The Captive Heart

by Dale Cramer

  Aaron’s big hands held the child’s bare feet so he couldn’t fall, and Amos seemed perfectly at ease riding high on his uncle’s shoulders. At nineteen months old he was already wearing Amish pants, suspenders and a flat-brimmed hat, his downy hair cut into the customary bowl shape. Little Amos smiled at Miriam, then raised his harmonica to his lips and blew a note, which set him to giggling.

  “Jah, and he’s learning to play, too,” Aaron said, grinning. “Mary lets me borrow him sometimes, and I thought mebbe he’d like to see the show.”

  Micah came rushing back and handed Miriam a shiny bottle of Dr. Lothar’s Amber Nectar. “This stuff is good for what ails you,” he said proudly.

  Miriam smiled and thanked him for the gift. She couldn’t help feeling a little embarrassed that Micah could be so gullible, though she managed to keep a straight face.

  But Aaron, good-natured as he was, couldn’t leave well enough alone. “You know, Micah, I was talking to Domingo just a minute ago—he’s around here someplace—and he told me not to buy that medicine they’re selling. He said it’s mostly mescal, whatever that is.”

  Jake chuckled. “Mescal is a kind of poor man’s liquor the local people make from cactus juice.” Then, when Rachel shot him a questioning glance, his face darkened and he quickly added, “I’ve never tried it, though.”

  “Jah, well,” Micah said, a little indignantly, “Domingo doesn’t know everything.” He said this to Aaron, studiously avoiding Miriam’s glance.

  “Hey, Micah,” Jake said, standing on tiptoe to see over the crowd, “did you see the monkey?”

  “What monkey?” Micah took a long look over his shoulder. Another wagon was parked near the back of Lothar’s. Larger by half, this one had a big mural of zoo animals on the side.

  “They got a cage with a monkey, over in the cattle pen,” Jake said, and Miriam recognized a mischievous gleam in his eye. “It costs ten pesos to get in the cage, but if you can pin the monkey you win a hundred pesos.”

  Sure enough, Miriam could see just the edge of an iron cage in the cattle pen, partially obscured by the animal wagon. There were people gathered around it.

  Micah’s eyes narrowed. “How big is this monkey?”

  “Oh, he’s just a little thing,” Jake said. “About knee high.”

  Miriam saw trouble coming. This was almost like gambling—not the sort of thing most Amishmen would even consider—but Micah harbored a measure of pride when it came to wrestling. He wandered off toward the cattle pen without another word. He might be able to handle trouble better than Miriam, but she could see it coming from a lot further away.

  She tried to call him back, but a little mariachi band had cranked up on the stage in front of Dr. Lothar’s wagon, just four Mexicans in gilded sombreros and matching silver-studded outfits—a guitar, trumpet, fiddle and squeeze-box. They drowned her out, and Micah never looked back. She ran after him, dodging through the crowd.

  By the time she caught up with him, Micah had made it all the way into the cattle pen and was listening with rapt attention while Dr. Lothar shouted the praises of “this wondrous ape.” The black iron cage was about fifteen feet square by eight feet high, and in the middle of the space sat a chimpanzee. He wasn’t moving or anything, just sitting calmly in the dust of the cattle pen with his arms draped over his knees, staring straight ahead as if he was bored. Miriam looked around and saw that the others had followed her to see what would happen. She grabbed Micah’s arm and dragged him off to the side, where no one would hear.

  “Micah, don’t do this! It’s foolish.”

  “Och, how hard can it be, Mir? Why, you heard Jake—it’s just a little monkey. He don’t weigh no more than fifty pounds. All I have to do is put him on his back—”

  “No! These people are cheaters, liars. It’s a trick, Micah. They’ll take your money and you might even get hurt. Don’t do this!”

  He took her shoulders, smiled a patient, fatherly smile and explained. “Miriam, a hundred pesos will buy a few acres of land. My own land, Miriam, and a house won’t cost hardly anything with all the neighbors we have now. We’ll have a good start on our own farm!”

