The Heart's Frontier

by Lori Copeland;Virginia Smith

  Or perhaps He wanted us to meet someone along the way.

  She shoved a sudden thought of Luke out of her mind.

  Papa gave the chair a gentle push that set it to rocking, and then he stood back and spoke to Maummi. “Come and try out my work.”

  Emma rose and helped her grandmother stand. The broken pieces of the chair leg had been fitted together and secured with sturdy slats from the useless crates and bound with rope like a splint on a broken leg. Two spindles in the back had to be removed, but they were not side-by-side, so the resulting gaps weren’t big enough for a body to slip through.

  When she’d seated herself gingerly and gave a trial rock or two, she nodded. “A fine job. Danki, Jonas.”

  At the sound of approaching hooves, Emma’s muscles tensed. Had the thieves returned to steal Papa’s new oxen? A quick glance at Papa’s face confirmed the idea had occurred to him too, though the only sign that he anticipated trouble was a tightening of his lips as he straightened and faced the approaching stranger. She couldn’t make out details, but she relaxed a fraction when she saw the silhouette of a lone man on horseback. A moment later he rode into view, and her muscles tensed again.

  Luke.

  Papa’s posture relaxed when he identified their visitor. Rebecca jumped to her feet, smiling broadly, but Maummi stopped her from running toward the horse with a hand on her arm. Emma remained where she was beside the fire, her legs drawn up beneath her dress, arms wrapped around them. Had he come back to chastise her for her foolish behavior? If she could slink off into the darkness and hide, she would. Instead, she hugged her legs closer and rested her chin on her knees.

  “Evening, folks.” Luke dismounted, looped his horse’s reins around a nearby tree branch, and strode into the circle of firelight cradling a bundle in one hand. “I’m on guard duty soon, but I thought I’d check to see if everything’s going okay here first.”

  “You are welcome to share our fire.” Papa gestured for him to be seated.

  “Thank you.”

  Instead of sitting on the opposite side, near Papa, he came around the campfire and dropped to the ground between Emma and Maummi. Surprised, Emma drew her feet up closer to her body and hugged her legs even more tightly.

  He set his bundle between them and unwrapped the thick cloth covering two large cans and a smaller cloth-wrapped package. A savory odor arose from the open cans. “My cook thought you might be able to make use of these beans for your supper, ma’am, or maybe your breakfast.” He offered them to Maummi.

  Maummi regarded the cans with obvious suspicion. “You have given us much already, Mr. Carson. We would not like to be a burden and take your food as well.”

  “Ah, don’t worry about that.” Luke turned an endearing smile up at her. “We ate well, and these were the leavings. If you don’t want them, the cook will throw them out.”

  Her eyebrows arched and her lips pursed. Emma knew her grandmother well, so she had no difficulty following her thoughts. Hadn’t she heard the lesson often enough? Waste is ungratefulness for God’s bounty. Maummi rose from her chair and took the cans from his hands, and then she inclined her head. “Danki to your cook.” She headed toward the wagon, a can in each hand.

  “I snagged these too.” He picked up the smaller bundle and folded back the cloth to reveal a pile of flat little cakes.

  He reached around the empty rocking chair and handed two to Rebecca, indicating with a nod for her to pass one to Papa. Then he turned and extended one toward Emma. Turmoil churned her insides. Why was he being so nice? By all rights he should have ridden off and counted himself lucky to be rid of her. That’s what she thought he’d done a few hours ago.

  When she reached for the cake, his fingers curled around it to prevent her from taking it. Startled, she raised her gaze to his.

  “I wanted to apologize for being short with you earlier.” A softness crept into his voice. “You had no way of knowing that these cattle were prone to run after their stampede the other night. I shouldn’t have taken my temper out on you. Will you forgive me?”

  A note of tenderness softened the gaze that held hers. She could push no words past the lump that wedged in her throat. When she nodded, he opened his fingers to release the cake.

  “Ahem.”

