MILK MAID IN HEAVEN
WRITTEN BY
Samantha Jillian Bayarr
Copyright © 2002 by Samantha Jillian Bayarr
Smashwords Edition
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Cover/internal design by Samantha Jillian Bayarr
Edited by
Nicole Aulisio Fire4x99@aol.com
Angela Ritenour angelamritenour@hotmail.com
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form either written or electronically without the express permission of the author or publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and are therefore used fictitiously. Any similarity or resemblance to actual persons; living or dead, places or events is purely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or publisher.
All brand names or product names mentioned in this book are trademarks, registered trademarks, or trade names, and are the sole ownership of their respective holders. Samantha Jillian Bayarr is not associated with any products or brands named in this book.
All scripture references in this book used from
New International Version of the Bible
MILK MAID IN HEAVEN
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
REFERENCE MATERIALS:
Dairy Farming for Kids
By: Rainbow Communications Copyright 1996
www.foodsci.uoguelph.ca/dairy.edu
Dairy Science and Technology—University of Guelph
A special thanks to Ric Raynes for allowing me to interview him regarding his position as Foreman at a Michigan dairy farm, and for sharing his knowledge of the inner workings of a dairy farm with me.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
ONE — No Time for Regrets
TWO — A Trusted Friend
THREE — Stages of Resolution
FOUR — Indisputable Matters
FIVE — Gone but not forgotten
SIX — A Man to Remember
SEVEN — A Place to Call Home
Includes: LITTLE WILD FLOWER Book One
Sneak Peek with Prologue AND…
CHAPTER ONE—A Time to Grow
ONE
NO TIME FOR REGRETS
Mitch Rutherford rolled over in his grey, steel bunk, unable to sleep in the damp prison cell. It wasn’t the sun from his tiny, barred window that was keeping him up; he just couldn’t shake the image of Emily Stuart, the farmer’s daughter, from his mind no matter how much he tried. It wasn’t just her milky white skin, her light, red hair, or her blue-green eyes that intrigued him. No, it was something more. Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Almost like she was an angel; sent down from heaven just for him.
For nearly three years, Mitch had worked the graveyard shift at the dairy farm through the prison work-release program. Other prisoner’s had rumored throughout the past years that such a young woman existed, but that she had been away at college. Mitch never paid too much attention to the rumors, accepting them as just that—rumors—until he finally saw her with his own eyes.
****
It was still early—midnight, or so. Mitch was busy checking the milking equipment while the barns-men were bringing in the first thirty cows to be milked for the night. In the midst of all the confusion, he looked up and set his eyes on a beautiful young woman in the office with Ethan Stuart, his boss.
One of the inmates nudged Mitch and pointed toward the office window. “Hey, that’s her—Mr. Boss-man’s daughter.”
“Move it along, prisoner,” the guard said, tapping his nightstick against the palm of his hand.
Mitch locked down the gate in front of the cows to prepare for the milking, then, went outside to check on the feeders to make sure they were bringing in the silage for the hungry cows. When he returned, Ethan stepped out of his office and approached him.
“Hey Mitch, how are you tonight?” Ethan offered an outstretched hand.
Mitch removed his soiled glove, then, took Ethan’s hand and shook it. “Not too bad, Sir.”
“We have a few new calves to tag, if you get the chance to take care of that sometime before you leave in the morning. Other than that, it should be a routine night.”
“Sounds good.” The two shook hands again and Ethan walked back into the office.
Mitch found it difficult not to steal a glance in her direction every so often. When he made eye contact with the young woman again, he quickly looked away out of embarrassment. For a brief moment, he felt they might have made some sort of connection, but quickly remembered who he was, and his present appearance put his foolish thoughts in proper perspective. His beard was too long, as was his thick, brown hair, which hung from the sides of his hat. Being deprived of sleep to work the night shift had caused his dark, blue eyes to blend to shadows at the corners. The required coveralls he wore were stained, and his tall, rubber boots were already covered with manure. He felt like a fool to have thought that she might like the looks of him. Still, Mitch stole another glance and the young woman managed a half smile, which he did not feel comfortable returning.
****
Mitch pushed at the flattened pillow beneath his head hoping to make himself more comfortable and free his mind some. Though it had never been easy for him to sleep during the day, he grew to realize that working all night and sleeping a portion of the day somehow lessened the reality of the remainder of his sentence. His first few months in prison before he started at the dairy had dragged on, until he joined group therapy with some of the other prisoners.
At first, it seemed to be an easy way out of his cell for long periods of time. What he hadn’t planned on was having his life change so drastically from what he learned there. He recalled his first conversation with Deacon Charles as though it were yesterday.
“What brought you here today, Mitch?”
“I don’t know, Deacon, I guess you could say my bad temper brought me here. I’ve had a bad temper ever since I could remember. My bad attitude carried over into my teen years and I ended up spending more time in juvenile hall than at the public school.”
“Did you dislike school, Son?”
Mitch moved from his chair and walked around the large meeting room. “I don’t know, Deacon.”
“Please, Mitch, call me DC. Everyone around her calls me that and it makes me seem a little less formal to the inmates, I think.”
“Okay, DC.” Mitch sat down across from the deacon. “If you really must know, I suppose I didn’t feel like I really fit in at school. I didn’t get any encouragement from home, you know. The only thing my father ever said to me was that I would never amount to anything that would make him proud. So I figured why bother to try, if I was doomed to fail anyway.”
“Do you feel like a failure because you’re in here?” DC leaned forward, folding his hands in front of him and resting his elbows on his knees.
