by Jan Drexler
Eli raised his eyebrows. “So, that’s still a topic of discussion here in Ohio?”
“Ja, for sure.” Moses balanced another bite of the pie on his fork. “Some say the whole controversy was settled back in 1837 with the Glades Conference, but others say it is still undecided.”
Jacob Nafsinger, Ulrich’s older brother, laid his fork on his empty plate. “Only you folks up in Oak Grove still bring that up, Moses.” His voice was mild. “The rest of us have no question about it. If a member leaves the Amish church to join with another, it is as much as if he has forsaken his marriage vows. He is to be shunned and put under the bann.”
Yost Bontrager cleared his throat, stretching his long legs out under the table until Andrew and Jacob, across from him, had to shift aside. “In the Glades, including Brothers Valley, we hold to the directives of the 1837 meeting. There are other districts in Pennsylvania who have trouble remembering what the directives say, though.”
“It would be difficult to remember all the rulings,” Moses said. “The ministers at the conference came up with quite a few of them.”
“Ja, well, the directive against bundling is quite often ignored”—Yost stroked his beard—“much to the shame of our young people.”
Andrew shifted in his seat and Jacob looked over to see his face reddening. Had he ever indulged in the practice?
“It is the parents’ job to keep their young people in line,” Jacob Nafsinger said.
Moses pushed his empty plate away. “Sometimes the parents encourage the behavior in order to get their young people to marry early, instead of waiting until they’re in their twenties.” He looked pointedly at Andrew when he said this.
Eli Schrock bowed his head. When he spoke, his voice was sorrowful. “It is a sad day when the ways of the world rear their heads among the faithful in the church.”
Jacob found his head was nodding in agreement with Eli, along with several others.
“It isn’t only the ways of the world, brother,” Daed said. “The influence of other churches can be deadly.”
Andrew rose from the table then and Jacob followed him.
“Andrew, wait.”
Jacob caught up with him and they walked together toward the upper pasture.
“The talk back there made you uncomfortable.”
Andrew leaned on the top rail of the fence, watching the sheep. “It came a little too close to home for me.”
Jacob shifted, but he had to ask. “Did you . . . have you done that?”
“Bundling?” Andrew looked sideways at Jacob. “What you want to ask is if Mattie and I have ever spent the night like that.”
Jacob nodded, his face burning.
“Never Mattie, and her father wouldn’t allow it.” Andrew kicked at the grass along the fence. “But there were always girls who wanted to, and even a couple fathers who proposed it, like Moses said.” He leaned on the fence again. “I have to admit, I was tempted. I thought it might be fun.” His fingers picked at a loose splinter on the top fence rail. “I’m glad I didn’t, though.”
“Why?”
“One of the girls in our church ended up expecting a child. She and Abe Glick got married before they had intended to. They were only seventeen.” He tore the splinter off the fence rail with a jerk.
“I’ve never heard of the Amish in the Conestoga district acting like that. It seems like the wrong way to court a girl.”
Andrew leveled his gaze at Jacob, his brows lowered. “I wish the folks in Somerset County didn’t either.” He stared at the fence rail where a golden wound gleamed in the weathered wood. “All I can think is how hard it must be for Abe and Bethann, starting out their marriage that way.”
“Why did they do it in the first place, when it’s against the Ordnung?”
Andrew smiled, but his face held no humor. “Sometimes I think you’re awfully young, Jacob. Some fellows think the church and the ministers don’t know everything, and they can choose how they’re going to live their lives.”
“But if they’ve been baptized—” Jacob cut off his words, remembering that Andrew hadn’t yet been baptized.
“Why do you think so many of them go over to other churches? Or never join any church? The Amish aren’t the only ones who know the right way to live.”
“Would you do that? Join another church?”
Andrew shrugged again. “I don’t have any reason to, and I don’t want to be separated from my family. As long as I haven’t taken my baptismal vows, I don’t have to worry about it.”
