A Cowboy at Heart Read Online Free PDF Page B

but he’d heard her chatting with Maummi Switzer in the kitchen while he stowed his gear in the spare bedroom he’d been assigned upstairs.
    What a shame, a pretty young gal like that being a widow. Emma had told him Katie’s husband died a year ago, shortly before they had taken him in. He supposed he’d met her back then, but he could recall little of that time. His memory was a blurof shakes and misery as his body demanded the whiskey that had devoured his life every day for the previous five years. The shakes weren’t the worst part, though. A fog had descended on his mind during those years of rowdy living, and at one time he’d feared he might never be able to escape it, that his ravaged thoughts might never again be clear enough to focus on anything except how to get the next drink.
    With a shake of his head he dislodged the memory of those long, agonizing days and went outside to find Jonas. “You ready to head over to Littlefield’s place?”
    Jonas fidgeted with his suspenders, an unusually anxious gesture for one who was normally so outwardly calm. “Perhaps tomorrow would be better. To pay a call before the evening meal is bad manners, as though we expect an invitation to stay.”
    “I don’t plan on paying a social call, Jonas. I’m going to tell the man straight up to tear down his fence and get off your property.” He smiled. “There’s not much chance of us being invited to supper.”
    Color swept Jonas’s cheeks. “ Mader has prepared a bounteous meal for us here to welcome you.” He gestured toward the house, where Maummi Switzer could be seen through the wide kitchen window, her attention fixed on some task or other. “She will be angry if we are late.”
    “Well, I’ve been on the receiving end of her ire before, and it isn’t a place I want to be again.” Jesse recalled the cattle drive when a domineering Maummi Switzer had nursed him over a busted leg—and was none too motherly. He rubbed the scar on his thigh that still ached when rains gathered on the Kansas plain. Then he leveled a stern gaze on Jonas. “But she said it would be an hour or so, and my job won’t take long. If you’d rather stay here—”
    Jonas’s fingers gripped the fabric of the suspenders that lay across his shoulders. “I thought perhaps…” With a shake of his head, he met Jesse’s eye. “I need time to master my anger.”
    “Anger is good. Littlefield will see it and know we mean business.”
    “You do not understand.” He spoke in the same soft nuance he might use when explaining something to little Lucas. “Amish do not speak in anger. We follow the example of our Lord and treat all men with patience.”
    “This crook isn’t Amish,” Jesse pointed out. “We have to talk to him in a language he understands, but you don’t have to speak. I will. That’s why I’m here.”
    The worried lines still gathered on Jonas’s forehead. “My anger is such that my tongue will not stay tamed.”
    “Yeah?” Jesse studied the little man who, except for fidgeting with his suspenders, stood completely still and spoke in as even a tone as Jesse had ever heard. If he was as mad as he said, why wasn’t he hopping around with a red face and fisted hands ready to pound someone?
    “You’re doing a good job of handling yourself. You look pretty calm. Me? I’d be fighting mad if a man walked in and tried to steal my land right under my nose. They shoot men for less.”
    “Oh, no.” Jonas shook his head, his placid expression serious. “Inside I am fighting to remember that the Lord loved all, Jew as well as Gentile. Nor did He speak in anger to those who abused Him.”
    Jesse stared at the man. It was almost laughable to think that inside he simmered with anger while outside he maintained such a peaceful countenance. Could a man really live without ever speaking an angry word to anyone? Even the likes of Littlefield?Yes, perhaps the Lord did, but He was God. Jesse’s instinct was to fight.
    Jonas