The Heart's Frontier

by Lori Copeland;Virginia Smith

  Then Maummi found her Englisch tongue. “My hutch! Rescue for me my hutch, before the water takes it!”

  For a moment Emma couldn’t respond. Apparently she hadn’t noticed the barely clothed men in the water. She had eyes only for her hutch. A nearly uncontrollable giggle tickled the back of Emma’s throat. When she was as old as Maummi, maybe she would focus more on furniture than handsome men, but that certainly hadn’t happened yet.

  She snuck a quick glance, and the heat in her face intensified.

  Her grandmother’s moan distracted her. “Made with my dearly departed’s own hands.”

  Emma placed an arm across her shoulders. Being so upset couldn’t be good for her heart. “Calm down, Maummi. They will get the hutch.”

  “We’re sure trying, ma’am.” The oldest of the three cowboys dipped his head in her direction. “So far we haven’t had much luck. The axle seems to be caught on a rock ledge or something down there.”

  Papa arrived with Rebecca and their hired driver. He stood on the riverbank with his thumbs hooked behind his suspenders and his head tilted sideways, studying the wagon.

  “The hutch is safe, I think, unless the entire wagon is washed away,” he told Maummi.

  “Ach!” She raised a hand to cover her heart and wilted against Emma. “Forty years and not a scratch, only to lose it in the river.”

  A splashing sound alerted her to the fact that Luke and Jesse were exiting the water. Emma mostly kept her gaze averted, but she couldn’t help another quick peek.

  “Jonas, what say we put your new oxen to the test?”

  A sloshing close by told her Luke had gained the shore. Oh, how she wanted to turn around and stare at him. Maummi’s saying repeated in her mind like a mantra. “‘Keep your eyes cast down until the Lord raises them.’” She knew for a fact that the Lord would not approve of her staring at Luke’s half-clad body, so she kept her back turned, standing in front of Maummi. Lord, lead me not into temptation.

  Rebecca, on the other hand, openly gawked. Emma grabbed her by the arm and jerked her around. “Go help the boy unload our provisions.” She added an unmistakable command to her voice.

  Her sister surprised her by obeying, though her gaze was so firmly fixed on Jesse and Luke as she wandered in the direction of the cart that she ran right into the hind end of a cow, which sent the poor beast into a sudden gallop.

  Luke described his plan to Papa and the others. “There’s a narrow rocky ledge all the way across, which I figure is what the bandits tried to cross. But this side of it, the bottom’s nothing but sand and muck. That back wheel slipped off. We tried using a couple of horses to pull her free, but it’s stuck fast. The best I can tell, the axle is wedged on a rock outcropping. Not by much, but enough. If we’re lucky, it’s not cracked.”

  “Please,” Maummi intoned in a loud voice, “no cracks.”

  Emma placed a hand on each of her grandmother’s upper arms and squeezed comfortingly. An odd pair they must have looked, she with her back to the river and Maummi’s gaze fixed over her shoulder on the hutch.

  “What we need to do is roll the wagon backward a little. Not too much, because there’s some pretty deep sand this side of that ledge, and if the wheel gets moored in that, she’ll tip for sure.”

  Maummi moaned and clutched Emma’s arms. Her fingers dug into the soft flesh, as if by holding more tightly to her granddaughter, she could keep the wagon upright.

  “Once that axle is clear, we’re going to have to pull it out at a sharp angle. It will take a mighty strong and steady hand leading those oxen.”

  From the corner of her eye, she saw Papa’s shoulders straighten. “Amish hands are strong.”

  “Judging by your handshake, I’d have to agree.” Emma heard the smile in Luke’s voice and fought a powerful temptation to turn so she could see his expression. Keep your eyes cast down…

  The older cowboy stepped up beside Emma and removed his hat. Though he looked to be around the same age as Maummi, deep lines crisscrossed the leathery skin of his face, which was shaved clean like an Amish youth. “Ladies, you might want to stand back a piece, out of the way.”

  Emma realized they were standing directly in the path the wagon would travel when it came out of the water. “Oh, of course. Maummi, we’ll watch from over here.”

