by Jan Drexler
Jacob cleared his throat as he pulled his thoughts back from the edge of the darkness. Hansli was gone and no one would ever replace him. This little brother, this Peter, he was too young. He wasn’t really a brother. Not like Hansli had been. Besides, Peter had William. At twenty years old, Jacob had no time for little boys.
Margli came up to them slowly, braiding another garland for the sheep. She had made dozens of them today. But they kept her busy. Girls always seemed to find silly things like that to do.
The sheep started moving on down the road as they grazed and Jacob followed. He’d let them graze until they reached a stream, then he’d let them drink and rest for a while.
“Peter, go catch up with the wagons. Tell Daed that we’re going to rest the sheep and we’ll catch up later.”
When Peter came back, Mattie was with him, along with Johanna, Naomi, and Hannah. They giggled as they came toward him, hiding their mouths in their hands as they whispered to each other.
“What are you girls up to?” Jacob kept his eyes on Mattie. She seemed to be the ringleader among them.
“Nothing,” Johanna said. “Mattie told us how much fun it was to herd the sheep, so we thought we’d come help you.”
“There isn’t enough work to keep all four of you busy this afternoon.”
“Who says we want to be busy?”
Johanna’s smile was different from her usual look. Jacob took another glance at her. The sad eyes and the worry lines on her forehead had disappeared. She almost looked pretty.
The sheep took no notice of them, but grazed in the soft grass along the road. The rich spring grazing would do them and their coming lambs good. Even with the traveling, they should all have healthy lambs. Mamm was a different worry.
Mattie and Naomi sat with Margli in the grass, weaving even more dandelion garlands. Jacob wandered over to where Hannah and Johanna were perched on some boulders. He sat in the grass near their feet, facing the flock.
“Hannah, I don’t know how to ask this . . .”
“I’m not taking care of the sheep for you, Jacob.”
His face grew hot. “That’s not what I meant.” He laid his crook down. “It’s about Mamm. Is she all right?”
Hannah stilled. “You’ve seen it too?”
“She is tired all the time, and short of breath.”
“I’m afraid this trip is too hard for her, even riding in the wagon.” Hannah drew circles on her knee with her finger.
Johanna looked from one of them to the other. “She’s only having a baby, isn’t she? There’s nothing to worry about.”
Hannah sighed. “Ja, and Liesbet was only having a baby.”
Jacob kept his eyes on the grass stems bent under Hannah’s toes. She moved her feet, and the blades sprang back up, one by one.
“Liesbet was ill.” Johanna leaned toward them. “You don’t have to worry about your mamm.”
Hannah shook her head. “But she wasn’t like this with William. We didn’t even know she was expecting a little one until just before he was born. But this time, she’s so . . . so . . .”
“Big.” Jacob finished her sentence. “And awkward. She has trouble keeping her balance. I’ve never seen her like this before.” He plucked a grass blade. “Should we say something to Daed?”
“I have already,” Hannah said. “He’s worried too. But he’ll think of something to do. He knows best when it comes to taking care of Mamm.” She straightened with a sigh. “And we have the other women to help. Mary Nafsinger is a midwife, and Mamm talks to her nearly every day. I don’t know what else we can do.”
“We’ll watch her and take care of her.” Jacob looked up at Hannah. The corners of her mouth trembled as she met his eyes. “She’ll be all right. She has to be.”
On the second evening, the group stopped for the night near a stream at the foot of the small range of mountains on the western edge of Somerset County. Jacob joined the men as they surveyed the road stretching in front of them, disappearing behind the soft mound of a tree-covered slope.
“The grade is gentle enough,” said Yost Bontrager. “We should have no trouble on Monday morning, with the horses fresh after a rest over the Sabbath.”
“We’ve climbed quite a ways already.” Eli Schrock gestured behind them, where the rolling hills fell away toward Somerset and Brothers Valley beyond. “The rise has been so gradual that we’ve scarcely noticed.” He turned to look at the mountains looming above them to the west. “Monday’s road will be different, though.”
