A Cowboy at Heart

by Lori Copeland

  Jesse’s backside was completely numb. If only he could say the same for his injured shoulder muscles. These Amish sure didn’t believe in comfort in their church services. A cushion to sit on would have been a blessing. He squirmed on the hard bench and then shot the man next to him a glance of apology when he brushed against his leg. They had been introduced while standing in the yard before the meeting began, but his name had immediately melded with all of the others he’d heard. John, maybe. There were several Johns and a couple of Adens as well. Only one Jonas, though, and one Amos. He switched his attention to the front of the crowded living room, where he could see the back of his friend Amos’s head on the front bench.

  This was an odd church service. These folks might call themselves Plain and claim to love simplicity above all things, only their rules were anything but. In Colin’s church, families milled around before the service talking to each other until the kid whose turn it was rang the bell. Here the men and women clustered in their own separate groups outside, waiting until the bishop gave the signal that it was time to go in. Then they couldn’t just go inside and find a seat. A man couldn’t enter the meeting out of place. First the bishop and preachers, followed by men in order of age. Jesse had felt out of place following Jonas inside while men his age were somewhere behind him in line, but Jonas assured him that because he was a guest, he was not expected to adhere to the regulation.

  No church building here, either. They were meeting in a regular house. The family who lived here had moved out the furniture, and the big room was stuffed full of hard, backless benches, definitely not built for a man getting over a gunshot to the back. When they entered the house, Jonas had offered to set a proper chair over against the wall for him, but just at that moment Jesse had glimpsed a steely-eyed look on Bishop Miller’s face. Jesse would rather chew nails than show weakness in front of that man. He squirmed again and found a position that relieved the injured muscles.

  Actually, meeting in a home appealed to Jesse. Though he appreciated the church building he had helped Colin and Rebecca build, meeting in a house made the service feel more welcoming somehow. More like a family gathering than a formal affair. Though pressed between two men was not to his liking.

  He leaned back so he could see the benches on the other side of the room. That’s where the women sat, following the same age order as the men. Maummi Switzer’s place was near the front, on the second bench. His gaze was drawn across the aisle and back two rows, where Katie sat beside Sarah Beiler, whose pretty voice had dominated the singing earlier.

  The hymns had been sung in German. Amos had kindly handed him a book, but because Jesse didn’t read German any more than he spoke it, following along was impossible. Slow and laborious, but nice in a mournful way, the songs had filled the room and flew through the open windows toward the neat rows of wheat in the fields surrounding the Stolzfus home.

  The bishop and several other men, including Amos, had left the room during the singing, and when it was over, they filed back in. A man who had been introduced as John Somebody-or-Other spoke for close to twenty minutes in a measured, lulling tone, every word in German. Just when Jesse thought he might drift off, the man stopped and Amos rose to take his place. He opened the pages of a leather-bound Bible and read a lengthy passage in a passionate voice that stirred Jesse’s spirit, even though he didn’t understand a single word.

  Then came the painful part. Bishop Miller stood. Though he, too, spoke in German, Jesse had no doubt from the fire in the man’s tone that the message was a blistering one directed at him.

  Katie glanced sideways, and their gazes connected. He let her see his slow smile and enjoyed watching two spots of red appear high on her cheeks in response. With arched eyebrows, she turned her head pointedly toward the front of the room, but not before he saw the corners of her mouth curve appealingly upward. Satisfied, Jesse leaned forward and returned his attention to the bishop, who had been talking for at least forty minutes and showed no signs of letting up.

  When the service finally ended, Jesse felt as if he’d been dunked in a deep river and twisted dry. Sitting on a backless wooden bench was twice more exhausting than Maummi Switzer’s rocking chair, and a hundred times worse than a full day in the saddle on the Chisholm Trail, but he’d done it! He hadn’t understood a single word spoken from the front of the room in the past three hours, but because he’d caught several blushing smiles on Katie’s face, and had twice looked back to catch her watching him, he left the Stolzfus home feeling pretty good.

  He followed Jonas outside to find the bright Kansas sun high overhead.

  “Well, that was interesting.”

