“Pick Any Wife For Free” The Judge Laughed – “I’ll Take The Obese Amish Girl”

Chapter 3

After about an hour’s travel, Luis guided the wagon off the main trail toward a creek that curved through a stand of cottonwoods. The horses’ ears pricked forward at the sound of running water.

“Need to water the team,” Luis said, his voice gentle but matter-of-fact.

He set the brake and stepped down, moving to the horses’ heads to unhitch them. Abby watched as he led the animals to the creek, his movements sure and efficient. When the horses were settled at the water’s edge, Luis returned to the wagon. He leaned against the wheel, looking up at her with those steady, dark eyes.

“Reckon you deserve to know why I spoke up back there,” he said quietly.

Abby waited.

“My wife, Sarah, passed last winter.” The words came out carefully, like he was handling something fragile. “Fever took her quick, before the doctor could make it through the snow.” He paused, pain flickering across his weathered features. “The place has gone downhill since then. I can handle the cattle and the land, but the house…” He shook his head. “I need help. Plain and simple. And I couldn’t stand by and watch them shame you like that.”

Abby’s hands tightened in her lap. “I have nowhere else to go,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “My community in Pennsylvania cast me out when I refused to marry Elder Stoultz.” She swallowed hard. “He was a cruel man. I couldn’t…”

“You don’t need to explain.” Luis interrupted gently. “What’s past is past. I’m offering you a fair chance. Work and a roof over your head. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Relief washed through Abby at his words. This wasn’t a rescue meant to trap her in another impossible situation. It was simply one person offering another a chance at dignity.

The rest of the journey passed quietly as the sun sank toward the mountains. When they finally crested a small rise, the ranch lay before them in the gathering dusk.

The house was a substantial log structure, though Abby could see it needed attention. The roof seemed sound, but the porch sagged slightly, and the windows looked grimy. A barn stood nearby, its red paint fading, and the fence around the corral showed signs of neglect. In the pasture beyond, cattle grazed on sparse grass, their ribs showing more than they should.

But despite the wear and neglect, something about the place called to Abby. Perhaps it was the way the last light caught the windows, or the way the mountains rose like silent guardians behind it. Or perhaps it was simply the knowledge that this was a place where she might finally belong.

Luis helped her down from the wagon, his hands gentle at her waist. Then he led her to the house.

The interior was clean, but desperately in need of a woman’s touch. Dust lay thick on the furniture, and the curtains hung limp and faded at the windows. The kitchen held a massive iron cook stove, its surface dulled with grease and ash.

“Guest room’s this way,” Luis said, leading her down a short hallway. He opened a door to reveal a simple room with a narrow bed, a chest of drawers, and a small window looking east toward the plains. “It’s yours until you feel settled. There’s a lock on the door if you want it.”

Abby nodded, touched by his consideration. “Thank you.”

“I’ll bring your things in from the wagon,” Luis said. “Then I’d best set about supper, unless you’re too tired.”

“I can help,” Abby offered.

But Luis shook his head. “Rest a spell first. It’s been a long day.”

When he returned with her modest carpet bag, Abby took a moment to freshen up, washing the dust from her face and hands in the basin he’d provided. The water was cool and clean, tasting of mountains.

Supper was simple — beans and bread with coffee for Luis and water for Abby. Before eating, Abby folded her hands and bowed her head in prayer. Through lowered lashes, she saw surprise flicker across Luis’s face, followed by something that might have been respect. He waited quietly until she finished.

The meal passed in comfortable silence. Through the window, Abby watched darkness settle over the land, bringing with it the first stars of evening. The coyotes began their evening song, their wild voices weaving together in an ancient melody of loneliness and survival.

When they finished eating, Luis rose to bank the fire in the stove. “Sleep well, Miss Yodar,” he said quietly. “God willing, tomorrow will be easier than today.”

Abby made her way to the guest room, grateful for the solid door between her and the unknown. She changed into her night dress and knelt beside the bed, offering up her evening prayers. The familiar words brought comfort, though everything else about her situation was strange and new.

As she lay in the narrow bed, listening to the unfamiliar creaks and settling sounds of the house, she thought about the day’s events. The courthouse humiliation. Luis’s unexpected intervention. This strange new home in the shadow of the mountains.

It all seemed almost like a dream. But the rough texture of the homespun sheets against her skin was real enough, as was the solid roof over her head. Whatever tomorrow might bring, she was no longer standing in that circle of mockery. God had answered her prayers, though in a way she never could have imagined.