Wonderful Lonesome

by Newport, Olivia

  Was that not a commitment strong enough even for Abigail Weaver?

  Ruthanna could hardly believe the difference the last three weeks had made in her girth. After months of feeling sick to her stomach most of the time, the sensation settled at last. She made one batch of biscuits after another and fed her ravenous appetite with them while the baby kicked to make his presence known almost incessantly. When the motions stilled, alarm flashed through her, but she reminded herself that even a babe yet in the womb would sleep at some point. Her gait reminded her of a waddling duck, but she reveled in the movement, perhaps even exaggerating it. Well past the halfway point of her pregnancy, she had begun to realize she would miss the wonder of a child growing within her. So many weeks were consumed with worry for Eber rather than rejoicing together in this mysterious fruit of their love. She wished she had savored more.

  Eber was better. He was. But he was not well. He learned to pace himself so that he did not fall into exhaustion and have to return to bed for days at a time, but his energy was not what it had been. When he sat across the table from her, his shoulders stooped. His hand went to his stomach in moments of pain. In his workshop in the barn he sat on a stool rather than stand. After supper, when he read aloud from the German Bible, sometimes she could barely hear him. Then he went to bed earlier than Ruthanna had ever known him to do.

  The baby would help. Ruthanna rubbed her firm, expanding middle. Eber would hold their child in his arms and dream beyond the future he could see now. This would spur him to new strength. They would warm themselves at the stove and pass the baby back and forth while one or the other of them tended to chores and they waited for the winter to pass. At Christmas they would remember the birth of God’s Son by cradling their own child in love. Spring would come and they would find the money to buy new seed, even if they had to borrow it. They would plant. They would harvest. They would build. Day after day Ruthanna focused her energy on believing this.

  Still, in the night as she listened to Eber’s erratic breathing, Ruthanna’s heart clenched. Gottes wille. Why would it be God’s will for Eber to be ill? She knew she ought to rest in God’s will, and she did not confess even to Abbie that this troubled her. A minister might be able to answer her question, but whom could she ask? Jake Heatwole was a warm, generous man, but he was a Mennonite. Ruthanna lacked confidence that she should open her soul to anyone outside the Amish church.

  And who would dig their coal for them? Eber would want to do it, and Ruthanna would worry what the effort would cost them both.

  Willem did not rush the team of horses. They would be working hard enough in a few hours when the wagon was full of coal. He calculated where along the ravine he should begin. All the men had their favorite spots. It was not a question of whether they would find coal. Geology reports assured them their farms were on the eastern edge of the great Denver Basin and lignite was abundant. They had all found this to be true in previous years. The worst of the work was clearing away earth and rocks to expose the vein. Even though the depth to reach coal was only a few feet, the labor of making a hole large enough to work in meant that most of the men brought their sons or relatives to guard an exposed hole while they carried a load home and then returned to dig more.

  Willem slowed along the side of the ravine, wondering if he should have partnered with Rudy as he did last year. They could have looked out for each other. But he was here now and might as well do what he could. He took the team down the slope of the ravine and looked for a spot to claim for his day’s labor. There was nothing to tie the horses to, but unless they were frightened Willem doubted they would drift too far.

  When he got out of the wagon, he took his axe with him. Spreading his feet and bracing himself, he swung the sharpened edge in rhythmic, circular strokes until he began to feel the surface give way. He pounded and loosened and shifted dirt until he spied the promise of lignite. In his mind, he pictured his wagon full and overflowing and then the pile he would have behind his house. Once he exposed the lignite it would be soft enough to break in his hands. At that point he could shovel for as long as his back would tolerate.

  Willem heard the approaching horse before he saw it. Determined not to give way to distraction, he tossed another shovel of coal into his wagon without lifting his head and listened for the sound of the rider passing by.

  The sound stopped. Willem shoveled.

  “Willem!”