  Emma tore her gaze away and fixed it on her grandmother, who was standing at the back of the wagon with a fork in one hand and a can of beans in the other. Her direct stare and crooked eyebrows spoke her disapproval louder than words could. Emma returned the stare without blinking. Would Maummi have her be rude and ignore his apology? Or did she worry that Luke intended more by his words and gesture than mere regret for a hasty reaction? The thought sent a happy thrill through her. On the other side of the empty rocking chair, Rebecca chewed a mouthful of cake, her round eyes fixed on Emma. Papa’s calm countenance had not changed as he relished his treat with obvious enjoyment.

  Luke spoke to Maummi in an easy tone. “How do those beans taste, ma’am?”

  After a moment, and a weighty glance at Emma, her glower faded. She made a show of dipping the fork in the can and extracting a small sample. Her gaze became distant as she chewed, and then she gave an approving nod.

  “Good.” She tested another sample. “He cooks like a man, with no touch for seasoning. But good.”

  A relieved sigh seeped out of Emma’s lungs. If Maummi complimented a man’s cooking, that meant she was prepared to be nice. Either Luke was beginning to win her over with his kind ways, or she had decided that there was no cause to be cross because in the morning he would be on his way and out of her hair.

  Luke laughed. “I’ll relay the message.”

  He settled himself on the ground with his feet toward the fire and his hat resting on the ground behind him. The knots in Emma’s stomach loosened as she bit into the cake. A good flavor but a little crunchy. Nothing near as good as Maummi’s, or even her own since she learned cooking skills at first her mother’s and then Maummi’s hands. She took it as a sign of the elderly woman’s determination to be nice when she settled back into the rocker, bit into her own cake, and said, “As well, good. A handful of chopped nuts wouldn’t hurt them any.”

  “They are a favorite of the boys on the trail.” Luke popped the last of his cake in his mouth and leaned back, his manner easy. “Were you able to recover many of your things from the mess those marauders left?”

  “They ripped up all our linens, and even our dresses and Papa’s breeches.” Rebecca pulled a face. “And everything they didn’t rip, they smashed.”

  “Not everything.” Emma worked hard to keep the bitterness from her voice, but the probable fate of Mama’s quilt weighed heavily on her mind. “What they didn’t destroy, they stole.”

  Luke turned his head to look her way. “You had something in that trunk, didn’t you? Something special.”

  Tears sprang to her eyes at the sympathy in his tone. She nodded. “A quilt made by my mother.”

  Papa’s gentle voice admonished her. “But we have forgiven them, haven’t we, daughters?”

  Rebecca lowered her head, and Emma avoided the searching gaze that sought hers from across the fire. Times like these made her wonder if she would ever be ready to take the training and receive baptism. Surely forgiveness was the hardest teaching in all of Die Bibel. Forgiving Rebecca for a hasty word, or her friend Katie for slighting her at a Sunday night singing, was hard enough. But to forgive lawless men who had stolen one of the few precious ties she had to her mother? It would take her a lifetime to learn how to do that.

  Luke might have been hearing her thoughts. “If you can forgive those no-good thieves, you’re a better man than I am, Jonas. You know if they cross your path again they’ll do the same thing.”

  Papa nodded. “In all likelihood.”

  Maummi rocked back in her chair and quoted, “Und vergib uns unsre Sünden, denn auch wir vergeben allen, die uns schuldig sind.”

  “Pardon me, ma’am?”

  “It is from Die
Bibel,” Papa explained. “‘We forgive, even as we are forgiven.’” He shrugged. “It is our way.”

  Maummi nodded, as if that explained everything. Luke’s expression betrayed his struggle to understand, but he remained silent, probably out of respect for their beliefs. The thought warmed Emma. A man who respected others deserved respect himself. Did he know Die Bibel? A person didn’t have to be Amish to love the Word of God.

  Curiosity pushed a question out of her mouth before she could stop it. “Do you have faith of your own, Luke?”

  A smile crooked his lips. “I used to think so until I met you folks. When I was a boy, my grandma read to me from the Bible at night.” His gaze slid upward to Maummi. “Only hers was in English. I loved the stories about David and the Philistine, and Noah, and so on. I learned my letters reading about the Lord’s life and death. She and Ma took me to preaching every time the preacher came to town, and when I was nine I was baptized in a river.” He glanced behind his back, where the waters of the river reflected a soft moonlight. “Kind of like this one, only without the muck.”