  She wanted to reason with him, to talk him out of it, but she had learned to read the look in his eyes. He glanced down at the green medicine bottle she held in her hands, and right then she knew it was hopeless. Aaron had injured his pride when he said Micah’s “miracle elixir” was nothing but mescal. Worse, Aaron said it was Domingo who told him this. Worse still, he said it in front of Miriam. Now Micah was looking for a way to salvage his pride, and he really couldn’t conceive of losing a wrestling match to such a small monkey. It was a lost cause. She already knew there was no way he would be talked out of it.

  She took a deep breath and nodded curtly. “All right, then. You go wrestle that monkey.”

  Aaron, Cora, Rachel and Jake gathered around Miriam and stood next to the cage to watch while Micah paid his ten pesos, rolled up his sleeves, and left his hat with Dr. Lothar.

  Miriam leaned close to Jake and whispered, “I’m a little angry with you just now. You put him up to this, and don’t you pretend for one minute that you didn’t do it on purpose.”

  The mischievous grin crept back onto Jake’s face. “What? It’s just a little monkey, Mir. What can go wrong?”

  “Plenty. If it’s so easy, why didn’t you go in there yourself?”

  A shrug. “I don’t have ten pesos.” This much was true, but he still had that mischievous gleam in his eye. “Anyways, Micah’s bigger than me.”

  A crowd had gathered by the time Lothar opened the cage door and, with a sweeping bow, ushered Micah into the cage.

  Micah circled the monkey in a half crouch, slowly, arms away from his body, looking for an opening.

  The monkey didn’t move. He paid no attention as the big Amishman eased around behind him, but when Micah was about to make his rush the chimp stood up, turned to face him and backed away a couple of steps. They stared at each other, Micah in his crouch and the monkey standing on all fours, leaning on his knuckles in the loose dirt of the cattle pen.

  Micah’s eyes narrowed, and a little smile curled the corners of his lips.

  Jake leaned close to Miriam and whispered, “I know what he’s thinking. All he has to do is put the monkey on his back, so he’s going to rush him and try to sweep his legs.”

  Jake was right. This was exactly what Micah tried to do, but apparently the chimp had seen it before. The instant Micah started to move forward the monkey charged. He leaped through the air and landed on Micah’s chest, wrapping his hairy legs around his waist before he could react.

  Micah tried to sling the monkey off, but those powerful hands grabbed his shoulders and began to shake him. In a blinding flurry, the chimp shook Micah so hard his arms flopped like a rag doll and his head danced madly on his shoulders.

  Micah managed to stay on his feet but he lost his balance and stumbled backward into the bars. The chimp clung to him, shaking harder than ever, and Micah’s head crashed into the bars. He staggered sideways and his head played the bars of the cage like a xylophone.

  Micah grabbed fistfuls of hair on the monkey’s sides and pitched forward, trying to hold the beast in place long enough to fall on top of him and pin his back to the dirt, but he wasn’t quick enough. The chimp leaped clear and landed on his feet. Micah hit the ground face-first and a little cloud of dust rolled out from around him.

  The monkey circled him, loping on all fours, watching.

  The crowd of Mexicans laughed and shouted, but Miriam couldn’t tell whether they were cheering for Micah or the ape.

  Micah drew himself up onto his elbows and shook his head. The monkey kept circling, even when Micah got to his knees. The attack didn’t come until he rose to his feet. Still dazed, Micah had no chance to fend off the lightning charge of the ape. Before he knew it the monkey’s legs had locked around his waist again, his arms were flopping, the back of his head clanging against the bars.

&nb
sp; As he neared the corner of the cage Micah tried a desperate spin move, but once again the monkey was too quick. Micah hit the ground face-first, his arms empty. After a moment he raised his head and peeked around to see where the little demon had gone.

  The chimp had leaped onto the bars and scrambled up to the ceiling, where he swung casually by one hand, watching Micah spit dirt.

  Micah dragged himself up to a crawling position. The monkey dropped nimbly to the ground and circled him again, loping on his knuckles, watching.

  Micah looked up—not at the chimp, but at Miriam. It was only the briefest glance, and then he hung his head. Beaten.

  The crowd fell silent. A few even walked away, unable to watch anymore.

  The big Amishman didn’t raise his head again, nor did he try to get to his feet, because he had already seen what the ape would do if he stood up. He would not get up again. Crawling toward the cage door on hands and knees, he motioned for Dr. Lothar to let him out. He’d had enough.