Mitch swallowed the lump in his throat. “A few previous squabbles landed me in jail, so this last time I was handed a tougher sentence—repeat offender, they called me. My father always said I would end up in jail. Why was he right?”
“I don’t necessarily think he was right about that. Do you think in some way you let him be right?”
There was caution in the deacon’s voice.
Mitch stood to his feet, anger rising up in him. “I know it’s my fault I’m in here. Any idiot could tell you that much.”
“I’m not here to lay blame, Mitch.” The deacon stood up and moved to the window. “Would you like to tell me what brought you here?”
Mitch pursed his lips and sat back down. His mood showed signs of annoyance with the situation. He didn’t want to talk to this man, yet he felt the need to dispose of his burden. “My father was very cruel to me when I was a child. For that matter; he has been as far back as I could remember. My mother couldn’t take it anymore, so she up and left one day—packed her things and announced she was leaving.”
“Did you go with her?” DC asked, turning from the window to look at Mitch.
Mitch paused, running a hand through his thick hair. “I didn’t go with her. I didn’t want to change schools. I was only fourteen. What did I know about life then? I was more concerned with transferring to a new school than I was with being with my mother. She cried and I just stood there and watched her leave with my little sister, Julie. I haven’t seen them since that day. Now when I look back on that day, it all seems like a bad dream—like it isn’t real.”
“Do you feel guilty for not going with her?”
Mitch felt a tear run down his face. “I have regretted not going with her every day since she left.”
“You shouldn’t beat yourself up over a decision you made when you were just a child, Mitch.” DC placed a hand on Mitch’s shoulder to comfort him, but he pulled away.
“That one decision ruined my life. I knew what kind of man my father was and I hated him. My mother was gentle and unselfish—the exact opposite of my father. I don’t want to be anything like that man.” Mitch was pacing the room and flailing his arms in his distress.
DC grabbed Mitch’s arms and stood face to face with him. “Then you must make a choice to change your life.”
“I don’t know how to do that.” Mitch said, breaking free from the deacon’s grasp. “Don’t you understand? That’s what got me here in the first place. I allowed my anger with my father to carry into my everyday life, and jail is where I ended up. I’m here because I beat up a kid in one of my classes at the community college back home—over a cigarette!”
After a long pause, DC broke the silence. “Tell me more.”
“You want to know the whole story?” Mitch challenged DC. “The punk wouldn’t give me a cigarette, so I hit him and I kept on hitting him until the campus cops pulled me off of him. I broke his nose and three of his ribs. The real ironic thing is; I don’t even smoke! I was angry that day and he acted tough around me, so I took it upon myself to put him in his place. I wanted to show him I was tougher than he was. I’m not so tough now, am I?”
“How do you feel about what you did?”
Mitch tried to suppress a fresh batch of tears, feeling defeated and weak. “I feel awful. I even wrote the guy a letter telling him how sorry I was, but he wrote back a very colorful letter filled with threats for when I get out of here.”
“It hurts when others don’t forgive,” DC said, while leafing through the leather-bound bible that now lay across his lap.
Mitch sat down again, looking over DC’s shoulder at the open bible. “Maybe I can’t forgive myself for ruining my life. Now, the two years of college I put in to try to change my life around seem unimportant. As it was, it took me four years just to get through two full years of college, since I couldn’t keep myself out of trouble long enough to succeed at anything. Maybe I can’t even forgive my father for hurting me and my mother. I think even a small part of me can’t forgive my mother for walking away from me that day—I was just a dumb kid—maybe she should have forced me to go with her.”
DC found the page he was searching for. “God can help you with forgiveness, if you let him.”
“How?” Mitch’s tone reflected his misery.
“He gives us the tools to change our lives by giving our burdens to him.” DC set the bible down next to him and held out his hands.
Mitch rested his hands in DC’s and the two prayed the sinner’s prayer together. As the prayer ended, Mitch felt warm and free—unlike any freedom he’d ever experienced. His tears turned to laughter, making him eager to know more about what was taking place inside his heart that was now bursting with forgiveness. Mitch eyed the bible that lay undisturbed on the chair beside him and lifted it from its place of rest.
****
Mitch rolled over in his bunk again, unable to sleep with so much weighing on his mind. Though he despised every day he spent in prison for the last four years, he accepted that God had used his unfortunate circumstances to bring him to salvation. For that reason alone, he did not regret being where he was, though he was fully ready to leave it behind. He held up a hand and traced the lines of meaningless words scratched into the chipping paint on the cinder-block wall of his cell, wondering what others before him had felt in this very same spot. He would be glad to be rid of his cold, graffiti-decorated cell and the hurtful past that put him here.
Mitch sat up and tugged at his long beard, moving to the stainless steel mirror that hung above the sink to get a better look. His image was hazy, allowing thoughts of Emily to creep back in, wondering what she might think if he should shave the unkempt beard. She had seen him only for a brief moment and he hoped she would get another chance to see him with a clean-shaven face. He knew she was out of reach—if only for the reason that she was, after all, his boss’s daughter.
He stared at his murky reflection. I’m a prisoner. What would she ever want with a guy like me?
Still, he felt as though somehow he was destined to have met her. Though he hadn’t actually been introduced to her, he admired the way she and her father conversed with one another throughout the night. He’d tried to keep his mind on his work for the four hours that she’d spent talking over business matters with Ethan, but he couldn’t help himself. Not only did he understand what was being said, having learned the inner workings of business in his college courses, he was mesmerized by Emily’s beauty and intelligence.
****
The prison bell sounded after a routine “head count” for the noon meal to be served. The steel bars of each cell rattled and grinded open in unison, startling Mitch, who had not realized so much time had passed. Being a minimum-security prison, he was allowed to come and go as he pleased—except when the steel bars were locked down during the daily routine “head counts”.
