Love Finds You in Nazareth, Pennsylvania

by Melanie Dobson

  This was why the Savior came to die, so they could conquer the lust of their flesh, the lust of their eyes. He came for the soldiers as well as the Indians, for the adults and the children. Why couldn’t they all stop fighting and learn to love one another as Christ loved them?

  Christian was beside her then, his arm around her waist, as he escorted both her and Abigail through the door and to a bench among the other Indians.

  Six British soldiers flanked the table where the elders sat, and the men looked up at them, surveying the guests who accompanied them back to Nazareth. Elder Graff held a parchment in his hands, and he placed it on the table before he spoke.

  His voice was hesitant as he eyed the Indians over his spectacles. “We weren’t expecting so many to return.”

  Christian stepped up to the table. “Hostile Indians attacked our Brethren at Gnadenhutten.”

  The elder removed his spectacles and placed them on the parchment.

  “They burned down the houses and killed many of our people,” Christian said.

  The elder didn’t speak as the sorrow of the news seemed to overcome him.

  One of the soldiers drummed the parchment with his knuckle. “We told you.”

  The elder lifted his head. “You didn’t tell me they were going to attack our Brethren.”

  “They are attacking anyone aligned with the British.”

  “We are not aligned with anyone except Christ.”

  The soldier ripped the parchment from the tabletop and the elder’s spectacles clattered to the ground. One of the soldiers bent to pick them up, but the captain stopped him.

  The captain lorded over the elder. “You must choose sides.”

  Elder Graff shook his head. “We cannot.”

  “It may be days, it may be weeks,” the captain said. “But they will attack you here like they did along the Lehigh. And we will not be around to protect you.”

  “I cannot send our men to fight with you,” the elder said. “Our Savior did not come to fight with the sword.”

  “We don’t fight with swords.” The captain raised his pistol. “We fight with guns.”

  The elder’s voice grew stronger. “We will not fight.”

  The man rolled up the parchment and slid it into a sheath. “The Delaware are your enemies.”

  The elder glanced at the forty or so Indians among them. “Our Savior commands us to love our enemies.”

  Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you.

  “They will kill you,” the captain insisted.

  “They are our sisters and our brothers,” the elder replied. “If anything, we have not done enough to love them.”

  With a loud huff, the captain motioned for the other soldiers to follow and they stomped across the Saal.

  After they marched out the door, Susanna fell back against her seat. It seemed no one wanted to serve the Savior.

  Elder Graff stood up and moved slowly around the table, bending down to retrieve his spectacles. He put them on the table and then he motioned Christian forward.

  “Did they kill the Schmidts?”

  “Elias perished in the fire, but the attackers took Catharine—Sister Schmidt—captive.”

  Elder Graff nodded slowly, seeming to digest the news.

  Christian rubbed his hands together. “We must send someone to find her.”

  “Where did they take her?”

  “We don’t know, but we think Samuel could locate her.” He paused. “Please let me get Samuel.”

  “It’s too much, Christian. You need to rest.”

  “No.” He glanced at Susanna, and she returned the questioning in his eyes with a slight nod of her head. She wanted him to find her friend.

  He turned back toward the elder. “I need to help find Sister Schmidt.”

  The elder sat down in his chair. “You must take Joseph with you.”

  “I will.”

  “And when you return, we will remember the brothers and sisters lost in this massacre.”

  Christian met Susanna’s gaze and mouthed the words that she needed to hear. Even though his love couldn’t remove the pain, it began to strengthen her again.

  “Sister Boehler,” the elder called. It took her a moment to realize that the man was speaking to her. Standing, she walked toward him and Christian, and the elder asked her to escort their Indian brethren to the Disciple’s House for food and rest.

  Rebecca greeted them at the door of the manor house with Juliana in her arms, and tears filled Susanna’s eyes at the sight of the child who would never know her father. A child who might never know what happened to her mother.

  No girl should ever grow up without her mother.

