Though Mountains Fall

by Dale Cramer

  “They wanted a warehouse,” Noceda said. “But the federales have to be careful who they steal from. They can take a bag of beans from a Mexican national, but not a warehouse. They can only confiscate something like that from the church.”

  “That’s not right,” Levi said. “Why doesn’t somebody do something?”

  Father Noceda twisted his tin cup on the table, staring at it. “They will,” he said. “Rome has been too quiet in the face of this assault, and so have the cardinals. Sooner or later the people will rise up. There are already rumors among some of the village priests. But the time is not yet right, so we must not speak of these things.”

  Rachel kept herself busy through the winter months, doing chores, doing what she could to prepare for the wedding, and going to the post office every day. Jake wrote her at least twice a week, sometimes more, and she lived for his letters. His father knew his plans but still refused to let him return to Mexico until the day he became his own man.

  “If you die down there,” Jonas Weaver said, “I don’t want it on my conscience.”

  More than once, when Rachel went to town in the late afternoon, she saw Atlee Hostetler or his buggy somewhere near the old church.

  Harvey and Leah usually went with her, and Leah noticed, too. “Why would he want to be around those soldiers?” she asked. “I just don’t understand it.”

  “Mescal,” Harvey said, holding the reins as they headed out of town. “Maybe tequila, too.”

  Leah shuddered, remembering her brush with the troops. “Well, he must want it awful bad if he’s willing to spend time with those animals. I hate the way they leer at us.”

  “Jah, me too, but I won’t be making this trip much longer,” Rachel said. “It’ll just be the two of you then.”

  Leah’s head tilted. “Why won’t you be going to town anymore?”

  A shrug. “Jake comes back in six weeks—late March. When he gets here I won’t have to go to town to look for his letters, will I?”

  Harvey grinned mischievously. “That’s why you’ve been doing so much sewing. You’ve got plans.”

  Rachel kept her eyes on the road, her expression blank. “Hush,” she said.

  ———

  The days dragged by, and she tried not to think about Jake more than once every minute or two because it seemed to make time stop. But in late March, when the swifts came to roost and the clover was just starting to sprout little magenta buds, the big day arrived.

  Long before daylight her father hitched the Belgians to the wagon. He wouldn’t be taking the buggy because Abe Detweiler was bringing a few farm implements with him and the buggy wasn’t big enough.

  When he got there Rachel was already in the barn, dressed and ready.

  “We’re late,” she said. “We should already be on the road.”

  Dat gave her a sideways glance, straightening out the harness.

  “We? Who said you were going?”

  “Dat, you can’t be serious.”

  “You have chores.”

  “Done,” she said. She’d been at it since three.

  “I don’t see how three grown men are going to need your help loading Abe’s planter.”

  She almost started to cry, but then he leaned so close to her face that his hat brim touched her forehead. His eyes widened and he said, “I’m teasing you, child. Get in the wagon.”

  The trip to Arteaga took forever. She’d never seen draft horses plod so, but they finally arrived.

  And then they waited. The train was a half hour late. They dropped a few cars on a siding, and as her father pulled the wagon alongside, the door to a cattle car opened and there was Jake, waving.

  And Abe Detweiler was with him.

  Rachel could finally breathe. She hadn’t even realized how fearful she’d been, how doubtful that this day would actually come, that Jake and the bishop would both arrive and all would be right with the world. The hardest thing was shaking Jake’s hand. She wanted a hug, a great big, fierce welcome-home, oh-how-I-missed-you hug. She wanted to feel his arms around her, but it was broad daylight and they were in a railroad yard. Her father was there, and the bishop.

  Her hand lingered in Jake’s a little too long, and a quick glance from her father made her flinch and let go, but Jake’s eyes spoke to her.

  Wait, they said. Our moment will come.

  She had the pleasure of riding all the way home in the back of the wagon with Jake while the bishop sat up on the bench with her father and talked.

