Free The Saddle Maker's Son by Kelly Irvin Page A

breathing.
    “Go. Boys have a short memory.” Susan touched Rebekah’s cheek, something in her face suggesting she, too, experienced cloudy skies on sunny days. “They’ll look at you and forget all about what happened with Leila.”
    “They haven’t yet.”
    “You’ll make a fine fraa. Patience is a virtue.”
    “Is that what you’re doing?”
    Susan dusted chalk from her fingers. “I am.” Her smile faded. “Every day.”
    Rebekah picked up a stack of papers. “Then I guess I’ll start grading these papers, Teacher. We can wait together.”
    Until she couldn’t wait anymore.

TEN
    Rebekah glanced over her shoulder. What if one of the scholars decided to follow her? The rutted dirt path that cut through knee-high weeds and meandered between stands of mesquite, live oak, and knobby green nopales was empty. A grasshopper skittered across her apron and somersaulted out of sight in the grass. The steamy air smelled of fresh-cut hay and dirt. Sweat trickled from under her kapp , tickling her neck. She had no way of knowing how long it had taken her to scurry from the schoolhouse to this secluded spot on a farm road. Any minute Susan would ring the bell and classes would resume for the afternoon.
    She felt like a traitor. She was Susan’s helper. Susan counted on her. Susan expected her to do the right thing. Rebekah was trying to do the right thing. More thoughts running around in circles. She was doing this for the kinner’s sake. They were so sweet and so innocent. Lupe and Diego should be allowed to stay. Rebekah would take care of them herself, if necessary. Susan wanted them to stay too. She would understand.
    Mudder and Mordecai would not see it that way. Nor would Jeremiah. It didn’t make sense. They didn’t understand. They hadn’t been talking to Leila about Jesse’s work in the church. Jesse did all kinds of what Leila called outreach. Rebekah didn’t exactly know what that meant, but Leila could ask Jesse if he had any ideas about what they could do for Lupe and Diego. The churches were helping the immigrant children through the legal hurdles that awaited them in this land of opportunity. She’d seen articles about it in the Beeville Times-Picayune that Mordecai read in the evenings after he finished the Budget .
    Diego’s tear-streaked face filled her mind. What if they decided to call the sheriff from the store phone today after sleeping on the situation? What if the kinner were sent home? El Salvador must be a hard place if a mother sent her children on such a long, scary journey across entire countries alone.
    Rebekah pushed the thought away and trudged forward, her sneakers crunching on cockleburs and weeds already dry in the South Texas sun. She would see Leila and Grace for a few minutes. She would ask her questions. It hurt nothing and she could offer Leila the chance to come home.
    Leila might be waiting to be offered a chance to return home. God might soften her heart and help Rebekah bring home the prodigal daughter.
    The path dead-ended at an equally rutted dirt road, the only difference being its width. The farm road cut across the property now owned by Levi Byler. Daed of Tobias Byler. Tobias was bossy and way too sure of himself. But then, he was a man doing what men were expected to do. Still, something about his green eyes and towering massive body gave her pause. She didn’t want to examine why.
    Not now. Rebekah cupped her hand against her forehead to block the brilliant midday sun. A plume of dust in the distance told her a car approached. An engine droned, then sputtered.
    Leila’s note had said she would be in a green Volkswagen. Rebekah wasn’t sure what a Volkswagen looked like, but a car was a car. The fact that Leila drove at all astounded her. She edged along the road, waiting, her damp palms clutching at her skirt. Why the meeting now?
    Why now, Leila? Why now?
    The green car, dusty and bug splattered, pulled alongside her, its engine making a putt-putt sound