The Amish Buggy Horse BOXED SET Books 1-3 (Amish Romance Book Bundle: Faith, Hope, Charity) (Boxed Set: The Amish Buggy Horse) Read online

  The Amish Buggy Horse BOXED SET Books 1-3 (Amish Romance Book Bundle: Faith, Hope, Charity)

  Ruth Hartzler

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  The Amish Buggy Horse BOXED SET Books 1-3 (Amish Romance Book Bundle: Faith, Hope, Charity)

  Ruth Hartzler

  Copyright © 2015 Ruth Hartzler

  All Rights Reserved

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  Contains:

  Faith

  (The Amish Buggy Horse Book 1)

  Ruth Hartzler

  Copyright © 2014 Ruth Hartzler

  All Rights Reserved.

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  Hope

  (The Amish Buggy Horse Book 2)

  Ruth Hartzler

  Copyright © 2014 Ruth Hartzler

  All Rights Reserved

  * * * * * * * * *

  Charity

  (The Amish Buggy Horse Book 3)

  Ruth Hartzler

  Copyright © 2014 Ruth Hartzler

  All Rights Reserved

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  License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

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  Scripture quotations are from The Holy Bible, English Standard Version® (ESV®), copyright © 2001 by Crossway, a publishing ministry of Good News Publishers. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

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  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The personal names have been invented by the author, and any likeness to the name of any person, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

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  Hebrews 11:1-40.

  Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen. For by it the people of old received their commendation. By faith we understand that the universe was created by the word of God, so that what is seen was not made out of things that are visible. By faith Abel offered to God a more acceptable sacrifice than Cain, through which he was commended as righteous, God commending him by accepting his gifts. And through his faith, though he died, he still speaks. By faith Enoch was taken up so that he should not see death, and he was not found, because God had taken him. Now before he was taken he was commended as having pleased God.

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  James 2:14-26.

  What good is it, my brothers, if someone says he has faith but does not have works? Can that faith save him? If a brother or sister is poorly clothed and lacking in daily food, and one of you says to them, “Go in peace, be warmed and filled,” without giving them the things needed for the body, what good is that? So also faith by itself, if it does not have works, is dead. But someone will say, “You have faith and I have works.” Show me your faith apart from your works, and I will show you my faith by my works.

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  Luke 8:43-48.

  And there was a woman who had had a discharge of blood for twelve years, and though she had spent all her living on physicians, she could not be healed by anyone. She came up behind him and touched the fringe of his garment, and immediately her discharge of blood ceased. And Jesus said, “Who was it that touched me?” When all denied it, Peter said, “Master, the crowds surround you and are pressing in on you!”

  But Jesus said, “Someone touched me, for I perceive that power has gone out from me.”

  And when the woman saw that she was not hidden, she came trembling, and falling down before him declared in the presence of all the people why she had touched him, and how she had been immediately healed.

  And he said to her, “Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace.”

  Table of Contents.

  Book 1: Faith

  Book 2: Hope

  Book 3: Charity

  Book 1: Faith.

  1 John 5:1.

  Everyone who believes that Jesus is the Christ has been born of God, and everyone who loves the Father loves whoever has been born of him.

  Chapter 1.

  Nettie sat staring at the cards sent from all over the country by people she did not even know existed. She was grateful that the bishop and his wife had taken over the funeral and arranged everything, despite the fact that she had not seen them for many years.

  Nettie had noticed the curious glances sent her way throughout the viewing and the funeral, but she had been too shocked to care at the time. Now, the full impact of her mudder's passing had come home to roost.

  Nettie's invalid mudder, Elma, had not wanted any involvement with the community, more so as the years had passed. Nettie was virtually a prisoner in the home, only venturing out once a month for food and any necessities. Even then, she had to be back by the expected time, or be subject to another of her mother's tantrums.

  Elma had been a demanding, controlling woman prone to frequent outbursts of temper. Nettie was her only child, and had been her sole caregiver. Elma had even refused to let the bishop visit in recent years, and had not attended church meetings for the same length of time. As a result, Nettie knew no one in the community, at least no one that she could remember.

  Although their haus was at the end of a lane, the other end of the lane intersected a road that led to an Englischer school, and some of the local school children often taunted Nettie as she drove past.

  Nettie's buggy horse, Harry, had been her only companion, and she used to put her face in his mane and tell him all her troubles. Yet, the week before Elma died, Harry had gone lame, and the veterinarian had said he was old and had to be retired permanently. Nettie was grateful that her mudder had allowed her to summon a veterinarian to the farm; no other Englischers, let alone Amish, had visited the haus in the several years before Elma had died.

  Nettie looked around her at the food that the community had brought her. "That will keep me going until I can buy another buggy horse," she said aloud. Nettie was accustomed to speaking aloud to herself, as Elma had been deaf, and Nettie had to yell to make herself heard. It was good to speak in a normal voice, even if only to herself.

