The shabby suitcase still lay open on the bed. Planning to slide it under the bed, Annie moved to close it.
The book.
The genealogy book Eli Beiler loaned her lay in the suitcase. She should not have brought that home with her. What was she thinking? She supposed she could mail it back.
But she might as well finish exploring it. Annie removed the book, closed the suitcase, and slid it under the bed. Then she climbed under the bedspread and opened the book.
Lists. Dates. Random anecdotal recollections. The name of a ship, the Charming Nancy, thought to have carried the family of pioneer Jakob Beyeler to the new world.
Annie grabbed her laptop. With a few clicks, she had the ship’s passenger list. There they were: Jakob and Verona, with Barbara, Anna, Christian, Maria, and Elisabetha. Real people who crossed the ocean in 1737. What circumstances greeted them when they got off the Charming Nancy? Annie sank into her pillows, thirsting for details she would likely never discover, but her imagination was already at work.
Seventeen
October 1737
She slept—too much, Jakob thought. Verona barely had been awake since they arrived in Philadelphia three days ago. When she woke, she insisted she was fine, just overwhelmed by the journey. Her smile did not quite persuade when she assured him she was glad to finally be in Pennsylvania after a year of planning and sailing. And then she dropped off to sleep again. Each conversation varied the theme only slightly. Jakob hardly dared to leave but at minimum had to find food, candles, and coal. Fortunately, their accommodations among German-speaking merchants made basic purchases far simpler than he had feared.
The house belonged to Quakers who once lived in it themselves before building a larger permanent home. Now it served as the entry point for one German-speaking immigrant family after another. The owners left several publications about William Penn and Pennsylvania in the house, and Christian already had spent hours poring over them, sounding out English words and trying to decipher from diagrams what the words might mean.
They occupied two small rooms, one for sleeping and one for cooking over the fire and sitting on crates to eat. The sleeping room had two narrow beds and assorted pallets on the floor. To let Verona rest, Jakob kept the children out of this room except at night. Near the fire in the front room, Jakob had pried open the barrel containing kitchen supplies, and Barbara had done her best to arrange them. She knew without being asked that she must try to produce meals at reasonable intervals and keep Maria and Lisbetli quiet. Jakob ventured out for a few minutes at a time to buy whatever they required for the next few hours.
Barbara took the other girls on walks three times a day. Lisbetli needed the fresh air, and Maria needed the physical activity. Anna was oddly quiet about the whole experience of arriving in Philadelphia and awaiting the next step, but she did what Barbara asked her to do to help. The girls were gone now, and Christian was reading again in the other room while Jakob watched Verona sleep.
She stirred. “Jakob?”
“I’m here.”
She exhaled. “I should get up.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I thought you would be gone.”
“Where would I go?”
“To the land office. Last night you said you wanted to make your application today.”
“I don’t have to go today.”
“Yes you do.” Verona pushed herself up on one elbow. Slowly she raised her torso and swung her feet over the side of the bed. “I’m sorry I haven’t been much help.”
Jakob moved to the bed and sat beside her. “Don’t talk nonsense. You’re ill.”
“I’m better now. Really. You have to go make the application.”
“It can wait.” He kissed the top of her head.
“There’s no point waiting. The sooner you apply, the sooner we get land.”
He couldn’t argue with that. “I’ll make you some tea. Perhaps by then Barbara will be back.”
“You can take Christian with you. He’s tying himself in knots waiting to see the city. He thinks I don’t know, but I hear the way he talks.”
An hour later, with Christian at his side and Barbara sitting with Verona, Jakob set out, expecting to find the land office easily. Most of the public buildings were on the main square on High Street at the center of the city.
As they walked, Christian tilted his head to listen. “How many languages do you think there are in Philadelphia?”
“At least Dutch, Swedish, English, French, and German,” Jakob answered. “Probably a lot more. Settlers have been coming for a hundred years.”
As they approached the square, Christian cut away from his father abruptly and stopped in front of a muscled gray horse. Jakob followed, patting the horse’s neck and wishing he had an apple for her. If he had an apple, though, he would cut it up for his children.
“We’re going to need horses, aren’t we, Daed?” Christian asked.
“Yes we will.”
“I want to help you choose them.”
“When the time comes,” Jakob said, though he knew the time would be soon.
“She’s for sale,” a voice said in German.
Jakob turned toward the man who emerged from a dim shop. He tried to make sense of the English words on the shop’s sign.
“We have everything you need,” the man said.
The words were German, but the accent was English.
“Horses, plows, barrels, ropes, beds, salt, flour, jerky. You are homesteading, yes?” the man said.
Jakob nodded. Was it that obvious? He put a hand on his son’s shoulder, though Christian was well mannered and would not intrude on an adult conversation. Maria was the one who could never be quiet.
The man continued listing the items he had for sale, and Jakob understood. Homesteaders flowed through Philadelphia like a river. There was money to be made in supplying what they needed.
“I can get anything you need,” the man said. “Just give me a list.”
“Perhaps I will,” Jakob answered. “But I don’t even have land yet.”
“Don’t wait too long,” the man cautioned. “The Penns are efficient. You might as well be ready when the warrant comes through.”