“Ja, ja, ja.” Daed ran his thumbs up and down his suspenders. “Take it one step after the next. But worry about tomorrow just wastes today’s time.”
Jacob gathered the sheep together in a grassy spot near the road. While they settled into their grazing, Jacob took a seat on a fallen log and watched the families set up camp. After even this short time on the road, the folks from the scattered valleys had become one community. Andrew, Josef, and the other young men unharnessed the horses and put them on picket pins away from the wagons, while the older men made a community campfire for cooking. Mattie and Johanna helped the children find ways to help, while the women started the supper preparation.
Mattie’s brother, Henry, had been given the responsibility of the four milk cows the families were taking to Indiana. Tethered to the back of the wagons as they traveled, the cows walked along easily. And then Henry was the one who cared for them during the noon hour and at night, making sure they had water and plenty of grass for grazing. He also milked the cows morning and night, a job that Mattie or one of the other women shared with him as they had time.
Jacob pulled a grass stem and twirled it between his fingers, watching the boy. He remembered Henry from years ago when the Schrocks lived on the Conestoga. Henry and Hansli had been playmates. The two of them had looked so much alike, with their bowl-cut straight blond hair and blue eyes. If he closed his eyes, he could see the two little boys playing in the creek, chasing frogs, and sometimes catching them.
But then Hansli had died.
The diphtheria hadn’t touched the Schrock family, or the Hertzlers or Bontragers. Out of the Amish families living along the Conestoga, only the Yoders had contracted the illness when the epidemic traveled from one home to another in random leaps from Mennonite families to Dunkard to Lutheran. Only the Yoders had lost so many of their little ones. Jacob wrenched the grass stem into two pieces and threw it aside.
Maybe it had been a good thing that the Schrocks had moved to Somerset County when they did, because Jacob had found himself hating the sight of Henry. Every church Sunday, the little boy would seek him out for some reason, but Jacob couldn’t stand to be around him. He didn’t need that constant reminder of his brother.
Even now, watching Henry as he picketed the cows in the lush grass, he only saw the kind of boy Hansli would have grown into. Would he be as tall as Henry? As quick to laugh? Jacob turned back to the sheep, his eyes blurred. What would his life have been like if Hansli hadn’t died?
By the time supper was ready, the sheep had eaten their fill and settled down in the shaded spot between the wagons and the stream. Jacob left them and stepped into the circle just as the community joined together in prayer for the meal. After filling his plate with chicken broiled over the open fire and dried apples, Jacob sat on one of the benches that had been placed around the fire, positioning himself so he had a view of the sheep between two of the wagons. Mattie and Naomi came to sit with him, followed by Henry.
“You look lonely over here, Jacob.” Mattie sat next to him, leaving room beside her for Naomi. Henry sat on Jacob’s other side.
“Not really lonely, but company is always welcome.”
“Do you remember Henry?” Naomi leaned forward to see around Mattie as she spoke. “He was so little when we moved to Brothers Valley, but he says he remembers you.”
Jacob turned to the young man next to him, nearly as tall as he was, but thin and long legged as a colt. His hair had darkened over the year
s, but it was still straight as corn silk. “For sure, I remember you.” He stopped as his throat grew tight. Swallowing, he went on. “You were good friends with my brother.”
Henry looked down at his plate. “That’s right. I still miss Hansli.” He looked up into Jacob’s eyes. “I would imagine you do too, even though it’s been a long time.” Henry’s face was tight with caution.
“Do you remember very much from those days?”
Henry grinned. “I remember that you always chased us away from the hen house when we tried to play there.”
It was Jacob’s turn to grin. “You were a couple of rascals.”
“I remember, too, that you and Hansli planned to build a bobsled in the winter. I remember we talked about it in the barn one day.” Henry stopped and ducked his head. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up that day.”
