by Jan Drexler
“And more than anything, Mattie, I don’t understand how you could consider leaving me to go with that outsider, Cole Bates.”
The spiral of pain and regret stopped its downward motion in her stomach and grew hard and hot. “I gave you my promise.”
Jacob’s face turned rigid. “But can I trust you?”
“Maybe I will go with him, Jacob Yoder, if only to get away from your pig-headed, self-centered, overbearing . . .” Mattie stopped, aghast at the words that crossed her mind. She pressed her lips together, staring at his glowering face. “Leave me alone, Jacob. Just go away and leave me alone.”
He pushed past her and she collapsed onto a wet log, not caring about her skirt or anything else, and buried her face in her hands.
Mattie sat among the trees until the tears stopped. She slapped at mosquitoes and gnats, but nothing—nothing—could make her go back to the camp where she would have to face Jacob again.
“Mattie!” Henry’s voice called.
“I’m here.”
She could talk to Henry. He would understand why she couldn’t tie herself down to a farm, and children, and all the work and responsibilities that would keep her imprisoned until she was an old woman. Her eyes grew hot as she remembered the worst part. Jacob didn’t think she was worthy of his trust.
Henry came crashing through the bushes, red-faced and out of breath.
“Come quick. We need help.”
Mattie jumped to her feet, her argument with Jacob forgotten. Something was terribly wrong. Each of her nieces’ and nephews’ faces flashed through her mind. “What happened?”
Henry stopped, gasping. He pointed toward the road with one hand. “We found a house . . . destroyed by a twister, Daed said.” He stopped to breathe, then went on. “The family is trapped. Daed sent me back to get anyone who can help move logs. Mamm said you and Naomi are to come too, in case anyone is hurt.”
“Ja, ja, ja. I’ll get the bandages and medicines.”
The farm was more than a mile up the road, and Mattie’s side hurt by the time they got there. Naomi stopped short at the sight of the disaster. What had been a log cabin was now a pile of rubble. The roof had been plucked up by the storm and thrown to the side as if a giant child had grown tired of his playthings. A cow lay under the collapsed end of the barn, its head buried in the rubble and hind legs protruding like the twisted roots of a tree.
“This way,” Daed called to the men.
Jacob was among those who lifted the heavy logs and threw them to the side. With each log they removed, two more had to be shifted aside to untangle it from the others. Mattie and Naomi held each other, waiting until they were needed, but could anyone be alive under that pile of wood?
A shout went up and before Mattie could move, Jacob had jumped into an opening between the logs. She and Naomi stepped closer, and as the men bent to lift the bundle Jacob handed up, Yost Bontrager passed it to Naomi with a sorrowful look. Naomi’s arms shook as she held the tiny baby, then laid it on the ground away from the commotion at the cabin.
“Naomi,” Mattie said, knowing the answer. “The babe is dead?”
“It’s an awful thing. Horrible.” She grabbed Mattie’s arm as she bent to look. “Don’t. The wee child was crushed. You don’t want to see it.”
Another call came from Jacob in the depths of the house. This time Isaac jumped down to help him, and they passed up a man.
“He’s alive,” Daed said. “Carry him carefully to Naomi and Mattie.”
Elias and Yost brought the man and laid him beside the small bundle of his child. Naomi knelt beside him.
“His breathing is so shallow.”
Mattie knelt on the other side. “He has a gash on his head.” She reached into Mamm’s supply of clean cloths. “We can try to stop the bleeding, but we’ll need to clean it and put a bandage on it.”
Naomi helped her bind a cloth to the wound, but as they did so, Mattie felt the man’s skull give way under their fingers. They caught each other’s eyes.
The men brought another body to lay beside the first bundle. It was the man’s wife. Without a word, Naomi took the woman’s apron and covered her head and upper body.
“So sad.” Mattie slumped on the ground. “The whole family, gone like this.”
Naomi checked the man once more, then joined Mattie on the grass. “Thankfully, he never woke to face the loss of his wife and child.”
