A Plain and Simple Heart (The Amish of Apple Grove)

by Virginia Smith

  When the jailhouse door opened, Rebecca set her sewing aside. Judging by Colin’s expression, she knew without asking that he had not caught the outlaws. She watched as he hung the posters back on the wall, pounding the tacks a little harder than necessary. The stern set of his jaw gave his mouth a hard, unbending appearance that made her glad he had never turned that particular look on her. She much preferred the smiling sheriff, even when that smile held a touch of a smirk.

  He had barely sat down when the door opened and a man entered. Though she had not seen him in the week since her trial, she recognized Mayor Bowerstock. A stout man who barely stood taller than Rebecca, the mayor nevertheless projected a commanding presence, enhanced by an immaculate black jacket with wide lapels, a crisp white shirt, and a mustache whose ends swooped nearly to his ears.

  Disbelief dawned on his face as he gazed at her cell.

  “What in tarnation happened to the jail?” He eased forward, his eyes moving to take in the furnishings, bedding, and curtains.

  “Don’t ask,” Colin said.

  The mayor caught sight of Rebecca in her rocking chair, and he started as though he hadn’t known she was there. He planted a hand on the top of his hat and lifted it a couple of inches off his head as he ducked a nod in greeting.

  “Afternoon, Miss Switzer.”

  Rebecca inclined her head but didn’t speak. According to Mrs. Evans, the mayor was partially responsible for the lawless sale of liquor in Lawrence. She reached into the basket for the collar she intended to sew onto Sassy’s dress, and bent her attention on her project.

  The mayor recovered himself with a shake and rounded on Colin.

  “I heard a couple of desperados are in town.”

  “You heard wrong. They were in town. As far as we can tell, they rode in this afternoon, bought supplies down at Sumpter’s Mercantile, had a few drinks at the Horseshoe, and then left. If Hal hadn’t spotted them leaving the saloon, we would never even have known they were here.”

  “Well.” Bowerstock’s deep scowl faded. “That’s a relief.”

  “Is it? I can’t shake the feeling that something’s going on—something more than a couple of thugs riding through town.” His gaze slid toward Rebecca, who was bent diligently over her task.

  The mayor clasped his hands behind his back and thrust his rotund belly out in front. “Doesn’t matter, as long as it doesn’t happen in Lawrence.”

  Colin pushed on one end of an ink blotter and watched it rock on its rounded bottom. That he did not agree with the mayor was evident in the troubled lines etched on his forehead.

  Though Rebecca wouldn’t wish vicious criminals on the town, she couldn’t help thinking that at least if the sheriff was busy chasing after the men on those posters, he was not snooping for details of the movement’s peaceful protest.

  “Glad to see you have everything under control, Maddox.” Bowerstock’s glance slid toward Rebecca again. “Though what Mulhaney will say when he sees this…” He left the jail shaking his head.

  Colin didn’t look up when the mayor left. His finger continued to tap the blotter, his stare distant. The expression disturbed her. While he’d been out searching for the outlaws, she had thought about their earlier conversation and the fire of passion that had been in his eyes when he spoke of the church he would build. She much preferred that to the brooding scowl he now wore.

  She interrupted the silence. “Who is Mulhaney?”

  Her question pulled him out of his moody reverie. “Who?”

  She gestured toward the closed door. “The mayor mentioned someone named Mulhaney.”

  “He’s the new sheriff. He’s coming in from Chicago next week.”

  Rebecca did the math. Today was the eighteenth of May, the seventh day of her stay in jail. That meant the new sheriff, this Mulhaney, would arrive on—

  Her head jerked up. “He arrives on the twenty-fourth of May?”

  “That’s right. Train’s due in around noon.”

  The noon train on May twenty-fourth. Thoughts raced through her mind. That was the day of the peaceful protest, the day the important leaders of the movement would arrive. They would be on the same train as the new sheriff.

  Does Mrs. Diggs know? I must get word to her.

  Rebecca glanced around her cell. She had paper and ink, thanks to Mrs. Evans, but if she asked Colin to deliver a note to Annie Diggs, his suspicions were sure to be aroused. No, she would have to wait until her next woman visitor. Or, at the latest, when Mrs. Evans arrived at bedtime, as she did every night.

  “Are you worried?”

  She looked up quickly. “Pardon me?”

  “About the new sheriff?” Colin’s gesture indicated the contents of her cell. “You may have to clean house.”

  Rebecca forced her taut muscles to relax, lest he become suspicious. “I hope to be released before that day arrives.”