  Maummi’s rocking stopped abruptly. “You are Christian, then?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He ducked his head. “I do a lot of thinking and praying during long days in the saddle. I admit, though, it’s been a number of years since I read the Bible on my own.”

  “Your grandmother lived with you?” Rebecca grinned up at Maummi. “Like ours?”

  “That’s right. Pa was a farmer early on, like you, Jonas.” He nodded across the fire. “But then he got a chance to ride along on a cattle drive back when I was seven or eight. He took to the trail and wasn’t home much after that. Grandma helped Ma raise me and my brothers. We worked hard on that farm.”

  While he talked, he picked up a stick and scratched absently in the dirt they had cleared around their campfire. Emma watched his profile. His eyes grew distant with memories, and the hint of a smile played around his lips.

  “Do you miss farm life?” she asked.

  Her question jerked him out of his reverie. He gave a quick shrug. “Sometimes.”

  “What happened to your farm?” Papa asked.

  “The bank took it.” The words were clipped through tight lips. “That’s when I joined up with my pa on my first cattle drive. I’ve been riding the beef ever since.” He tossed the stick into the fire.

  An ache tugged at Emma’s heart at the idea of losing his family’s farm. When he stopped being a cowboy, where would he go if he had no home? Her gaze was drawn to the drawing he’d etched in the dirt. At the top, a half circle pointing downward with lines radiating from the outside. Below, a smaller half circle faced up.

  “What is this?” she asked.

  He looked at the drawing as though startled to see it there. “A silly sketch. When I was younger I had plans to buy a farm one day and raise my own herd. You’ve seen the Triple Bar brand on the cattle in my herd?” Emma nodded. “That’s Mr. Hancock’s brand, and it’s pretty plain. I always wanted something different. I wasted hours designing a brand for my cattle.” He pointed to the top circle. “That’s a sun, and that,” his finger indicated the smaller inside circle, “is a C on its back, called a lazy C. My grandma used to tease me when I was a boy.” He stiffened his back and adopted a high-pitched tone. “‘Luke Carson, the sun done risen over your head, you lazy boy. Git up outta that bed.’” He laughed. “She knew I used to stay in bed on purpose to rile her.”

  Everyone joined in with a chuckle, even Maummi. A glance at her face revealed a softer expression than Emma had seen her display for Luke yet. The comment sounded so much like something Maummi would say, full of honeyed vinegar. Sharp, but with the sweetness of love to tone down the bitter taste.

  Luke picked up his hat and climbed to his feet. When he stood, he swept his boot in the dirt and blotted out the sketch. Emma wasn’t sure anyone had noticed except her. Something about the finality of the unobtrusive motion saddened her.

  “I need to get back. I don’t want Griff thinking I’ve left him to stand guard alone.” He set the hat on his head, and nodded toward Rebecca. “It’s been a pleasure meeting you.”

  She climbed to her feet and dipped into a polite curtsey. “Thank you for the cakes.”

  “Glad you liked them.” He offered a hand to Maummi. “I enjoyed meeting you, ma’am. I hope you get those scratches out of your hutch.”

  “Danki, Mr. Carson. The Lord keep you safe on your travels.”

  When Emma pulled her feet beneath her to rise, Luke turned to help her stand. She stared at the hand he extended. A strong hand, well shaped. She laid her hand inside his, and his fingers wrapped around hers, cradling them like tender arms around a newborn. Throat constricted, she allowed him to pull her to her feet.

  “Have a nice life, Miss Switzer.”

  The same farewell he’d spoken earlier, only this time the words were gentle, almost whispered. His gaze searched her face, as though memorizing her features, until she felt heat rise up her neck and threaten to flood her cheeks. Thank goodness for the dim orange glow of the firelight that might hide an embarrassing blush.

  “You too, Luke.” Gently, she extracted her hand from his and swept it behind her back to clutch it in the other.

  He shook hands with Papa. “Safe travels, Jonas. I hope you get to Troyer without any more trouble.”