Jakob patted the gray animal again and said, “Perhaps we will talk in a few days.”
Jakob nudged Christian’s shoulder, and they continued on their quest.
“Can we buy that horse?” Christian asked when they were out of the man’s earshot.
“Buying a horse is an important decision,” Jakob said. “We can’t just buy the first one we see.”
“She looks like a good horse to me.”
“Yes she does,” Jakob agreed. “I have a feeling we’ll meet other men with similar businesses. You can help me find the best one to work with.”
“Can I go with you to find the land?” Christian asked. “I promise I won’t be any trouble.”
Jakob shook his head. Christian had big ideas, but he was still just an eight-year-old boy. “I think it’s better if you stay with your mother. We can’t leave the womenfolk on their own, after all.”
They found the land office, and Jakob realized how strategically the outfitting business was located. No doubt the pace of business in the center square swelled when ships disgorged immigrants and quieted in the weeks between arrivals. Jakob had spoken with Hans Zimmerman, the Stutzmans, and other Amish families from the Charming Nancy who had been to the land office already. A couple of families immediately succumbed to offers in the street. Though they were now well outfitted for the wilderness, they had very little means to sustain themselves for the weeks of waiting in Philadelphia. Jakob was keeping a tight mental inventory of every expense. He knew exactly how much money he had, but he was not sure how long it would have to last.
Hans Zimmerman was getting impatient. He wanted Jakob to ride with him to scout land as soon as the necessary permissions came through. Many of the settlers walked into the wilderness, but Hans was determined t
o take a horse. Jakob was going to need a horse as well, or at least a mule to carry gear.
The land office throbbed with activity. Jakob recognized families from the ship as he waited his turn for a haggard gray-haired clerk behind a desk to fire a series of questions.
“I am Jakob Byler, and I wish to apply for a land grant.” Jakob spoke German.
Immediately the clerk raised an arm and signaled to a young man, who crossed the room to the desk. “German,” the clerk said, pointing at Jakob.
“I will translate,” the young man said in German. “We do this often.”
Jakob nodded in relief.
While Jakob answered questions, Christian found pamphlets and picked out English words he had begun to recognize. When they left, Jakob felt confident he had satisfied the requirements of William Penn’s sons, Richard and Thomas. The warrant would come through soon enough.
Verona was still sitting up when he returned to her after an absence of several hours, which encouraged him. When Jakob entered the room, Verona lifted her flushed face and smiled. Lisbetli sat on the bed with her, playfully tickling her mother’s neck and giggling. Verona tickled in response, which sent Lisbetli into spasms of laughter.
“Mrs. Zimmerman was here,” Verona said. “Hans has information on some land he wants to look at when you go.”
“In Northkill?” Jakob asked.
“Irish Creek.”
“The name certainly sounds more peaceable than Northkill.” Jakob examined his wife’s face. Was she really better, or had she forced herself to stay awake because Mrs. Zimmerman visited?
“It’s very close to Northkill,” Verona said. “We would be near other Amish families.”
Jakob nodded. “The Siebers are on Irish Creek. They came last year.”
“I remember them,” Verona said. “I always liked Mrs. Sieber.”
“Perhaps someday we will have a real congregation,” Jakob said. “Even a bishop.” He paused. “I don’t know how long I’ll be gone. I hate to go off into the wilderness and leave you still in bed.”
“I won’t be in bed,” Verona said quickly. “I’m so much better. Besides, we both know you have to go.”
“I don’t have to go right now with Hans.”
“But you should. It’s what you’ve planned all along.”
“Winter is coming.”
“All the more reason to go soon. Choose your land and be ready. When the papers come, you can engage a surveyor right away.”
“And we pray that winter holds off long enough to get the survey done. Then we could move at the first spring thaw.”
“So we will spend the winter here, then.” Verona looked around the room. “I will make a home for us.”
“When you are well, I will look for work,” Jakob said. “Surely Philadelphia has tanyards.”
“Not an Amish tanyard. Would you work for an outsider?” Verona asked.
“Will I have a choice? I must provide for my family. I’m only interested in honest work.”
“Any tanner would be blessed to have you.”
Jakob began to believe he could leave Verona safely. If she napped with the baby, she managed to be wakeful for most of the day. The Penn brothers approved his application for a land grant. By the time the papers were complete, she had organized the cooking and laid in food supplies. He and Christian chose a sure-footed horse with a mellow temperament and loaded leather satchels with bedding, warm clothing, and food. Hans Zimmerman did the same. Jakob and Hans consulted their maps and planned their foray into the thick forest northwest of Philadelphia.
They followed the Schuykill River as it meandered generally north, and turned west in the shadow of the Blue Mountains. When they could, they rode the horses. When the path grew steep or hidden, they walked laboriously. Hans constantly checked his compass, and in the end they did find Northkill Creek and several Amish families who had taken this sojourn the previous year. The Detweiler and Sieber families lived in cabins with stone chimneys and the evidence that their gardens had yielded well that year and stocked the root cellar.