  Jonas’s face was a mask of amused indulgence. “You enjoyed the meeting, then?”

  Jesse was unwilling to lie about church. “I didn’t understand a thing,” he admitted, and Jonas chuckled.

  The women had begun to file out of the house, and Sarah Beiler caught sight of them. She pushed her way through the milling crowd and hurried toward them, waddling like a duck. “Jesse! I didn’t get a chance to speak to you before. We was late.” She aimed a scowl at her bulging belly. “I don’t move so quick anymore. Anyhow, it’s good to see you up and about.”

  “Thank you. And may I say you’re looking fine, Mrs. Beiler?”

  Not true, actually. Dark smudges marred the puffy skin beneath her eyes, as though she hadn’t slept well, but she gave him a wan smile anyway.

  “Thank ye, though I’ll be mighty glad when this—” Her mouth snapped shut, and she tossed a guilty glance over her shoulder.

  Approaching were Maummi Switzer and Katie. Jesse couldn’t stop a grin. He’d hoped for an opportunity to speak with Katie after the meeting. Not the same as their long talks on the porch while she stitched a piece of sewing, but he would love to see her smile. As they arrived, Amos also joined their group and greeted Jesse and Jonas with a bob of his round head.

  “I didn’t know you were one of the preachers,” Jesse told him, referring to his role in the service.

  “Not a preacher,” Maummi Switzer corrected. “A deacon. He is charged with reading the Scripture. An important role.”

  Amos looked properly humble, his gaze fixed on the ground, while beside him Sarah beamed with pride.

  “I was just about to tell Jesse how much better he looks today than when we were over that way a few days ago.” Sarah grinned at Katie. “You must be a mighty fine nurse.”

  “She is,” Jesse agreed, enjoying the way pink roses bloomed in her cheeks at the compliment. “It’s all that tea she makes people drink.”

  She opened her mouth to reply, but before she could speak she caught sight of something behind him. The pink spots on her face turned red, and her gaze dropped to the ground. Jesse glanced over his shoulder and into the stern countenance of Bishop Miller.

  “A pleasant good day to you.” The greeting, though friendly enough, was spoken in a cold voice that belied the gracious sentiment. The temperature in the little group dropped noticeably as he joined them. Even Jonas lost his pleasant smile and began tugging at his beard, though his expression remained placid as ever.

  Jesse answered in an even tone. “And to you, Bishop.”

  The man regarded him with a speculative stare. “A surprise to see you here this morning. Did you enjoy our church meeting?”

  “Yes. Yes, I did.” Jesse said. “In fact, I might come back if it’s all right with you.”

  “Ja, visitors are welcome.” The man’s gaze turned brittle. “The next time you find yourself in Apple Grove, please join us again.”

  An awkward silence fell, during which Katie kept her eyes lowered and even Sarah seemed without words. Finally, Jonas cleared his throat.

  “There are chores waiting at home. Where is the boy?”

  “Butch?” Sarah nodded toward the barn. “I saw him running off with Karl and a bunch of others a while ago.”

  “I will fetch him,” Katie said, and wasted no time in hurrying away.

 
; Jesse watched her go, disappointed that their visit had ended so soon. He caught a satisfied gleam in the bishop’s eye when he turned back. He tightened his lips. Called by God or not, he disliked the man nearly as much as he disliked Littlefield.

  Jesse was seated on the front porch late that afternoon cleaning his saddle and checking the leather straps when a familiar pair rode into the yard. Butch knelt on the floorboards beside him, rubbing an oil-soaked rag over the cinch straps as Jesse directed. When they got home from church Jesse had rested while Maummi put together the noon meal, and even now, several hours later, he had to fight back a yawn. Apparently the Amish church service took more out of him than he realized. “Looks like we got company.”

  The boy straightened. “Hey, that’s Preacher Maddox.”

  Luke and Colin dismounted beneath the shade of the tree and approached the porch, Colin carrying a bulging bag in one hand.

  “Well, would you look at that?” Luke grinned toward the mound of tack scattered on the porch. “He’s only got one kid doing his chores for him. What happened? Did that pretty nurse of yours get wise to your wild ways and desert you?”