  She guided her reluctant grandmother to their hired cart, where the boy was busy unloading their purchases and piling them on the ground. Rebecca made a pretense of picking up a light crate, but she moved so slowly to place it near the others that it would have gotten there faster if it had grown legs and walked by itself. Emma could hardly blame her, and not because of the sight of men’s chests. The fate of their wagon and belongings were at risk.

  The boy placed the last sack on the ground and leaped back up onto the bench.

  Emma went to stand beside the cart and looked up at him. “You’ll wait a moment, please? To see everything’s fit for our wagon to travel?”

  He cast an anxious glance toward the darkening sky to the northwest but then gave her a reluctant nod.

  “Danki.” She went to stand beside Maummi and Rebecca to watch Luke’s plan unfold.

  Luke helped Jonas and Griff hitch the new oxen to the stranded wagon.

  “I hope this works.” Jesse’s tone announced his skepticism for all to hear.

  A worry that he might be right niggled deep in Luke’s mind as he double-checked the knots. The oxen’s yoke wasn’t usable because of the angle of the wagon on the bank, so they were forced to use rope. That back wheel was sunk pretty low, and when the wagon backed up, it was going to take brute strength in the water to keep it level enough to tip it up over the ledge so it could be pulled forward. There was no telling how heavy that hutch was, but no way could one man lift it on his own. He hoped he, Jesse, Willie, and Charlie could handle it between the four of them.

  Even Jonas’s confidence seemed uncertain. He left Griff holding the oxen steady long enough to follow Luke to the river’s edge. “If the wagon turns over, mind you are not beneath it.”

  Luke grinned. “You worried about me, Jonas?”

  His expression remained solemn. “Possessions are not worth a man’s life.” A pause, and then he smiled. “Not even an Englisch man’s.”

  Luke laughed and slapped him on the shoulder. “Rest easy. I don’t plan to be under that wagon when it breaks loose.”

  Jonas returned to the oxen’s heads, while Jesse, Charlie, and Willie splashed into the water to take their places around the rear of the rig. Over by the cart, the women stood side by side, the hems of their black skirts sweeping the grass. Luke gave a single wave intended to relay his confidence—a conviction he didn’t feel. This thing could be in here forever.

  Rebecca lifted an arm above her head and returned the gesture with enthusiasm, while Mrs. Switzer raised both hands in front of her mouth in a posture of prayer. Emma’s only response was to loop an arm through her grandmother’s elbow. Not even a smile for luck.

  He plunged in and waded through the rising river toward the rear of the wagon. Water swirled around his waist as he took his place beside the others.

  “Willie and Charlie, you two stand there.” He pointed at a place along the wagon’s back panel. “Stay as close to this end as you can. Jesse, you take the corner and hug up close to me.”

  Concern drew lines across Jesse’s forehead. “That’s a sandy bottom there, isn’t it?”

  “Mostly, but the rock is jagged so I can get a foothold.”

  “See that you keep it, boss,” said Charlie.

  “Don’t worry. If I sink, Jesse will come after me.”

  Jesse aimed a glance at the hutch. “In your dreams.”

  Luke sized up the leaning piece of furniture. It towered over him like that big old oak tree in the backyard when he was a boy. He glanced over his shoulder, toward the place where Emma stood. His grandmother said she used to say a prayer for his safety every time he took a mind to climbing that thing. If Mrs. Switzer t
ruly was praying, he hoped she’d send one up for him and not only for her precious possession.

  With a hand on the wagon’s side, Luke edged slowly around the corner, feeling his way with his boot. He hated soggy boots, but couldn’t risk a cut that might fester, so he’d have to put up with wet leather till they dried. He located the stone he’d found before and fixed both his feet. Not six inches behind him, the rock’s edge gave way to the riverbed. Not much maneuvering room, but it ought to be enough. Jesse and the boys slid into their places.

  “Ready?”

  They all bent their knees, grabbed the underside of the wagon bed, and nodded. He slid his fingers below the lower lip until the thick plank rested in his palms.

  “Jonas, when I give the word, you back those oxen up one step. Only one. Then when I shout again, take them forward as quickly as you can. Got it?”