  Jake leaned close to her at the first opportunity and spoke quietly. “If it’s all right with you, we’ll go talk to Bishop Detweiler after dark this Saturday, and we’ll publish on Sunday. Rachel, I don’t ever want to be apart from you again.”

  Sunday. Today was Wednesday. Four days to the announcement, fifteen to the Thursday of the wedding. A rush of excitement went through her. She smiled, entwined her fingers with his, and with a cautionary glance at the men up front, gave him a quick peck on the cheek.

  “I love you,” she whispered.

  “So tell me about these bandits,” Bishop Detweiler said as Caleb’s wagon rumbled southward on Saltillo Road. “I hear you got troops now.”

  “Jah, and the troops got rid of the bandits all right.”

  “That’s good.”

  Caleb nodded thoughtfully. “Jah, I suppose it’s a good thing. But I once said the same to a Mexican named Paco. He told me the troops had arrived and I said it was a good thing. Now, Paco had just been shot through the arm by bandits, only minutes before, but when I said it was good the troops had come, he only said, ‘We will see.’ Those three words have haunted me ever since.”

  The bishop frowned. “Is there a problem with the soldiers?”

  “Several problems. First, the country is in turmoil and sometimes the troops don’t get the supplies they need, so they take them from the farmers—from us. When you add it up they take much more than the bandits ever did, except they have not killed any of us. Yet.”

  “Like what? What do they take?”

  “Horses, grain, pigs, chickens, eggs, milk, butter. They patrol the valley every day, grazing their horses in our fields, and when vegetables are in season they trample our kitchen gardens.”

  “They don’t pay?”

  Caleb shrugged. “They pay for the horses, but less than half of what they’re worth. Only a few weeks ago they came and took four more horses from the valley. They said some of the ponies they captured from the bandits died over the winter, so they came to us and got good, solid standard-bred horses for the price of a broken-down old paint. But it looks like a good year for foals, so maybe we’ll make do in the long run.”

  The bishop thought about all this for a minute and then said, “What else? You said there were other problems.”

  “They’re violent men, Abe. Hard men who lie and steal and don’t think twice about killing a man. They killed all of the bandits who fought them at El Prado. Every one of them. I watched them shoot the wounded with my own eyes, and afterwards they hung the prisoners. They took over the Catholic church in El Prado—put the priest out in the street and laughed about it. Their captain has no respect for Gott. No respect for anything. To my eyes, the only difference between a bandit and a soldier is the uniform.”

  The bishop shook his head. “Well, at least they got rid of the bandits. Jake told me they were coming there to kill.”

  “I think that’s probably true, but we got everybody out in time. All they did was burn Levi’s barn and kill his livestock. The bandits shot a few of the federales, but in the end the federales killed all the bandits. I guess I should be happy, but it just don’t feel right, celebrating because someone else died, and not us.”

  “I see your point, Caleb, but the bandits were the killers, not you, and the troops saved you from them. Bandits live by the sword, and they die by it. Anyway, it’s hard for me to feel sorry for the men who killed Aaron.”

  Caleb sighed. “I know. It’s mighty hard to explain,
but sometimes it just feels like we got rid of coyotes by turning loose a pack of wolves.”

  The whole community was waiting at Caleb’s place to welcome the bishop. They were glad to see Jake again too, but his return took a backseat to the long-awaited arrival of a genuine church leader. Now there would be unity. Now there would be real preaching, straight from Gott’s own chosen representative.

  Bishop Abe Detweiler immediately announced to the crowd gathered in Caleb’s front yard that instruction classes would start the following Sunday for those who wished to be baptized, and they would also hold Communion right away because there were those there who hadn’t partaken in a very long time.

  “Now we will be more than just a struggling settlement,” the bishop said. “We will be a church.”

  Chapter 20

  When the day of Rachel’s wedding finally arrived Mamm was so flustered she couldn’t think straight, and in one respect it was a good thing. Rachel had plotted a small deception long in advance, and there was a nervous moment when her mother came to help her get dressed for the wedding. Rachel had made herself a dress for the occasion, not very different in style or color from her other dresses, but new. The seams lapped wide on the inside so the dress could grow with her if she put on weight, for she would wear it as her Sunday dress for the rest of her life, and when she died it would be her funeral dress. Rachel took great pains with it, but not because it was her wedding dress.

