The Heart's Frontier

by Lori Copeland;Virginia Smith

  Griff and Morris laughed, but something in Jonas’s expression made Luke pause. An idea occurred to him.

  “Wait a minute,” he said slowly. “You’re talking about creating a distraction. You’ll approach their camp from one side and draw their attention while we sneak up from the other side and get Emma.”

  Again, Jonas nodded. “My beliefs prevent me from taking up arms against any man, but words are powerful. I will use my words and leave the weapons to you.”

  A reckless hope stole over Luke as he pictured the plan unfolding.

  It just might work.

  TWENTY-ONE

  Huddled on the ground, Emma wrapped her arms around her bent knees and drew herself into a tight ball. Though the night was warm, she could not still her shivering limbs. The expressions on the faces of the four men ranged from speculative to eager. The man with black teeth, Lester, kept an evil, hungry gaze fixed on her as he cut large pieces of cooked meat and shoved them in his mouth. She dared not meet his eyes or she would fall apart.

  What was I thinking? As if I didn’t look foolish enough falling off a horse, sneaking off in the dark when I knew there might be thieves in the area surely proves to Luke that I’m a dull-witted simpleton.

  The fact was, she didn’t stop to think of the risks before she crept off into the dark. Her thoughts had been fixed on Luke and the idea of him becoming Amish so they could marry. And now she wouldn’t be marrying anyone, ever. Would she even be alive to see the sun rise on the morrow?

  “We best be up and away from here before sunup,” said the one she’d heard the others refer to as Earl. “When they find her missing, they’ll come looking.”

  Another answered with, “This herd’s been resting for days. We could rouse them now and head west toward Colorado. We’ll deliver them to the reservation, collect our pay, and be on our way to California before anybody can catch up with us. I’ll bet we can find someone to give a good price for her too.”

  “Don’t be in such an all-fired hurry to sell her, Porter.” Lester fixed glittering eyes on Emma. “A man’s got a right to some leisure time first, don’t he?” He grinned around a mouthful of food.

  A frigid blast of terror washed over her, swamping impending sobs to frozen silence. The hands with which she clutched her knees felt icy, and she was too afraid even to shiver.

  Lord, please help me. I’ll never be stupid again. I’ll listen to Papa and Maummi, and I’ll be nicer to Rebecca too. I promise.

  Lester shoved a last bite of meat in his mouth and tossed his plate away into the grass. He stood and seemed to grow to giant-size stature when he took a step toward Emma. She squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for a rough hand to snatch her up.

  “Pardon me, please.”

  A voice, not too distant, echoed down from above. For the span of half a heartbeat, she thought it might be the Lord calling to her in answer to her plea. But then she realized the voice wasn’t deep and resonant and Lord-like. Instead, it was soft and quiet and intimately familiar.

  “Papa!” She didn’t mean to shout, but the name tore from her throat of its own accord. Her eyes flew open, and she wildly searched the surrounding hills.

  Luke lay flat on the ground behind the ridge, listening to the rustlers’ conversation. The circling ridge magnified the sound so he could hear most of the words. Anger built like a hot ball of fire in his gut, but he did not move until he heard Jonas’s voice. Only then, when he was sure the rustlers’ attention would be elsewhere for a second or two, did he raise his head and look down into the camp. His gaze was drawn to Emma, who shouted “Papa!” in a terrified voice that squeezed his heart in his chest.

  He took in the scene before him in an instant. Emma crouched on the ground, just inside the ring of light from a low-burning fire. The three who had been seated leaped to their feet, scanning the opposite hillside for the source of the voice. Lester, the one who had kidnapped Emma, pulled a pistol from the holster at his side.

  “Who’s there? Show yourself!” Lester shouted.

  “I am Jonas Switzer.” The answer rolled down the hillside. A dark silhouette rose from the ground and stood upright. “I will fetch my daughter home now, please.”

  To Luke’s right, a quiet crack echoed in the silence as Griff, starting his descent down the hill, crept across a dried root. He froze, as did Morris beyond him. Luke watched the men by the campfire. One head turned briefly to glance around but then fixed again on Jonas.

