by Jan Drexler
“Wait your turn, Bess. You’ll be fed soon enough.”
A stool was nearby and clean pails stood on a bench along with a bar of soap. He went to the well for a bucket of water, shaved some soap into it, and stirred it with his hand until the flakes had melted. Taking a cloth, he washed the udders and then grabbed a clean pail.
Jacob sat on the stool and pressed his forehead against Schwartz’s flank, letting his hands work in the even rhythm that filled the milk pail without thought. Most nights each family milked their own cows, and he, Daed, and Elias Hertzler would discuss the day’s travel as they worked. But tonight Jacob had volunteered to milk both cows so the men could visit with the families of Brothers Valley.
The bumping and clopping sound of another cow entering the milking house interrupted his thoughts, and he looked around Schwartz’s tail to see a brown Kerry enter the neighboring stanchion. Mattie followed her but stopped when she saw Jacob watching her.
“You’re the milkmaid in your family, I see.” Jacob smiled at her, then went back to his milking before Schwartz got restless.
“We only have the one cow left, so the milking has fallen to me.”
Jacob leaned around the cow’s tail again to watch Mattie settle on her milking stool with her back to him. She washed her cow’s udder and soon the rhythm of milk drumming into the tin pail matched his own. Crouched on the stool, bent into her work, she reminded him again of the little girl she had been.
“Do you still get freckles on your nose in the summer?” The question was spoken before he even thought. What kind of thing was that to say to a girl?
But she only laughed. “Ja, for sure. Mamm says I’ll outgrow them, but I don’t mind. They don’t bother me.” She paused in her milking and turned to look at him. “And does your hair still turn the color of straw?”
He grinned at her and ducked back behind the cow. “Ja, for sure. Not as light as it once did, though.”
The sounds of her milking resumed as Jacob finished with his cow and switched the cows around, pouring a measure of grain for Bess. The first streams of milk rang in the empty tin pail.
Mattie’s voice rose above the sound. “I saw Hannah a little while ago, and Johanna. You didn’t tell me Hannah was married.”
“I never thought about it.”
The sound of her milking stopped. He looked to see her turned toward him. “You never thought about it? Getting married is the most important thing in a girl’s life.”
He shrugged, ready to tease her. “Maybe to you it is. It isn’t such a big deal to a man.”
He ducked as she sent a stream of milk his way. “That’s what you think, Jacob Yoder. My brothers were just as nervous as their brides were on their wedding days. When you and Johanna marry, you’ll see.”
“Johanna?” Jacob felt his face heating, and it wasn’t from the exertion of milking. “What did Johanna say to make you think we are getting married?”
“She didn’t have to say anything.” Mattie finished milking and stood, holding the full pail in her hand. “I could tell by the way her eyes have been following you ever since you got here.”
Jacob thrust his head against the cow’s flank. If Johanna Hertzler thought he was going to marry her, she was going to be disappointed. She might be Hannah’s best friend, but marriage? He’d rather stay single.
He heard Mattie leave the barn as he finished milking Bess and turned the cows back into the pasture. She looked at him over her shoulder. “I’ll show you where the springhouse is. The milk keeps plenty cool there,” and she left him to follow her around the corner of the barn.
He could follow Mattie anywhere. She was fun to be with, unlike Johanna, who looked like she was about to cry every time he glanced her way. Was that what Mattie had meant? If Johanna thought she was in love with him, she had a strange way of showing it.
The springhouse was built over the creek, upstream from where it entered the meadow. The thick limestone walls made the little room quiet and dark. Mattie showed him where he could set the pails in the shallow, flowing water of a limestone trough, and they covered them with clean squares of cloth. As Jacob’s eyes grew used to the dim light, he took in the shelves built into the walls and bins along the floor.
“Did your daed build this springhouse?”
Mattie shook her head. “Daed bought the house and farm from a family that was moving to Ohio. The springhouse is Mamm’s favorite thing about this farm. She isn’t happy about leaving it, but Daed said he could build one in Indiana.”