Mattie watched the men. “Jacob and Isaac are still inside. Do you think they’ll find more of the family?”
There was sudden movement, and Daed looked toward them. “Mattie, Naomi, we need you.”
Mattie ran to the destroyed house, Naomi right behind her. Daed wouldn’t call them unless they had found someone alive.
Jacob lifted himself out of the hole, then reached behind him for a small child that Isaac handed up. Jacob carried the boy in his arms and made his way toward Mattie, his face black with dust and soot, streaked where tears had flowed. When he reached Mattie, he turned the boy toward her. He was about four years old, covered in ashes and soot. The sleeves of his shirt were singed, and he had a blistering burn on one hand.
“He was in the fireplace.” Jacob’s voice was hollow and strained. “Crouched against the stone of the chimney.”
Mattie took the boy into her arms and wiped his face with the corner of her apron. “He needs water and food. And we need to take care of his burns. We’ll have to take him back to the camp.” She looked at Jacob. “There’s no one else?”
He shook his head. “Isaac and I looked everywhere. We would have missed the boy if we hadn’t heard him crying.”
“Has he said anything?”
“Ne. Nothing at all.”
Naomi handed Mattie a clean cloth. “He probably only speaks English, and we’re speaking Deitsch.” She lifted the boy’s hand, examining his burns. “What is your name?” she asked in English.
“Davey.” The boy started crying and reached for her.
Naomi took him in her arms. “Davey is a good name for a big, strong boy like you. Can you tell me who else is in your family?”
“Ma, Pa, and baby Pru.” Davey looked up into Naomi’s face. “I hid, like Pa said. I hid.”
“You did right to obey your pa. He would be very proud of you.”
Davey laid his head on Naomi’s shoulder and closed his eyes, the tears making him snuffle. “I was scared.”
“Of course you were.”
Naomi bent her head over his, holding him as securely as any mother with her frightened child.
Daed laid his hand on Mattie’s shoulder. “How is the father?”
They stepped away from Naomi and Davey. “He died not long after you brought him out of the house. He was injured very badly.”
Daed turned to the silent group of men who had gathered. “We need to dig graves. We can’t leave them like this.”
“What about the boy?” Isaac asked.
Several of the men looked toward Davey then, but he had fallen asleep in Naomi’s arms.
Daed shrugged. “We’ll have to take care of him until we find someone.”
Davey stayed asleep as they lowered his parents and little sister into the graves, the baby in the arms of her mother. Daed prayed as they stood silently around the mounded piles of earth, and Jacob moved close to Mattie. She leaned into his strength, thankful for his presence even though the angry words from their earlier argument still pounded in her ears. In the face of this tragedy, whatever they had argued about seemed insignificant.
21
Jacob wandered around the destroyed cabin, looking for anything that might remain of the young family’s lives. The little farm, set back from the road and surrounded by trees and swamp, was isolated. He and Isaac had stayed behind as the rest of the rescue party started back to camp, the little boy still in Naomi’s arms. Jacob could see the path the storm had taken from the southwest before hitting the cabin. Northeast of the small clearing in the woods, the storm left a path of down
ed and broken trees in its wake, but then the trail of destruction disappeared. The storm had either dissipated or taken to the air.
“I want one more look inside the cabin.” Jacob lowered himself into the hollow space near the chimney where they had found Davey.
“You don’t think you’ll find another child, do you?”
Jacob looked up at Isaac, silhouetted against the late afternoon sky. “There might be something left. Something Davey could keep to remind him of his family.”
A table had been placed near the fire. Now crushed under the end of a log, it had held a bowl of bread dough. The cracked bowl came apart in Jacob’s hands as he tried to lift it, so he dropped it again. The cradle where they had found the baby listed to one side, and beyond it a chest of some kind lay under the end of another log. He pulled on the logs, but everything shifted and dust filled the streams of sunlight with sparkling motes.
“Are you all right?” Isaac’s voice sounded far away.