Mitch stretched and yawned, stomach growling, decided that he would eat in the mess hall with the other inmates. Normally, he would sleep through the lunch hour, but today he found it easier to get up, than continue to compete for sleep with the regular prison schedule.
****
Emily shivered as she pushed back her heavy, down-filled comforter and stuffed her feet into her slippers. She could no longer handle the tossing and turning that she’d endured for several hours. She felt defeat as she admitted to herself that Mitch Rutherford, with his deep blue eyes and boyish grin managed to plague her restless sleep. She sat on the edge of her bed glancing at the clock on her bedside table, which revealed the late morning hour. A sudden knock at the kitchen door interrupted Emily’s quest for stretching, but she rose from the side of her bed to answer it. When she opened the door, snow blew in, scattering across the tile floor. It was Susan, her best friend from as far back in her childhood as she could remember. They had even gone off to college together.
“Bhrrr.” Susan pulled off her hat as she entered the kitchen, leaving her blonde hair flying with static electricity. “I thought this was supposed to be our spring break. I can’t believe this weather.”
Unusual weather for the first week of April, a sudden, heavy snowfall had disappointed Emily and Susan when they arrived two nights ago.
“Well, this is the upper-peninsula we shouldn’t be surprised. I’m thankful we’re in Michigan instead of Minnesota. Before going to bed a few hours ago, I saw on the weather channel, Minnesota got eight inches of snow dumped on them.”
“I suppose you’re right, Emily. But I’ll be glad to get back to LA, won’t you?”
Emily nodded, not yet ready to share her concerns of her father’s health with Susan. She was still unsure of her feelings about the possibility of leaving school so close to graduation, and hadn’t yet thought through how she would finish her studies if she stayed behind.
Susan tried to smooth her blonde, flyaway hair and pulled careless strands from her blue eyes. Emily grabbed a broom from the closet and pushed aside the snow on the floor.
Susan tugged on the corner of Emily’s thick robe. “Hey, are you just getting up?”
“My father and I stayed up late for the last two nights going over some things regarding the dairy,” Emily said, yawning.
“Is everything all right?”
Feeling put on the spot, Emily hesitated in answering. If she revealed the truth to her friend it would be out in the open. On the other hand, if Susan didn’t approve of her decision, she may feel pressured between leaving her ill father and returning to school for the final weeks before graduation—what she had worked so hard for, for nearly four years.
“Emily?” Susan said, nudging her.
“I heard you. I’m just not sure how to answer that right now.”
Susan raised an eyebrow. “What’s wrong? Is it your dad’s health?”
“Yes, unfortunately. His illness has progressed to the point where the doctors have advised him to put his affairs in order.” Emily choked on her words, trying to retain her composure.
“Oh Em, I’m so sorry. Why didn’t you call me?”
“I figured you’d be busy with your family.” Emily said, wiping her tears.
The two hugged and Emily continued to cry lightly. Yesterday, she had cried so much when her father confided in her, that her face still felt swollen. Now, fresh despair took hold of her. Susan pulled her away and held Emily’s hands in her own.
“Is he saved?” she asked.
Her question came as a shock, but Emily had to admit, it had crossed her mind. Both Susan and Emily had been attending a church off campus with the initial intention of finding a decent dating prospect, but they had gotten far more than they had hoped for at the tiny church. Though the congregation consisted entirely of college students, with the exception of a few older folks that would come and go, Emily and Susan had long since retired the notion of finding a good man at the church and devoted their extra time to volunteering at church events.
“When I was a little girl, my mom took me to church and told me about God and how he created the world. She told me about Adam and Eve, Jonah and Noah over and over, as many times as I would beg her to repeat the stories.” The corners of her mouth turned up as she reminisced.
“Did your father ever go with you?”
“No. Never once do I remember my father going to church or talking about God. Up until she died, my mother and I would go to that big white church with the tall white steeple on the corner of Main Street downtown. You remember that church, don’t you?”
“I remember being there for the funeral, and how afraid I was to go near the casket. Weren’t we nine or something at the time?” Susan asked.
“I never knew that’s why you wouldn’t go up to see her with me. You know, I was mad at you for the longest time because of that?”
“I knew you were mad, Em, but I couldn’t help it, sorry.”
Emily shook her head. “I can’t believe how many years ago that was. You know, come to think of it, I remember my Aunt Lilly having to practically force my father into the church at my mother’s funeral. After my mother’s death, I don’t think my father knew what to do with me. I guess that’s why he sent me off to boarding school that year.”
“That was the worst year of my life. I hated being at the public school without you.”
Emily wiped a fresh tear from her cheek. “Yeah, I remember how happy I was to come home. My father was never the same though. We haven’t been very close since.”
“Maybe things will get better between you while you’re home,” Susan said, offering enthusiasm to her friend.
“I doubt it. He seems awfully chummy with one of the prison workers, though.” Emily’s voice showed a sudden hint of anger.
“What are you talking about, Em?”
“Nothing, I hope. You know my father has never really had any close friends to speak of. Yet he spoke highly of this man last night when I was working with him.”
“Did he actually let you near the prisoners?”
“Yes and no. He’s never allowed me anywhere near the dairy when they were working—you know that. My first night back, I got as far as the office and had to stay there until the prisoners moved on to the other building. Last night, though, he let me go in the milking parlor, but he kept an eye on me like I was still a little girl.”
“So what’s so special about this prisoner?”
“My father said his name is Mitch Rutherford.” Emily rolled her eyes. “He talks about him as though he’s his best friend—and we both know my father has never had one of those!”
