by Dale Cramer
Domingo rose to his feet, stretched, tossed a stick into the fire, settled his hat on his head and said, “I will go tell them. After that, Herr Schulman, if you don’t mind I’ll take your rifle and keep watch on the hill.”
He said this in flawless High German, and a vengeful little smile flashed across his face.
Schulman looked up in surprise, but then he just nodded and said nothing.
Hershberger watched him go, and when Domingo was out of hearing, he leaned close to Caleb and asked quietly, “Do you trust that one?”
“With my life,” Caleb said evenly. “I don’t travel nowhere without Domingo.”
Schulman gave him a hard look, but Caleb didn’t need the German’s approval. He had always been one to make up his own mind about people.
When Domingo emerged from between the wagons the boys were all in a loose ring off to one side of the campfire. Micah stood in the center of the ring, breathing heavily, swiping dust and straw from his clothes. His coat lay across the nearest wagon wheel, his shirttail was out and one of his suspenders hung loose around his knee. Jake Weaver, four years younger and a head shorter, stood among the other boys with his hands on his hips, grinning, trying to catch his breath.
“You might have pinned me,” Jake said, panting, “but I made you earn it.”
“Jah, Jake,” Micah laughed, pulling the errant suspender up onto his shoulder. “I’ll admit you’re mighty stout – for your size. Who wants to be next?”
They didn’t see Domingo until he walked into their midst.
“What about you?” Micah said, turning to Domingo. “Want to try me?”
“No,” Domingo answered flatly. “Caleb said to tell you it’s time to bed down.”
“Oh, come on – one quick round, just for fun.”
Micah was twenty-one, the same age as Domingo, but he had indeed filled out like a horse – big square shoulders and stout legs, feet like a Clydesdale. He was fifty pounds heavier than Domingo and six inches taller.
“Play is play, and fighting is fighting,” Domingo said. “I don’t fight for fun.”
The ring of boys broke apart and they started to walk away. Everyone put on their hats, picked up their coats and headed for the wagons – all except Micah. As Domingo turned to walk away, Micah grabbed him from behind in a bear hug, pinning Domingo’s arms to his sides. There was no malice in the big Amishman – he was laughing when he did it. But what happened next shocked him. It shocked them all.
Quicker than thought, Domingo shrugged and dropped, leaving Micah’s big arms holding only his hat. An elbow crashed into Micah’s stomach, knocking the breath out of him. In the same instant Domingo’s feet spread and he reached between them to snatch Micah’s leg out from under him. Micah went down hard on his back, and in a split second he found himself pinned to the ground with Domingo’s thin sandal pressed against his throat.
Domingo leaned down so their faces were only a foot apart, in the flickering firelight fastening the eyes of a wolf on Micah, his arm still locked around that thick leg so the big man couldn’t move or roll away.
“I tried to tell you,” Domingo said calmly. “For me, fighting is not play.” He removed his foot from Micah’s throat and tossed the leg aside casually. “We start early tomorrow. Get some sleep.”
He turned his back on Micah, picked up his hat, dusted it off and snugged it on his head as he walked out of the firelight without looking back.
Chapter 39
Emma asked Rachel to spend the night. Levi gave up his spot in the bed for her and made himself a pallet on the living room floor.
When the lanterns were snuffed the two sisters lay side by side in the darkness for a long time, listening to the distant yipping and keening of coyotes and the occasional hoot of an owl. After about an hour Rachel could hear Levi’s soft snoring from the other room, and she rose up on an elbow to face Emma.
“Are you awake?”
“Jah.”
“Is Levi okay?”
She heard Emma’s head turn toward her. “Sure, he’s all right. It won’t kill him to sleep on the floor for one night.”
“I didn’t mean that,” Rachel said. “I just meant he seems so . . . upset about all this. You didn’t see him at the supper table. He didn’t hardly touch his food, he was so worried. I could see it in his eyes.”
