The Heart's Frontier

by Lori Copeland;Virginia Smith

  “I’ve made a fool of myself and of you.” She picked up the corner of the stiff linen sheet that covered her and blotted at her eyes. “I’ve fallen in love with…” More tears interrupted her words. “With a…” Another sob, and she buried her face in the sheet. “With an Englishcher.”

  Again, Papa waited silently for her tears to run their course. He even produced a handkerchief and handed it to her.

  “And does he return your love, this Englisch cowboy?”

  “He doesn’t. I asked him…I asked if he would become Amish, and he said…” Pain pierced her side when she gulped inconsolable draughts of air. “He said no.”

  Silence met her confession. Her quiet cries sounded in the room until finally they stilled. Only then did Papa speak.

  “Luke Carson is a good man.”

  Emma tried to swallow back her tears. Of course he was. If he were a scoundrel, she would never have fallen in love with him.

  “But he is a wild stallion,” Papa continued. “The Amish life is a pond, small and contained, with rounded edges. What happens if you put a stallion in a pond, my Emma?”

  The truth of his words penetrated, and her tears returned. “He drowns,” she answered.

  Papa nodded. “He does indeed. A stallion must run in the open air, where a fish cannot live.” His voice became softer, and he leaned across the edge of the bed toward her. “And you know what happens to a fish when you take it from the pond and force it to live in the open air.”

  She nodded. “It dies.”

  “Yes, she does. What did our Lord say? Ein Dieb kommt nur, dafs er stehle, würge und umbringe.”

  I came that they may have life, and have it more abundantly.

  The words only made Emma’s tears flow harder. The truth in them carved into her soul like a sharp blade. In the past few days she’d lived life on the open plain, enough to know that she would never be satisfied there. She preferred the boundaries and cool waters of the pond.

  “He is waiting outside, your Englisch cowboy. Will you speak with him?”

  His words sent a flood of panic through her. What would she say to Luke? How would she apologize for trying to drown him in a pond full of Plain water?

  She had to try, though. There had to be an end. Otherwise, she would forever drive herself insane trying to imagine his parting words to her, and hers to him. Swallowing back yet another wave of weeping, she nodded.

  Papa nodded and patted her hand. “Choose wisely, my little guppy.”

  With that he left the room.

  THIRTY

  After the doctor and Rebecca had disappeared upstairs, Luke started to turn away, but footsteps coming down the hallway halted him. He turned and waited for Mrs. Switzer to approach. When she did, she tilted her head up to look into his face.

  “Danki for saving her life.”

  Bitterness welled up inside him and he shook his head. “Don’t thank me, ma’am. It’s my fault she was there to begin with.”

  Her eyes narrowed as she studied him. Then she pointed toward a row of rockers that lined one side of the porch. “We will talk.”

  Luke didn’t even consider denying her request. The fact that someone in Emma’s family was still talking to him left him feeling more than a little humble. And grateful. He crossed the porch and sank into one of the chairs.

  Mrs. Switzer took the one to his right. “You speak of fault like one who feels the weight of guilt. Why is this so?”

  “Yesterday she told me she wanted to talk to me about something. But when we had a few minutes together, she seemed reluctant and I didn’t push her. Then all day today I knew she was trying to get my attention, and I ignored her.” He looked straight ahead, at the dim candlelight in the window of the house across the way. “If I’d taken the time to talk to her, she wouldn’t have come looking for me and wouldn’t have gotten caught between those steers.”

  “You did not want to talk to her?”

  “It’s not that.” Luke glanced sideways. “Jonas…sort of asked me not to.”

  They rocked for a few moments in silence. Twilight was falling, and the sound of the cattle no longer reached the doctor’s porch. The absence of the sun left the air cooler, though still heavy from the heat of the day.

  “You see what a good father is my son.” Mrs. Switzer’s quiet voice joined hands with the dimness to form a comforting pair. “He’s always looking out for his girls.”

  Luke nodded. “Yes, ma’am. I admire your son. I’ve grown to admire him more every day.”

