If the cow would not come to the water, she would herd him there.
TWO
Lawrence, Kansas
Colin Maddox stepped out of the Lawrence post office and onto Massachusetts Street with the letter he’d been waiting for. It had been all he could do to casually tuck the missive in his vest pocket, but postmistress Betsy Lanham’s prying eyes saw far too much, and her tongue wagged like a rattler’s tail. If the news was bad, she’d see it in his face, and if the letter said what he hoped it did, he’d have a hard time not shouting. The town would know the letter’s contents soon enough and a few brows would lift.
He started across the dusty street, pausing to let a wagon pass by. Across the way an elderly woman exited the general store, a basket swinging from her arm.
“Afternoon, Sheriff.” She greeted him with a regal dip of her head.
Colin tipped his hat with a smile. “You’re looking mighty fetching today, Miz Watkins. Is that a new bonnet you’re wearing?”
“Why, yes. Yes, it is, Sheriff.” A weathered hand rose to hover around the feathers topping a narrow-brimmed hat while her eyelashes fluttered. “Do you like it?”
“I do indeed. Allow me to assist you with that.” He took the parcel-filled basket from her and escorted her a few steps to her small wagon. He set the basket in the back and helped her up onto the bench.
“Thank you. It’s good to know there are still gentlemen in Lawrence. Not many young men these days are mindful of an old lady.” A hard glint sparked in her eyes. “They are taken by the drink and given over to slovenly living.”
Colin didn’t have the time or the inclination to enter into what was sure to become another heated conversation. The emerging temperance movement had the women in town worked into a lather. If they had their way, there was bound to be a war on liquor, and the men in town didn’t cotton to the idea.
“Old lady?” He gave her his most charming smile. “I don’t know who you might be referring to, ma’am. The only lady I see here is as spry as a young prairie rabbit.”
The glint became a sparkle, and Mrs. Watkins raised a gloved hand to cover a giggle. “Sheriff Maddox. I do declare, you are a charmer.”
He tipped his hat again and took a backward step. “You have a nice afternoon, now. Be careful going home. The town is bustling with business today.”
A wagon rolled past, followed by two strangers on horseback. With another girlish giggle, Mrs. Watkins flicked her reins and the wagon rattled off. Colin watched for a moment and then continued on his way, nodding pleasantly at the townspeople he passed. The letter felt like a boulder in his pocket. His future lay inside that envelope.
He reached the jailhouse without further delay, and the noise of the busy street dimmed when he closed the door behind him. With a glance toward the three empty cells, he rounded the desk and lowered himself into his chair. Pulling the letter out of his pocket, he stared at his name in a slanted scrawl across the front.
Sheriff Colin Maddox
Lawrence, Kansas
He turned the envelope over. It was sealed by an uneven blob of wax with no imprint. Unbroken, he noted, though he wouldn’t have been surprised to find that the letter had been opened and read. At times Betsy wasn’t able to corral her curiosity and had been known to announce pertinent facts when she handed a piece of mail to the owner. She would have done the same with this one if he hadn’t made a point of meeting the train and following the mailbag to the post office.
He realized he was stalling. Open the letter, Maddox. It’s no big deal. The letter will either confirm or deny your dream.
He shook his head to dislodge the thought. The Lord had confirmed his dream a dozen times over. This letter would only establish the timing.
Slipping a finger beneath the paper’s edge, he broke the wax seal and unfolded the single sheet of paper.
Sheriff Maddox,
I am pleased to accept the town’s offer of employment at the terms specified in your letter. I will arrive on 24 May on the five twenty train from Chicago.
Regards,
Patrick Mulhaney
Colin leaned back in his chair and let the news sink in. Mulhaney had accepted the offer to become the new sheriff of Lawrence. Colin’s days in the job were numbered.
He fingered the badge pinned to his leather vest while his gaze circled the empty jailhouse. For more than two years this job had consumed every minute of his life. The small room containing his bed and the few possessions he’d accumulated lay just through the doorway on the other side of the far cell. His deputies all had homes to go to, but something had always stopped him from putting down roots in this town. Something or Someone.