“Oh, that,” Emma said quietly, and then she turned her head and held still for a long moment, listening for Levi’s steady snore, making sure he was asleep. “He is very afraid, Rachel. Levi has a strong conscience, and his father raised him to believe that no sin ever goes unpunished – not only in the next world but in this one, too. Levi believes my troubles are Gott’s punishment for our sin. He fears that Gott will take this baby.”
Silence hung between them for too long, and then Rachel asked the question.
“Will He?”
Emma reached out in the darkness and caressed the side of Rachel’s face. “Oh, child, it’s not for me to say what Gott will allow. I’ve seen great tragedy befall those who have done nothing wrong, and blessings showered upon a few who did plenty wrong. But whatever Gott allows to happen, Rachel, it is for the good. It is our duty – our place – to accept what comes, and to grow from it. I have repented and asked for Gott’s forgiveness. I can only hope He has forgiven me, not because I deserve it but because He is a merciful Gott.”
Rachel pondered this for a long time, for it was a heavy question and she was reluctant to even put words to such thoughts. She spoke hesitantly.
“But, Emma, if you were to lose this baby . . . would you believe it was Gott’s punishment?”
She could hear the smile in Emma’s voice. “Sister, how would I know such a thing unless Gott himself tells me? In the end, I think I am probably just one of those unlucky women who isn’t very good at having babies. I do everything too quick – I conceive too easily and I have babies before they are ready. But if this is my lot, then I will accept it humbly and remember how I have been blessed in so many other ways.”
Rachel found this a bit puzzling. She waited a beat before she whispered, “Blessed? Emma. You’re living in a mud house in Mexico, with nothing.”
Emma shook her head, and laughed. “Child, you’re going to have to learn to stop counting what you don’t have. Jah, it’s true I’m living in a mud house in Mexico, but with a devoted husband, a great big loving family, lots of neighbors coming soon, plenty of good land to farm, more than enough food to eat . . . and my best friend at my side.”
Chapter 40
By dawn the next morning the Shrocks and Hershbergers were all loaded up and ready to make the daylong trek to Paradise Valley. A dozen wagons, hacks and surreys turned about and began to form a line, but before Caleb could take his place at the front of the line his rear wheel bumped up over a large rock. The wheel dropped over the back side of the boulder with a bone-jarring jolt and an agonizing crunch came from underneath the wagon. The back end sagged.
Caleb stopped and climbed down to inspect the damage. The others stopped too, and Hershberger came over to see what was wrong.
“The axle is broke,” Caleb said, letting out his frustration in a long sigh. “All that weight was too much when it fell off that rock.”
“What can we do?” Hershberger asked. “We don’t have a spare axle with us.”
“I can get one from town, but it will cost us a whole day,” Caleb said.
“All right. I’ll go tell everybody to pull off and make camp again.”
Caleb shook his head. “No. There’s no need for everybody to lose a day. Schulman can take the lead. No one will bother you as long as there are so many, and Schulman has guns with him to protect you.”
Hershberger’s eyebrows went up. “But who will protect you?”
“We’ll be all right – we have Domingo. The worst of the bandits won’t bother us as long as he is with us. I could use another strong back, though, to fix the axle.”
“Micah can stay with you,” Ira Shrock
said. He had come over as they talked and had heard most of the conversation. “He’s an ox. Would you want us to take Miriam with us?”
Caleb thought for a minute, then shook his head. “No, she’ll be useful to us. She can stay.”
Ten minutes later the wagon train was snaking up toward the pass, leaving Caleb behind with Domingo, Miriam and Micah.
Caleb bought an axle from a smith in Arteaga, and by evening the wagon was good as new. Miriam made camp and cooked dinner while the three men worked, and after dinner they reloaded the wagon and tied everything down.
Chapter 41
Emma’s pain came and went throughout the day, but each time was a little easier than the last. By late afternoon the pain had disappeared and she was feeling a lot better.
“Perhaps tomorrow I can get up from this bed and get some things done,” Emma said. Her mother and sisters were there when she said it, a bedroom full. They all berated her at once, creating such an uproar that none of them could be understood. In the end, she held her palms up in surrender, laughing.