When Hans and Jakob arrived, Mrs. Sieber did not hesitate to twist the neck of one of the chickens strutting in back of the house and prepare it for the pot. The eldest Sieber boy went to a makeshift smokehouse and came back with a skinned rabbit and squirrel. Jakob winced slightly at the offering, supposing the families did not enjoy meat every day, much less three varieties. He spied two rifles leaning up against the Sieber fireplace.
“Is the hunting good?” he asked.
“The boys do pretty well with Melchior Detweiler’s boys,” Sieber said. “They take down the occasional deer or elk, which feeds us a long time. Even a bear now and then. And they seem to get all the rabbit, grouse, and turkey we could ask for.”
Jakob nodded, encouraged. He would have to teach Christian to hunt. First, he would need a gun.
By noon the following day, Jakob stood on land at the far west end of Irish Creek and knew he wanted to own it. He leaned against a black oak, feeling drenched in good fortune.
“Let’s use this oak to mark our land,” Hans said. “Our farms will join at this tree. Our families will join here as well.”
Jakob nodded, smiling. Verona would love this view. The Blue Mountains sloped on the western horizon over woods that rose thickly from rich soil. They would have all the timber they needed. The creek would provide smooth stones to spark Verona’s pleasure in the fireplace that would someday warm the home they would someday inhabit. A vision of a free life colored the expanse before him with one hint of shadow.
Jakob gestured toward the mountains. “Indian territory is on the other side of that ridge.”
“I know,” Hans answered. “But William Penn took great pains to build friendly relations. He paid the tribes for the land.”
“William Penn has been dead for nearly twenty years. Things change.”
Hans went silent.
Jakob continued, “Considering the threats we left in Switzerland and what we survived on the ship, I don’t intend to lose anybody I love now.”
“We must be careful and watch out for each other.”
Jakob thumped the tree. “This black oak will remind us that this is no time to give way to fear.” He once again scanned the view of his land then pointed toward a small natural clearing close to the creek. “There! Verona will want the house there!”
Eighteen
Barrett agreed to meet her. Annie had not been sure he would even answer her phone call, but he sounded amicable. Even wistful.
Annie pondered three outfits laid out on her bed. The goal was businesslike but friendly. Warm but firm. Finally, she put on a dark print skirt cut straight with a sassy flair at the hemline and a short-sleeved summer sweater in a shade of blue she knew Barrett was partial to. Her gold chain followed the neckline of the sweater in a perfect parallel curve. She would use a real briefcase today.
Annie closed her eyes, inhaled, then exhaled slowly. “Please, God, help me figure this out.” She wanted to do the right thing—if only she knew what the right thing was.
In the middle of the morning, small clusters of people in business attire dotted the restaurant. In another couple of hours, the lunch crowd would surge through, but for now it was a quiet place to talk. Cutlery clinked occasionally, and voices ebbed and flowed with pleasant laughter and the buzz of getting down to business. Annie just wanted to hear straight from Barrett’s mouth what he wanted out of their partnership. Sitting down together in a public place—without lawyers—might stir enough friendship to come to an agreement without going to court. And she would not have to ruin Barrett’s future.
“I’m meeting a friend,” Annie told the hostess. “His name is Barrett Paige. I don’t see him.”
The hostess checked the note on the seating chart. “Yes, he’s here. He specifically asked for the back room.”
She followed the hostess through the main dining room, breathing in the aroma of omelets and coffee and waffles and bacon.
Something was not right. Annie slowed her steps and sniffed.
Aftershave.
Rick’s aftershave. She had spent enough time close to him to recognize it.
Annie paused at a table and set her briefcase in a chair. “Excuse me,” she said to the hostess. “Would you please tell my friend I’d like to eat out here?”
“It’s no trouble to put you in the back. We’ve already set up.”
“I prefer this spot.” She pulled out a chair and sat down.
The hostess shrugged. “I’ll tell him.”
The scent grew stronger, and a moment later Rick Stebbins stood across from Annie, his fingers splayed on the back of a chair.
“Well, well, Annie Friesen.” He leaned toward her. “Imagine running into you here.”
Annie picked up her briefcase and moved it to her lap. “What are you doing here, Rick?”
“It’s a popular place for business meetings.”
“Barrett told you, didn’t he?”
“Told me what?”
“Don’t play games.” Annie’s pulse pumped harder.
Rick crossed his arms over his chest. “This is a public place. How was I supposed to know you would be here?”
“That’s pretty thin, Rick.” She met his flaunting gaze with a scowl. What had she ever seen in him?
“I just came over to borrow a chair.” He rolled one out from the table and tilted his head toward another table. Two men in suits looked in his direction. “Meeting with new clients.”
“How convenient.”
“I believe you know how to reach me when you’re ready to sign the papers Barrett asked me to prepare.”
“Not gonna happen.”
“I think you’ll find your meeting has been canceled.” Rick smiled as he rolled the chair toward the other table.
The hostess reappeared. “I’m sorry, miss. Your party seems to have left.”
So this was how it was going to be.
Rufus looked up and raised an eyebrow. Karl Kramer sauntered from his car toward the motel and casually opened the lobby door. Rufus dipped the brim of his hat about an inch but held his pose in a straight-backed chair.
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