  As Susanna told the story, Rebecca shed her own tears. Then she handed Catharine’s baby to Susanna as she guided the weary travelers up the steps.

  Juliana squirmed in her arms, but still it felt good to hold Elias and Catharine’s child. It made her feel close to the woman who had been her friend and to the man Catharine had loved.

  Juliana began to cry, and Susanna paced along the hall at the bottom of the stairs. Maybe instead of Nathan, God would have her and Christian care for the Schmidts’ baby, at least until they found Catharine. If the Savior willed it, she would care for the child as her own.

  She bounced the child as she paced, but Juliana didn’t stop crying until Rebecca came to relieve her. And then she rested in Rebecca’s arms.

  Christian left the next morning at daybreak and returned from Bethlehem the same night with David Kunz. Upon hearing the news of Catharine’s capture, Christian said, Samuel left Bethlehem within the hour. He’d been brutally honest about the assessment of Catharine’s well-being. If she were still alive—and he doubted she was—he had little hope of freeing her, but he said he might be able to find out where she had been taken. If so, perhaps they could convince the British soldiers to bring her home.

  Before Samuel left, he encouraged Christian in the midst of his confusion and grief. He assured Christian that he could love his wife even as he fought for Catharine. And if he prayed for her, it didn’t mean he was betraying his wife. He no longer loved Catharine as anything except as his sister. Even if she returned to them as a widowed sister, even if something happened to Susanna, Christian would never again ask the lot to marry her.

  Still, Christian wanted Samuel to find her. He wanted Catharine to be safe.

  The moment they arrived in Nazareth, Christian took David to find Timothy…and the moment David saw him, he engulfed his son with his arms. Christian could see the initial surprise in Timothy’s eyes at the affection and then the satisfaction of knowing that he was loved, that he could call this man Papa instead of Uncle.

  With Timothy at his side, David followed Christian outside. They found Elder Graff in the office at the Brothers House. Because of the massacre at Gnadenhutten, along with the concerns of the British soldiers, David wanted the elder to release Timothy and the other children to return to Bethlehem until the threat of an Indian attack had passed.

  Neither Elder Graff nor Edward found fault in the man’s request to remove his son to a safer place. They asked several questions about where the children would stay, and David told them they’d moved the widowed sisters into the house for the married sisters to make room for the children.

  “There are fifty children,” the elder said. “It would be another massacre if the Indians found them.”

  “There could be a massacre anytime,” Christian said quietly. “Because right now they know where to find them.”

  Joseph nodded. “We would have to go as quietly as we can so they won’t hear us.”

  “We need to take it before the lot—” Elder Graff began. But at the distraught look in David’s eyes, Christian stopped him.

  “We don’t need to take it before the lot,” Christian said. “We need to keep the children safe.”

  The elder seemed to be relieved by Christian’s words. Even while their community believed that God worked through th
e lot, Christian wondered how many times they should have made a decision based on the wisdom God gave them, based on His direction. It seemed clear to all of them that the children needed to be in Bethlehem where there were hundreds more people and stone buildings clustered together like a fortress above the river. Howling Wolf and his men could come, but it would be much harder to penetrate that village.

  “David and I and some of the other men can escort them to Bethlehem tomorrow,” Christian said.

  The elder concurred. “Take all the Nursery workers with you and any of the women who would like to go to a safer choir house.”

  Only a dozen Indians had attacked Gnadenhutten, and the damage was colossal. What would happen if the nations banded together and attacked, hundreds or even thousands of Indians? Even in Bethlehem the Brethren wouldn’t be completely safe, but it would be much safer than here.

  Christian’s gaze wandered to the Disciple’s House. Susanna would want to join them—not because of the threat of attack, but because she would want to help him keep the children safe. And he didn’t want her to stay in Nazareth another night without him near.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Snow fell the night before they left for Bethlehem, blanketing trees and the path in white. Christmas Eve was less than a week away now, but nobody in Nazareth talked about the celebration any longer. The love of their Savior seemed far away this year.