  Jesse grinned. “Katie’s gone home. And I’m teaching Butch, not using him. He’s good help.”

  The boy nodded, his expression serious. “Jesse’s a good teacher.”

  Colin stepped up, his hand outstretched. “You’re looking better than expected.”

  “I’m feeling better, thanks.” Jesse shook the man’s hand, though he tensed his muscles to shield his shoulder from undue movement.

  Colin thrust his hand toward Butch. “How you doing, son?”

  Obviously pleased, the boy jumped to his feet and grasped the hand, man-to-man. “Real good, sir. I’ve been exercising Rex and helping Mr. and Miz Switzer around the place. I’m earning my keep.”

  Colin cocked his head, a tender smile hovering in his eyes. “I’m sure you are.”

  The door opened and Maummi Switzer appeared, wiping her hands on a towel. With a quick glance at the horses, she looked up at Colin. “Rebecca is well?”

  Colin snatched the hat off his head. “Oh, yes, ma’am. And here.” He handed her the bag he carried. “She had the boys pick you some dandelion greens this afternoon. We have more’n we can eat.”

  “Danki.” Looking pleased, she took the bag and then fixed an inquiring gaze on Luke. “And our Emma? She and the little ones are well?”

  “She couldn’t be better.” A smile crept across Luke’s face. “Lucas took his first turn ringing the church bell this morning, and you should have seen how proud he was.” The smile became a chuckle. “’Course, it took him a few tries, but once he figured out he had to put his whole weight into it, that bell rang far and wide.”

  She nodded, an indulgent smile playing around her lips. “You will stay for the evening meal?”

  The pair exchanged a grin. “We were hoping for an invitation, if it’s not too much trouble.”

  Maummi Switzer’s curved backboned straightened, her eyes sparking with pleasure. “I will make apple dumplings.”

  “Now you’re talking.” Luke slapped his thigh. “That’s my favorite.”

  The door slammed shut behind her when she disappeared into the house with an eager step.

  Jesse eyed his visitors. “You two didn’t ride all this way for apple dumplings. And unless I’m mistaken, you didn’t come to visit the sick, either.”

  Their expressions sobered. “Where’s Jonas?” asked Colin.

  Butch looked up from his polishing. “He’s out behind the barn, checking on one of the cows who is about to calf. You want me to fetch him?”

  “You’d better,” Luke said. “He needs to hear what we have to say.”

  They watched the boy duck under the porch railing, jump to the grass, and then take off at a run across the yard toward the barn.

  “He’s looking better than I’ve seen him since he came to us.” Colin glanced around the farm. “This place must be good for healing all kinds of injuries.”

  “He’s a good kid,” Jesse said. “Too good, if you ask me.”

  Luke’s eyebrow cocked upward. “How so?”

  “When I was his age, I was getting into mischief every day of my life. Snitching my daddy’s cigars and stuffing frogs down the girls’ dresses. Butch doesn’t have a rebellious bone in his body.”

  Colin shook his head, sadly. “That boy’s been through a lot and seen more killing than me, even with years of being a lawman, including his own parents. It has to weigh on him.”

  Butch returned with Jonas in tow. The two crossed the yard, Jonas’s troubled gaze going from one of his sons-in-law to the other. He joined them on the porch and nodded a silent greeting.

  Luke reached around to his back and pulled a folded newspaper from beneath his vest, which he handed to Jonas. “You’ll want to see this.”

  The expression on Jonas’s face darkened as he scanned the newspaper. When he finished, he handed it without a word to Jesse.

  It was a copy of the Hays City Sentinel. The paper was opened to a list of notices. A bad feeling settled in Jesse’s stomach as he glanced down the page until his eyes stopped on a name he recognized.

  Andrew W. Littlefield hereby claims one hundred sixty acres of Kansas land, the southern border of which lies approximately forty miles west of Hays City under the terms of the Homestead Act of 1862. The boundaries to said land are established and marked with a fence. Improvements have been made in accordance to the Act in the form of homes and barns erected beginning November 1885. Claim filed with the land management office of Hays City, Kansas.