  At the sound of Abbie’s voice, he looked up. They had not spoken since the day of the picnic. His last view of her had been a face wrenched in disappointment, shoulders slumped in dismay. Now she sat erect and controlled on her horse.

  “You look well,” he said. The sun magnified the light in her wide brown eyes.

  “As do you.” She looked around. “Are you working alone?”

  “For today.” He took advantage of the interruption to wipe his dripping face.

  “Reuben could help you.”

  “Your brother must have a list of chores taller than he is.” Willem jabbed the point of his shovel, and lignite tumbled out of the wound he made in the earth.

  “My father has three sons,” Abbie said. “I’m sure he can spare one of them for a few hours.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind the next time I come out to dig.”

  “I’m on my way home now. I’ll tell Reuben you’re here. I’m sure he will come.”

  Willem nodded. Reuben was good company, even if he was easily distracted.

  Willem waved up at Reuben. Abbie must have gone straight home and urged her brother to hurry to the ravine.

  Reuben slid off his horse and peered down.

  “Did you bring any tools?” Willem asked.

  “A shovel. Abbie didn’t say to bring anything else.”

  Willem tossed another shovelful of coal into the wagon. “That will be fine. I have an axe.”

  “Should I bring my horse down?”

  “Maybe later. Right now it would make things crowded.”

  “Be right down.”

  Willem jabbed at the vein of coal with the point of his shovel, testing the resistance of the next section. Behind him he heard Reuben controlling his slide down the slope of the ravine, his shovel sometimes thudding against the wall of dirt.

  “Did you help your daed last year?” Willem looked at the boy out of the side of his eye as he raised his shovel once again.

  “Once.”

  “So you know what to do?”

  Reuben nodded. “You already have the hole exposed. That’s the hard part, right?”

  “It’s all hard.” Willem reached for his axe. “You dig out the coal you can see. I’m going to try to widen the hole so we both have room to work.”

  “Your wagon is more than half full already.” Reuben probed the vein with his fingers.

  “I’ve been here quite a while.” Willem paused to run the rag over his face again. He could not go more than five minutes without sweat dripping into his eyes and blurring his sight.

  “Maybe you should have some water.”

  “Later.” Willem laid his shovel down and picked up the axe, bracing again to swing it at the side of the ravine.

  They fell into a pattern, swinging in opposite rhythms and keeping their hands out of the way of descending implements. Widening the hole seemed to be less intense than starting it had been, and Willem allowed himself to feel the relief that Reuben’s help would bring to the task.

  His axe head stuck in stubborn earth, as if it knew Willem was feeling encouraged. He yanked on it and pushed the handle back and forth trying to loosen the tool. When it did not yield, he leaned into it—and immediately regretted the movement.

  Reuben froze with his full shovel in midair. “Did it crack?”

  Willem sighed. “Yes.” With one more twist, the split axe handle came free in two pieces.

  “We can still dig what’s exposed.” Reuben emptied his shovel into the wagon.

  “I should have brought two.”

  “How could yo
u know the axe handle would break? No one expects that.”

  “This is going to slow us down.”

  “I’ll come back and help you another day.”

  Willem shook his head and glanced up at the sun. “We still have several hours of good light before your mother will expect you home for supper. Can you stay while I ride home for another axe?”

  Reuben nodded. “I’ll keep digging what I can get to.”

  “Thank you. I don’t want to leave the wagon unattended or have someone else find the hole waiting after I’ve done all this work.”

  Willem removed the harness that strapped his team to the wagon and pulled out an old saddle he stored under the bench. Unencumbered and on his stallion, he could avoid the roundabout roads and gallop across open country.

  Rudy knew Jake Heatwole had left the Gingerich farm. He also knew, from Abbie, that Ruthanna still was nervous about Eber’s vitality. What harm could it do for a neighbor to drop by and see if he could help with something? Rudy threw down a fresh layer of straw from the barn’s loft and spread it around the empty stalls his animals would occupy in a few hours. Then he went outside and whistled for his horse.