  David drove the wagon, with Timothy sitting on the bench beside him, and Susanna rode in the back with Mariana and two toddlers close to her. Christian walked in front of all of them with a musket, but the gun wouldn’t do much to stop an attack. As they rode, she prayed that Christian wouldn’t have to use his musket, that God would blind the eyes and deafen the ears of any Indians around them.

  Many of the refugee families followed them by foot to Bethlehem. There were only about fifty or so people left in Nazareth now, and she prayed it would be enough to deter the Indians from stealing their livestock and food supplies.

  As she watched Christian forge ahead, Susanna’s heart swelled with pride for the man God had given her. In the midst of the trials, of the loss and destruction, he remained strong both in his commitment to God and in his commitment to help the Indians. And he’d gone to Samuel to help them find Catharine.

  With everything inside her, she loved Christian Boehler. Though she wouldn’t admit it to him, she’d begun to love him the moment they met for the first time in the chamber and he didn’t demand more of her than she wanted to give. Even when she realized he didn’t love her, even when he told her his heart had longed for another woman. Even when her love faltered, it still remained.

  Christian stopped in front of her and held up his arm. Susanna didn’t understand why he was stopping until she saw an Indian step into their path. A man whose open jacket revealed a wolf tattooed on his chest.

  She tried not to gasp, but the noise slipped from her lips.

  “Susanna,” Christian murmured, his eyes focused on the Indian. “Please come here.”

  She scooted the toddler on her lap over to Mariana and quickly climbed off the wagon. Standing beside Christian, Howling Wolf stood a good foot above her, and he glowered down at her with his dark eyes. His glare was different than the one she’d seen in the eyes of the British solder, molded of hatred instead of disdain. And she realized he would kill her, probably kill all of them, if he could. He didn’t spit like the British soldier. His anger was calm, calculating.

  “What do you want?” Christian asked.

  Howling Wolf barked an order in the Delaware language and several Indians joined him, including Lily. At the sight of her friend, Susanna wanted to rush forward. She wanted to hug Lily, to beg her to come back to them, but when she reached out her arms, Lily gave a slight shake of her head. Susanna dropped her hands back to her sides.

  Howling Wolf turned his eyes to Lily, his gaze still fiery, and Susanna pretended not to understand what he said to her. Howling Wolf knew that Lily had lived among them, but perhaps the familiarity would anger him even more.

  Lily translated his words. “Where are you going?”

  “To our Brethren in Bethlehem,” Christian said, and then he waited for Lily to translate his words.

  Howling Wolf scanned the dozens of children and refugees behind them before he spoke again. “I want my son.”

  Christian looked surprised at Lily’s translation. “Your son?”

  Howling Wolf picked up his gun and stepped closer to him, meeting his eyes. “Where is the one you call Nathan?”

  Christian waited again for Lily’s words and then he glanced over at Susanna, his eyes desperate. She knew he wanted to protect Nathan from harm but didn’t know how to do it without lying to the man. And he probably knew, like she did, that Howling Wolf would unravel any lie.

  Christian began to pray beside her, petitioning the Lord in a loud voice for deliverance as she prayed silently. Howling Wolf looked over at them again, and this time his gaze rested on the wagon. Moving as quietly and as swift as a deer, he rushed toward the first wagon, to Rebecca and the child in her arms. He ripped off the blanket that covered Juliana’s head. When he saw the blond curls, he grunted and she began to cry.

  Turning, he examined another child and then another, and she knew he would search all of them, looking for a boy with skin the color of faded autumn leaves. In his anger, what would he do when he didn’t find Nathan among them? Or what would he do if he thought one of the children was his?

  “Wait!” Susanna called, and Howling Wolf turned slowly on his heel. He critiqued her with his gaze, critically, like he wasn’t sure if he would lower himself to talk with a white woman.

