by Jan Drexler
Annalise shifted on her pallet, making the wagon sway. She stared at the canvas cover, bright white in the afternoon sunshine. She sighed, the deep breath bringing the now familiar scents of sun-warmed cloth and still-fresh lumber and paint from this new wagon Christian had made last winter.
He had worked so hard on it, wanting her to be comfortable on the trip west. He had made it large enough to carry her loom, the pieces bundled together along one side of the wagon bed. And he had created this pallet for her out of packing cases and quilts so she would have a comfortable place to sleep. Her husband was a loving and caring man. He always had been, since the first time she met him.
Soft murmurs of conversation drifted through the canvas wall from the camp outside. This Sunday afternoon rest was a blessing, but for some reason she couldn’t remain still. She was tired to the point of exhaustion, but couldn’t relax.
She pushed herself to a sitting position, straightened her apron as well as she could, and climbed out of the wagon. She left the circle of the camp and headed in the direction Hannah had gone that morning to fetch water. Perhaps watching the stream would help her relax.
Picking her way through the tall grass, she skirted a patch of brambles and followed the trail of bent grass to the water’s edge. It was a small stream, only a couple feet wide. She could step across it. Or she could have before this babe had grown so large.
Annalise rubbed at the taut side of her stomach, pressing at the tiny feet that pushed against her hand.
“Annalise?”
She turned toward Christian’s voice. He had followed her, always watching out for her. “I’m here, by the stream.”
He came around the edge of the brambles, smiling as he caught sight of her. “I saw you leave the camp, but when you didn’t return right away, I grew concerned.”
“I couldn’t sleep,” she said, taking his hand as he reached her. “I thought a walk might do me some good.”
“The babe keeps you awake during the day as well as at night?”
She leaned her head against his shoulder. “I can’t find a comfortable way to rest.”
“I saw you talking with Mary yesterday. Is all well?”
“She seems to think so. But she also thinks the babe will come sooner than I have been expecting. Perhaps as soon as May.”
“But you told me it wouldn’t be until July.” Christian ran his hand up and down her arm, his touch familiar and comforting. “We won’t be settled in Indiana by May.”
She looked into his face, at the worry lines that had grown deeper in the last minute. “We rest in God’s hands, Christian.”
“Ja, ja, ja. But he gives wisdom to act when necessary.” He shifted, took a step away, and clasped his hands behind his back, staring at the stream.
Annalise watched him as he stood there, this man of hers. So patient. And at times, so wise. They had survived much pain together, with the loss of their three little ones years ago, and Liesbet so recently. She lowered herself onto a log, sighing from the ease of the pain in her back. She rubbed her swollen stomach. Poor Liesbet. She could only pray that this wee babe of hers would live to see the light of day. She turned away from the dark thought that she might be destined for the same end as her daughter, in pain and suffering, with only death for both her and the baby at the end.
The baby inside kicked at her hand again, and she smiled. This babe was strong, for sure. She needn’t fear for his safety. Or hers. The baby kicked again, sharply. This baby could very well be a girl.
Christian sat on the log beside her, dropping heavily and rubbing his beard. “Perhaps we shouldn’t go all the way to Indiana. We could settle in Ohio.”
“But won’t the land be too expensive there? Jacob was planning to buy a farm, and he was expecting to pay Indiana prices.”
“You’re right, the prices in Ohio are higher. We wouldn’t be able to buy as large a farm as I had hoped. And Jacob . . .” He sighed, keeping his eyes on the little stream. “Jacob would probably choose to continue on to Indiana. Josef and Hannah, also.”
“We can’t let them go on to Indiana without us. I couldn’t bear to be parted from them.” Annalise’s eyes filled, as they did so often lately. How could she say goodbye to Jacob and Hannah so soon after losing Liesbet?
“We needn’t worry about it now.” Christian took her hand, rubbing the rough, red skin. “But please, speak with Mary again, and often. She has much experience with these things, and we will rely on her advice.”