The day before Hannah got sick. The last day he and Hansli played together. “It’s all right, Henry. It was a good day to remember.”
“Do you think . . . ?” Henry rubbed at his chin. “Do you think if Hansli was here now, we’d still be friends?”
Jacob squeezed the boy’s shoulder. Henry was the only boy his age in the party, and he must be lonely at times. “I’m sure you would be.” He looked sideways at the young hands tearing crumbs off a piece of bread. “I think the three of us would have been good friends, don’t you?”
Henry looked at him. “I think so.” He grinned. “Maybe I could help you with the sheep sometimes.”
“And leave the cows?”
“I only need to take care of them a few times a day. Other than that, I don’t have much to do.”
Jacob nodded. “You’re welcome to help with the sheep whenever you like. Do you know much about them?”
Henry shook his head. “Only what I’ve seen you do. We’ve never had sheep on our farm. They need to browse as they walk, right?”
“I need them to walk steadily, but not strain them. The ewes are all due to drop their lambs soon.”
“Are they a special kind? I’ve never seen ones that look like them.”
Jacob glanced at Mattie and Naomi, afraid they might feel ignored, but they were holding their own conversation. “They’re a breed called Leicester Longwools. My grandfather bought the first pair for our farm, and we’ve been raising them ever since. Their wool has longer fibers than other sheep, and that makes the cloth Mamm weaves softer than other wool cloth.”
They continued discussing the sheep and their care until the younger children were called to their beds and Naomi left the group to help with her nephews and nieces. Then Andrew, Johanna, Hannah, and Josef came to join them and the talk turned to the road ahead. Jacob watched Mattie as they talked. Her eyes continually went to the mountains above them. She had said something about crossing those mountains, hadn’t she? Whatever it was, she looked like she could hardly wait to get to the top. She would have to, though. Tomorrow was the Sabbath, and they would be resting in this campsite all day.
After the talk slowed to a comment here and there, and the fire died down to coals, Andrew started singing a song from the Ausbund and the rest of them joined in. The song spoke of sacrifice, dedication, and God’s care. As they sang, Jacob felt Mattie lean toward him and he drank in her profile. If the rest of the journey continued on as well as the first two days had, he couldn’t ask for anything better.
7
The first Sabbath morning on the road dawned clear and cool, with drops of dew clinging to the leaves on the huckleberry bushes at the edge of the campsite. Mattie brushed through them on the way to the stream with Naomi, soaking her skirts.
“Too bad it isn’t June,” Naomi said, tugging at a branch resplendent with blossoms. “We could have huckleberry pie for supper.”
“By June we’ll be in Indiana and we can pick berries there.” She grinned at Naomi. “Pie, and blueberry buckle, and dried berries for the winter. I can taste them already!”
Naomi pulled at her dragging skirts. “If we ever get there. My skirts are so wet from the dew that I might just melt into the ground.”
“Why are you so grouchy this morning?” Mattie reached for Naomi’s hand, pulling her along. “Your dress will dry in no time.”
“Am I grouchy? I guess I just didn’t sleep well.”
“You should have stayed with us around the fire last night. We had so much fun talking, and then Andrew started the singing.”
“I know. I heard you.”
Mattie glanced at her sister. Naomi’s face was as stormy as the sky was clear. Something was bothering her, for sure.
They reached the stream and Mattie dipped her pails in the clear water, then waited for Naomi to fill hers. She lifted her face up to the sunbeams dancing between the branches of the trees overhead. On a day like today, she could climb the highest mountains. When they left this campsite tomorrow, they would follow the well-worn road to the top of the western mountains. After all the years of wondering what the other side was like, she would finally find out. But not today, on the Sabbath. No traveling on this beautiful day. That joy would have to wait.
By the time they returned to the campsite, the fire was burning well and the older women had the big cast-iron skillet on its tripod, filled with sausages. Mattie put one pail of water on a bench with Naomi’s and poured the other one into the big coffeepot. She reached for the bail to hang it over the fire, but a strong hand took it from her.