“Do you wonder about your father’s state of mind, becoming so close to a prisoner like that?”
“I don’t know, Susan. For all I know, it could be good for him to have a friend. Why he picked a convict, though, I don’t know. The man didn’t seem to be conniving in any way, but he sure seems like a waste of a good-looking man.”
Susan raised her eyebrows. “Oh, so he’s good looking, is he, Em?”
“The first night I saw him, he had a long, scruffy beard—he looked pretty disgusting. Last night, though, he was clean-shaven, which gave him a slightly less-threatening look.”
Susan cocked her eyebrow. “Are you sure it’s the same guy?”
“Those eyes of his were a dead give-away.” Emily suppressed a smile.
“His eyes, huh? He was that good looking? I think I want to get a look for myself!”
The two giggled like schoolgirls.
“Don’t get any funny ideas, Susan. He’s a convict. For all we know, he could be a murderer.”
“Don’t be silly,” Susan said, waving a hand at Emily. “They don’t let murderers out on work release; they keep a closer eye on the dangerous ones.”
Emily frowned. “I suppose you’re right. But I’m not sure I like the idea of my father being so friendly with the man.”
“That isn’t really your business, though, is it?”
“No, it isn’t.” Emily sighed heavily, resting her elbows on the kitchen table, cupping her face in her hands.
“So, back to our original question.”
“Which was?”
“How to get my father to go to church with me while I’m here.”
“Praying would be a good place to start,” Susan said.
Emily nodded, and the two rejoined their hands before praying.
“Father in Heaven,” Emily began. “Your word says that where two or more are gathered, you will be in their midst and hear their prayers. Hear our prayer now for my father’s salvation. Help me to plant seeds of faith in him so that you may grow the tree of eternal life in him. Place others in his path that will share your words of wisdom with him. Though he is only my earthly father, I love him. Help me to find ways to gain a closer relationship with him before he dies. If it is not your will to heal him, then I pray that you will allow him enough time on this earth to come to know you more and accept your word for the truth that it is. If he does go home to be with you in Heaven, I pray that you will keep him from suffering any more physical pain than he has already. Thank You, Lord for the awesome sacrifice your son made for us. In Jesus name we pray, Amen.”
“Amen,” Susan said quietly.
Neither of them moved for several minutes, but continued to hold hands—eyes closed. Emily felt a sudden rush of peace sweep over her that left her with a lighter load on her shoulders.
****
Mitch had barely slept. And before he realized, it was again time to return to the dairy farm to work. Though he wasn’t looking forward to working over night in the cold, he entertained the prospect of seeing Ethan’s daughter again. Lacking a restful sleep, he felt physically drained, yet mentally invigorated as he thought of Emily.
Just before lock-down, a few select prisoners, including Mitch, were paired together for preparation for the bus ride to the dairy. An older, very friendly guard, Henry and another guard known to the prisoners only as “Mr. Smith” escorted them each night, along with Martha, the driver. Mr. Smith was, in Mitch’s opinion, an over-zealous, would-be “tough guy”. Mitch felt that his tough exterior was a way of covering up the fact that he was afraid of the position he held within the prison system.
Outside the confines of the dreary, grey prison walls, Mitch admired the milky, northern sky. The night air was cold—enough that with each breath he took in, his nostrils froze together in protest. The snow crunched and squeaked under Mitch’s feet as his partner and he made their way to the short, green bus that would transport them to the dairy farm.
Once settled into place on the bus, the twenty-minute journey began, much the same as every other night. With the exception of mixed thoughts rolling around in Mitch’s head, he was able to maintain the usual pleasant conversation with the man in which he was partnered with that more likely resembled an “honor” system to keep track of each inmate. Martha, the mid-fifties guard who drove them every night, hummed quietly as she pulled into the back gate to the dairy.
Mitch felt a little shaky as he caught sight of the farmhouse at the far end of the property. He allowed his gaze to follow the course of the entire property. The farmhouse, which was separated by a locked gate and offset from the working part of the farm, had its own freshly painted, red barn and a guest-house on the other side of the swimming pool. The dairy side of the property contained four rectangular, steel-framed barns with corrugated metal walls and roofs; three for housing the nearly two hundred milking cows and one that served as a milking parlor and an office. The warehouse contained the power equipment used to grow and gather the grain and alfalfa hay used to make the silage needed to feed the milking cows and horses. The fields were rolling hills that stretched for miles.
Mitch looked at the farmhouse again before exiting the bus and willfully shut down his wishful thoughts of Emily, deciding he wasn’t going to let anything—not even a pretty girl—get in the way of doing his job which could hurt his chance for release.
“You boys behave tonight,” Martha told them as they exited the bus. “After I park this beast, I’ll be up to the parlor.”
Mitch winked at the aging woman. “Me and Henry will hold down the fort until you get up there.”
“You’re such a good boy.” Martha smiled.
Mitch knew that his fellow prisoners were not dangerous or violent, but he humored Martha, knowing it made her feel important to be needed by them. From the short conversations Mitch had with her over the years, he discovered the woman had become a young widow. Never remarrying, she grew old with no children of her own. She often referred to Mitch and a few of the others as “her boys”. Having not had a mother for the past fourteen years, Mitch enjoyed this arrangement. At Christmas time, she would bring them home-baked cookies and candies, reminding Mitch of his childhood Christmas’s with his mother. On his birthday last month, she knitted him a new scarf and hat with matching mittens because his others had worn holes in them and barely protected him from the cold, Michigan winters. Now when Mitch worked or went out in the exercise yard in the afternoons, her kindness kept his hands and neck warm, and in turn, his heart warmed, knowing that someone cared.