“Your daed likes to move around, doesn’t he? Didn’t you used to live in Chester County?”
“The folks did, but that was before they moved to Lancaster County. I was born a couple years after they moved to the farm along the Conestoga Creek.”
“And you moved here seven years ago.”
Mattie nodded and grinned at him. “And in a couple days we’ll be moving on, across those western mountains.” She stepped past Jacob to look out the open door toward the west, where light still lingered behind the hills in pink and gold clouds.
“I wouldn’t want to move that often. Once I get to Indiana and buy my land, I’ll never leave it. My children’s children will live on that land for years to come.”
She turned to him. “But what if you find something better? What if you want to see something new?”
He shook his head. “I’ll make my farm the best there is. I’ll work to make it a place to last. Why would I ever want to leave it?” Mattie looked out the door again and he touched her arm to bring her attention back to him. “When I have my farm, it will be my home. Mine and my family’s. Don’t you feel unsettled when you change your home so often?”
She shook her head. “Home is where you make it. So whether it’s here on this farm in Brothers Valley or somewhere like—” she waved her hand vaguely toward the west—“like Oregon, it is still home. I could never be content living in one place all my life, not when there are open prairies and vast mountains that I’ve never been to.”
“There will always be more. You can’t see everything in the world.” Jacob kept his voice low. Mattie spoke of a life with no stability, no community. A life he couldn’t imagine living. “What about your church? A husband someday? Children?”
She didn’t answer, but turned her gaze toward the west again.
He studied her profile. Her chin tilted up, a smile spreading as she drifted into her thoughts. Years ago, she had wormed her way into his life, and the time between hadn’t lessened that bond. Even when they were children, she had been more than his little sister’s playmate, more than one of the girls among many at Sunday meeting.
Jacob smiled at a sudden memory. Mattie’s brothers had gone fishing, and she had tagged along without them knowing. She started across a log spanning the creek, but lost her balance halfway and slipped into the stream. When he came by a few minutes later, she was clinging to the log, the flowing water dragging at her dress. Silent, her eyes sought his, pleading for help. From the moment he pulled her out of the creek and took her home, shivering in her soaked clothes, she had been his responsibility. She must have been only five years old, and he her eight-year-old protector. Ever since that day she had been his shadow, and he had never minded her presence. She was part of his life.
With a jolt, Jacob reined in his thoughts. All the months of planning his farm, he had assumed he would have a family like Daed and every other man he knew. But to have a family, he would need a wife. A wife who would need his protection and his love. He closed his eyes, shutting out the sight of Mattie’s profile, so soft and vulnerable. The soft lap of that dark, brooding sea in his mind lessened as he leaned toward her. His Mattie.
4
Two nights later, Johanna Hertzler kept herself from looking toward the barn as she and Hannah walked arm in arm toward the big limestone house. For the third night in a row, Jacob was milking the cows and had declined her offer to help. He had avoided her more than usual during the last two days as the fam
ilies had rested at the Schrock farm. Of course, she had been busy herself, helping Mamm keep the little boys, John and Lias, out of mischief. And she and the other girls had spent hours together, catching up on the years since they had last seen each other.
But Jacob had remained aloof. He could milk every cow in the world, for all she cared. She had hoped he would notice her on the trip from the Conestoga Creek to Brothers Valley, but he had ignored her during the entire journey. He could have stayed home and nothing would have been different.
“There’s Naomi!” Hannah dropped Johanna’s arm and ran toward her friend, who was laying a basket of bread on one of the long tables set up in front of the house.
Johanna hurried after her. “What can we do to help?”
All of the traveling families were eating one last supper together in Brothers Valley, here in the yard of the Schrocks’ home. The men had set up tables under the trees, and now most of them were gathered around a fire near the well, where the younger boys took turns rotating a sizzling pig on a spit.
Naomi smiled, her right eye meeting Johanna’s. “There are dishes in the house ready to be brought out. Mamm just took the last of the bread from the oven.”