  Lester’s arm swung wide as he leveled a pistol on Emma. “I’d better see your weapons tossed down that hill or I’ll shoot this here girl.”

  Jonas’s arms spread wide. “I carry no weapon.”

  With an effort Luke forced his gaze away from the sight of the vulnerable girl huddled on the ground and traced his path down the hill. He could do nothing to help her from here. He needed to be closer. A big boulder ten yards in front of him would provide some cover, and beyond that a shallow crevice in the ground, dark with shadows. Then there was no cover at all for the thirty yards between that and the man who stood with his gun pointed at Emma.

  Luke grasped his Winchester in one hand and belly-crawled to the rock as quickly and silently as he could

  “You expect me to believe you came after your girl without even a gun to back you up?” A bark of laughter echoed around the bowl. The nearest cattle stirred, and the rumble of bovine voices created a low hum that was repeated from various corners of the herd.

  “We are Amish. We do not bear arms against anyone.”

  Luke didn’t pause behind the rock but continued on. He wedged himself into the shallow crevice, lowering his body to the earth inside. To his right he spotted Griff huddled behind a rise in the land, and beyond him Morris lay flat on the ground. A cloud that had provided a moment’s darkness blew across the moon, and the hillside was bathed again in white light. Morris was exposed. If one of the men below looked in his direction, he’d be spotted in an instant.

  Emma was still thirty yards from Luke.

  Fortunately, the rustlers were too busy laughing at Jonas to bother looking over their shoulders.

  “That’s what they said when we took the wagon with that backbreaking piece of furniture in it,” said the one whose voice identified him as Earl. “I didn’t believe it then, but I guess it’s true.”

  “I don’t believe it.” Suspicion saturated the voice of the fourth, unnamed rustler. He shouted toward Jonas, “Surely you didn’t come here alone expecting us to hand over this here girl just ’cause you asked.”

  Soundlessly, Luke shifted until he had his feet under him, ready to stand and make a quick dash. Any minute now. He raised his rifle, the barrel pointed in the direction of the kidnapper standing beside Emma.

  “No, I did not,” Jonas answered.

  The rustlers looked at each other. “What’s he saying? He’s talking in circles.”

  “I don’t know, but I’m tired of foolin’ with this idiot.” Porter, who stood on the right, closest to Morris, raised his pistol and pointed the barrel toward Jonas.

  The next few seconds exploded with rapid-fire action.

  A woman’s scream ripped through the night. “Papa!” Emma jumped to her feet and dashed sideways, toward Porter, whose gun was trained on Jonas.

  A shot rang out from somewhere to Luke’s right. Porter fell a moment before Emma reached him.

  A second shot answered from the left, from beyond the pass into the bowl.

  Charlie! Luke leaped to his feet and sprinted forward, his rifle in his hands. Lester surged after Emma, but he jerked his head around at the sound of thundering hooves. Five horses galloped through the narrow pass, all saddled but only one mounted, as Charlie drove the others before him.

  Startled cattle surged to their feet in a wave, beginning with the ones closest to the camp and ending at the opposite end of the bowl.

  Another shot, and the unnamed rustler fell. Earl whirled to face the hillside, where Morris, Griff, and Luke ran at full speed. Luke was diml
y aware that the rustler’s gun rose to point directly at Griff, but he couldn’t spare a thought for that. He was heading toward Lester, who had recovered enough to resume his sprint after Emma.

  The kidnapper reached her while Luke was still ten feet away. Luke raised his rifle and set the man’s head squarely within his sites. In one numb part of his brain he knew this moment would haunt him for the rest of his life.

  Then Emma ducked and threw herself sideways. The kidnapper’s hand closed on air at the same moment Emma slammed into Earl, knocking the arm that held the gun fixed on Griff. He staggered and his shot went wild.

  Lester’s back was exposed to Luke, a wide open target. One squeeze of a trigger, and Luke could take the man down.

  What kind of cowboy shoots a man in the back, even a low-down, no-good, cattle-rustling kidnapper?

  Not this kind.

