschberg, Tommy is a nice guy when you get to know him. Why he’s very intelligent and knows all kinds of things.”

Jürgen smiled. “He may be intelligent, but he’s not very smart. And you say he knows all kinds of things. But he’s kinda sparse on the basics. You know, things like showing up on time, looking like he cares about the way he looks, being respectful to his elders, honoring you as a woman, and not trying to push someone around who’s doing him a favor.”

“But he has a degree from Cal Poly. In Political Science.”

“Got him a good job, did it?”

“Well, he’s very busy with writing, and speaking at different meetings.”

“Does he get paid?”

“Well, no, but he has a higher calling. He wants to educate the masses, show them how to better themselves, break the yoke of tyranny the elite class shoved down our throats for the last two hundred years.”

Jürgen laughed out loud. “Break the yoke of tyranny. Why, he sounds like a dang Bolshevik. And let me tell you something. That boy couldn’t show anybody how to break a pencil with both hands.” He laughed again. “Come on, girl. I’ll show you to your room.”

Chapter Two

Abandoned

Abigail came down to breakfast at 5:20 a.m. The smell of bacon filled the kitchen. There was a plate of hotcakes on the table and some eggs cooking in a pan on the stove. Jürgen was tending them, dressed and ready for the day. “Came a little early to make sure your boyfriend made it to breakfast?”

Abigail blushed. “Well, I…”

“He ain’t gonna make it.”

“What do you mean?”

“He left in the night, soon as you went to bed. Pushed the car around to the other side of the barn so you wouldn’t hear it start up and took off.”

“What!” Abigail ran out the back door and into the barnyard. Jürgen was right. The car was gone. A horrible sinking feeling filled her. Then she felt a hand on her shoulder. It was Jürgen.

“Come on back and have some breakfast. You’ll feel better… and then we’ll talk.”

Abigail went back inside with the old man. She didn’t think she could eat, but surprisingly, the smell of the bacon and the sight of the pancakes and eggs overwhelmed her upset, and she soon was eating heartily.

Jürgen smiled at the empty plate. “Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.”

“What?”

“It’s just something Jesus used to say. It means, don’t worry about tomorrow since today is bad enough. Like some coffee?”

“Oh, please!”

Jürgen poured her a cup and offered her cream. She nodded yes, noticing that he took his black. Jürgen motioned toward the doorway into the front room. “Come on, let’s sit in the living room. I want to talk to you for a minute.”

They went to the living room. A roaring blaze in the fireplace felt wonderful to Abigail. Jürgen pointed her to the couch and then sat in a chair across from her.

“What will you do?”

Abigail put her coffee down on an end table, sat for a moment, and then put her face in her hands. She whispered. “I don’t know, Mr. Hirschberg, I don’t know.”

“Caught between a rock and a hard place, ain’t ya?”

Sniffles. “Apparently.”

“Didn’t you know he would bail on you if push came to shove?”

“He told me he loved me. That we would change the world together.”

“But he got you into his bed without marrying you and left when the horse dung hit the fan. You been suckered, gal.”

“Seems so, doesn’t it?”

“Got no relatives to go to?”

“My mom died three years ago in a car accident. My dad left me with his parents and went to Venezuela to work in the oil fields. An explosion on an oil derrick killed him, too. As you know, Grandmother Adina died several years ago, right after her husband, Grandpa Thompson, died.”

“Yeah, I heard.” Jürgen paused, then went on. “What about your dad’s parents?”

“After Dad died, I moved in with Tommy. We had a room in his mother’s house. Then, Grandpa Harris had a stroke, and Grandma couldn’t take care of him, so they sold their house and moved him into assisted living. She lives there with him, so there is no place to go back to.”

“Stuck with Mr. Tommy, eh?”

Abigail nodded.

“Lived off his mom, didn’t have a job, while you waited tables or something?”

“I worked at a bookstore. How did you know?”

“Men like Mr. Tommy are easy to read. I been in the horse business all my life. Horse traders are a microcosm of all humanity. My papa taught me human nature, how to read people. It’s essential if you don’t want to get cheated. You see, men fall into two categories. They either tell the truth or they’re four-flushers.”

“What’s that?”

“A low-down dirty dog, a cheat, a fraud, someone who tries to bluff other people. I knew right away Mr. Tommy was a con man.”

“But how?”