  “His father was a good man too.” She continued as though he had not spoken. “But he was not Plain. Not Amish.”

  His head turned toward her. “He wasn’t?”

  She shook her head and spoke in a whisper, as though relaying a great secret. “He was Presbyterian.” Luke could hear the tender smile in her voice. “A finer man never lived, my Carl. Only a few years we had together, and my papa did not approve. My mama cried herself nearly to the grave. But I would not trade one minute with him.” Her rocking stopped, and she turned sideways in her chair to face him. “Not one minute.”

  Her meaning was crystal clear. Love was worth a sacrifice.

  But he couldn’t ask Emma to make that sacrifice.

  Could he make it? Could he become Amish?

  An image flashed into his mind. Himself in black trousers, suspenders, and a round-brimmed straw hat. Clean-shaven lips, an untrimmed beard sprouting from his chin. Could he do that? For Emma, yes. He could.

  But what about the rest of it? Trading in Bo for a workhorse. Subjecting himself to the authority of the bishop, the man he saw speaking sternly to Jonas and the Switzer women. Standing by, unresisting, while thieves stole his belongings and left his family helpless. Not lifting a weapon to rescue his daughter from cattle rustlers who intended to ravage her and sell her to savages.

  No. That he could not do. If he did, his commitment would be so grudging that it would end up destroying any peace he and Emma shared.

  He shook his head and spoke into the darkness without looking at Mrs. Switzer. “I can’t do it. I can’t become Amish. Jonas is right. I’ll never understand the Plain life.”

  A chuckle rumbled deep in her chest. “There is more than one way to cut a cake, my mama used to say.”

  Before he could consider her meaning, footsteps sounded in the hall and Jonas stepped through the doorway. He came to a stop in front of their chairs and actually made eye contact with Luke. The compassion with which his expression was saturated sent a finger of regret trailing down Luke’s spine. Clearly, Jonas had won. Which meant Luke had lost.

  “She will speak with you now.” He switched his gaze to his mother. “Will you chaperone, please, while I check with the livery on our wagon and oxen?”

  Mrs. Switzer bowed her head in acquiescence, and without another word Jonas left the porch.

  Though tiny, the scabs on Emma’s skin showed starkly against the pale white linen pillow coverings. Luke entered the room, his hat in his hand, and hesitated in the doorway. She looked so frail that words were snatched from his chest, and all he could do was stand and stare at her.

  Mrs. Switzer poked her head into the room. “The hallway is a good place to wait. I’ve found a comfortable chair out here.”

  She disappeared, leaving the door open and them alone.

  Luke clutched his hat brim in his hands and found that he couldn’t look the pale young woman in the face. “The doctor said you’re going to be fine. I’m glad.”

  “Thank you.” Her voice fell softly on his ears. “You saved me yet again.”

  “No, I only…” The words trailed off. “I’m sorry I didn’t come talk to you earlier today.”

  Emma didn’t reply. When he finally raised his gaze, he discovered she was staring at her hands clasped on the sheet. Her long eyelashes curved against the backdrop of her scraped cheeks. So graceful, so vulnerable.

  While words were still bouncing around in his thoughts, trying to figure out which would
emerge, she reached beneath the bed linens and drew forth an item. “I made this for you.”

  She held a white object toward him. Hesitantly, he crossed the threshold to her bedside.

  The gift was a square of soft fabric the size of a handkerchief. The edges had been finished with fine, even stitching. In the center a colorful image decorated the plain white field. When he recognized it, emotion surged up from deep in Luke’s soul. It was his brand, the one he had designed as a boy. The one he intended to use one day when he owned his own herd.

  “It’s beautiful.”

  “I wanted you to have it,” she told him shyly. “For when you start your own cow farm.”

  He grasped the kerchief between his fingers and met her eyes. “When did you make it? You’ve been pretty busy on the trail.”

  “I began the night you told us of your dream to own your land and cattle. Every night I worked a bit…until my eyes were too tired to see.” She swallowed. “I am glad that you have this dream, Luke. I pray that someday you will have this place of your heart.”