  In that moment Miriam’s heart broke. Her fingers came up to cover her lips and she could not keep the tears from her eyes. Even though Micah had brought this on himself, in the end she knew he didn’t really do it to win a hundred pesos. He did it to win her.

  What broke her heart was that he had failed.

  Chapter 16

  Miriam’s school started on the same morning that her father left for Arteaga to pick up Ervin Kuhns, the minister, and his family.

  Right after breakfast the new kids showed up for their first day of school. The five new families had formed a tent village across the valley between the Shrock and Hershberger farms, and sixteen new kids walked across the valley that morning, lunch pails in hand.

  Miriam and Rachel cleared the breakfast table as quickly as possible, then hauled it out the door to the buggy shed and came back for chairs. Kyra showed up with her two boys to help.

  As if things weren’t chaotic enough, Ada sat in the middle of the living room floor the whole time, rocking and wailing. Ada had been doing better lately; she hadn’t gone into one of her crying fits in months. This was an unexpected setback.

  A half-dozen new kids came through the front door and Miriam directed traffic, shuttling the children around Ada, through the kitchen and out the back door toward the buggy shed. Ada, apparently feeling ignored, wailed louder and started banging her head on the floor. Flummoxed by all this madness, Miriam stood in the kitchen pressing her palms against her temples and trying to figure out what to do next.

  “Mamm, isn’t there anything we can do to quiet Ada?” she asked. “What’s wrong with her anyway?”

  Mamm was leaning at the kitchen counter, washing dishes in a galvanized washtub. She looked over her shoulder and said absently, “She has a sore throat. I’ll see after her. You just go on with your school.”

  Ada must have heard her mother, because she grabbed her throat with both hands and launched into a racking cough. When the cough died down she moaned and screamed louder than ever. Mary came in the back door, bringing her boys up from next door for school. She was carrying her newborn in one arm and Little Amos in the other. Amos’s twin, Amanda, trailed along behind, sucking her thumb and holding on to her mother’s skirts. Amos clung to his mother’s neck and didn’t even raise his head.

  Kyra came right behind her, looking for more chairs for the school in the buggy shed. She lifted a kitchen chair and started toward the back door, but stopped when Ada let out a particularly loud howl. Still holding the kitchen chair in front of her, she asked Miriam in Spanish, “Is something wrong with Ada?”

  “Sí,” Miriam said. “Her throat hurts and she has a fever.”

  “I think she’s coming down with a cold, that’s all,” Mamm said. “I’ll mix up some lemon and honey as soon as I’m done washing up.”

  Kyra set the chair down and a look of concern came into her eyes. She tugged at Miriam’s sleeve. “Light the lantern and let me look at her.”

  Miriam put a kitchen match to the lantern, turned it up and followed Kyra into the living room.

  Kneeling in front of Ada, Kyra tried to get her attention, but the big woman ignored her and rocked even harder, bumping her forehead on the floor, moaning. Kyra took Ada’s face in her hands and held her still. Looking into her eyes she said, “Aaaaaah,” and yawned wide to show Ada what she wanted.

  Ada snuffled a couple times, but she finally complied.

  “Aaaaaaah.”

  Miriam held the lantern close. As Kyra peered down Ada’s throat, her eyes grew big and the worried look turned to fear. She closed Ada’s mouth, patted her gently on the cheek and said, “Gracias.”

  Mary, who had watched all this closely, said, “Something must be going around. Little Amos isn’t himself either, and he says his throat hurts.”

  Rising quickly, Kyra went to the kitchen, motioning for Miriam to bring the lantern. Gently, she turned Little Amos about in his mother’s arm so that he faced her, pried open his mouth and used a wooden spoon handle as a tongue depressor. Miriam held the light close.

  Little Amos squirmed and cried, wrenching his face free of Kyra’s grasp, but not before she got a good look.

  “I was afraid of this . . .” she whispered, her voice trembling. “This is no cold. It is the strangler.”

  Miriam shrugged and shook her head, confused. “The strangler?”

  “Sí. I talked to one of the women in the traveling show in the village last weekend. She said they had just come from Nuevo Laredo, where there were rumors of an outbreak on the American side. I didn’t want to say anything because I did not think it would come here. I prayed it was not true.”