“All right. I get the message,” she said. “But you’ll be sorry. I’m going to lay here like a queen and order all of you about until you’re sick of it. Rachel!” she commanded, pointing, “Bring my child to me! But clean him up first – I’ll not have a dirty diaper in my presence. Mary! A glass of water, please, and be quick about it!”
Both of them did as they were told, laughing hysterically. They would have done the same even if Emma’s feigned pomposity had been genuine, but it wouldn’t have been nearly as much fun.
The others took the surrey back to Mamm’s house shortly after that because they were expecting Caleb to arrive anytime now with the caravan from Arteaga, and they wanted to be there to greet them. Rachel alone stayed behind to cook dinner for Levi and Emma and take care of Mose.
After dinner, when all the dishes were washed and dried and put away, and Mose was fed and cleaned and put down for the night, Rachel lay down behind Emma. She moved her sister’s luxurious honey-colored hair out of the way so she could rub her shoulders and massage her back.
Emma moaned with pleasure, and then laughed. “I could get used to this,” she said, “lying in bed with my little sister pampering me like this. This is a memory we’ll share for the rest of our lives, Rachel. Someday, when we’re just two old biddies rocking in the shade with a hundred grandchildren doting on us and bringing us cookies, we’ll look back on this and say, Remember the night the Hershbergers came to Mexico, and we were piled up in bed like queens?”
“We’ll sit under one of your shade trees out in front of this very house. Oh, they’ll be tall then.”
“That’s right, the trees! With all this fuss I forgot I asked Lovina to bring trees. She hasn’t said another word about it in any of her letters, so I know she’s going to surprise me. You know how Lovina loves to put on a show. Oh, I hope she brings maples! Rachel, I’ll plant lots of maples, and at the end of winter the syrup will flow.” Emma closed her eyes to savor a moment of bliss in her own bright future.
The light from the window had faded to dusky purple and the lantern had taken over when Levi burst into the room breathless with excitement.
“They’re here!” he cried, pointing in the general direction of Dat’s house. “I seen wagons coming up the road! They’ll be at your dat’s in a minute.”
Emma raised herself onto her elbows, staring at the window.
Rising from the bed Rachel pointed sharply at her sister and barked, “You don’t move! I’ll watch for you.”
Emma rolled her eyes and fell back against the pillow. “It’s all right, Levi. I’ll be fine with my jailer here. You go! Greet our new neighbors.”
Levi nodded once and took off. They heard his footsteps running around the house, and Rachel watched from the window as he ran across the fields. He didn’t even take time to hitch a buggy.
“I can see them,” Rachel said. “They’ve lit their lanterns so we can see them coming.”
She watched them the whole way, giving Emma a running commentary as the line of flickering lights turned in and strung out half the length of Dat’s drive.
Ten minutes later her father’s farm was as busy as a kicked anthill, lanterns swinging to and fro as people took horses to the corral, unloaded wagons, and some of the young ones erected tents in the field beside the Bender house. Someone started a campfire and the sparks flew upward on a slant, dancing on the ever-present breeze. Even from a distance, in the darkness, the air of jubilation was palpable. Their neighbors had arrived!
“A buggy is coming,” Rachel announced. She could see it silhouetted against the lights, drawing near.
“I bet that’s Lovina,” Emma said. Lovina was a good friend to both Emma and Rachel; they knew she would come as soon as she could get away.
Moments later they heard the surrey pull up to the front of the house, accompanied by the laughter of girls.
Lovina Hershberger bustled into the room alone, grinning from ear to ear and carrying a sapling in her arms, the burlap-wrapped root ball nestled in the crook of an elbow as if it were a baby. Squealing with delight she ran straight to Rachel and gave her a big hug, then turned to Emma with a hand on her hip.
“What’s this about you being sick?” she said, then plunked her sapling by the side of the bed and leaned down to give Emma a gentle hug. Then, pinning Emma’s shoulders with her palms, she looked her in the eye and said, “You can’t be sick, Emma. I won’t have it.”