  He shifted. “Emma, I’ve been doing some serious thinking.” The words, barely acknowledged until this afternoon, welled up from somewhere inside him. He glanced toward the open door, aware that her grandmother was probably listening to every word. What did she say about there being more than one way to cut a cake? He lowered his voice to a whisper. “I’m expecting to get a bonus from this herd. Mr. Hancock is going to make a bundle, and he’s known for passing on his profits. If I can make this much money a few more times, I’ll have enough to buy back my old family farm in Texas. Then I’ll leave the trail. I’ll raise a herd of my own, and build a life.” He paused and caught her gaze in a meaningful one of his own. “A life for myself and my family.”

  If only she hadn’t mastered her father’s talent of masking all her emotions. She stared at him through eyes that seemed so passive as to be indifferent.

  “There are Amish cows as well as Texas ones,” she finally said.

  He couldn’t hold steady under her gaze. He looked away. “I can’t become Amish, Emma. I want a simple life, but not a Plain one.”

  When she looked up again, tears sparkled in her eyes.

  “Emma…”

  “What you say is true, Luke.” She looked past him as though he wasn’t there. “It is not meant for Amish and Englisch to be together.”

  Maybe so, but his life would never be the same without her. And she might tell herself that Amish and Englisch didn’t mix, but would her heart believe it?

  Did his?

  Without another word, he turned and left the room, the handkerchief clutched in his fingers.

  THIRTY-ONE

  Apple Grove, Kansas

  September 1881

  Fall had reached its cool fingers into Apple Grove. For the first time in months, the morning sun failed to warm the chill from the air. Emma pulled a pan of biscuits from the oven and set it on the iron surface, glad for the heat inside the small room. She slathered the biscuits with a slice from the roll of butter she had helped Maummi churn a few days before.

  “Mind that butter, girl.” Maummi’s voice held the same instructive tone she’d adopted for years, ever since Emma could first pull up a stool and reach the surface of the countertops in the family kitchen. “Too much and you’ll make the biscuits soggy. And reach for me a jar of strawberry preserves when you finish there.”

  “Yes, Maummi.”

  Emma did as she was told, her mind wandering as her fingers grasped a glass jar from the high shelf opposite the kitchen’s deep washtub. Did Luke like strawberry preserves? She didn’t know because she’d never had a chance to ask him. They had known each other for a mere week, and that almost two months ago. Why, then, did thoughts of him continue to plague her?

  As always, memories of the handsome trail boss tugged on her like melancholy weights dangling from her heart. To say she missed him was a gross understatement. Every thought was saturated with his presence. Where was he now? Probably leading another cattle drive from Texas, making more money to buy his farm. Would he ever leave the trail, or would he end up an old cowhand like Griff, always talking about making a home but never doing it? Sleep eluded her when she laid her head on her pillow at night, her imagination filling the empty place beside her with thoughts of a dark-eyed cowboy. Even her dreams were full of him.

  She filled her days with work. Gathering eggs, mucking out the horses’ stalls, and maintaining the family garden plot alongside Maummi and Rebecca. Every so often Bishop Miller stopped by to check on her and Papa. Though the Switzers had been completely restored to the good graces of their Amish district, the bishop seemed especially concerned for Emma. He had sorrowfully rejected her request to attend the baptism classes that started two weeks past with the explanation that he doubted her readiness to commit to a life of dedication to the Plain way. He’d advised waiting until next year to join the classes. Rather than the bitter disappointment she expected, Emma actually felt a flicker of relief. That would have worried her, had she allowed herself to dwell on it. Instead, she filled her time with the endless tasks of farm life.

  In two more days she and Maummi would leave Apple Grove and move to Troyer to live with Aunt Gerda. This time a delegation of eight Apple Grove Amish men would accompany them. Maummi’s hutch was already loaded on the wagon in the barn, awaiting their departure. Try though she might, Emma couldn’t muster any enthusiasm for the journey.

  When the hot buttered biscuits had been piled on a platter and placed in the center of the table, a commotion outside drew her attention. Maummi rose from her stool in the corner of the kitchen to peer out the window.