He headed back down the hill in the dusk, leaving Jacob with the sheep. Andrew’s casual attitude hid a troubled man. Jacob scratched the day’s growth of whiskers on his chin. He was thankful for the directives and the Ordnung. Living in obedience to Christ was hard enough, and the Ordnung gave guidelines to make it easier. It looked like Andrew had learned that lesson the hard way.
Even though the rain had ended hours ago, gray clouds still hung in the air. Finally, sunset broke through the scattered clouds to the west. Cole Bates tossed the dregs of his coffee onto the feeble fire Hiram had coaxed from a pile of wet sticks and threw his cup into his possibles bag.
He had lost the Amish movers and their horses. Or rather, Darrell had lost them. Cole had trailed the Amish group along the Ohio River, staying far back so he wouldn’t raise anyone’s suspicion. Eventually the group would leave the river and head into the interior. All the movers did, whether they stuck to the road or took flatboats. But now they were almost to Wheeling and they hadn’t seen a trace of the Amish for days. Darrell was supposed to be the tracker, but he had missed their western trail. That’s all there was to it.
“What happened to the fire?” Darrell dropped an armload of wet sticks on the ground. He looked at Cole, his left eye swollen nearly closed.
Cole turned away from him. He should have given him two black eyes. “It was going out. I doused it.”
“I brought more wood.” Darrell’s whine pushed Cole’s nerves dangerously close to the breaking point. “I haven’t cooked the rabbit yet.”
Cole glanced at the wet, skinny carcass Hiram had brought to the camp. The thing was full of crawling fleas and bloated ticks. “We don’t want to eat that. It’ll make us sick. Hiram should have let it die where he found it.”
“But I’m hungry.”
“Shut up, Darrell. Make the fire again if you want to.”
He left Darrell at the fire, poking at the wet coals and blowing on them, trying to find a spark. Cole made his way toward the river, keeping an eye out for Hiram. He had disappeared after delivering the rabbit to the camp. Probably found a tavern somewhere. Just like him to keep the news to himself.
A camp of movers had set up for the night below the bluff. Cole squatted at the edge next to a clump of bushes and watched them in the fading light. Five wagons with a single team for each. A few women and children. From the looks of their outfit, they were going a ways. They could even be heading to Oregon. But from what he had heard of that trail, a single team of horses would be dead by the time they got halfway across the Great Plains.
Cole watched as the men picketed the horses and fed them each a couple handfuls of grain. The women started cooking fires, each setting up a tripod and stew pot. They were green, that was certain. The kids played wildly, kicking dirt into the food until the women yelled at them to go somewhere else. They ate their meal, and then as it grew dark, they all scattered into their wagons, leaving the fires to go out on their own.
A grin made its way across Cole’s face. No dogs, no guard watching. He was probably saving those folks from a slow death on the trail by stealing their horses. They should thank him.
He backed away from his hiding place before rising to his feet. If Hiram was back at the camp, the three of them could go to the movers’ camp for the horses and light out for the buyer in Pittsburgh before dawn. Or if Hiram wasn’t at the camp yet, he and Darrell could do the job, sell the horses, and leave their brother out of it.
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nbsp; A sudden thought of what Hiram would do if he thought he had been double-crossed made a cold sweat break out. Cole slowed his pace. Pa had given him the job of keeping his brothers in line, but Hiram had outgrown any power Cole had over him. He couldn’t risk double-crossing the man. Pa and some others Cole knew were mean, ornery cusses, but the side he had seen of Hiram in the last week or so showed an evil that Cole hadn’t come across before. He shuddered as he remembered the look on the man’s face when Hiram had twisted the rabbit’s neck. So far, he was on Hiram’s good side, but how long would that last?
He might as well be living with a mad dog.
Walking into the cold camp, he found Darrell still poking at the wet coals.
“You seen Hiram?”
Darrell yawned. “Yeah. He came back a while ago. Rolled up in his bedroll with a bottle that he won’t share.”