“Ja, ja, ja.” Jacob grunted as he pulled the broken chest into the only open space left. “I’ve found something.”
Isaac dropped down into the cabin beside him and they pulled the broken pieces of the lid off the top. Isaac sorted through the objects in the chest. It was small, only about twenty-four inches long and eighteen high, but it was packed with embroidered linens and clothes. Along one edge was a sheaf of papers.
“These might give some clues to find the boy’s family.” Isaac packed the papers away again, laid the pieces of the broken lid on top, and lifted the box. “We can take the chest back to camp with us and look through it there.”
Once they were out of the cabin again, Jacob hefted the box onto his shoulder. Before leaving, he took a last look at the destroyed house and barn.
“Why do you think this family settled here?”
“I don’t know. They should have settled near neighbors.” Isaac started toward the road. “Back away from the road like they were, and with no other farm around, it was almost like they were trying to hide. But for a man to try to make a home out of the wilderness without a community to help . . .” He shook his head.
“Do you think Naomi will be able to take care of that little boy?” Jacob hadn’t missed how much Davey looked like Hansli, with his straight white-blond hair. He was the same age as Hansli had been too.
“My sister has a soft heart for any creature that is injured.” Isaac pulled a fallen branch to the side of the road. “She’ll nurse him back to health.” He grinned at Jacob. “Now my baby sister, Mattie, she’s the one you seem to be more concerned with.”
Jacob felt his face heat and he shifted the chest to his other shoulder, the one near Isaac, but the other man refused to take the hint.
“Mattie’s a fine girl,” Isaac went on. “Not as tenderhearted as Naomi, but a lot of fun.”
Isaac continued, listing Mattie’s good qualities. A list Jacob could have written himself.
“There’s only one thing.” As Jacob spoke, Isaac came up on his other side, the one without his burden. “Your little sister doesn’t seem to like me very much right now.”
“Don’t let that worry you. Mattie is as flighty as a bird sometimes. But when she wants something, she won’t give up.”
Jacob shifted the box on his shoulder. Mattie had made what she wanted very clear, but following her into the West would be foolishness.
By the time they reached the camp, supper was ready. The blue sky filled with a clear light as the sun lowered behind the surrounding trees, and the air held the sweet freshness that often followed a storm. Jacob glanced at the boy, Davey, sitting on Naomi’s lap with a thumb in his mouth and his other hand, the one with the burn, bandaged. The boy’s storm had brought him such pain.
After the prayer was said, Jacob took the plate one of the women handed him and made his way to a bench. He sat next to the chest on the ground and started in on the bean and ham stew. Too many hours had passed since dinnertime.
Johanna and Mattie walked by and Mattie paused, her attention captured by the wooden box sitting at his feet.
“What is that?”
“Isaac and I found it inside the cabin after you left. There are some papers in it that might give a clue to the boy’s identity.”
Mattie’s gaze followed Johanna as her friend continued toward Andrew’s seat near the fire, but her feet didn’t move.
“You can sit with me.” Jacob kept his voice neutral. Their argument still hung in the air between them. “After we eat, we can look through the box.”
She sat down, but kept a distance away. “Naomi was hoping you wouldn’t find anything.”
Jacob followed the direction of her gaze. Naomi sat with her parents, trying to tempt Davey with a piece of cornbread.
“You don’t think she wants to keep him, do you?”
“I know she does.” Mattie stirred her stew. “I’ve seen her with hurt kittens or birds, but I’ve never seen her like this. She wants to be the mother he needs so badly right now.”
Jacob watched Davey. The little boy pulled at the bandage on his arm, fussed, and turned away from the offered food. That burn had looked ugly from the glimpse Jacob had gotten of it. A person could die of a burn like that if it became infected.
“She shouldn’t get too attached to the boy.” Jacob watched the worried frown deepen on Mattie’s forehead. “Little ones are fragile. You never know when they’re going to take a turn for the worse and die.”
Mattie turned to stare at him. “You’re awfully callous about it.”