  Nettie sunk to the floor and crouched there with her head in her hands. Even when she had felt trapped in the haus, she had still been able to escape to the stores once a month. Now, even that option was taken away from her. "At least I'll have the money to buy a buggy horse soon," Nettie said, to no one in particular. "Then I’ll be able to go out whenever I like."

  The thought roused Nettie from her self pity. She got up and walked through the haus, drawing aside curtains and opening windows. Her mudder, Elma, had liked the curtains tightly drawn at all times, and the windows shut. It had always been dark and dim inside, even on the brightest, sunny day. Since Elma had gone to be with Gott, Nettie had kept every window in the haus open, letting in the fresh air to drive out the mustiness, dust, and gloom of decades. Nevertheless, the unpleasant, musty smell still lingered to some degree.

  Nettie walked into her favorite room, the one she used for sewing and mending, as well as drying. There were two sewing machines, hers and her mudder's, although that one had not been used for years. It was covered with pots of herbs, as Nettie
started her herbs in there. Her mudder had not objected to that, for it was from her mudder that Nettie got her training about herbs and their medicinal uses. Yet, the crocheted doilies which covered every available space were also her mudder's. Nettie regarded them with horror. They were aged and yellowing, and smelled of decay. She made a mental note to throw them in the trash, but right now, she was too overwhelmed with everything to do anything other than her usual chores.

  Nettie returned to the kitchen to pour herself a mug of kaffi. Elma had always objected to the smell of kaffi and yelled at Nettie every morning, but Nettie's one pleasure in life had been her morning kaffi. Nettie considered that the place seemed empty without her mudder. As much as Nettie loved and missed her mudder, she had been nothing less than a tyrant. In fact, Elma had made Nettie's life hell. Just thinking the word hell made Nettie guilty, and her hand flew to her mouth. She sat down on an old, wooden chair in the kitchen, but in a moment of rebellion, put her feet up on the table. The thought of what Elma would have done if she could see Nettie now, set Nettie off into a fit of giggles, and then laughter which bordered on the hysterical. I wonder if I am mad, Nettie thought, like the Englisch kinner say I am.

  James 1:2-4.

  Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness. And let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing.

  Chapter 2.

  Nettie's heart leaped to her mouth when she heard the knock on the door. Who could it be? Her mudder had always insisted that she hide if anyone knocked, and so the door was never answered. Nettie took a deep breath and forced herself over to the door. Perhaps it was just the bishop.

  Nettie opened the door to find an old, stooped Englischer man standing on the doorstep. He smelled strongly of mothballs, and at once Nettie felt sick to the stomach.

  The old man wasted no time introducing himself. "Good morning, Miss Swarey. My name is William Koble; I'm your mother's lawyer. You wrote to me when your mother died. Please accept my condolences."

  Nettie stood there staring at the man. She had found his name and address, along with the word, "lawyer," scrawled on a piece of paper when going through her mudder's things, and, as he was the only lawyer mentioned, she had written to him about the will. After a moment, Nettie collected her thoughts. "Oh yes, Mr. Koble, please come in." She showed the lawyer into the living room, and then hurried to shut the windows after he sneezed violently three times in a row.

  Mr. Koble sat down in the deep sofa, and Nettie wondered if he would be able to get out of it unaided. "Would you like a cup of hot tea? Or a glass of water?"

  "Yes, please."

  Nettie frowned, not knowing which of the two he wanted, but did not like to ask again, so soon returned with both a glass of water and a cup of hot tea, which she placed beside Mr. Koble on a musty, yellowing doily on top of a small, round table. Nettie also offered him some pumpkin whoopie pies, which he refused.

  "Now, down to business, Miss Swarey." His voice was frail.

  Nettie sat in her mudder's old rocker recliner opposite him, and nodded expectantly.

  "I would have called, of course, but you have no phone."

  Nettie felt a twinge of guilt for making the elderly man drive out all the way to see her, but she had no choice. She did not have a phone, and that’s all there was to it. He would have known that when he took on an Amish client.

  After another sneeze, Mr. Koble spoke. "You said in your letter that you found my name and address written on a piece of paper with your mother's things?"

  Nettie nodded again.

  "And there was no copy of a Will and Testament?"

  Nettie grew alarmed. "Nee, does that matter? Do you have the will?"

  Mr. Koble was quick to reassure her. "Oh yes, there's no worry on that account. We do have a legal Last Will and Testament of your mother's. The only thing is, it was signed many years ago and we have not heard from your mother since, so it is possible that there is a later Will and Testament."

  Nettie bit her lip. "What will happen if there is?"

  "Well, the later Will and Testament will obviously take precedence in that case, of course." Mr. Koble peered at Nettie over the top of his glasses, and she felt silly for asking the question. "You have no record of any other lawyers?" he asked. "If so, perhaps you could write to them and ask."

  Nettie shook her head. "Nee, you were the only one I could find any mention of."