The last three words were thrown in the general direction of Hiram’s bedroll, but the only response was a grunt. Cole tried to shake off the cold feeling that had been creeping up on him since Hiram had disappeared that afternoon. If he was already drunk, he’d be more of a liability than a help on this job. He walked over to the tree where Hiram leaned against the trunk, wrapped in his bedroll and with a bottle in his hand. There was some liquor left in the bottle, so maybe he wasn’t too far gone yet.
“I found us a bunch of horses.”
The only answer he got out of Hiram was a grunt, but Darrell got to his feet. “You found them Amish?”
“No. It’s a bunch of movers. Ten horses picketed with no guard.”
Darrell snuffled. “Dogs?”
“Nope.”
Darrell laughed. “Hey, now that’s what I call easy pickin’s. We gonna go get them, Cole?”
Cole nudged the end of Hiram’s bedroll with his foot. “You up for it?”
“No.” Hiram struggled to his feet, throwing off the dirty blanket. An empty bottle rolled with it. Cole backed away. “I’m done with you, Cole. I’m done with you deciding what horses we steal and when.” He rose against the backdrop of the surrounding trees, staggering a bit. A darker shadow against the dark woods. “Give me my share of the money. I’m heading out.”
Cole’s wet palms itched, but he wasn’t going to let Hiram see he was nervous. Darrell stared at Hiram as the big man rolled his blanket into a ball and took another swig from his bottle.
“What are you doing, Hiram?” Darrell’s voice faltered as he looked from his brother to Cole. “Cole’s the oldest. He’s always been in charge. Let’s just go get the horses like he said.”
Hiram ignored Darrell and shuffled toward Cole, the smell of the cheap whiskey and vomit pushing ahead of him. Cole took another step back.
“Come on, Hiram. You know Pa wants us to stick together. Once we get the money Pa sent us for, we’ll head home, and then you can go wherever you want.”
Hiram stopped, swaying on his feet. “I owe your pa nothing. Give me the money, or I’ll kill you for it.”
Cole swallowed, his clammy hands clutching at the purse inside his vest. Hiram’s voice was cold and deadly. Cole had no doubt he would carry out his threat. He pulled out the purse and emptied the coins into his hand. Squatting on the ground by the fire, he cleared a spot in the dirt and divided the coins into three piles. He flinched when Hiram stooped, but the other man only gathered one of the piles in his big hand and thrust the coins into his pocket.
Hiram picked up his saddle and threw it on his horse’s back.
“Hiram?” Darrell peeped like a lost chick. “You aren’t going without me, are you?”
“Why would I want you along?” Hiram pulled the saddle girth tight and turned toward his brother. “Stick with Cole. He’ll feed you, at least.”
Hiram mounted his horse and disappeared into the darkness.
Darrell turned his gaping face to Cole. “What are we going to do without Hiram?”
Cole put the remaining coins back in his purse and straightened. A great weight had lifted now that Hiram was gone. “We’re going to get those horses down by the river.”
He saddled his horse and checked his rifle and pistol. Primed and ready to go. He mounted and started toward the trail down the slope of the bluff, leaving Darrell to catch up.
When they reached the camp, all was quiet. Just as it had been a couple of hours earlier. Normally, Darrell would stay with their horses a distance from their target, holding them so they wouldn’t run off. But without Hiram, Cole needed Darrell’s help. Looking at the kid, Cole couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. Stupid as a rabbit without enough brains to outrun the fox, but at least he could pull picket pins and lead horses without messing up. He tied both horses to a driftwood log at the side of the river and they started toward the movers’ camp.
Cole signaled Darrell to head to the left of the picketed horses, while he approached them from the right. He took a handful of cattail roots out of his pocket and held one out to the nearest horse. Its neighbor gave a nervous nicker, but quieted when he got his own root. Cole pulled their picket pins, then went to the next team. He saw Darrell on the other side of the group, making his way through the horses. Cole hurried to the next picket.
All was going well when suddenly the air exploded with a horse’s neigh. One of Cole’s horses had lashed out at one Darrell was leading, and the rest of the horses balked and pulled at their ropes. Cole grabbed at one, but the line slipped away and the horse ran off downriver.