  The fabric had to be a certain shade of dark blue and the stitching had to be just so. Mamm watched her work with pride, never knowing that all of Rachel’s perfectionism served a single purpose: she wanted her wedding dress to be an exact replica of a dress that already lay folded and waiting in a drawer.

  The one she was making would serve as Rachel’s Sunday dress, but she never had any intention of wearing it at her wedding.

  On the morning of the big day Rachel rose very early, ironed Miriam’s dress, then folded her new one and put it away. It pained her to deceive her mother, but it pained her even more that Miriam would not be invited to her wedding. This way at least, Miriam was all around her. Still, Mamm had a keen eye, and Rachel was terrified she would spot some minuscule difference. But she didn’t. She was too flustered.

  ———

  The weather was perfect. Rachel couldn’t have chosen a more beautiful spring day—all the flowers in bloom, the fields bursting with new green, the sky achingly blue, flocks of birds singing from the trees along the ridge. It was a day of opposites, of great joy and deep sorrow, a day of parting from her family and yet a day when family meant absolutely everything. A day of remembering.

  She’d known from the very beginning, four years ago when Jake first kissed her, that he was the one and that this day would come. She’d been preparing for it for a long time, collecting a trunkful of dishes and flatware, a few pots and pans, sheets and pillowcases. In the two weeks prior to the wedding she’d put the finishing touches on a quilt, and last week she spent a whole day riding around to all the houses with Leah, borrowing dishes for the wedding feast.

  It was also her duty to help Leah and her good friend Lovina Hershberger with their dresses, for they were to be her navahuckers. Harvey would escort Lovina for the day, and Rachel arranged for one of the younger Shrock boys to pair up with Leah. Bill was a handsome, quiet boy who reminded her a little of Jake. Leah hadn’t said anything, but for a long time now she’d been watching Bill closely when she thought no one was looking. Leah was thrilled when Rachel told her.

  The six of them sat just outside the barn door in their fine new clothes that morning, greeting each of the guests as they ambled up the lane from all over the settlement to gather in the Benders’ barn. Once all the guests were inside they began singing hymns from the Ausbund, while the wedding party remained seated outside. In a little while the bishop would come out and escort Jake and Rachel to the house and into the abrode for a counseling session, but for now the wedding party remained isolated from the crowd.

  Jake held Rachel’s hand and said very little. They had known each other so long and so well that there was very little left to say, except “I will.”

  But right after the singing started Jake squeezed her hand tighter and leaned close. “Look,” he whispered.

  He was staring at something high up on the ridge above the barn. She followed his eyes and didn’t see anything at first, but then there was a movement in a little glade between the pines. A horse took a step forward, head down, grazing. He was a standard-bred horse, hitched to an empty oxcart. Her eye drifted higher, to an outcropping of rock at the top of the clearing, where she now saw a long-haired Mexican man sitting on the rock, flanked by two lovely Mexican women in their finest clothes. From this distance she couldn’t tell the two women apart, but it could only be Miriam and Kyra, with Domingo.

  Her heart leaped and she could not keep her seat. With a cautious glance at the barn door she rose, stepped out into the sunlight, looked straight up at the trio on the ridge and waved an arm over her head.

  They waved back.

  Rachel wore a fresh white cape and apron over her dress, but now she pinched the dark skirt in her fingers and held it wide, smiling, dancing as she took a spin. When she came to a stop she clutched her hands in front of her and bowed deeply.

  Thank you.

  When she straightened up and looked, she knew the message had been received, and she knew which one was Miriam. Kyra and Domingo were clapping their hands above their heads, grinning broadly. Miriam would be the other one—the one who sat still and stunned, holding both hands over her mouth, leaning forward. Rachel couldn’t see them, but she knew there were tears in her sister’s eyes.