“Oh, it’s just this new baby,” Emma said. “He’s giving me a bit of trouble, but I’ll be fine in a day or two, you’ll see.”
Lovina’s hands flew to her cheeks, her mouth opened and she squealed. “Your baby! I have to meet Mose! Where is he?” Scanning the room, her eyes landed on the apple crate in the corner and she jumped up and ran over to it.
Rachel pulled the little quilt back to show Lovina the infant’s sleeping face.
“Oh, he’s beautiful!” Lovina cried. “And such hair!”
“Yes,” Rachel said. “I’m afraid the poor thing has my hair, only a little darker.”
“Oh, he’s handsome,” Lovina said. “Listen, I almost forgot. There are others here and they want to meet Mose, too. Is it all right for them to come in?”
“Bring them all,” Emma said, beaming. “We’ll have a party. Where’s Miriam? I thought she would come as soon as she got back.”
“Oh no! I forgot to tell you. Your dat broke an axle early this morning, and Micah stayed behind to help fix it. Miriam stayed with them. If all goes well, they’ll be home tomorrow night.”
Lovina rushed to the door to signal the others, her mother and sisters and the women of the Shrock family. Each and every one of them brought a sapling with her and placed it on the floor beside Emma’s bed. A hack pulled up outside. Mary joined the crowd, with more trees. The little room was filled with women and trees.
“You see?” Lovina said. “I told you, you can’t be sick. You’ve got trees to plant.”
It was a great reunion, full of joy and laughter, old friends reminiscing about old times. But after half an hour most of them left and those who stayed grew quiet, reluctant to leave, though they sensed that Emma and her baby needed privacy and rest. Lovina Hershberger and Emma’s sisters remained to the last, standing among an impromptu forest of leafless young trees.
“You’ve outdone yourself, Lovina,” Rachel said, shaking her head at the grove of saplings.
“Oh, it was fun! And this isn’t all of them. We’ve been planning this for weeks, digging up saplings and wrapping the roots. Everyone was in on it – except for Jake, of course. He only joined us at the last minute. When we were on the train I told him about the trees and he laughed for two – ”
“Jacob Coblentz?” Rachel asked, interrupting. “Eli’s Jake?”
Emma glanced up at Rachel then, and there was a curiously sly smile in her eyes.
“Oh no,” Lovina said, with the same sly smile. “Jonas’s Jake. Weave
r. His dat farmed him out to my dat and he came down with us on the – ”
Rachel didn’t hear the rest. She had already slipped out the door.
Chapter 42
She hurried around the front of the house, her pace quickening until she found herself gripping her skirts in her fists and running breathless through the dark fields toward the lights and commotion of her father’s house.
Halfway there, she saw someone walking toward her, silhouetted against the lights. A wide-brimmed hat, broad shoulders. A man. She slowed as he approached, and then stopped, not sure who it was. There was no such backdrop of lights behind her, and she knew by the tilt of his hat that whoever it was had not seen her in the dark.
She waited, trying to slow her breathing.
He stopped, ten feet away. Perhaps he had heard her, or spotted the white of her kapp in the darkness. He stood still, a black figure against the light. And then she recognized his shape, for she had seen it often enough at the singings on Sunday nights, standing as he was now, with his back to the lights of home.
“Jake?” It was little more than a whisper, a frail hope.
“Rachel?”
His hand went to his hat and flung it carelessly away as he closed the last ten feet of a gap that only a minute ago had been a thousand miles. Neither of them said anything else for a long time – not with words, anyway.
The world suddenly and miraculously righted itself in Jake’s warm embrace, and for the first time in a very long while, enfolded in his strong arms, Rachel felt warm and safe – and free. A weight of years left her shoulders, and a tightness vanished from her chest, a tightness that she had borne so long she had forgotten it was there. Unable to hold back tears of pure joy, she buried her face in his chest and prayed that this moment would never end.
After some minutes had passed she noticed that her face did not reach to the crook of his neck where it had fit so comfortably before. She leaned back to look at him, but it was too dark here in the middle distance between the houses.