After leaving Martha to park the bus inside the warehouse where the tractors, combines and separators were also parked, Mitch went directly to the office for nightly work orders. Being the herdsman, Mitch was in charge over the entire herd and the prisoners, and enjoyed the freedom that his authority gave him. His prior life experience landed him the position, as he had grown up on a farm and had even owned his own horse at one time. Yes, Mitch was completely at home in the farm setting which was now so much a part of his life.
Mitch entered the main office. “How are you tonight, Ethan?”
The two men shook hands as Henry stood by.
“Fine, Mitch. I think we might need to turn the heat up some in the parlor, or the cows might just go on strike!”
They chuckled heartily, causing Henry to let go of a smile. Out of the corner of his eye, Mitch caught sight of Emily and another girl walking toward the office inside the main barn. As they got closer, a few prisoners whistled and motioned the young women toward them, causing Mr. Smith to engage his firearm. Mitch stood back, heart pumping vigorously, offering an arm to the two. Susan declined, but Emily allowed him to escort her into the large office. Mitch was a little unsure of himself, but continued to ensure their safety.
The look on Ethan’s face when they entered the office made Mitch even more nervous. Had Emily taken his arm only to spite her father?
“You two girls need to go back up to the main house this minute. You don’t have any business being here when these men are out here,” Ethan scolded them.
“That isn’t fair. You let me in here last night,” Emily said in her defense.
“All these men weren’t in here last night.”
“That one was.” Emily pointed to Mitch.
Mitch hung his head and turned his face away in embarrassment.
“I said go up to the house, and I meant it, young lady.”
“I’m not a little girl anymore,” Emily protested further.
“Yeah, we can see that sweetheart,” a prisoner commented from outside the office door.
The others continued to whistle, which angered Mitch.
Mitch waved his arms angrily. “Get out of here, all of you. Unless you want to find yourselves jobless.”
“You aren’t my boss,” a prisoner hissed at Mitch.
“I’m your supervisor while you’re here.” Mitch puffed his chest and held his ground. “If you don’t move along, you won’t be coming back here to work anymore.”
“You’re moving in on the boss’ daughter real fast,” another prisoner barked.
Mr. Smith, who had allowed Mitch to handle them up until then, ushered the men from the barn; his firearm still engaged. Mitch tipped his hat toward Emily and Susan, then, bowed slightly.
“I’m sorry, miss,” he nodded to Emily, then to Susan. “You’ll have to excuse my men; they seemed to have forgotten their manners.”
Emily snickered.
He tipped his hat one final time before nodding to Ethan, then, he closed the office door.
It’s going to be tough keeping my mind off that girl until I get out of prison. I think I admire her spunk too much.
Mitch left the barn, but thoughts of Emily went with him.
Emily watched Mitch through the office window until he left the barn. She then stood with her hands on her hips, challenging her father’s decision.
“That Mitch is a good man. He’s been with me for nearly three years, now, while others have come and gone. I’m afraid that even in the prison system, the rate of turnover is quite high. Mitch is the only one who has survived the strict rules that I set down for these boys.”
“He’s been in prison for three years?” Susan asked out of curiosity.
“Almost.”
“Wow. What did he do?”
“Doesn’t matter. He’s been working for me for almost three years now. The young man only has a few more weeks until they let him out, and I have to admit, I’m going to miss him. I wish he’d stay on, but he wants to go home and finish college.”
Emily’s eyes widened. “He was in college?”
“Yes. He was studying business. He’s very intelligent, that boy is, and he’s been a good friend to me. Granted, he made a mistake, but I believe he’s learned his lesson. That boy has got himself one heck of a future ahead of him,” Ethan said.
“I’m sorry I upset you by coming out here, Daddy.” Emily held her eyes on her father.
Ethan, a stout man, hugged his daughter. Something he hadn’t done in years. She hugged him back and began to weep quietly. Susan joined the two in a group hug, breaking a bit of the tension of the situation.
The two left the barn and spotted Mitch in the shadows of the large floodlights that surrounded the property.
Susan nudged Emily and whispered. “Are those deer real, or did you get some of those fake deer to put on your property?”
Emily strained to see what Mitch was doing and saw that the deer were in fact moving toward him. “Uh, no. We don’t have any fake deer, those are real!”
“So he’s good looking and a charmer!”
Emily shook her head. “I don’t believe what I’m seeing, even though it’s right in front of me.”
“He has them eating out of his hand. Why do you suppose those deer aren’t afraid of him?”
“I don’t know, Susan. Maybe there’s more to Mitch Rutherford than I thought.”
Susan looked at her friend in disbelief. Then the two walked in silence toward the main house.
TWO
A TRUSTED FRIEND
As the week passed, most of the snow melted and the crocuses in the window box outside Emily’s bedroom window began to bloom. She watched the purple and yellow blooms open slowly as the sun began to make its way over the horizon. Her father had fallen ill the day before and had given her quite a scare. After a long night of tending to him, Ethan had finally been able to get some rest. When Emily laid her head on her pillow, however, she realized that she was far too preoccupied in her thoughts to sleep.
So much had happened the previous week that Emily found it difficult to sort through her feelings. Having witnessed Mitch’s tenderness night after night in working with her father throughout the week had caused her some confusion. The two were indeed very close, but Emily was still not sure she approved of such a friendship between the convict and her father.
Emily soon drifted off to sleep, but awakened minutes later by an unfamiliar sound. From down the hall came a faint beckoning from Ethan. Emily sat up in her bed, straining an ear to listen for the sound of her father’s voice. When she heard it again, she knew without a doubt that her father was calling her name. She eased her tired body off her bed and started down the hall, where she met her father, who had gotten dressed and was making his way toward the door.