  When he reached Ruthanna and Eber’s place a half an hour later, he saw no sign of activity. The barn was closed up. Even the chickens were sluggish in the afternoon heat. Rudy dropped from his horse and rapped on the door, where he could hear Ruthanna’s cumbersome movements within. When she opened the door, he kept his voice low.

  “Have I disturbed Eber’s rest?”

  Ruthanna puffed out her cheeks and blew out her breath. “He’s not here.”

  “Oh?”

  “He wanted something from Limon.”

  “I wish I had known. I would have gone to get whatever he needs.”

  “That’s what I said. He wouldn’t wait. I didn’t even want to ask what it was that could be so urgent.” Ruthanna stepped outside the house to share the small space of the stoop with Rudy.

  “I’m here,” he said. “I may as well see if there is something I can do to help.”

  She shook her head. “Thank you, Rudy. That’s very kind. But Eber is feeling sensitive these days. I don’t want to have to explain to him how the chores got done.”

  “I see.”

  “But since you have ridden all the way over, I hope you will let me get you a cold drink.” She laughed. “Or a lukewarm drink, at least. I have some tea that used to be cold.”

  “I would be obliged.”

  As Ruthanna retreated into the house, Rudy spied the chair that sat out in the yard and moved it close to the stoop where it would be in the shadow of the house. Then he sat on the step and set his feet on the ground below. Ruthanna reappeared with a glass in each hand. Rudy wondered how much time she had left before her baby would come, but it was unseemly to ask.

  “Is Abbie still stopping by to check on you?” he asked.

  Ruthanna sat in the chair. “Nearly every day. And we’ve been into town together a couple of times. She is such a sweet friend.”

  Rudy took a long gulp of liquid. “I am glad you think so.”

  “I cannot imagine how I would get by without her.”

  Rudy had pondered the same question lately.

  Willem wasted no time at his farm, going directly to the barn to pull another axe from the rack and throwing himself astride his horse before the animal had time to even nuzzle the barren ground. As it was, more than an hour would have passed by the time Willem got back to Reuben. Even if the boy had worked steadily in Willem’s absence, they could continue at least two more hours before abandoning the exposed hole. Willem was already calculating when he could dig again. If he went soon, perhaps no one else would discover that he had begun and he could exhaust that section of the vein. He dug his heels into the horse’s flanks and spurred speed.

  At the ravine, Willem pulled up on the reins, confused. He was sure he returned to the same place where Reuben had left the Weaver mare. His wagon should be down below.

  Except Reuben’s horse was missing.

  “Reuben!”

  Willem listened for a response that did not come.

  “Reuben!”

  Willem left his horse and scrambled down the side of the ravine. Reuben was nowhere in sight. And Willem’s wagon was empty, with his second horse content to stand still and swish her tail. Fury rose from his gut. Everyone knew it was unsafe to leave a wagon of coal without someone to watch it. Too many came to this vein for coal who would find it much easier to take what someone else had dug out, not to mention the risk of losing his horse. Even when Amish men were the only ones digging with no English around them, none of them left a load of coal that represented as much as a day’s labor. With two wagons backed up against each other, two men—or even one—could shovel the soft coal from one to the other in almost no time.

  How could Reuben have left and allowed this to happen?

  Furious, Willem stomped out of the ravine and led the stallion back down to harness with the mare and pull out the empty wagon.

  “Reuben!” Willem bellowed at regular intervals.

  When his team had all eight feet on level ground again and the wagon was steady, Willem heard the rustle of horse feet and spun around to find Reuben approaching. He snatched the reins out of the boy’s hands.

  “Get in the wagon.”

  Reuben’s eyes widened. “What happened to the coal?”

  “That’s what I want to know.” Willem tied Reuben’s horse to the back of the wagon. “I said get in. I’m taking you home myself.”