  She turned a surprised expression toward Emma. “Set two more plates at the table. We have guests.”

  Rather than obeying immediately, Emma crossed to the window to peek outside. What she saw set her heart to fluttering.

  Two horses and their riders drew to a stop in the side yard. Rebecca appeared from the doorway of the barn to investigate the arrival, and she dropped a pail of milk in her excitement. Jesse and Griff called cheerful greetings toward her as they dismounted.

  Her heart pounding, Emma retrieved two more place settings and rearranged the table to accommodate their guests. There was no sign of the one cowboy she longed to see, but at least these two might bring news of him. She exited the house after Maummi at the same time Papa arrived from the field.

  “It is a good day when we can welcome friends to our home,” he told them, his smile wide. “You’ll join us for dinner?”

  Griff placed a hand on his belly and grinned toward Maummi. “Can’t tell you how I was hoping you’d ask.”

  Jesse’s limp was barely noticeable as he trailed Maummi and Papa into the house. He spared a smile toward Rebecca, who looked ready to keel over with excitement, and then took his place at the table. He and Griff devoured schnitz and knepp, buttered sprouts and potatoes, and biscuits with jam, answering Papa’s polite questions between mouthfuls. Yes, they had gotten along well since the end of the cattle drive in July. Griff had delayed his plans to look after Jesse. No, they hadn’t yet taken on new assignments, though they both had multiple offers and intended to head back to Texas soon.

  Emma bit her tongue and toyed with her food. Luke’s name loomed over the table, an unspoken and unacknowledged presence that she could not stop thinking about. It wasn’t until the meal was almost over and Maummi had served up heaping portions of apple pie that she finally gathered the nerve to ask the question that had pressed on her mind since the moment she laid eyes on the pair.

  She scooped a spoonful of her dessert and held it before her mouth. “And what of Luke? Did he take another job as a trail boss, as he intended?”

  Jesse and Griff exchanged a loaded glance before they answered.

  “No,” Griff finally said. He set his spoon down on the rim of his bowl and speared her with a meaningful stare. “Haven’t you heard? Luke quit the trail. He took a mortgage and bought a farm not ten
miles from here, just on the other side of Hays. The old Zurcher place. Mr. Hancock was so grateful for the extra profit from our cattle drive that he gifted Luke with a hundred head of longhorns to seed his own herd.”

  A numb realization stole over Emma. Luke lived not ten miles from here? And he’d given up the trail and his plan to buy his family farm in Texas? She set her spoon down, the dessert untasted.

  “I wondered if you knew,” Jesse said quietly. “He’s been working hard to establish his herd, but his heart isn’t in it. It’s like…” He glanced at Jonas and then back at Emma. “There’s something missing. Or maybe someone. So Griff and I were talkin’, and we think we know what’s missing. That’s why we’re here—”

  She couldn’t take anymore. Emma’s chair scraped across the wooden floor as she pushed back to flee the table. They were all looking at her, and the reason pressed against her like the weight of water against lungs begging for air. Luke had settled a few miles from here...

  As she exited the house, she heard Jesse’s pursuit. She ran to the hitching post where his and Griff’s horses were tethered, and then she stopped and turned to face him.

  “Why didn’t he send word?” she asked, searching his face for the answer.

  Jesse shrugged. “He’s a stubborn, mule-headed cowboy, maybe?” His tone grew soft. “Or maybe he’s afraid of being turned down. All I know is he’s got a big, empty house on that farm, and he’s waiting for someone to help him fill it up.”

  A noise behind Jesse caused him to turn. Papa had also exited the house and approached them with a purposeful stride. His eyes remained steadfast on Emma as he spoke to Jesse.

  “A moment with my Emma, please.”

  With a final look at her, Jesse went back inside.

  Emma couldn’t return her father’s gaze. She lifted a hand to stroke the muzzle of Jesse’s horse. The animal tossed his head and whickered softly in response.

  Papa’s voice cut through the silence that surrounded them. “You still love him, this Englisch cowboy.”