“Daddy, what are you doing up? You need your rest—the prison boys can handle the workload for the next day or so.”
Ethan pushed back his greying hair. “Nonsense. I need to work at my dairy—as long as you give me a hand in getting out there this one time.”
“Daddy, don’t be so stubborn. Go back to bed and I’ll check on things throughout the day and night while you rest,” Emily pleaded with him
Ethan stumbled slightly, then, fell onto the solid oak bench that decorated the wide hallway. Emily rushed to his side and placed a thick pillow behind her father, trying to make him comfortable.
Ethan wiped the perspiration from his forehead with the back of his hand. “I guess you’re right, Em. I am a little too stubborn for my own good. Maybe I ought to slow down just a bit.”
“Do you want me to walk you back to your room?”
“Let me sit here for a while,” Ethan said, letting go of a heavy sigh. “I could use a drink of water, if it’s not too much trouble.”
Ethan’s weakness startled Emily, but she would cater to him if it would make things right between them. She would take care of the company and hold everything together as best she could just to make him happy. Emily questioned her own strength, but hoped she could count on Mitch for support.
After making her father comfortable, she went back to her room intending to finally get some rest. She was so exhausted; she fell asleep immediately, and slept for several hours. Suddenly, the sound of a somewhat familiar male voice startled her into full wakefulness.
After pulling her long, curly red hair back with a thick barrette, she opened her bedroom door to hear who was down the hall with her father. Feeling disoriented from realizing she’d slept through the entire day, she glanced at the digital clock across the dark room, which read midnight—too late for a proper social call. The fact still remained that there was another man in her father’s room, and the two were talking—and laughing.
I know that voice. If I didn’t know better, I’d say it belongs to—Mitch Rutherford! What could he possibly be doing here at this time of night—and in the house, no less?
Emily marched down the hall to her father’s room, determined to get her answer. When she reached the door, it was slightly ajar and Emily decided to wait for a pause in the conversation before knocking.
“Mitch, I wish you would reconsider my offer,” Emily heard her father say.
I was right. What a snake in the grass; bothering my daddy when he is so ill.
“Running this dairy is a generous offer, Ethan. But I’ve had my heart set on finishing college ever since I landed myself in prison. Besides, don’t you want your daughter to be in charge?” Mitch took off his wide-brim, brown, felt hat and ran a hand through his thick, brown hair.
“You’ve been like a son to me, you know that, Mitch. I only want you to be happy, but I truly think this is an opportunity of a lifetime and it would be a shame if you passed it by. Now, as far as Emily is concerned, I’m not sure she wants the responsibility and I trust you to keep it running properly.”
Ethan propped himself up on his pillows.
“I’ll give it some more thought if it means that much to you,” Mitch said.
“Thanks, Son.”
Mitch looked at Ethan, but opted not to comment on his statement.
Son! Why does he keep calling him his son? I’m an only child, and that man is no brother to me.
Emily wanted to rush into the room and yell at her father, and escort Mitch out of the house.
Unable to distinguish her confusing thoughts, Emily decided she’d heard enough and knocked lightly on the door, pushing it open slightly. Ethan beckoned her in the room, where Mitch sat in a chair at his bedside. Emily eyed Mitch as she walked around him and sat on the edge of the bed on the opposite side.
“Emily. I’d like to formally introduce the two of you. This is Mitch. He’s the supervisor over all the inmates,” Ethan said. “Mitch, this is my daughter, Emily.”
The key word here being inmates, Daddy. Let’s not forget that.
Emily forced a smile and Mitch nodded in Emily’s direction, though he didn’t utter a word.
“I hope we didn’t wake you, Em,” Ethan said softly.
Emily pushed a few unruly curls from her face and yawned. “It’s okay daddy. I shouldn’t have slept so long. I have a lot to tend to.”
Mitch stood up, suddenly feeling uncomfortable with the situation. “I think I better go, Ethan. I’ll check in with you before I leave in the morning—that is, if you’ll be up.”
“Of course I’ll be up. Just give me a ring on my bedside phone here.” Ethan pointed to the phone on the antique table. “I’ll want to hear how the night went. And thanks Mitch.”
“Glad I could help. Get some rest, Ethan. I’ll talk to you first thing in the morning.”
Mitch tipped his hat toward Emily. “Goodnight, Miss.”
Emily nodded, but held her tongue for the sake of her father, for this man she thought to be nothing short of a swindler. She determined then that Mitch would not get his grubby hands on her father’s dairy farm—no matter how much of a charmer he was.
“I’ll be right back, Daddy.” Emily left the room with the intention of talking to Mitch. She caught up to him at the kitchen door.
“Excuse me.”
Mitch turned around, his eyes carefree. “Do you need something, Miss?”
“I’ll say I need something.” Emily moved forward, hands on her hips. “You think you’re so smooth coming in here and trying to take my father’s company when he’s ill. You have some nerve.”
“I don’t want your father’s company—you’re his daughter, that’s your responsibility. I don’t even want the job he’s offering me, but he’s my friend and I don’t want to hurt his feelings by declining his generosity. He’s been good to me these past years and I’d never take advantage of him. I pray every day that he gets well enough to handle all of this on his own soon.” Mitch tipped his hat and left the house.
Emily couldn’t move for several minutes. His words stung. They dangled in front of her, tormenting and convicting. Had she really been so curt with him?