“Well, for one thing, he thought he was the smartest guy in the room. He tried to bluff me, but he was a coward. He backed off and let you do the talking. A real man would have protected you and presented your case, but he let you present his. He was also disrespectful. He showed up late for dinner and then thought I owed him something to eat. I could see right away that he was the most important person in his life, not you. Only took him three hours to prove it. Did he have a credit card?”

“Maybe, but he never told me.”

“A guy like him always has a backup plan. He probably stole it from his mother when you left. He’s been living off the money you had in your savings, right? Letting you spend your money?”

Abigail nodded.

“He’ll use the card to get to New York before his mother can cancel it. Before she does, he’ll draw some cash. Then he’ll buy a bunch of food for the trip. And wine… he’s a wine man, right?”

Abigail looked at Jürgen. “How do you know all this stuff?”

Jürgen chuckled. “A man my age has been around the corral a few times. Reading people like Mr. Tommy comes with the territory.”

Abigail sighed. “I guess I was pretty foolish.”

Jürgen nodded. “I’d say so. But that doesn’t mean there ain’t a remedy.”

“What do you mean, Mr. Hirschberg?”

“Well, I kinda like you, and since we are kin, I got a proposition. I thought about it some last night, prayed about it, and I reckon I got my answer.”

“What do you mean, Mr. Hirschberg?”

“Well, my offer to work still stands. If you want to do chores around here for room and board, I’ll let you do that. ‘Course I won’t work you as hard as my hired hand, but it’ll be ranch work for sure. And I have some friends in town who own a restaurant. We could see about getting you a paying job. If we do, there’s a bus runs by here every morning and every night that would take you into town and bring you back. How does that sound?”

Abigail looked at Jürgen. Despite his gruff demeanor, his eyes were kind.

“I don’t know how to thank you.”

“Well, all right then. Now if you look in the closet in the room I put you in, you will find some jeans and a warm shirt. They were Adina’s when she was very young, and they ought to fit you. Then I’ll show you around the place and we’ll get to work.”

Abigail gave herself a quick glance in the mirror. The shirt and pants fit her almost perfectly.

I look almost like a Western girl.

She glanced down at her manicured hands.

And I suppose my fingernails will look Western soon enough…

She sighed and started to go out, and then she realized something. She didn’t miss Tommy. In fact, she felt like a load had gone off her shoulders.

That’s odd. I thought I loved him.

Another thought.

How did I let him sweet-talk me into going with him?

She saw a stretchable hair band on the dresser, so she pulled her hair back into a ponytail and wrapped the band around it. Then she headed for the stairs. Jürgen was waiting by the kitchen door. He handed her a pair of gloves.

“There’s some of my mom’s old muck boots out on the mud porch. They should fit.”

They headed out to the barn. Jürgen gave her the mucking tools, gave her a few instructions, and then headed off to see about some horses in a back pasture. Abigail looked at the mess in the first stall, sighed and then started in. After about half an hour of scooping and shoveling, she had made little progress in her first stall, and her back was hurting.

“There’s a better way to do that.”

Abigail jumped and whirled around. A tall, good-looking young man in overalls and a flat hat stood by the door smiling at her.

“Oh, my goodness, you scared me silly.”

The young man smiled. “Sorry about that. Didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”

“I thought my heart would stop. That was mean.”

“Well, I saw you going at that stall and I thought maybe you’d like some help.”

Abigail lifted her nose and sniffed. “I’m doing just fine.”

The young man smiled again. “Not really.”

Abigail felt her hackles rise. “Say, what makes you the expert?”

“Don’t get your dander up. I’m Johan Eicher. I work for Mr. Hirschberg. I’ve mucked out ten thousand stalls if I’ve mucked out one. If you’re willing to accept some help…”

Something about this young man got under Abigail’s skin. “You must have some other work to do.” She turned back to the unmanageable mess in the stall... and had an epiphany. She turned around just as Johan was going out the door.

“Wait. I’m sorry. I… I guess I need some help.”

Johan stuck his head back in the door, a smile on his face. “You sure? Don’t want to spoil your fun.”

Abigail dropped her head. “I’m willing to take a few pointers, if you would be so kind.”