Well, Lord. I guess this seals it. In a few weeks I’ll be working solely for You.
In eighteen days, Colin would hand over his badge, pack his bags, and put the town of Lawrence and all of its problems behind him. He would head west until he felt the Lord nudging him to stop.
And then his real life’s work could begin.
An uncontrollable grin took possession of his lips. Before he could stop himself, he launched out of the chair, snatched his hat off his head, and tossed it high in the air.
“Waaaaahooooo!”
His joyful cheer rang in the room as his hat fluttered to the floor. Stepping lightly enough that a passerby peeking through the window might accuse him of dancing, he rounded the desk and stooped to pick it up. All he had to do was make it through the next eighteen days without anything major happening. No gunfights. No robberies. No horse thieves to track down.
Lord, I’d sure take it as a favorable sign if You could see Your way to making sure things go smooth from here on out. The people in this town are good folks, by and large. They can behave themselves for a few weeks, with a little help.
Surely eighteen uneventful days wasn’t too much to ask, was it?
Rebecca rolled the handcart to a smooth stop and set the handles down softly. Nestled on a pile of straw inside, Lucas had fallen asleep with the suddenness common to young children. An afternoon spent romping with Aunt Rebecca had tired the little boy out.
She glanced toward the chairs they had placed beneath a huge shade tree after the meal, where Maummi sat with her chin on her chest. The gentle buzz of her snore bore evidence that Lucas wasn’t the only one who could use a nap this lazy afternoon.
Emma heaved herself heavily out of her chair and crossed the grass toward them, her gait bearing signs of the expectant mother waddle.
“I expected this would happen. He was too excited to nap this morning.” She bent over to pluck a piece of straw out of the boy’s silky hair.
The tenderness of Emma’s smile stirred up a longing deep in Rebecca’s breast. Someday she would look down on her own child with that same love shining in her eyes. She closed her eyes for a moment, imagining what her and Jesse’s son would look like. Dark hair with a touch of curl, like hers. Blue eyes and strong jaw, like his.
She opened her eyes and turned a glance on her sister. “You are so fortunate, Emma.”
“Why do you say that?”
Rebecca spread her hands wide to indicate their surroundings: the house, the nearby fields, Lucas. “Your life is perfect.”
Emma shook her head. “From the outside it may look so, but life is definitely not perfect. I love our home, and the Lord has blessed us with plenty. We have food and warmth and a beautiful home.” Her expression became wistful when her gaze strayed toward the barn, where Papa and Luke had disappeared after the meal to work on a broken piece of farm equipment. “But ours is an isolated life. We have few neighbors. The nearest church is in Hays City, and most of the people there live in town. No one comes calling with a pie or a basket of apples to share over a cup of coffee. Not like at home.”
By home, she meant Apple Grove. Rebecca had to admit that the friendliness of neighbors was one thing she loved about the Amish community in which she’d lived her entire life. Though the farms were spread out, there seemed to always b
e someone to visit, someone to lend a hand when needed.
She peered closely at her sister’s face. “Are you not happy, then?”
Emma’s eyes lit with joy. “Oh, yes! I would prefer having a family or two nearby, but I wouldn’t trade what Luke and I have for anything in the world.” Her gaze flew again toward the barn, and a tiny smile played at the corners of her mouth. “Our home is built on love. It is all I ever dreamed of.”
Gazing at her sister’s face, a sense of longing bloomed in Rebecca. Was anything in life more needed than love? She stooped and plucked a wildflower out of the grass at her feet. “You asked earlier if I fancied anyone. Well, there is someone.”
Though she didn’t care to look Emma in the face, from the corner of her eye she saw her sister’s smile widen.
“I knew it! You’re in love. I could tell by the way you found fault with Daniel and Samuel. Who is it? Do I know him?”