  Mr. Koble peered at Nettie once more, and then said, "I see. Well, I shall read you the Will and Testament, if I may."

  Nettie leaned back in the rocker recliner as Mr. Koble slowly read the Will and Testament to her. It seemed like a lot of legal terminology without coming to any real point. Nettie had spent a sleepless night, as she had been used to getting up every few hours to attend to her mudder, and now that she no longer had to, her sleep patterns had become even more disturbed. She felt herself drifting off to sleep.

  Nettie was startled back to wakefulness when Mr. Koble's voice grew louder. "I'm sorry, did you say cats?"

  "Yes, Miss Swarey; I'm sorry to say that I did." His tone sounded entirely regretful.

  "Cats?" Nettie shook herself and tried to wake up fully. What would cats have to do with anything? Perhaps she dreamed it.

  Mr. Koble was still talking. "Yes, as the Will and Testament states, the house and land are now fully yours, or will be after probate, as will be all the furniture and all the goods and chattels within the entire property, including the buggy, the harness, and any buggy horses, and all livestock."

  Nettie was not at all surprised; that was precisely as she had expected. Her vadder had died many years ago when she was a newborn boppli, and she was the only child. There were no relatives, not as far as she knew.

  "And as I just said," Mr. Koble continued, his voice now again shaky, "your mother was a wealthy woman."

  "Wealthy?" Nettie could not help but interrupt. Sure, they had never wanted for anything, and neither she nor her mudder worked. Nettie knew that her mudder had savings from when the alfalfa farm was worked, back before Nettie's vadder died, but she had no idea that her mudder was actually wealthy. Nettie milked the goat, and grew all their own vegetables. As her mudder's teeth were bad, they very rarely ate meat, so they were all but self sufficient. There was plenty of grazing for the buggy horse, Harry, and he had never needed grain to maintain his fat, shiny condition.

  Mr. Koble simply shrugged. "This is rich alfalfa farming land, Miss Swarey. Now, I'm not sure if you heard me before, or perhaps you are in some kind of shock, which is entirely understandable. However, I must repeat, your mother left you the farm and house in its entirety, but every last cent she left to the Sunnybanks Stray Cat Protection League."

  Ephesians 2:8-9.

  For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast.

  Chapter 3.

  Nettie grasped at her throat with both hands. "Is this a joke?" she asked. "Cats? But Mamm didn't even like cats, or any animals for that matter; she wouldn't even let me have a kitten, and I always wanted one."

  Mr. Koble shook his head briefly, and then said, "You would be surprised how often people bequeath money to animal welfare leagues, for the reason that they are …" Mr. Koble's cheeks flushed, and he stopped speaking for a moment. "Of course you may contest the will," he continued, "and you are likely to win. Of course, contesting will take money. Do you have any funds of your own?"

  "No, no." Nettie stood up, and then sat down in agitation. "Not a cent. I can’t contest the will; it’s not the Amish way. I’ll be penniless."

  Mr. Koble nodded in understanding. "Ah yes, forgive me. The Amish do not contest wills. The Sunnybanks Stray Cat Protection League is still in operation too, after all this time; I checked. But this is prime farming land; surely you can work it?"

  It was Net
tie's turn to stare at Mr. Koble. "But I’ve no mules, no plow horses, no balers. I’ve nothing at all to use for farming the land. It's also neglected and run down, and I'm sure it’ll need a lot of money spent on it. I'm here all alone, by myself." Nettie took a deep breath to keep the tears at bay. "How can I live? I have no money."

  "You could sell the farm, I suppose." Mr. Koble said.

  Nettie thought on that for a moment. If she sold the farm, she would have money on which to live, but where would she go? This was the only home she had ever known. Nee, she would not be thrown out of her own home. She needed to find work, but what skills did she have? She had a wide knowledge of herbal medicines, but she did not have the trust of anyone in the community. In fact, she didn’t even know anyone in the community, not any more. Her mudder had made sure of that.

  Nettie would need to find work, but how would she get to work? Her horse had been retired; she wasn't even able to drive the buggy anywhere. Sure, there were taxis, but there was no phone in her barn. It was a long walk to the nearest shanty that housed the community phone; she had found that out when she had to walk to call the veterinarian. Without a buggy horse, she was trapped in the haus.

  Panic threatened to overwhelm Nettie, and she fought against it.

  Nettie decided at that moment that she would keep the farm, no matter what. It was her birthright, and she would not give it up. Have some backbone, she said to herself, and then winced as she realized that it had been one of her mudder's favorite sayings.

  "Miss Swarey, are you all right?"

  Nettie came back to the present with a jolt. She wondered how long Mr. Koble had been speaking to her.

  "This is all quite a shock."

  Mr. Koble simply smiled sympathetically, then stood up and handed her his card. "I'll be in touch. My office has made application for a Letters Testamentary to be issued, as you are the executor of your mother's will."