  He flipped his rifle around as momentum carried him across the few remaining feet. Holding the cold metal barrel, he swung the heavy butt like he used to swing a stick at a ball as a kid. It connected with Lester’s head. For an instant, the rustler’s body stiffened. Then he toppled forward and hit the ground at Emma’s feet with a puff of dust.

  While Morris relieved Earl of his weapon, Griff approached Luke. The grizzled cowboy stood beside him, staring down at the unconscious man sprawled out in the dirt.

  “Well.” He took his hat off and scratched his head. “I never saw a Winchester used that way before, but it sure was effective.”

  Luke opened his mouth to answer, but he forgot the words in the next instant when Emma flew into his arms. He held her close, his insides quaking with relief while she sobbed.

  TWENTY-TWO

  When the torrent of tears slowed, Emma became aware of Luke’s arms around her. Warmth rushed from her head to her toes, partly from the pleasure of breathing in the earthy, wholesome scent that clung to him, but mostly from embarrassment. What an unseemly show of emotion. If her neighbors back in Apple Grove heard that she’d thrown herself into a man’s embrace, she would be the subject of shocked gossip for weeks. Public displays of emotion were not encouraged among the Amish. Papa and Mama, whose love for one another radiated from their eyes, had rarely touched in front of Emma, even within the privacy of their own home.

  Her face flamed as she stepped away, and she could not bring herself to meet his gaze. “Thank you for saving me.”

  “And thank you, little gal.” Griff approached from behind her. “I had one foot inside the Pearly Gates until you sprang into action.”

  Emma could find no words to reply. She had attacked a man. Not with a weapon, but by using her body as a battering ram. Of course, if she hadn’t acted Griff would be dead. She looked at Earl, whose hands were being tied by Morris, and then at the still unconscious form of Lester. Beyond them lay the bodies of the two rustlers who had been killed because of her foolish behavior, sneaking off into the night and getting herself kidnapped.

  What lay heavy on her soul, though, was the fact that she couldn’t find it in herself to feel sorry for them. Nor for her act of violence in order to save Griff’s life.

  Papa approached them, his chest heaving from his sprint down the hillside. Never had she been so glad to hear a voice in her entire life as when his rang out in the night. The urge to throw her arms around him and sob was strong, but she knew he would not appreciate such an emotional display, and she had embarrassed herself enough for one night.

  He ran up to her, and before she realized what he intended, he gathered her into a strong embrace. “Emma.” His rough beard pressed against her cheek. “My Emma. You are safe.”

  The embrace lasted only a moment, and then Papa pulled back, his hands clutching her arms below the shoulders. Stunned, she searched his face and was astonished to see tears glistening in his eyes. Papa, her Papa, who never cried.

  His face blurred as salty moisture filled her own eyes. “Papa, I am so sorry. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I attacked someone. I committed violence against another human being.”

  Luke let out an exclamation. “You’re kidding, right? These men kidnapped you. They have stolen from who knows how many people, including your own family. They killed two of my men and were about to kill more. You saved Griff’s life, Emma. How can that be wrong?”

  Anger licked at the confusion obvious on his face. Emma searched for words, but how could she explain the Amish belief of nonresistance? Especially when his question stirred up so much confusion inside her. How could saving a life be wrong? Killing was wrong; she knew that. But surely acting in defense of another wasn’t wrong. If she had to choose again, she would do exactly the same as before. And therein lay the source of her guilt.

  Papa had mastered his tears and answered Luke’s question. “Christ did not resist, even unto death.” He looked into Emma’s face. “We both have things to discuss with Bishop Miller when we return to Apple Grove, daughter.”

  Emma glanced at the unconscious form of her kidnapper and shivered. No matter what the bishop said, she would not be sorry for the mighty bash to the head Luke had given the man. She supposed she’d have to confess that to Bishop Miller too.

  But to her father she merely replied, “Yes, Papa.”

  During the uproar, the cattle’s nervousness had increased. The bowl-like shape of the surrounding ridge had kept most of them contained, but about a third had found a way over the hills on the opposite side from the pass and escaped into the night. The rest huddled together, stamping their hooves and uttering uneasy calls to one another.