Annalise squeezed Christian’s hand. “I will talk to Mary every day, if you wish. But I’m not sure what she could tell us, other than when she might think the babe will be coming, and I’ll be able to tell that.”
“I know. After giving birth so many times, you know what to expect. But this time is different, isn’t it?”
Annalise nodded, even as the overactive baby kicked again, this time on the other side of her stomach. This time is very different.
Sunday supper was a cold meal of sliced souse on pieces of brown bread. Mattie was thankful for the pot of mustard Josef and Hannah shared with the group. Souse wasn’t her favorite meal, but the mustard made it easier to swallow.
By sunset, the young children had been taken to their beds and settled in for the night. Mattie lingered near the dying fire with Naomi and Johanna. Once the evening chores were done, they were joined by Jacob, Henry, and Andrew.
Andrew pushed himself between Mattie and Naomi, making them move aside for him. Her sister’s face glowed in the firelight, but Mattie sighed. Andrew didn’t realize he was only leading Naomi on by this kind of attention.
“You girls have been off by yourselves all day,” he said. “What have you been doing?”
Naomi giggled and Johanna stared into the fire. Mattie was ready to box Andrew’s ears. If he was trying to cause trouble between the girls, he was succeeding. She stood, threw another stick on the fire, and moved around to sit on the other side of Johanna. Let him try to play favorites. She wasn’t going along.
“We took the children on a walk so their mothers could rest,” Naomi said. “We found all kinds of wildflowers.”
Andrew reached across Naomi’s lap and poked Johanna’s shoulder. “What about you, Jo? Did you go with them?”
She glanced at him, and then back at the fire. “You know I did. You watched us leave.”
The breeze shifted, blowing the smoke in Mattie’s face. She scooted closer to Jacob.
“That was a good thing you did.” Jacob’s voice was quiet, his words intended only for her. “I know it was your idea, to keep the children occupied this afternoon.”
Mattie felt her face heat at his words. She hadn’t thought he was paying attention earlier when she had suggested the idea to Johanna and Naomi. “There are so many children in our group, and when left to their own games, they can get quite noisy.”
“Which is fine for a Thursday evening, but not so much for the Sabbath.”
She looked into his face. His smile gave a warmth to his eyes she hadn’t seen since they were young children back along the Conestoga.
“Hello the camp.”
The English voice from behind her made Mattie jump. Jacob’s smile turned to a frown.
“Those Bates brothers again. What do they want with us?”
Daed and Christian Yoder came forward as Cole Bates stepped into the firelight, leading his horse by the reins, his brothers still mounted behind him. Mattie and the others stood.
“Good evening. What brings you to our camp?” Daed’s voice was welcoming, but Mattie heard the note of cautious reserve.
“We’re passing through, and thought we might share supper.” Cole answered Daed, but his black eyes drifted to Mattie, making her stomach flip. His gaze held her as if she was a sparrow and he the hawk who hunted her. Mattie shook off the notion as quickly as it came.
“Sorry, we had a cold supper tonight, and it’s all gone. We’re settling in for the night,” Daed said. “You’re welcome to use our fire, tho
ugh.”
Beside her, Mattie felt Jacob stiffen at those words.
“We thank you kindly for your invitation.” Cole smiled, that black gaze moving from one of them to another. “But with the bright moon tonight, we’ll keep traveling on.” He turned and mounted his horse, then pierced Mattie with that look again. “Since we seem to be traveling the same road, I’m sure we’ll run into each other again.”
He reined his horse around, and then the three men were shadows on the moonlit road.
Once they were out of sight, Jacob said, “I don’t trust them.”
“They’re gone now.” Daed stepped out of the firelight in the direction of their wagon. “It’s time for bed, Mattie. Naomi.”
Before following Daed and Naomi, Mattie turned to Jacob. “You don’t trust them because you don’t know them. They’re different from us, but that doesn’t make them evil, does it?”
“It isn’t just that they’re English. I don’t like the way that Cole looks at the camp, and at you. As if he’s trying to see how much he can steal before we stop him.”