  “We have decided to return home,” Papa told him. “Will you stay in Hays until Wednesday? I will bring your money there.”

  At the mention of Luke staying in Hays, a few miles from Apple Grove, Emma’s hopes rose, only to be dashed at Papa’s arrangement to pay back his debt. On the occasions when Papa and the other men of Apple Grove ventured into the infamously wild town, the women rarely joined them. If Luke didn’t come to the farm to collect his debt, she would not see him again.

  Luke’s head cocked in surprise, but he made no comment on the change in their plans. “I’ll be staying over a few days to take care of some business and arrange for my next cattle drive. You can find me at the Howell House.”

  His farewells made, he mounted his horse and turned it toward his camp. For a moment he paused outside the ring of firelight, a tall figure silhouetted by a narrow sliver of moon. Then he turned Bo toward the herd of cattle and galloped away. Emma fought a lingering sense of loss as she watched his shadow melt into the darkness.

  It was a very good thing this Englisch man was gone from her life.

  A very sad but good thing.

  TWELVE

  Morning saw the herd up and ready to move early. Luke’s sleep had been fitful after his watch, plagued by dreams of his boyhood farm and working alongside his ma, back before she died of consumption. The morning sun burned his tired eyes, and it was a good thing McCann’s coffee was strong enough to raise the dead this morning. As he filled his mug for the second time, he scanned the landscape behind them. A thin line of smoke rising into the sky told him the Switzers were up early. Today was Thursday, and the herd had lost yesterday. They had to cover considerable ground today. If they did, they would still arrive in Hays with a day to spare before the cattle train left on Monday.

  After a hearty breakfast of biscuits and gravy, Luke took his place in the lead with Jesse and Kirk riding point. He pointed Bo toward the herd and watched his boys take up their positions. Griff, Kirk, and Morris stood ready at the flank positions. Vic whistled and clucked to his charges in the remuda, and they were ready to go. Charlie and Willie galloped toward the back of the herd, and as Luke watched, he couldn’t help taking a final glance toward the Switzers’ campsite. The smoke from their campfire had ceased, and that big hutch was an unmistakable landmark in the back of that wagon. The reddish hair of the oxen was also visible, yoked at the front of the wagon. The Switzers had broken camp and were on the move.

  Right behind his herd.

  “All right.” He whistled. “Move ’em out.”

  The call went down the line, Griff shouting back toward Charlie and Willie. Full bellies, plenty of
water, and an easy day had rendered the cattle cooperative. The lead cows surged ahead without much prodding, and the rest followed. In a short time, they had spread out wide on the prairie and settled into a comfortable gait. The day promised to be hot, with few clouds in the sky to break the sun’s heat. Luke decided not to push too hard, but set an easy pace.

  A few hours into the day’s journey they left the river behind and headed northwest across a wide plain. Easy travel, because the only interruption to the landscape were stands of flowering persimmon, bittersweet berries that by fall would be a deep red, and tall black walnut trees. According to Luke’s map, by early evening they should be able to make up the ground lost by the stampede and pick up their previous route, the western variation of the Chisholm Trail that headed toward Hays. At that point the Switzers would veer off to the west and head home. He turned in the saddle to check their location.

  Still there.

  All morning they had kept up, and now it looked as though the wagon had gained a little on the herd.

  Jesse rode up beside him, his expression dark. “What in tarnation is going on?”

  “What?”

  He jerked his head backward. “That Aim-ish bunch is following us.”

  Rather than give his friend anything to harp about, he glanced over his shoulder and adopted an air of innocence. “They are? Well, I’ll be a monkey’s uncle.”

  “You are a monkey’s uncle. You’ve been watching them all morning. Besides, Griff told me that you took supper to them last night.” His scowl deepened. “My pa always warned if you feed a stray, you’ve got him for life.”

  Lifting an indifferent shoulder, Luke faced forward. “I figure tomorrow morning they’ll break off and head for home.”

  “You figure, do you?” Jesse studied Luke through narrowed eyes, their horses keeping step with each other. “You don’t suppose they’ll trail us all the way to Hays, do you? Especially one of the females, for instance. Last thing I need is an adolescent runaway trailing after me.”