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agreement, about the rent you’ll pay for usin’ her kitchen and utilities,” Ben said to Josiah. “You’ll have to hire some folks to help serve and clean up, too, because the gals who work for Miriam are already pullin’ a full load.”
    â€œI’d help for as long as I could,” Lena insisted. She gazed at Josiah with wide blue eyes. “You can do this! Doesn’t it feel like the hand of God’s been leading you here?”
    â€œI need to think about this—a lot,” Josiah added as he rose abruptly from the table.
    He couldn’t get out of the house fast enough. And he didn’t like it one bit that the ladies assumed he’d go along with their ideas—nor did he appreciate Ben’s requirements for a business agreement. Hiram Knepp had hired him sight unseen, without so much as a handshake, which was usually all most Plain folks required.
    And since when has Lena found religion? Where was God when she got pregnant? Where was He when my parents drowned? Is it any wonder that I doubt God led us to Willow Ridge?
    Josiah inhaled the frosty night air to settle his conflicting thoughts. He detested other people telling him what to do. He’d made his own decisions since he’d gotten out of school several years ago, and his life had gone just fine—until Lena had teased him beyond his control.
    Don’t listen to these people. What do they know?
    Josiah entered the barn, where the earthy scents of manure and horse feed soothed him. While Ben had done very well for himself in Willow Ridge—his beautiful new home and barn were evidence of his business sense—Josiah didn’t appreciate him being such a naysayer. Why didn’t Hooley believe he could cook? Who would make up a story about catering? The proof was in the pork chops—and the brisket and baked beans and other food he and Savilla dished up.
    As he climbed the ladder to drop a few bales of hay from the loft, Josiah’s temper rose and his thoughts spun faster. What if Miriam expected him to audition—to work during her day shift and prove himself? It was one thing for the neighbor ladies to cook at the Sweet Seasons, but it was another thing altogether if they thought he would peel potatoes and wash dishes and—
    â€œNo women’s work for me , thank you very much!” Josiah hollered. “I’ll do this my way!” The echo of his voice in the high ceiling gave him a sense of release and satisfaction as the horses glanced up from their stalls.
    â€œSounds like something I would’ve said at your age.”
    Josiah winced. Just inside the barn, Ben stood with his arms crossed, smiling. “My attitude cost me several years of productive life, considerin’ how I didn’t settle down with Miriam until I turned thirty-five,” he went on. “But jah , I left home to run my business my way.”
    Josiah stood stock-still, bracing for a sermon. Ben was a preacher, after all.
    â€œThat’s why you’ll not partner with my wife until the details are in writing, Josiah,” Ben went on. “You’re too much like I was—like my brothers Luke and Ira, too. Reckless. Fearless. Careless ,” he insisted. Then he shrugged. “But since you’re not gonna follow anybody else’s rules, I don’t have to worry about ya messin’ up Miriam’s business, do I?”
    Josiah’s lips twitched. He felt really stupid, but that was no reason to back down or act as though he was sorry. “Nope.”
    â€œI’m glad we understand each other,” Ben replied. “ Denki for doin’ my horse chores. It’s gut , solid men’s work.”
    Josiah nipped his lip. Where did he stand with Hooley, really? He and Savilla shared the cooking and cleanup without separating the tasks according to gender—he made a pretty fair batch of biscuits in a pinch, and his sister could change a rig wheel. She