Mattie laughed. “You should hear yourself, Jacob Yoder. I never knew you were so suspicious.”
He fixed his brown eyes on her. “I wasn’t when we were younger, but I am now. I don’t trust him.”
Jacob walked toward the edge of the camp where the horses were picketed, and Mattie turned to follow Daed and Naomi. She held on to the image of Cole Bates standing in the firelight, and a shiver went through her. She had never seen anyone like him, with his sharp features and striking black hair and eyes, and his mustache a thin black line on his upper lip. There was no one like him among the Amish.
When Mattie reached their wagon, Mamm was standing near the wagon tongue with a bucket in her hand, peering into the darkness in the direction of the stream.
“Mattie, take this and catch up to Henry. He only took one bucket when he left to get water, and we need both pails filled.”
Mattie grabbed the pail and headed toward the stream. After a day of use, the deer trail she and Naomi had taken this morning had become wider and easier to follow, even in the moonlight. Up ahead she saw a dark figure in the path and hurried toward him.
“Henry, Mamm wanted you to take both pails. Here’s the other one.”
“You can stop with that Dutch talk, little girl.”
Mattie stopped short on the path. Cole Bates stood in front of her.
“I hoped you’d come this way tonight. Maybe we can get better acquainted.” Cole stepped closer, reaching toward her with one hand. “Let’s talk for a while.” His voice lowered to a whisper as he drew her off the path.
A thrill went down Mattie’s spine. She took another step, then looked back. The path was only a few feet away. “What do you want to talk about?”
His teeth flashed as he took her hand. “Every time I run into you folks, I see you watching me. Why is that?”
She felt her face heat in the cool night air. “I don’t look at you more than any of the others.”
He chuckled low in his throat. “Now, now. You don’t want to lie to me, do you? I see those brown eyes of yours watching me.” He turned her hand over and stroked her palm with his thumb. “You’re different from the rest of those Amish, you know.”
“No, I’m not.” Mattie tugged her hand out of his grasp. “I’m the same as any Amish girl you meet.”
“You want something . . .” His voice drifted off as he cocked his head. “I’ll figure out what it is eventually.”
She shook her head. “I need to look for my brother.” She took a step back toward the path.
“I’ll be watching you, Mattie-girl. I’ll find out what it is you want.”
Henry came up the path from the stream. “Mattie?”
Cole glanced in Henry’s direction, then squeezed Mattie’s elbow and melted into the underbrush.
Henry caught up to her as she tried to control her quivering knees. “Mattie? Who was that?”
“It was . . . it was . . .” She took a deep breath and felt the shivering stop. That Cole Bates was dangerous. Exciting, but dangerous.
“It was Andrew, wasn’t it?” Henry pushed past her with his full pail. “He’s sweet on you, I know he is.”
“Henry, wait.” Mattie ran to catch up with him. “I’ll take the water back to the wagon. Mamm wants you to fill both buckets.”
She traded the empty pail for Henry’s full one, then watched him go back down the trail toward the stream. Cole might be along the path, waiting to find her alone again, away from the safety of the wagons, but Mamm was waiting for the water. She turned toward the camp, then glanced back again. She would give anything to know if he was watching her like he said.
8
When Jacob reached the edge of the camp, he turned back to watch Mattie. Once she had reached the wagon safely, he turned his attention to the horses.
Mattie’s brothers, Isaac and Noah, had stretched a length of rope around some trees when they made camp yesterday evening, enclosing a grassy area for the horses to rest. Jacob walked around the circle, counting the twenty-six horses and checking their halter ropes, tied to the encircling main rope so they wouldn’t wander during the night. If the Bates brothers tried to steal a horse again, they’d find the task to be easy. They could just cut the makeshift corral and lead the string of horses away.
Jacob pushed his hat back and then settled it on his head again. They were too trusting, these Amish from Brothers Valley. If they knew what he knew about these English thieves, they would have secured the horses differently, or set a watch, or something. But they hadn’t watched their sister stolen away by a smooth-talking rascal.