  “Ja. I got it.”

  Luke firmed his grip, nodded at the three by his side, and shouted, “Go!”

  On the shore Jonas uttered something to the oxen in his low, calm voice that was almost snatched away by the rush of the water. The wagon started to roll backward. Luke tightened his muscles and tried to lift a tad, enough to keep the wagon relatively steady as the wheel rolled from beneath the ledge. The weight of the thing was staggering. Beside him, Jesse grunted, and Willie’s fair complexion purpled with the shared effort. Luke’s bulging muscles trembled. He hadn’t lifted anything this heavy since…well, ever. His eyes switched to Emma standing on the bank. Was her smile really pretty enough to break his fool back for?

  He felt the wheel jerk upward when the axle slid loose from the outcropping. Only an inch or so, but the bed wavered at the sudden release. The strain in his muscles shifted, and Luke’s balance tilted. Though his brain knew better, instinct kicked in. He staggered backward—and found no footing. “Ease up! Ease up!”

  His shout rang out as he plunged into the water. The errant foot sank into the sandy muck and jerked his other boot off the rock. A dark object loomed above him. The hutch was tilting his way. He splashed and kicked backward, but the muck held fast.

  “Luke!”

  Jesse’s yell mingled with a woman’s scream. A tiny, detached part of his brain wondered which one. Probably the old woman, worried about her hutch. Kicking harder, he threw his arms over his head, trying to move backward through the water with a powerful stroke.

  Not enough.

  Above him Jesse edged around the corner of the wagon and slid into the place he’d vacated. With a shout that was half-grunt, he strained against the weight of the wagon as Jonas coaxed the oxen ahead at a trot.

  In the chaotic seconds that followed, everything happened at once.

  The wagon rolled forward, out of the water and onto the shore.

  The alarming sound of hooves thundered against the grass behind him. A stampede?

  He turned his head and caught sight of a black dress and white cap racing across the grass. Emma. Startled cows scattered before her.

  The water behind him splashed and churned as cattle plunged into the river, running blind to get away from the unknown black-clad figure racing toward them.

  A hard object slammed into his body as Jesse lost his footing on the narrow rock and fell backward. The force of a cowhand’s backside hit him square in the face.

  In the second before the river closed over him and sucked him under, he heard Mrs. Switzer’s cutting voice echo across the water.

  “Dopplich Englischer.”

  He had no idea what it meant, but he was fairly sure he’d just been insulted.

  TEN

  Emma sat on the empty trunk beneath a tall tree on the riverbank and tried not to look anyone in the eye. She hadn’t meant to cause a stampede. Granted, she didn’t know cattle would startle so easily. And she certainly didn’t mean for so many to run straight into the river. After the first two sank belly-deep in the mud, couldn’t the rest of them see the predicament and stop?

  And after all that, their trunk was empty. All her belongings, along with Mama’s quilt, had been removed. Luke had barely spoken a word since his men fished him out of the river, half drowned. And he certainly couldn’t be pleased right now. Once again he was waist deep in the rushing water trying to haul his cattle out. She kept her gaze to the ground lest he looked up and saw her misery.

  “Jonas, pull her out,” Luke called from the middle of the river.

  She raised her eyes to watch without lifting her head. Papa had one end of a length of rope around an ox’s neck, the other end secured around a steer in the river. Jesse stood on one side of the frightened animal, and Luke on the other. Papa led the ox, pulling the bellowing steer forward. Its head disappeared under the water, cutting off the sound with a gurgle, and then it resurfaced a moment later, still bawling. The steer was dragged onto the shore, where it wallowed on the grass, loudly voicing its displeasure.

  Luke cut the knot from around its middle while Jesse loosened the second rope with which they had tied the rear legs together to stop the steer from struggling. They both jumped back when the animal broke loose. It scrambled to its feet and trotted off down the trail toward the main herd.

  The cow’s rescue set the rest of them to hollering. Emma’s gaze swept over the last six bovine bodies mired fast in the muddy riverbed bottom. With only the top of their backs and their heads sticking up out of the water, they were like a logjam of frightened roasts. The sound of their bawls filled the air, accompanied by the shouts of cowboys who hollered instructions to each other about how to safely maneuver them out.