“Yes, you know him.” The flower’s tiny purple petals rested like silk between Rebecca’s fingers. “You’ve met him.”
“I have?” The smile wavered. “What is his name?”
She pulled a petal off and let it flutter to the grass. “I’d rather not say.”
The flower was snatched out of her hand. Startled, Rebecca looked up into Emma’s grinning face.
“Playing coy, are you? Very well, then. At least tell me if this boy returns your affections.”
“He’s not a boy,” Rebecca said. “He’s a man. And I…I don’t know.” Her gaze fell away. “I hope he does.”
I hope he remembers me at all.
“He has not given any indication of his feelings?”
Reluctantly, Rebecca shook her head.
“Hmm.” Emma’s eyes narrowed. “Well, if you truly love him—”
“I do,” she hurried to say. “With all my heart.”
Emma’s gaze softened. “Then you must go to him, Rebecca, and find out if he loves you in return.”
Rebecca risked an upward glance. “Do you really think so?”
Her sister rested clasped hands on her bulging belly and turned a tender glance toward the little boy sleeping in the handcart. “Never let true love pass, dear sister.”
The certainty in Emma’s tone strengthened Rebecca’s resolve. A smile emerged. Find him and tell him of her love. She was old enough now. He was far older, but age didn’t matter.
Her resolve strengthened, Rebecca smiled. “Thank you, Emma. You have helped.”
Emma reached out to give her a brief hug. “Isn’t that what big sisters are for?”
“It is,” Rebecca admitted. “Thank you again.”
She just hoped Emma would feel the same when she learned that Jesse Montgomery was the man who held her heart.
THREE
Winding her way carefully between rows of tender green plants toward the place where her father was staking tomatoes, Rebecca called, “Papa, I brought you a glass of cider.”
Three days had passed since her decision to find Jesse. She could barely sleep nights for thinking of the adventure awaiting her. Lawrence wasn’t that far away, even if it was farther than she’d ever ventured, but love beckoned like a lighthouse in the fog. She performed her daily chores distractedly, torn between two plans. The first involved leaving Apple Grove under the cover of darkness. A daring move, to be sure, but this way she wouldn’t have to defend her decision to anyone. She could explain her absence in a note and be well on her way before anyone read it. That’s what Nathan Yoder did when he left the church. Only she wouldn’t be truly leaving. Just taking a short break.
The second plan was less appealing. She could confess her feelings to Papa and ask for his help. But what if he said no?
If Papa or Maummi or even Bishop Miller refused her permission, then she couldn’t go to Lawrence without defying them, something she clearly didn’t want to do. In a week or two she would return with Jesse, and if she had acted in an openly defiant manner, she would be subject to the bishop’s reprimand.
By Tuesday she had known that she had to make a decision. If she waited much longer, she would lose her nerve completely.
Papa straightened from his task and watched her approach, removing the kerchief tucked in the waistband of his trousers to mop his forehead beneath his hat.
“Danki, daughter.” The cool cider disappeared in one long draught. “Hard work and bright sunshine parch a man’s throat.” He handed the empty glass back to her and bent again to the plants.
“Papa, may I ask you a question?”
“Asking is free.” He focused on his hands and the twine he wound carefully through the branches of a young plant.
She had rehearsed the conversation again and again in her mind, but now that the time had come, she had to force the words. Gathering her courage, she assumed an even tone. “When did you know you were in love with Mama?”
His hands froze at their task. Papa rarely spoke of his deceased wife, whether due to Amish reticence concerning discussions of emotions or because memories of her loss were so painful, Rebecca had never been sure.
The silence that fell between them magnified the bird chatter coming from the branches of a nearby tree. She stood still awaiting his answer, her fingers tight around the empty cider glass. Papa’s hands began to move again, and he finished tying the length of twine with a loose knot. He might decline to answer, and if so, she would have to try a different approach.