  “But what is it? What are you talking about?”

  “The woman said the gringo name for it, but I cannot say it. It was dip . . . dip . . .”

  Miriam’s eyes widened. “Diphtheria?”

  Kyra nodded. “Sí. Diphtheria. That was the word.”

  Their Spanish eluded Mamm, but she heard the word diphtheria. Her fingers bit into her prayer kapp and she moaned loudly, plunking heavily into the chair Kyra had left in the middle of the kitchen.

  “Are you sure?” Miriam asked.

  “Sí, I have seen it before. There was an outbreak near Agua Nueva last year and one of my little cousins died.” She wiggled a finger at her throat. “The strangler leaves a gray coating in the throat, like leather. Both of them have it.”

  Miriam took a deep breath and tried to think. Her first duty was to her mother, so she knelt in front of Mamm and translated what Kyra had told her.

  Mamm covered her face and began to wail, rocking back and forth in the chair, just like Ada. “Oh, what will we do?”

  Miriam looked to Rachel. “Go get Aaron,” she said quietly. “He’s in the barn.” In Caleb’s absence, Aaron was the man of the house. As Rachel went out the door, Miriam turned to Kyra as calmly as she could, her hands clasped in front of her. She had no knowledge of diphtheria—only that it was very bad.

  “What will happen now?” she asked, in Spanish.

  “The fever will get worse and the throat will swell. Sometimes there are sores on the skin.”

  Kyra averted her eyes then, and Miriam knew there was more. Something she did not want to say.

  “And then?”

  Tears formed in Kyra’s dark eyes. “The throat swells shut and cuts off the wind. It is a terrible death.”

  Miriam took a deep breath and fought for control, for her mother’s sake.

  “They will die?”

  Kyra nodded slowly and dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. “Perhaps Ada will live, but the little one . . . It is much worse for children.”

  Miriam steeled herself, summoning strength she wasn’t sure she possessed. Think.

  Aaron stormed through the back door and rushed to Miriam’s side with Rachel right behind him. He reached out without a word and took Little Amos from his mother.

  “Rachel said something is wrong with Little Amos,” he said. The boy wrapped his arms ar
ound his uncle’s neck and laid his head on a shoulder. Aaron touched a rough hand to the forehead and a deep worry lined his face. “He’s feverish. What is it?”

  “Diphtheria,” Miriam said. “Little Amos and Ada both have it.”

  Aaron’s face blanched ash gray and his eyes widened in terror, but within seconds something came over him. It was a subtle thing, but suddenly he looked very much like his father—that iron resolve.

  He spoke to Kyra in Spanish. “What must we do?”

  Mamm wailed again. Without looking, Aaron reached back to squeeze her shoulder, and she quieted.

  “Think, Kyra. Tell us what we should do.” His calm tone commanded focus.

  Kyra took a deep breath and blew it out. “First, you must close the school, Miriam. Send the children home quickly. The disease is very contagious. Everyone should stay in their own house for a time and not move about. Boil water, wash everything, then iron it. Do not share dishes. Don’t drink from the dipper at the well. Mary should leave Little Amos here, since the strangler is already in this house and there are no other little ones here. Your mother can care for him. Mary must keep her other children away.”

  “But what can we do for this one?” Aaron asked. “How do we make him better? Surely there is a home remedy you or some of the other local women know about. There must be something!”

  He was almost shouting. His eyes had grown hard and fierce, and everyone in the room fell silent because they knew why. He was thinking of the other Amos, his own twin brother whom he had loved more than life itself, who died of the Spanish flu. Aaron would not live through that again. He would move heaven and earth first.

  Kyra shook her head and averted her eyes, unable to face his intense glare. “Not here. In the city there are doctors with medicine, an antitoxin that might save them, but by the time you get them to Mexico City or Monterrey it will be too late.”

  “Another place then. There must be medicine someplace closer. Think, Kyra.”

  Suddenly Kyra’s face lifted, a ray of hope. “My cousin! Agua Nueva! There was an outbreak only last year, and there is a doctor in Agua Nueva. He has seen the strangler before, so perhaps he still has medicine!”