He shrugged. “It’s the way it is. Children die. They do it all the time.” A sharp pain inside made him wince, like picking at a nearly healed scab. He knew too well how quickly a child like Hans—like Davey—could go from playing to dying from an illness in a matter of hours. He shoved at the hurt place, burying it deep.
Mattie’s soft hand caressed his arm. “They don’t all die.” The warmth of her hand penetrated through his shirtsleeve. “I know what you’re thinking, but Davey isn’t Hansli.”
Staring at the little boy on Naomi’s lap, Jacob flexed his shoulders, working the tension out of them. Mattie could be right. He nudged the chest with his toe.
“These are Davey’s things. Your daed should look through them.”
“All right.” Mattie took the box and started back to the other side of the camp and her family.
Jacob picked up the pieces of the broken lid and laid them on the bench next to him, arranging them in order like a puzzle. The lid had been made of three boards glued together into one piece, but the damage in the storm had split it along the seams. The top had been carved and painted with flowers and other designs, and German words circled the design. He turned his head, deciphering the words on the cracked surface. “Muller.” He traced the letters with his finger. And the date, “17 Juli 1837.” A wedding chest. Davey’s last name was Muller, and his parents had been married nearly six years ago. He picked up the pieces again. Once the wagons reached Indiana and they were settled, he could glue them back together and repair the chest.
Jacob let his gaze drift across the camp to Mattie. Eli had the papers in his hand and was reading them one by one, but Mattie had lifted a white shawl from the chest and held it up. She stood and swirled it around her shoulders, the fine lace draping like spun gossamer over her Plain dress, transforming her into an English girl before his eyes. She lifted the edge of the shawl with her hand, fingers spread to admire the fine work. But when Eli gave her a frowning shake of his head, she folded the shawl and returned it to the chest.
Mattie. Pledged neither to the church nor to him, she was vulnerable to the world’s ways. She had promised she wouldn’t leave, but was it enough? Would she keep her promise? He had to keep her safe, whether she thought so or not.
Cole rubbed at his legs, sore from walking for the last two days.
The matched team of black horses he had stolen in Fremont had been too showy. Too distinct. He hadn’t been in Perrysburg, on the north end
of the Black Swamp, for more than an hour before they had been recognized. He had been in a tavern, sounding out the locals for a horse buyer who wouldn’t ask questions, when some boy had raised the alarm. He had been lucky to escape with his own horse and his freedom, but lost the blacks.
That was three days ago, just before that disastrous attempt to make off with the Amish horses. He swore at the memory, making his bay shy. He’d like to know what kind of trick they thought they were playing. But time was getting short. He had to get those horses soon or give up on them.
He wiped his forearm across his brow, the sweat staining his jacket sleeve. If Darrell hadn’t gone and gotten himself killed, he could have left the blacks with him while he routed out the information he needed in Perrysburg. And between the two of them they could have gotten away with the Amish horses that night. But the fool was gone.
And then yesterday his own horse had thrown a shoe, so he was walking to the next town. Except there didn’t seem to be any. Miles of wilderness interrupted by a farm or an inn, but no one who could re-shoe his horse.
The road was blocked ahead by a fallen tree. Cole had been walking over small trees and broken branches for the last quarter mile, but a tree this large could only have been toppled by a powerful wind. As he approached it, he looked for a way around. On the north side of the road, the trunk was supported by the crown of branches and the space beneath was high enough for a man to crawl under, but not a horse.
Leading his horse around the twisted roots of the tree took him off the trail and into some marshy ground, but he made it back to the road with little trouble. The horse balked at the edge of the verge, but he pulled at the reins until it was back on the road. The big bay limped behind him until Cole stopped.
“What is the matter with you?”
The horse tossed its head. He was a good horse, the best Cole had ever owned. But a lame horse was useless to him.
He went to the horse’s left front hoof and lifted it. The bare hoof was beginning to split along the edge, but a stone caught in the frog was what was causing the limp. Cole pulled out his knife and pried at the stone until it fell out.