Johanna smiled back. In spite of Naomi’s cast eye, an affliction that caused only one of her eyes to focus at a time, Naomi had never let the condition bother her. When they were children, Johanna hadn’t noticed it. Even now, it was only when her focus switched from her right to her left eye that Johanna remembered.
Naomi’s gaze shifted, both eyes looking at something over Johanna’s shoulder. Her face reddened and her grasp on Johanna’s hands tightened.
“You haven’t met the Bontragers yet, have you? They and their son and daughter are coming with us to Indiana. Their daughter, Sarah, is married to Thomas Fisher, and they have five little ones. There will be a lot of children on this journey.”
“What about their son? Is he married?”
Naomi only directed her gaze over Johanna’s shoulder. Turning to look, she saw a tall young man join the circle with Josef and Naomi’s brothers. The newcomer slapped Noah’s shoulder and shook hands with Josef Bender, Hannah’s husband, but even as he greeted them, his gaze scanned the rest of the group in the yard. When his eyes met Johanna’s, he stopped. His handsome face settled into an easy smile as he stared at her. Johanna felt her face heating. Jacob Yoder never looked at her with such open interest.
“Who is that?” She turned to see Naomi watching her closely. Her friend didn’t even look to see who Johanna was referring to.
“That’s Andrew, the Bontragers’ youngest. Everyone wonders why he’s still unmarried, even though he’s twenty-four.”
Naomi turned toward the house, but Johanna caught her arm. “What’s wrong, Naomi?”
Naomi shook her head, not looking at Johanna or the group of young men. “Nothing is wrong. Mamm needs my help to get supper ready.”
Johanna didn’t let her go. “Something is wrong. Is it Andrew?”
Naomi took a step back.
“Are you sweet on him?”
Her friend bit her lip. “Don’t tell anyone, especially him.” Her voice dropped to a whisper and Johanna had to lean close to hear her.
“How could I tell him?” Johanna whispered in return. “I’ll probably never speak to him.”
“Ja, you will. He’s right behind you.”
As Naomi hurried into the house, Johanna froze. Someone behind her cleared his throat. She put a welcoming smile on her face and turned around. He was even taller than she thought when she had first seen him. He looked down at her with his wide mouth stretched in a grin. His blond hair swayed under his hat brim like a field of wheat blown by the wind, and his eyes were the color of a summer morning sky. Johanna forced herself to breathe. No wonder Naomi was sweet on him.
“Hallo.”
Even his voice was perfect. Low pitched and as smooth as October honey. Johanna’s tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth.
His smile grew wider. “I’m Andrew.” He leaned toward her, dipping his head to look into her eyes. “Andrew Bontrager.”
“Jo-Johanna Hertzler.” Her face was on fire. He had to notice. She had never been tongue-tied around Jacob.
Andrew straightened to his full height and scanned the activity around them. “You’re traveling west with us? You and your family?”
She nodded. “Ja.”
He brought those blue eyes back to her. “I wasn’t sure I wanted to go west . . . until now.”
Johanna’s heart raced. “Until now?”
He grinned. “Now that I see what kind of friends I have to keep me company.”
“What about Naomi, and Mattie? Aren’t they your friends?”
He shrugged. “I’ve known them so long that they’re more like sisters. But you . . .” He winked at her. “You’re a mystery to be solved, and I love a mystery.”
Johanna took a step backward. “I . . . I need to help with supper.”
“We can talk later. We’ll have plenty of time.”
She backed away a few more steps, his eyes on every move, until she turned and fled into the house. She grabbed the first dish she saw and took it outside to the tables. The men were taking their seats, and she could hear Andrew’s voice rising above the others.
“Johanna?”
She blinked. Hannah stood in front of her.
“Do you want to sit with us for supper, or will Magdalena need your help with the little ones?”
“Ne. Ja. I’ll sit with you.”
“Are you all right? You’re all flushed.”