****
Once inside the barn, Mitch checked the valve settings of the machinery, then, made certain the feeders were bringing in wheelbarrows full of silage to the hungry cows. Mitch could not keep his mind on his work, however, for he was pre-occupied with thoughts of Emily. Though they had argued, he could not erase from his mind the way her blue-green eyes flickered with passion, or the way her fiery red curls fell along her porcelain face. The last thing he wanted was to make an enemy of her. And he certainly didn’t want her thinking he was trying to swindle her father out of his business. Ethan was his friend, and he needed to prove that to her.
Mitch leaned an elbow against his favorite cow, stroking her neck affectionately. The yellow branding tags on her ears gave her the number 118, but Mitch always referred to her as Ellie. The black and white Holstein shook her head with approval over Mitch’s attention. Though they were simple animals, not ordinarily thought of fondly, he felt the cows had personality and he enjoyed working with them.
****
Emily entered the milking parlor and immediately spotted Mitch halfway down the hall petting a cow she had heard him refer to as Ellie. She walked closer, looking into each individual stall before coming upon the spot where Mitch was standing. Emily held a hand in front of her mouth, trying to cover her amusement over the sheepish grin that lay across his lips. Upon closer observance, she noticed the dimples in his cheeks deepen as he smiled at her, but she quickly looked away, feeling ashamed that she had allowed herself to be momentarily taken in by his boyish charm.
“Did you need something, Miss Emily?”
Emily’s face turned hot as she spoke in a timid voice.
“No—thank you. I came out here to check on things.”
Mitch looked down at his tall rubber boots that were covered with manure. “Could you call for the barns-men over the intercom to come up here and take care of this floor, they’re probably helping the feeders bring in the silage. I didn’t want to go into the office with my boots like this, or I’d do it myself. Besides, I need to stand by to run the water through these lines, since this milking is nearly finished. ”
She started to walk away, but looked nervously over her shoulder.
Mitch caught her eye. “Are you okay, Miss?”
“Yes. I am. I just wanted to tell you that I may have misjudged you. I’m sorry.”
“It wouldn’t be the first time. But the situation I’m in doesn’t exactly scream with credibility.”
She admired his humble admission, searching his eyes for even a hint of deception, but couldn’t find any. She broke away from his eyes and turned on her heel, and moved toward the office.
“Watch where you step, miss,” Mitch said, still smiling.
Emily turned back again. “Thank you. If you need anything else—I’ll be in the office.”
Mitch grinned wider and nodded, thinking she was all he needed.
****
At break time, Mitch went out the east doors of the parlor and headed toward the field at the edge of the lamp light to where the small herd of deer would gather at night—his deer, he felt. His boundaries were within the edge of the light from the floodlights and he knew that to venture any further would cause Martha to have to retrieve him. Martha would often keep Henry and the other guard busy while giving Mitch the liberty of wandering out far enough to feed the deer. Occasionally, Martha would sit with him while he fed the deer apples and carrots that she would bring from home. The two would talk about his life and some of the sad times of his childhood. Very rarely would she talk about her own life, but he felt closer to her than he remembered being to his own mother.
Tonight, Mitch was alone. He looked out over the pasture at the few remaining patches of snow that still lay undisturbed in the knee-high, brown grasses that filled the field. The wind pushed at the grass, sending a scraping, crackling sound to Mitch’s ears. He sat on the oversized rock at the edge of the field and pulled the flap of his collar up around his neck to shield him against the wind. He shivered, wondering if his few moments of solitude were worth freezing for. But when the deer approached, he held out an apple and a small amount of grain that Martha had allowed him to put in the pocket of his jacket. One of the light brown animals—a small female—ventured closer than usual. Mitch held his hand out as far from his body as his arm would stretch and the deer walked timidly toward him, eating cautiously from his hand. In the light, Mitch could see more clearly the speckles of white in her fur and the white fluff to her short tail. With his free hand, he reached around slowly and placed it on the side of the deer, petting her softly. This brought to his mind thoughts of his horse, Spitfire, whom he dearly missed. When he was a young boy, he felt nothing could stop him when he rode Spitfire—even the wind would rush by him. Now in a state of confinement, he realized that there was never a time when he felt freer than when he rode his horse. Mitch had admired Ethan’s horse, Red Thunder, and often wished he could ride him. He sadly knew that because he was a prisoner, petting and feeding the horse would be as close as he would ever get to the champion thoroughbred.
****
In the morning when Mitch called the house, Ethan requested he meet him in the barn that was adjacent to the main house—the one containing the non-commercial stock. When Martha returned with the day-shift prisoners, she would make an extra trip to return him to the prison—after his talk with Ethan.
Emily assisted her father to the barn. “I’ll leave you two gentlemen to talk.”
“Thanks Em,” Ethan said.
Mitch remained silent out of fear that his attraction to her would become apparent—he found it difficult to think clearly in her presence. Their eyes locked, and for a fleeting moment he wanted to touch the soft, red curls that fell along her prominent cheekbone. Instead, he managed a weak smile before she exited the barn.
Emily walked away, thinking that Mitch was beginning to grow on her.
“You look well,” Mitch said, turning his attention to Ethan.
Ethan put his arm around Mitch’s shoulder.
“Thanks son, but I’m getting too old for a young man like you to try humoring me.”
“I didn’t mean any disrespect, Sir,” Mitch said, clearing his throat.
“I know you didn’t, Mitch. You’re a good young man.”
They walked toward the horse stalls and Mitch stopped directly in front of Red Thunder.
Ethan reached up a hand and stroked the eager horses’ neck. “Come on, Mitch. We’ve been friends for a long time. Why are you suddenly being formal with me? Is there something weighing on your mind?”
Mitch lifted an apple from his coat pocket and fed it to Red Thunder. “I was thinking about my horse, Spitfire, last night while I was working.”