He had watched Cole Bates leave with his silent brothers, but Jacob wasn’t fooled. They weren’t going to just travel on down the road when they had already tried once to steal a horse.
He turned as someone approached from the direction of the camp. He relaxed when he saw Andrew.
“I saw you head in this direction. Is something wrong with the horses?”
“I don’t like the thought of Cole Bates hanging around.”
Andrew peered into the dark underbrush. “I don’t see anyone.”
When he turned back, Jacob expected to see the moonlight flashing on the mocking smile Andrew always seemed to have ready. But his face was solemn.
“I believe you, you know. Those Bates brothers tried to steal one of the horses before we left Brothers Valley.”
“I thought no one took me seriously.”
Andrew shrugged. “What good would it have done to go after them, once they left? The horses were safe.”
“Maybe they wouldn’t have tried to come back.”
“If they did steal a horse or two, would that really hurt us? The church teaches us not to resist when an enemy tries to harm us. Why not just let them take a horse?”
Andrew reached toward the nearest horse, one of his father’s, and stroked its long nose.
Jacob clenched his fists, then let them loosen again. “Because thieves like that don’t stop at one horse. They always want more. Didn’t you see the way Cole looked at Mattie and the other girls?”
Andrew’s hand on the horse’s nose paused, and then moved around to the neck as the animal took a step closer to him. “I hadn’t noticed, but they wouldn’t think of trying to woo one of our girls, would they? Not with all the fathers and brothers around.”
Jacob moved closer to Andrew, lowering his voice. “That’s what I thought too, until a man just like them stole my sister from our home.”
Andrew’s head turned toward him. “Is that what happened to your other sister? I heard that she died.”
“She did. Trying to give birth to the Englisher’s child.”
Andrew stroked the horse. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“I don’t want the same thing to happen to one of the other girls.”
“Then here’s what we’ll do. I’ll organize the men, and the girls will always have someone keeping wat
ch over them.”
Jacob’s fists clenched again at Andrew’s assumption of authority. “I’m not sure keeping watch over them will be enough.” It hadn’t been enough for Liesbet. She had been safe, at home with her family, and had still fallen prey to George McIvey’s plans.
Andrew straightened to his full height, a good six inches taller than Jacob. “Don’t worry about it. Our girls know a scoundrel when they see one. They’ll be fine.” He glanced around the circle of horses. “The horses, on the other hand . . . It would be a hardship to lose even one of them, wouldn’t it? I wouldn’t fight one of the Bates brothers to keep them from stealing them, but it wouldn’t do any harm to try to keep them away.”
“You’ll help me keep watch tonight?”
“I’ll get my blankets and meet you back here.”
Jacob walked around the string of horses as Andrew headed back to his wagon. Andrew was a welcome help, but he didn’t seem to take Jacob seriously. He didn’t take anything seriously. The girls all liked him, that was obvious. It must be his fun-loving attitude.
He stopped on the far side of the horses from the camp. Out here, all was dark and still. The only sound was an owl hooting in the distance. The light breeze from earlier in the day had died down, and the horses stood quietly, heads down and relaxed.
Was he too suspicious? Too serious? He looked across the circle of horses toward the camp. The fire was burning down and the wagons were quiet. Perhaps he should be more like Andrew, ready to forgive and forget, trusting people unless they gave him a reason not to. He glanced into the darkness behind him and tried to ignore the shiver creeping up his back, as if someone was watching him.
Cole Bates had given him enough reasons to distrust him.
Andrew passed between the fire and the horses, carrying his blankets, and Jacob met him at the edge of the camp.
“If you watch here, I’ll settle in on the far side,” Jacob said.
“Why don’t we keep each other company? The horses will alert us if a stranger comes near.”
Jacob shifted. The woods on the far side had been quiet, that creeping feeling just his imagination. Perhaps Andrew was right. He went to the wagon to fetch his blankets and told Daed what they planned, then went back to the makeshift campsite Andrew had set up. He had even started a small fire.