Johanna put her hands to her burning cheeks. “Am I? It must be from meeting all these new people.”
“New people like Andrew Bontrager?” Hannah laughed. “I saw you talking with him. Naomi says every girl likes him.”
Johanna let herself look in Andrew’s direction. Jacob joined the group of young men, but she didn’t let her gaze linger on him. Next to Andrew, he was nothing special. Jacob was solid, comfortable, and boring. Andrew was . . . completely different. She had never met anyone like him.
“He’s always smiling, did you notice that? People like someone who is friendly. I’m sure that’s what Naomi meant.”
Hannah watched her face for a moment as Johanna hoped the redness was disappearing. “Probably.”
Johanna went to join Mattie and Naomi at one of the makeshift tables set up in the Schrocks’ yard, sure that Hannah would follow. So all the girls liked Andrew Bontrager? She could see why.
Mattie savored each bite of her meal, chewing slowly. Daed had killed a hog for tonight’s supper. Since there were so many people to feed, the pig had been saved for their last evening meal in Brothers Valley. It had been butchered and set over the fire early in the morning, and all day long the aroma of roasting hog had tantalized Mattie’s hunger. She remembered the trip from Conestoga Creek years ago. Daed hadn’t wanted to hunt while they traveled since it would only slow down their journey, so they lived on salt pork, beans, and the sourdough biscuits Mamm made each morning. Mattie shuddered and took another bite of the savory pork. If she had to eat salted meat for the next month, she was going to enjoy the fresh roast tonight.
“I hope we have good weather for the rest of the trip.” Johanna cut a potato in two. Mamm had cleaned out the root cellar for tonight’s supper too. “Those three days of rain last week were miserable. I never want to be that cold and wet again.”
“The first night wasn’t as bad. Josef got our fire going, but after that the wood was too wet to burn well.” Hannah smiled, in spite of her words.
Johanna nudged Mattie with her elbow. “That’s Hannah. Her Josef can do anything, she thinks. Even as awful as the rain was, Hannah still kept a smile on her face.”
“Perhaps that is what love does to a person.” Naomi kept glancing at the table where the young men sat with their heads together. Mattie looked over there too. Jacob Yoder’s hat looked just like all the others, but she had noticed that his had a diffe
rent curl on the left side of the brim. It was only one of the things she had noticed as they had milked the cows together morning and evening for the past two days.
A movement near the road caught her attention. Beyond the group of young men, three strangers on horseback watched the crowded tables in the yard. Daed saw them the same time Mattie did and stood to greet them.
“Good evening,” he called to the strangers in English. All conversation among the Amish families stopped.
One of the strangers, a young man who looked to be less than thirty years old, nudged his horse forward. The other two, one a younger man and the other barely older than a boy, hung back.
“Hello. Your supper smells good. Do you have enough to share with hungry travelers?”
Daed glanced at the other men sitting near him. “You’re welcome to come join us.”
The three tied their horses to the fence along the road and jumped over, not bothering to go to the gate. The older one moved with the assurance of a puma, looking from table to table as he approached Daed. When he saw Mattie’s table, he stopped. Mattie blushed and he grinned at her, holding her gaze until she lowered her eyes. His companions circled around the edges of the yard.
“We thank you kindly for your invitation. We’re plumb starved to death. Haven’t eaten a bite since the tavern in Bedford this morning.”
Daed caught Mattie’s eye and she rose from her seat. “Let’s take the children to play in the meadow.” She kept her voice low and spoke in Deitsch to the other girls.
While Mattie and the others started gathering the children, Naomi told Mamm their plans. Mattie paused at the path leading to the barns and looked back. Mamm and the other women set up tubs and pans to wash dishes while the strangers sat at the table with the men, eating the last of the delicious pork. From their grasping ways, it looked like there would be no leftover meat for breakfast in the morning. She followed the others into the meadow where Naomi was already helping the children form a circle to play ring-around-the-rosy in the soft twilight.