  “Be careful,” Lily whispered.

  “When Lily left,” she said. “We didn’t know what to do with Nathan.”

  Lily quickly translated her words, and he stepped toward Susanna. She inched up her chin, staring up at the warrior.

  “So we took him to some Indian friends.” She bowed her head, waiting for Lily to finish.

  She took a deep breath. “In a place called Gnadenhutten.”

  Worry flashed across his sneer, and he reached for Susanna, shaking her.

  “Stop!” Christian demanded.

  Howling Wolf shoved Susanna backward, and Christian caught her. She massaged her arms as Howling Wolf frantically questioned his men and then turned to Lily.

  “There was a fire in Gnadenhutten,” Lily repeated in English.

  Susanna nodded.

  “Howling Wolf wants to know what happened to this baby.”

  “He—” she hesitated as she met Lily’s eyes and saw the tears in them. “He survived.”

  Susanna saw the relief flicker across Lily’s face when she nodded, but her gaze twisted into anger when she turned to the man she’d given her life to.

  “Gunt pluphillela,” she spat. “You killed him.”

  Her words echoed like thunder around them, and then Howling Wolf let out a scream, loud and eerie and vacant.

  “I didn’t kill him!” he screamed in the language of the Delaware. “Iachgan killed him. Iachgan and his men.”

  “You told him to go.”

  The Indian screamed again, his minions scurrying farther away, but Lily stayed right beside him. Susanna wanted to hug her, to thank her for her bravery, while at the same time she wanted to scold her for her stupidity.

  Howling Wolf slid a dagger out of the sheath on his leg, his eyes wild as he searched again the faces of the children.

  She caught her breath at the realization of what he was doing. He was examining the children to see which one would avenge the death of his son.

  Instead of lifting his musket, Christian bowed his head and began to pray again. In the midst of the Indian’s cries, in the midst of the fear, he begged God for protection and for redemption. For a miracle.

  Lily screamed at Howling Wolf, telling him to stop, but the man raced past Christian, toward the wagons, toward Timothy and his father. David pulled Timothy
close to him, and the boy buried his head in the father’s chest.

  Susanna wanted to yell at her husband, to tell him to shoot the man, but she knew if he fired a shot, a bloodbath would follow, killing both Indians and Brethren alike. Yet if he didn’t shoot, then she was certain Howling Wolf would take the life of one or more of their children.

  Christian fired his gun into the air, and Howling Wolf stopped. When he turned back to Christian, the sneer had returned. Then Howling Wolf looked at the men who cowered in the trees and commanded them to fire.

  Susanna bowed her head, her hands splayed at her side as she prepared for the bullets to pierce her skin. But the bullets never came. Instead, the earth began to tremble under her feet. It rocked her back and forth and then it sent her crashing into Howling Wolf. The Indian man dropped his knife, flailing as he tried to keep from falling as well.

  Christian reached for her, and they both tumbled to the ground.

  Howling Wolf grabbed Lily’s arm and then yelled for his people to run, but the men were already gone. Lily lifted her eyes one last time to Susanna, as if to thank her.

  Susanna reached for Christian’s hand, and he helped her to her feet. His eyes were on the retreating backs of the Indians. “What just happened?”

  She’d heard of the earth quaking, but she’d never felt its power before.

  “Providence, my friend,” David said from the bench of the wagon.

  Timothy pulled on his father’s shirt. “Can you do that again, Papa?”

  David gathered his son in his arms. “Only God can make the earth shake.”

  Susanna was shaking herself as she climbed back into the wagon, and she was still shaking when they entered the town of Bethlehem.

  From the Gemeinhaus, they heard the music of an organ, and then the beautiful voices of their Brethren singing a hymn. Susanna looked over at Mariana and the two women began to sing their song. Then the others joined in as they marched toward the house and into the Saal, grateful to the Lord for bringing the children safely to Bethlehem.