“Where’s the horse now?”
Mitch kicked at some loose straw under foot. “My father sold him and the others to pay back taxes on his property.”
“Did you ever get another horse?”
“No. After my mother left when I was fourteen, he began to drink more heavily and before long, he’d lost his job and had to sell most everything in order to pay off his debts. From then on until the day I left, no animal was housed in that barn—except stray cats.”
Mitch could feel Ethan’s eyes upon him as he suppressed the lump that formed in his throat from thinking of his father who hadn’t written to him in the three years he’d spent in prison. He deepened his focus on Red Thunder.
“You know, Mitch, I’ve seen the way you favor Red Thunder and the way you handle the animals on this farm. I have to admit I think you handle them better than their trainers sometimes. You’ve got some sort of gift with the animals.”
“Thanks, Ethan.”
“You know, son. I’d like it if you’d exercise Red Thunder for me a few times a week while I’m out of commission. What do you say? Would it be too much, considering your heavy workload?”
Mitch felt as though his heart skipped a beat.
“Are you talking about riding him?”
“Yes, of course. I’m aware that you’ll have to remain on the grounds in the gated area, but that’s plenty of territory to cover with him.”
“When would you like me to start?” Mitch was so excited he felt like he could hardly breathe.
“Right away—today, if you’d like. I’ve taken the liberty of talking with the warden regarding the permanent position I offered you and explained to him that more time was needed for training. I’ve asked that he switch you to day shift if that’s all right with you. I’ll even appoint you the position of day-shift herdsman until your training is completed.”
“But Sir, I have less than two months before my sentence is served—maybe it would be better if I didn’t switch this close to the end—it might cause some problems with the other prisoners.” Mitch wrung his hands nervously.
“I trust you to make the right decision on this matter, but you must know how much confidence I have in you. I wouldn’t offer this opportunity to you if I didn’t think you could handle it.”
Mitch ran his hand through his hair. “That’s a big responsibility.”
“Yes it is.” Ethan nodded. “But at the risk of repeating myself, I think you can handle it. I’ve observed you closely over the past three years, and I have to say that I admire how well you’ve applied yourself. Why do you think I made you the supervisor after your first three months here?”
Mitch was nearly beside himself with this sudden turn of events. “You’re a good friend for saying those things. It really means a lot to me that you have that much confidence in me. I accept your offer to work with Red Thunder, but remember, Ethan, I haven’t agreed to accept the permanent position yet.”
Ethan chuckled, patting Mitch on the back.
“You will.”
****
The following morning, Mitch was up at the time he would normally still be at work. He wondered how his first day on the new shift would turn out. He’d worked many double shifts, but working days would take some getting used to.
When it was time to leave, Mitch felt strange—as though he were forgetting something. He shrugged it off as jitters about how the others would handle his new position. Being the odd man, he lacked a riding partner for the bus ride, which angered the other prisoners right from the start. Once they were seated on the “green beast”—their nickname for the transport bus, Al Winthrop, the day-shift guard mandated their attention.
“Listen up, prisoners. You all know Mitch. He’s the new day-shift herdsman. He’s also training to be the supervisor when he leaves us in a few weeks.”
The bus suddenly filled with loud grumbles from the inmates and Mitch felt uncomfortable.
Al held up a warning hand to them. “Settle down, prisoners. If any of you don’t want to work under this man’s authority, let me know now and I’ll escort you off the bus and back to your cell. Mitch has worked enough double shifts that you know he pulls his own weight. Him being the supervisor won’t change any of that, I assure you.”
The bus was suddenly quiet with the sort of deafening silence that made Mitch tremble. He waited for someone to respond negatively, but instead, a low murmuring grumble sounded when the bus left the prison gate and continued the length of the ride to the dairy.
****
Emily was waiting for Mitch in the office when he arrived and summoned him inside with a wave of her hand. Mitch spotted her through the window and went in to greet her. He was happy to see her.
“How are you this morning, Miss?”
“I’m exhausted. I’m afraid my father isn’t doing very well. He’s resting now, but he was awake most of the night.”
“Is there anything I can do to help, Miss?”
“Please—call me Emily. It looks as though we are going to be working together for a while. May I call you Mitch?”
Mitch cleared his throat. Of course she could.
“Yes. It might be nice if we didn’t have to be so formal. Most of us are on a first name basis and I think it eases the tension in the workplace a little.”
“I’m all for keeping the tension level low. I have enough to deal with concerning my father’s health. He had another rough night, but he has a little more color today. He asked that you check in with him after your morning ride.”
Mitch shifted on his feet nervously. He was concerned about Ethan, but his thoughts were muddled in Emily’s company. “I’ll do that.”
“Well, if we’re going to get anything accomplished today, we should get you acquainted with the schedule that my father asked me to put together for you.” Emily managed a weak smile.
Mitch looked at the schedule before him while Emily twisted her hair nervously around her finger. She wasn’t certain if her nervousness was due to being so close to Mitch, or the fact that they were alone in the office together. She knew she wasn’t afraid of him—he was strangely appealing to her.
Mitch looked up at Emily, interrupting her thoughts.
“This schedule calls for giving injections. Is someone going to instruct me on that?”
“As a matter of fact,” Emily said, still twisting her hair. “The veterinarian will be here this afternoon to show you. My father usually takes care of these things, or I would show you. By the way, he asked that you exercise his horse at first light.”
“I better get to helping the guys, or things might get ugly around here. They’re expecting me to pull my full share of the weight around here. I don’t intend to let them or your father down.”
Emily forced a smile. “My father says you’re a good man, but I’ll be honest with you—I’ll need to see for myself how well you work.”