“What’s going on out there?”
The shouting voice was answered by a shot from Darrell’s direction. The stupid kid had started a fight. He knew if they ran into trouble, the plan was to leave as quickly and quietly as they could. But there he was, firing a second shot from his pistol.
“Horse thieves!” That shout was from another wagon, and suddenly the air was filled with gunshots.
“Stop shooting!” yelled a third man. “You’ll hit the horses.”
Cole dropped the ropes he held and pulled out his pistol. Where did Darrell go? He fired a couple shots in the direction of the wagons and ran toward the spot where he had last seen the kid. He bumped into a horse that was pulling back, straining at his picket line. Grasping the rope, Cole followed it down to the picket pin. But it wasn’t fastened to a picket pin. It was held tightly in Darrell’s fist. Bullets whizzed all around, and he heard a scream as one of the horses was hit.
“Stop shooting!” the third voice yelled again. “You fools, stop shooting!”
Cole shook Darrell’s arm. “Come on, kid. We’ve got to get out of here.”
Darrell didn’t respond and Cole bent closer to the dark form. Starlight glinted from staring eyes.
Cole cursed, then bending low and keeping the few horses left between him and the wagons, he started toward the river and his gelding.
Shots rang out from the wagons and Cole froze. Any noise or motion could betray his position. He thanked his lucky stars the moon was dark and clouds were moving in, hiding the stars. The dark night was his only cover.
Seconds turned into minutes. The horses calmed down. The chorus of frogs started again. He heard movement from the direction of the wagons. The men were venturing out to see what they could find. He had to make it back to his horse before the men discovered it.
He crawled sideways on his hands and feet, crab-stepping to the riverbank. He slid into the cold water, holding back a gasp as it soaked through his clothes. He let the current take him downriver from the movers’ camp as he watched the men’s shadows drift among the few horses still fastened to their pickets. One raised a shout when he discovered Darrell’s body.
Cursing under his breath, Cole waited until he was far downstream before swimming to shore. He made his way to the spot where he and Darrell had left the horses. His horse still stood, but Darrell’s was long gone. Silently thanking the horse’s former owner for training the gelding so well, Cole mounted and started south. Once he was sure he was out of earshot, he pushed the horse as hard as he could before the mover
s made their way that far down the riverbank in search of their own horses. It was too late for Darrell. He had already found his own way out of this mess.
After heading downriver for several miles, he turned the horse up a road leading west, away from Wheeling and away from the river road. He needed to be far away before dawn.
15
On Monday, their third night in Walnut Creek, Johanna found a seat next to Mattie on the log the boys had placed next to the communal campfire.
“It feels so good to stay in one place for a while, doesn’t it?” Johanna scooted closer to Mattie as Hannah joined them.
“Somehow chores seem easier when you aren’t expecting to leave again first thing in the morning.” Hannah tucked her skirt around her legs. “And the children are enjoying the time to play. Did you see them this afternoon?”
Mattie laughed. “The boys sure got wet and muddy building the dam across the creek, didn’t they?”
Johanna looked up at the stars that appeared in the deep blue sky as dusk turned to night. This was her favorite time of the day on this trip. The children were all asleep with their parents, and she and her friends had the campfire to themselves. Every evening as she watched Andrew tell his jokes and lead the singing, she let herself be caught up in his laughter. From the cleft in his chin to his blond hair with the little flip over his left ear, she couldn’t stop looking at him. And when he looked across the fire and captured her gaze with his own—
“Should we build the fire up?” Jacob had joined the girls, and behind him were Andrew and Henry.
“For sure.” Andrew answered for them all. “We want to chase the evening chill away for a while, don’t we?”
Jacob placed a couple more pieces of split oak on the fire, then took a seat on the second of the three logs around the fire and motioned for Henry to sit beside him.
Naomi was the last to join the group, and she hesitated just outside the ring.
“What are you doing, standing out there?” Andrew grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the third log. “You can sit here by me.”