A Season for Tending: Book One in the Amish Vines and Orchards Series by Cindy Woodsmall

Author:Cindy Woodsmall [Woodsmall, Cindy]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Romance
ISBN: 9780307730039
Google: ciMKme46cvcC
Amazon: B007REKL1A
Barnesnoble: B007REKL1A
Goodreads: 13573040
Publisher: WaterBrook Press
Published: 2012-09-18T00:00:00+00:00

TWENTY-THREE

Rhoda wiped the sweat from her forehead. “Landon.” She tried choking back the sheer annoyance of the moment. “How did you miss the fact that you needed gas?”

Landon tapped the clear plastic of the dash. “The stupid gauge on this thing is broke. It registers as full all the time, and sometimes I forget how long it’s been since I pulled into a station.” He moved the gearshift. “Just get in the driver’s seat and steer. I’ll push it to the shoulder of the road.”

“I can’t do that.” She got out of the truck. “I’ll push. You steer.”

Landon stepped out of the truck and slammed the door. “Now is not the time to try to make me go insane. I have to be back at work in less than thirty minutes.”

“Maybe you should’ve thought of that before you began a sixty-minute trip with twenty-five minutes worth of gas.” Sweat dripped down her back.

“I’m trying to do you a favor. Could you do things my way this time?”

“I can’t afford to do anything else that will add to the crazy rumors about me, and someone seeing me behind the wheel of your truck while you push it down the road will definitely add fuel to the fire.”

“It’ll only take a few minutes, and we’re stuck on a deserted back road. No one will see us. Certainly no one who knows who we are.”

“Someone calls up the chat line, mentions that Englisch man who works for Rhoda Byler, and pretty soon folks put the info together. It’s not like your Englisch world. We’re a much smaller population, and it isn’t hard to figure out who was seen where.” A car went down the road on the opposite side, a driver with an Amish passenger. “See?”

“Fine. We’ll do it your way.” Landon started to get in behind the wheel, but then he stopped and slammed the door again. “No. You’ll hurt yourself trying to push this heavy thing.”

She mimicked his sigh, then slammed her door even harder. “You can’t fool me. You just like slamming doors. Or is this how the Englisch pump gasoline?”

Landon opened his door and slammed it so hard the truck rocked.

She followed suit. “Seems an odd way to get gasoline, but okay.”

The familiar sound of a bridled horse shaking its head caught her attention. She turned to see the silhouette of an Amish man riding a horse in the field next to the road.

“Duh net schtobbe.” He motioned at Landon, who had no way of knowing the man had just told him not to stop.

Rhoda tried to swallow. She couldn’t tell if the man was teasing or disappointed in her behavior. She peered up at him, unable to see his face under the shadow of his straw hat.

It seemed the man didn’t understand what she and Landon were doing—that they were letting off steam. “Du duh net verschteh.” You do not understand.

He shifted on the horse, and she caught a better glimpse of his face. He was young, early twenties probably.

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