Finally, he straightened. His gaze did not rest on her face but fixed on the house behind her, the house he and Mama had built together when they moved to Apple Grove. The corners of his mouth moved ever so slightly upward into a mere semblance of a smile that was as distant as his eyes. Then he fixed on her face.
“Always,” he said simply.
Warmth flooded her heart. It was the answer she had hoped for, on several levels. “Then you know what it is like to love truly and deeply?”
“I do, daughter. Why do you ask?” He glanced at the sun. “It is hot and I wish to have this work over.”
“I am in love, Papa. Deeply, hopelessly in love.”
The almost smile faded, and deep lines creased his forehead. “In love? Who is the young man?”
Rebecca lowered her gaze. “I would rather not say.”
That was her right. Many Amish young couples courted and planned marriage in secret, often not telling their families until mere weeks before the wedding.
“You are young for such things.”
Ah, that was the response she had expected. In his eyes, she was still a small child. “But wasn’t Mama younger than me when you met her?”
Consternation colored his features, and then his expression turned sheepish. “It is a different matter for daughters than for mothers.”
“Only for the papas,” she told him, a blush warming her cheeks. The discussion was going better than she’d hoped, but it was still awkward. Discussing emotional matters with Papa left her feeling ill at ease.
“He is Amish, this young man?” Papa’s glance became searching. “He lives by the Ordnung, ja?”
She had anticipated this question too. Of course Papa would ask it, given the fact that his older daughter had married outside the church. No, Jesse was not Amish, but in the true sense of the word, Rebecca was not Amish either because she had not yet attended the classes and been baptized. If her plans progressed as they should, Jesse would return to Apple Grove with her, they would both attend the classes in the fall, and then they would be baptized. Four years had passed, and Jesse had a lot of settling down to do, but by now she was certain he had grown into a fine, upstanding man. One Papa would admire.
Or would he? Would Papa accept this cowhand, or would he insist that she find a husband among the sons of the families in their own Amish community? There were so many unanswered questions, but none deterred her quest.
She said truthfully, “He hasn’t completed the classes yet.”
“Hmm.”
Papa clasped his hands behind his back, his eye
s moving as he searched her face. She stood straight and returned his gaze without flinching.
“What would you have me do?” he asked.
Panic flickered inside Rebecca. This moment was even harder than she had anticipated.
Take me to Lawrence to find Jesse and help me convince him to come home to Apple Grove with me.
That was the response she had rehearsed, but now that the time had come, and now that she stood looking into Papa’s soft brown eyes, she couldn’t force the words from her mouth. If she confessed the depths of her feeling, he might insist that she forget her plans and stay home. Or he might dismiss her emotions as a schoolgirl’s fancy, which would be even worse. He saw her as a child. How could he believe that her love was that of a full-grown woman?
She broke eye contact. “Nothing. I am merely curious about you and Mama. You so rarely speak of her.”
The frown on his face deepened. “It is not good to speak when pain overtakes the words.” He stood still a moment, watching her, and then he gave a nod before returning to his task.
Gripping the empty cider glass in her hand, she turned toward the house. A coward, that’s what she was, but still a determined one. Plan one had failed, but she still had the second.
She determined not to consider how Papa and Maummi would react when they read the letter she planned to write. Instead, she focused on the warm reception they were sure to give her when she returned to Apple Grove with Jesse.
Then Papa would see her as the woman she had become while he was preoccupied with tomato plants.
FOUR
Now, Angus, you can’t go around destroying people’s property.” Judge Tankersley leveled a stern look on the defendant. “You’re going to have to make restitution.”
Sitting on a chair on the front row of the courtroom, Colin studied the man standing in front of the judge’s wide desk. A night in a jail cell had done a considerable amount to improve Angus Burrell’s attitude. The sheriff rubbed a hand across his jaw, which had taken a wild blow from his prisoner’s fist in the course of the arrest. Angus stood steadier on his feet this morning, though the smell of sour whiskey saturating the air was enough to make a man’s eyes cross.
A Plain and Simple Heart (The Amish of Apple Grove) Page 2