  It was all her fault.

  Emma’s chin drooped lower on her chest.

  Up in the wagon, Maummi straightened from a crouched position, a hand pressed against the small of her back. She’d inspected every square inch of her hutch, and judging by her fierce expression, she wasn’t happy with the condition. She stepped to the wagon’s rear edge and sat, preparing to drop to the ground. Griff hurried to help her.

  “Here you go, ma’am.” With strong arms, he lifted her down and set her on the grass as gently as if handling a baby.

  Maummi brushed her apron and looked sideways up at him. “Danki.” Then she switched her gaze to Emma. “Dopplich Englischers. A scratch, on the far side. Forty years and no scratches. Now?” She sliced through the air with a vicious gesture. “A scratch.”

  “I saw that, ma’am.” Griff hooked a thumb in his belt. “More a scrape than a scratch. You might be able to buff it out when you get to where you’re going.”

  She pursed her lips but acknowledged the suggestion with the faintest of nods.

  The old cowboy turned a kind gaze toward Emma. “Don’t feel too bad, miss. The sight of that wagon tipping would have stampeded me too. Nothing but plain bad luck that the cattle spooked in the direction of the river. Since we didn’t lose a single head, there’s no cause to fret. There’s not a man here who hasn’t seen worse than this.”

  For some reason, his kindness only made Emma’s misery worse. Swallowing against a lump in her throat, she managed a weak smile of gratitude.

  Even Maummi spoke in a voice without its usual sharp edge. “Did any of our things in the trunk survive?”

  Emma drew in a shuddering breath. “Nothing.”

  “I’m guessing when that wagon got mired down, the thieves packed up whatever they could carry and chucked the rest in the river.” Griff turned to look upstream. “All except that stuff over there.”

  Emma jerked upright. He pointed to a small cluster of trees behind them.

  “Not much left, and some of it took a beating, but we moved it out of the way so the herd wouldn’t trample it any further.”

  “Rebecca,” Maummi called as she headed toward the trees. “Lend a hand, girl.”

  Rebecca turned from her vantage point on the bank and followed. With a quick “Thank you” to Griff, Emma hurried after them.

  Stuff was an appropriate description for the mound of clutter piled on a grassless embankment inside a s
mall copse of trees. Emma stood, speechless, and stared at the havoc that had been made of their belongings. Everything had been uncrated, and the few breakable dishes Maummi had carefully wrapped for the journey lay in shards. A couple of the crates had been splintered.

  Maummi crossed to the other side of the jumble to where her rocking chair lay on its side. She stood over it and peered downward. “Broken.”

  Emma knelt and grasped the corner of a bed sheet between a thumb and forefinger. When she lifted it up, she spied several slashes in the fabric, as though it had been purposefully cut with a knife.

  “Why are they so mean?” Rebecca tugged a black garment free of the rubble, and then another. Dresses. They had been similarly destroyed.

  A frantic flutter began behind Emma’s breastbone. Had the thieves slashed Mama’s quilt to pieces? She bent over and began tossing things out of the way, searching for a glimpse of bright color or the thick bag in which she’d wrapped it. Nothing.

  “Here’s something, anyway.” Rebecca lifted a heavy black skillet out of the wreckage and held it up for Maummi’s inspection.

  The old lady’s scowl deepened. “Why could we not find it before we paid good money for a new one?”

  Behind them, the volume of the cattle’s frightened mooing diminished, and Emma peeked through the trees. Another cow had been rescued and galloped after the other.

  While Maummi began the task of separating the few usable items from the debris, Rebecca sidled over to her.

  “Why did you run toward the wagon, Emma?” She spoke low enough that Maummi wouldn’t make out the words while her attention was elsewhere. “Did you think to hold it upright yourself when four men could not?”

  Emma kept her eyes averted under the pretense of picking up a sadly bedraggled prayer kapp. “I didn’t think anything. I ran because…” She shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  In the silence that followed, she formed an unspoken prayer of forgiveness for the blatant lie.