  Abbie handed the pail of slop for the chickens to Levi just as she saw dust swirl up in the lane.

  “It’s Willem,” Levi announced.

  “I see that.” She had not expected to see him after dispatching Reuben to assist the coal-digging effort.

  “Why is Reuben riding with Willem?” Levi asked. “I thought you said he rode down to help Willem.”

  “He did.”

  Reuben sat with shoulders slumped on the bench beside Willem, arms crossed in front of him. As they got closer, Abbie realized the horse Reuben had taken was trotting behind the wagon. At least it had not gone lame. She put her hand on Levi’s shoulder as Willem pulled to a stop in front of them.

  “Is your father here?” Willem’s gruff tone overlooked any pleasantries.

  “Is everything all right?” Abbie looked from Willem to Reuben.

  “I need to see your father. Reuben has something to tell him.”

  Abbie put her hand flat on Levi’s back and urged him toward the barn. “Levi, why don’t you go ask Daed to come?”

  She could tell Levi wanted to ask questions, but he left without speaking.

  “Reuben?” she said.

  “I thought I saw a coyote looking down into the ravine,” Reuben said. “It was a chance to see where the den might be.”

  “I asked him to stay with the coal.” Willem jumped off the bench and paced in the dirt. “I thought he was old enough to understand what that meant.”

  “I am.” Reuben straightened his back in protest. “Not a single person came by on the road the whole time you were gone.”

  Willem glared. “Obviously somebody did.”

  Abbie stepped into the space between Willem and Reuben. “You must both be hot and thirsty. I’m sure that after some refreshment we can have a calm conversation.”

  “Coyotes, Willem.” Reuben set his jaw. “You know what it could mean if we could figure out where they come from. How often do we get a chance to see one in the daylight?”

  “Did you find it?” Abbie asked. Never had she seen Willem so angry, and it rattled her, but she wanted to hear her brother’s story.

  Reuben kicked the dirt. “No. By the time I got up to my horse, it was gone. I figured it wouldn’t hurt to try to track it for a few minutes. I guess I didn’t realize how long I was gone.”

  Ananias Weaver emerged from the barn with Levi at his side.

  Abbie stifled a groan. “I’ll get you both
something to drink.”

  Did you hear?”

  Ruthanna turned from the stove at the sound of her husband’s voice. “Hear what?”

  Eber picked up the damp rag Ruthanna had used to wipe dust from the table before setting plates out and used it to wipe his hands.

  “Someone stole Willem’s coal.”

  Ruthanna’s shoulders dropped. “Surely not one of our people.”

  “I pray not, but we cannot be sure.”

  Ruthanna picked up a spoon to stir a stew of last year’s paltry vegetables, which she had canned, and a rabbit Eber had trapped the day before. “I don’t even want to think that one of us would do that.”

  “Would you rather accuse one of the fine English we do business with?”

  “I prefer not to accuse anyone.” Ruthanna tasted the stew and reached for the saltshaker.

  “Of course we do not want to make false accusations.”

  Eber pulled a chair out from under the table, sat, and started to pull off his boots. Ruthanna wondered if he had stopped to drink anything all day. Was it her imagination that his breathing was more labored than it had been lately?

  “Ruthanna, we must be very careful whom we trust.”

  “We trust God, do we not?”

  “You know what I mean. I ran into Willem at the end of our lane. He was on his way home from the ravine. He made the mistake of trusting Reuben Weaver to watch his load while he came home for an axe, and the boy let himself be distracted.”

  “He must have had a good reason. Reuben is old enough to know better.”

  “You would think so. But his actions illustrate that even people we trust can let us down. For right now, I think it is best if we do not trust anyone but each other.”

  Ruthanna laid her spoon down and took two plates from the shelf. “What are you saying, Eber? Trust no one? That’s no way to live.”

  “I’m doing all the chores now. We don’t need help anymore.”