“I’ll get that for you.”
She looked into Jacob’s face, freshly shaved and scrubbed, his hair still dripping from his morning wash, and let him hoist the heavy pot to the hook over the hottest part of the fire.
“Denki.”
He smiled at her. The sun behind his head turned the wet curls around his ears into a ring of sparkling light. “I’m going to help Henry milk the cows while breakfast is cooking. Will you be helping too?”
Mattie flushed as she remembered how close she had felt to Jacob that first evening as they milked the cows together in the barn back in Brothers Valley. It was less than a week ago, and yet it seemed so far away.
“I’m needed here, helping with the little ones.”
Jacob took a step away. “Ja, well, I thought . . .” He stopped and rubbed the back of his neck. “I thought we could keep each other company while we worked.”
Beyond him, Mattie caught sight of Andrew filling the feedbags for the Bontrager team. “Henry will be there. I have too much to do.”
He took another step away. “Then I’ll see you later.”
He turned toward the meadow where the cows had been picketed, catching his foot in the long grass and nearly falling as he went. Mattie couldn’t help a giggle escaping before she covered her mouth. Jacob didn’t turn back, but continued on his way, the back of his neck as red as if it was sunburned.
Johanna stepped up next to her. “You’re so mean to him.”
“What do you mean?”
“He just wanted to spend some time with you. If he had asked me to milk the cows with him, I would have jumped at the chance.”
Mattie eyed her friend. Johanna still watched Jacob as he made his way toward the milk cows. “Are you sweet on him?”
Johanna blushed and ducked her head. “I was once, but I’m not so sure now.”
“Why?”
“All the way to Somerset County from home, he didn’t pay any more attention to me than he did before we left. I’ve always thought we were made for each other, since our mothers were best friends, and his sister and I have always been friends too. But I might as well not exist, as far as he’s concerned.”
“I’m sure he knows you exist.”
Johanna sighed, crossing her arms at her waist. “He knows I exist, but he doesn’t think I’m anything special. Just one of Hannah’s friends.” She turned toward Mattie. “But you—he looks at you the way I’ve always wanted him to look at me.”
Mattie bit her lower lip. “He doesn’t look at me in any different way than anyone else.”
&n
bsp; “You don’t see it, do you?” Johanna rubbed her upper arms against a chilly breeze from the north. “He looks at you like he has known you since he was born and wants to know you for the rest of his life.”
“You’re such a romantic.” Mattie squeezed her friend’s shoulders. “But if you want him to notice you, I’ll stay out of the way.” Even as she said the words, her stomach gave a small flip. She would hate to ignore Jacob for the rest of the trip.
“Don’t worry about it.” Johanna smiled as she looked toward the field on the other side of the wagons where the horses grazed. “There is more than one good-looking boy on this trip.”
“You’re talking about Andrew Bontrager.”
“For sure. You probably haven’t noticed him since you’ve grown up with him, but I think he’s pretty special.”
Mattie laid her hand on Johanna’s arm. “I need to tell you something about Andrew. He isn’t exactly . . . well, I’m not sure he’s ever going to get married and settle down.”
“Why not?”
“You’ve seen how all the girls like him.”
Johanna nodded.
“He likes all the girls too.”
“Has he ever taken you out?”
Mattie laughed. “Too often. I’ve gone riding with him in the spring wagon all around Brothers Valley. He knows the best quiet, secluded spots to rest the horses.” When a frown crossed Johanna’s face, Mattie squeezed her friend’s arm. “And I’m not the only girl he’s taken to those places. He isn’t one to get serious about a girl. Do you know what I mean?”
“I think I do. But maybe he’ll meet someone who will change his mind someday.”
Mattie gave Johanna’s arm another squeeze as she turned to find Mamm. “Maybe he will.”