That evening, Mose did as he promised, and he arrived at the Froggy Amish B&B with a smile to show George the ropes around the farm.
“Now, every morning, and every evening, you’ve got chores,” Mose said. “And between times, you’d best fix what looks rickety.”
George followed Mose out to the barn first and he was greeted with a low moo. The milk cow was waiting already, and Mose took her calf into another stall.
“Now, we need to milk the cow,” Mose said. “This is where your breakfast milk is going to come from. Have a seat, George. This is Bessie. Her calf there is Mikey. She’ll come when you call her–she’s a good milk cow.”
George sat down where Mose pointed, and he looked anxiously up at Bessie the cow.
“Now, first things first,” Mose said. “The milking grip.”
George had never milked a cow before, and on his first try, Bessie kicked over his bucket. On his second try, he fell off the bale he was sitting on. On his third try, he managed to get a nice fine spray of milk that sailed right over the bucket and hit Mose square in the eye. But on his fourth try, George got the milk into the bucket!
“Good!” Mose said. “Now, you just keep doing that about a hundred and fifty more times, and you’ll fill the bucket. I’ll be back…”
And Mose marched out, leaving George alone with Bessie, Mikey in a stall watching him, and a bucket to fill. George was proud of himself. This wasn’t going to be easy, but he wasn’t going to quit, either.
There would be milk for breakfast!
“George?” Amelia called, her voice quavering. “George!”
She only remembered that George was out learning how to do chores with Mose when she heard the frogs’ boots on the step, and then the door banged open and they came inside.
“George!” Amelia called again. “We have a visitor on our dining room table!”
George and Mose appeared in the doorway, and Mose nodded.
“Oh, yah,” he said. “That’s Ronnie. He’s your rooster.”
“We have a rooster?” Amelia asked.
“Sure do,” Mose replied.
“Do we have hens?”
“Nope. He’s rather lonesome, so he comes inside sometimes for company. He’s a terrible alarm clock. Most roosters will start crowing at dawn. Ronnie here crows whenever he feels like it, so check your clock before you bound out of bed. That’s my advice.”
“Oh…” Amelia said, starting to feel sorry for Ronnie now that she knew his sad story.
“Just shoo him on outside,” Mose said, and he clapped his hands and pointed at the door. Ronnie fluttered to the floor and strutted on out, crossed the kitchen, and when Mose opened the outside door, he was gone.
Amelia looked at George, wide-eyed.
“I milked a cow,” George said soberly, and he gestured to a pail on the kitchen counter. There was only an inch of milk in the bottom. “That’s for breakfast.”
“What happened?” she asked.
“I’d rather not talk about it,” George replied.
“It’s okay, George,” Amelia said. “We’ll get the hang of it!”
And she really believed they would. George could figure out anything!
George was Amelia’s hero. He always had been. He was a strong, resourceful frog with a head on his shoulders and very big heart. And George loved Amelia.
While George might not be a country frog by nature, he was excellent with gadgets and wi-fi, and it didn’t take him long to find the router and the cables, and to make sure Amelia was online. That was important for her work as Patricia Johns’s editor for her Amish romance novels. But it was also important for their Froggy Amish B&B website!
“We need a photo to show people who we are,” George said. “Let’s go outside by the front door, set up a tripod, and get a good picture. What do you say?”
So they went outside, and they set up a rocking horse for Bridgette. She was still too little to rock, but they propped her up, and when George’s phone counted down, they both shouted “Cheese!” and there was a flash.
George checked the photo, shook his head, and came back. “Not quite. Let’s not yell this time. Our mouths were open.”
So they tried again, and the second time, Brigette fell off her rocking horse. The third time George blinked. The fourth time, Amelia had a funny look on her face, and the fifth time was perfection.
“I think it’s a wonderful welcome for our guests!” Amelia said. “George, you’re so good at these things.”
And George, who had been feeling a little deflated, straightened his shoulders. He always felt better when Amelia was grateful for his humble efforts. But he was personally convinced that with his pretty wife, everyone would want to visit the Froggy Amish B&B.
She was wonderful.
I hope you’re enjoying these new little stories with Amelia, George, and their froglet Brigette. I write these stories as a little thank you to my readers. If you haven’t checked out my Amish romance novels yet, you really should! You might find your next read!
Happy reading!
Patricia Johns 
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