  Once the two remaining rustlers were bound securely and roped to their horses, Luke instructed Charlie and Morris to take them, along with Emma and Jonas, back to camp.

  “You want us to drive these along with us?” Charlie gestured to the press of cattle.

  Luke shook his head and then jerked a nod in the direction of the bound rustlers. “Let’s get those two back to camp first. They’ll be watching for you to get distracted, and I don’t want to give them a chance to escape. I’m going to enjoy handing them over to the sheriff in Hays.” He glared toward Lester, who had regained consciousness and was littering the air with foul curses about the pain in his head and the indignity of being tied sideways on his horse. “Wake Jesse up and tell him to watch them. Then get back here as quick as you can. Griff and I will round up the strays, as long as they haven’t run far, and meet you back here.”

  Looked like sleep wasn’t going to happen tonight. By the time they got this rustled herd back to camp and combined with the others, there were likely to only be a couple of hours before daybreak. Not worth the trouble of getting back on his bedroll.

  “Got it, boss.” Charlie and Morris headed for their horses.

  The assignments taken care of, Luke turned to Jonas and Emma, who stood side-by-side next to Jonas’s horse. The sight of her downcast head stirred up a storm of conflicting emotions. She actually looked as though she felt guilty for being rescued. What was wrong with this woman? Didn’t she realize how close she’d come to—He shook off the images that had plagued him from the moment he saw her being hauled into the rustlers’ camp. The idea that she’d committed some sort of wrongdoing by knocking a man off his feet when he was about to shoot a friend was so foreign to Luke’s thinking he couldn’t get his mind around it. The whole thing made him angry.

  “Charlie and Morris will make sure you get back safely. This horse can ride double, no problem.”

  Jonas stepped forward and extended a hand. “Once again, the Lord has used you to help my family.”

  Luke stared at the outstretched hand for a moment. Jonas’s beliefs might be a little more than he could handle, but Luke couldn’t help respecting the man. He lived what he talked.

  He clasped the work-roughened hand. “The diversion was your idea. A good one too.”

  A step sideways and he stood in front of Emma. “Here. Let me help you up.”

  As he stooped to clasp his hands for her to step into, he realized she was
not wearing Jonas’s trousers. She must have taken them off before going to sleep. Instead, he placed his hands around her middle to lift her up into the saddle. His fingers circled her waist, which was much tinier beneath that bulky black dress than he’d realized. Her arms rose and she placed her hands on his shoulders, lifting her head as she did so. Her face was mere inches from his. Twin moons reflected in the eyes that searched his, and glowed on the even white teeth he glimpsed between her parted lips. Anger evaporated, replaced by the almost overpowering urge to pull her close and cover her mouth with his. The memory of her arms around him when she was rescued returned so strongly his hands trembled at her waist.

  Beside them, Jonas cleared his throat and shifted his weight from one foot to another.

  Exercising a will he didn’t know he possessed, Luke lifted her up into the saddle. Before he released her, she spoke, her voice low and earnest. “I’m sorry I acted foolishly by leaving the camp and putting everyone in danger.”

  So that was the cause for her guilt. She felt responsible. Sort of like he’d felt responsible for Willie’s and Kirk’s deaths yesterday. Well, and in a way, she was.

  “Why did you do that, Emma? You’re not usually reckless.”

  Her eyes flickered sideways, toward Jonas, before returning to his. She spoke in a whisper so low he almost didn’t hear. “I wanted to talk to you alone.”

  She removed her hands from his shoulders and leaned back, balancing her weight on the horse’s back. Luke couldn’t tear his gaze away as he stepped back to let Jonas mount. A girl sneaking away from her family to meet up with him in the middle of the night? Jesse would rib him forever if he found out.

  But this wasn’t any girl. This was Emma.

  Jonas dug his heels in, and the horse trotted away. Charlie and Morris, each leading a second horse with a prisoner lying crosswise over the saddle, fell in behind them. Luke watched until they entered the pass and disappeared behind the hills.