  Jesse’s mouth tightened. Below that notice, several identical ones identified the claims of Matthew Woodard, Harold Lawson, and even the now-absent Saul Sawyer, as well as a handful of women whose addresses were listed as Boston, Massachusetts.

  “That snake.” His teeth ground together as he handed the paper back to Luke. “He thinks he can get away with it by putting a notice in the paper?”

  Colin and Luke exchanged an uncomfortable glance.

  “Well, that depends,” Luke said. “Jonas, did you ever file a claim to this land?”

  Jonas nodded vigorously. “I wrote a letter and sent it to Washington, DC. There was no office in Hays City then. The Englisch man who helped us told us about digging the trench to mark our land, and we did. Me, John Miller, Eli Schrock, and the others.”

  “A trench is a legal boundary in Kansas,” Colin said. “As good as a fence. I know that from when we laid claim to our place.”

  “I dug a trench too,” agreed Luke.

  Jonas shook his head wearily. “Perhaps it is best to give my neighbor what he wants.”

  “No, Jonas.” Jesse’s eyes fixed on the Amish man. “No.”

  Luke took a deep breath. “Jonas, you can’t do that. This is your land, your home.”

  “Ja, it is.” Jonas’s expression was troubled but serious. “And when I am gone, who will have it? I have no sons. My daughters are gone and have homes of their own.” He spared a quick smile for each of his sons-in-law. “I planned for my girls to marry Amish husbands. Perhaps one would be his fader’s second son. He would move here to help me work my farm, and one day take over. I would build a dawdi haus there,” he pointed to a narrow strip of land between the garden plot and the wheat field, “and live out my days as a grossdaadi. But now?” He shrugged his suspender-draped shoulders.

  “But to give in to Littlefield isn’t the answer. Would you have him treat your neighbors the same? Steal their land and endanger their stock?” Jesse shook his head. “You can’t do that.”

  The look Jonas turned on him could be considered mildly reproving. “He is my neighbor. Did not Christ instruct us to love our neighbors and let naught come between us?”

  Jesse was glad when Colin, the preacher, spoke up. “He did, and you’re to be commended for following His instructions, but Christ also told us to look out for one another. If you give in now, what’s to stop Littlefield from movin
g the fence again? You might get up in the morning and find his cattle grazing in your wheat field.”

  Creases appeared beneath the rim of Jonas’s straw hat.

  “Think about it,” Jesse said. “The way he’s grabbing up land, he might not stop with you. Who’s your neighbor that way?” He pointed to the east.

  Jonas cast a quick, worried glance in that direction. “Zacharias Schrock. And beyond him is John Beachy.”

  Jesse’s ears perked up. Katie’s father lived two farms away? He filed that bit of information away for future reference.

  Colin chided his father-in-law in a reasonable tone. “If Littlefield gets away with driving you off your land, he might decide the Amish make an easy target and he’ll go for theirs next.”

  Though he was still clearly troubled, Jonas shook his head. “Conflict is not the Amish way. We keep ourselves separate from the world in order to escape the corruption that is found there.”

  “You’re not going to stay separate for long if the corruption takes over your land and throws you out of your home,” Jesse pointed out.

  Colin’s expression softened. “Jonas, we don’t want you to do anything that goes against your beliefs. We respect everything you stand for.” They all nodded, even Butch, who had remained silent but had followed every word. “We want to act on your behalf. You don’t have to do a thing.”

  “Just give us a chance,” Luke said. “Let us try one more thing. No fighting, either. Would you agree to that?”

  After a long moment, Jonas’s head dipped in a slow nod, and Luke and Colin exchanged a triumphant glance.

  Jesse studied the pair. Something was cooking between those two. Some plan—most likely as ruthless as Littlefield’s. Luke was staring toward the visible marking of Littlefield’s fence, his fingers tapping absently against his thigh. Jesse had seen that expression on his friend’s face many a time in the years they rode together, and he knew it meant Luke had decided to do something he wasn’t entirely comfortable with.