  When Bishop Detweiler came out alone, Rachel and Jake followed him into the house for a short counseling session and prayer, and then he led the whole wedding party into the barn for the beginning of the wedding ceremony.

  The bishop preached the standard wedding sermon, full of admonitions and dire warnings about divorce and the evils of marrying outside the church. She’d heard it a dozen times over the years, knew it by heart, and wasn’t really listening. This particular sermon was for people with doubts. Four years she had waited, absolutely certain of her choice, assured of her future. She gazed across the aisle at Jake, and he gazed back, his eyes steady as ever.

  Her father was right there behind Jake, and Harvey in his place at Jake’s side, both of them listening intently to the bishop, both solid and true and dependable. Rachel was fully aware that she came from good stock. Glancing behind her she saw her mother calming Ada, keeping a tight rein with a hand on her knee. Leah, as a navahucker, sat at Rachel’s side, and somewhere back behind her was Mary with her four children, Emma with her three, and Barbara. Despite her occasional flightiness, even her youngest sister was turning out to be a decent, hardworking, honorable young woman.

  She ran a palm down the sleeve of her dress and thought of Miriam, who had come to the wedding after all, although forced to keep her distance. They were all here except Lizzie, who remained in Ohio. Even Lizzie had talked about making the long trek to Mexico for Rachel’s wedding, though in the end she couldn’t make it because it was too close to when her baby was to arrive.

  But there was a hole where Amos and Aaron used to be, and now—especially now, on her wedding day—Rachel became acutely aware of just how badly she missed the twins, how deeply she wished they could have lived to see this day. Her joy was boundless and complete, and yet when she thought of her lost brothers a thin shadow fell on her like a cloud passing before the sun, and she felt a chill. Bowing her head she silently asked for peace, for acceptance. She told Gott that this was by no means a complaint, that she knew where her brothers were, knew they were happy and whole, but she missed them, that’s all. She fervently wished they could have shared this day. There was a hole in her family, and in her heart.

  It was only a few minutes later, when her attention had returned to Bishop Detweiler’s warnings about divorce, that
she heard a small noise—a very strange noise, completely out of place during a sermon, but unmistakable.

  Someone had blown a tiny little note on a harmonica.

  Perhaps the strangest thing was that no one else reacted at all. Abe Detweiler kept preaching without missing a beat. Not a single head turned. It had to have been Little Amos. Rachel looked over her shoulder and found Mary among the other women at the back, with her babies. Little Amos was sprawled across her lap, sound asleep.

  When she turned back around she noticed an odd movement on the far side, behind the men. There were only two boys there, all by themselves on the back row. She saw them only partially between the heads of the other men and she couldn’t tell who they were. Both were leaning forward, hiding their faces, their heads and shoulders shaking with laughter. Undoubtedly these were the culprits. It was a wonder one of the men in front of them hadn’t turned around and smacked whichever one blew the harmonica. The two heads came close to each other for a second, a whispered message, and they giggled again in complete silence. It was very improper, and whoever they were they would be in deep trouble if the bishop spotted them.

  Then they looked up. When their eyes met Rachel’s her heart stopped, for she knew those faces as well as her own. Identical twins, fourteen or fifteen years old. Both of them looked straight at her, grinning, their eyes lit with mirth, their cheeks glowing, a picture of health and well-being. The one on the right wiggled his fingers in cautious greeting, and the other one winked. The rascal winked at her!

  The vision lasted only a few seconds before the men in the nearer rows shifted and swayed and the two boys were lost from her sight. When the sight line cleared again they were gone. The back row was empty.

  Rachel sat there openmouthed, motionless and staring, unsure of what was real and what was not, and yet quite sure of what she’d just been given. She took out her handkerchief and wiped away tears. Tears of joy. Whatever had just happened she gratefully accepted it as a small gift from Gott himself, an answer to a prayer. The cloud disappeared and she was filled, all over, with warm sunlight.