Johan walked back into the barn. He picked up the shovel. “Okay. First, pick out the large, obvious big manure piles and wet spots.” He scooped the worst heaps of manure efficiently into the wheelbarrow. “Starting at the door, move around the stall in a circle. Sort the bedding as you go. Toss what’s clean enough to keep along the walls or into corners. Pile the soiled stuff in the center.” He showed how to do it. “Now grab the fork. Make a circuit or two, doing the same thing, then scoop out the soiled bedding in the pile you’ve made in just a few forkfuls. Put it in the wheelbarrow.” Again, Johan demonstrated. His movements were smooth, nothing wasted, his brow knit in concentration. “Pull the reserved bedding that you put along the walls into the center of the stall.” He walked along the walls, forking the usable bedding into a layer in the center of the stall. “If what’s there is too thin, you can add a layer of new clean. It’s right over there in a pile.” He walked over, got a forkful of straw, and added it to the layer on the floor of the stall. “And that’s it. Doing it that way will save you about twenty-five minutes a stall. It adds up.”

Abigail looked at the stall in amazement. In about twenty minutes, Johan had turned the stall from a mess into a comfortable place for a horse to sleep.

Abigail realized she had been a little snarky. She looked up at Johan. “Thank you. That is extremely helpful.” She lowered her eyes, felt the blush steal up her face. “I’m sorry I was a little short with you.” She looked up at him.

Johan smiled, and Abigail noticed that even though he and Tommy were about the same age, Johan’s smile was manly and grown up, not the silly, vacuous grin that Tommy often wore, especially when he was drinking. She stuffed her thoughts back and asked a question.

“That’s not a Western hat, is it?”

Johan shook his head. “No, it’s an Amish hat. I’m Amish. I live over in Monte Vista. There’s an Amish community there.”

“I don’t know much about the Amish.”

Johan smiled again. “Ask Jürgen. He’s Amish too… in his own way. Well, I've got my work.” He turned to go.

“Thank you again, Johan. It was very kind of you.”

Johan touched his hat brim. “Glad to help.”

Abigail watched him go.

A different guy than Tommy, that’s for sure.

Chapter Three

Heritage

Around noon, Jürgen came to the barn. He looked at Abigail’s clean stalls and nodded. Following Johan’s instructions, she had worked her way through five of them. She had not done it as quickly as Johan, but his method was certainly an improvement on the way she had been approaching the task.

“Good job, Abigail. You took to this like a duck to water.”

She shook her head. “Well, I had a little help.”

“Ah, did Johan come by and show you his way?”

“Yes, and it really helped. I must admit, I was struggling.”

“Well, he’s a good lad.”

“He’s Amish?”

Jürgen nodded. “Yep, but for that matter, so am I… well, in my own way, I guess.” He grinned.

“That’s what Johan said. How do you mean, Mr. Hirschberg?”

“Well, my papa was Amish and his papa before him all the way back to the 1700s in Switzerland. My dad kinda didn’t see eye-to-eye with the Amish though. Happened when he still lived in Germany and the Nazis hornswoggled the Amish in Germany into believing they were Aryan supermen because they were good farmers. They told them they were essential to the well-being of the Third Reich, so they went along with Hitler and his claptrap. Didn’t sit well with my papa. But when he and my mother moved here from Germany, they got to know the Amish folks who live down the road in Monte Vista. He got along with them better. He brought his mother, his mütti, with him, and she fit right in. They all sat around yakkin’ in High German. I like the Amish pretty good too, but I’m not a joiner.”

“Does that make me Amish?”

“Well, now, I think you have to be raised under the ordnüng, the Amish rules for living, and get baptized into the church to be Amish. But I reckon you could convert. Anyway, it’s in your bloodline for sure. And that’s not all. You’re also Jewish by descent.”

“Jewish!”

“Sure. My mama was one hundred percent Jewish. The Jews trace their bloodlines through the mother. If your mother is Jewish, you are Jewish. So, me and Adina were Jewish by matrilineal descent, and the Jews considered your mother, Yvette, Jewish too, because Adina schooled her in the Jewish way that Emily, our mother, taught her. At least, that’s what I heard. I got the same schooling, so the Jews around here accept me as one of their own. Now, those Jews might not consider you Jewish unless you was raised that way, but you sure got Jewish blood.”

“So… I’m Amish and Jewish and I never knew a thing about it.” Abigail’s brow furrowed. “I’ll have to think about that.” She picked up her shovel. “Well, I guess I’ll get back to my mucking.”

Jürgen smiled. “Thought you might want a little lunch first. There’s some sandwiches and soup.”

“Oh, that would be wonderful. I guess I could use a break. Will… will Johan be there?”

“Sure. The hands eat with us on the ranch. Well, I must wash up. I’ll see you up to the house.”

When Abigail came