  Mrs. Diggs kept assuring her that the movement would not leave her in jail a minute longer than necessary, and she intended to make an appeal to the eastern members. Rebecca held more hope in Mrs. Evans’ calm assurance, though she would not share the details of her plan.

  “And I hope to be reunited with my Jesse before then,” she added.

  “Ah. The great Jesse.”

  At least his face remained impassive. Lately he had taken to scowling when Rebecca mentioned her love. She suspected he did it in order to irritate her, but today he let it pass. She much preferred his mocking smile to this moodiness.

  “Will you stay in Lawrence for a while after this Mulhaney arrives?”

  He shook his head. “Only long enough to show him the jail and introduce him to his deputies. If I’m lucky, Gus and I will be out of Lawrence by suppertime.”

  “And then you will go west and find a place to start your orphanage and build your church.” She bent toward the basket beside her to retrieve a new reel of cotton thread. “When you preach, what will you say?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll probably give some sermons that have meant something to me.” He opened the middle drawer of his desk and took out a Bible.

  Even from this distance, Rebecca could see the worn pages and scribbles that filled the wafer-thin paper.

  “All I need to know is found in this book.”

  “That is Die Bibel?”

  He nodded. “This one belonged to my grandpa.” He ran a hand over the cover. “Many a fine sermon he preached out of these pages. I’d sit on the front row of his church, close enough to see the sweat glisten on his forehead when he got to going. And his eyes.” A faraway smile curved his lips. “When he read from the Psalms, it looked like the sun was shining out of his eyes.”

  Rebecca watched Colin’s face, fascinated. Gone was the dark brooding scowl. At the moment it looked as though the sun were shining out of his eyes. What would it be like to hear a man with Colin’s integrity preach on church Sundays? Certainly her mind would not wander as it did when Bishop Miller or the other men spoke.

  Rebecca rocked for a moment. Though she had never been to an Englisch church, Emma once described it for her. The songs they sang did not come from the Ausbund, as did all the songs in an Amish service. And the preacher spoke in English, not German. Imagine hearing someone speak of Gott and read from Die Bibel in English. The idea was oddly fascinating, though faintly scandalous.

  “I would like to hear you preach. Will you?”

  Startled, he jerked toward her, alarm painted on his features. “Here? Now?”

  Her chair halted. Perhaps he considered speaking of Gott in a jail disrespectful. “I am sorry. I did not mean to offend.”

  “You didn’t offend me.” He would not meet her eye. “I’m just not prepared to speak.”

  Suspicion dawned. “You have never preached.”

  “I have!” His head jerked up. “Just not to people.”

  “If not to people, then to whom?”

  “Cows. Okay? I’ve preached to cows.”

  She blinked. “You preach to cows?”r />
  A sheepish, though highly appealing, grin softened his lips. “When I was a boy they were my main congregation. I’d leave church with Grandpa’s message burning in my mind and write down everything he said. Then I’d head out behind the barn where Pa kept a couple of milk cows, and I’d preach Grandpa’s sermon to them at the top of my lungs. Eventually I branched out and grew my flock. I had three or four friends who would listen to me preach Sunday afternoons. We’d go down to the river, and I would preach and baptize. Then one or two of them caught the fire, and they would speak and the rest of us would go forth and ask to be baptized.” He looked up. “I must have been dunked at least a hundred times during those years.”

  “Dunked?”

  “You know. In the river.”

  She looked blank.

  “Don’t Amish people get baptized?”

  Ah, baptism. “Yes, after the classes. We kneel before the bishop, and he pours water over us in front of the community.”

  “Well, in my grandpa’s church we got dunked.” His hand swept up and then down. “The whole body under the water.”

  A picture rose in Rebecca’s mind of a dark-haired boy going under the moving surface of a river every week. She covered a giggle with her hand. “Quite an unusual congregation you had—cows and young boys.”

  A chuckle lightened his voice. “I had to tie them up with a rope so they wouldn’t wander off in the middle of my preaching.”

  “The cows?” She snickered.

  “The boys.”

  Her laughter broke free, and after a moment he joined in. It felt good to laugh with him, and Rebecca gave herself over to her mirth. When the laughter faded, they were left smiling at each other.

  “I would like to hear you preach, Colin Maddox.” She waved a hand around the cell. “Even without a rope I will not wander off.”

  “You would likely be a more receptive audience than a couple of bulls.”

  Rebecca found her gaze drawn to his. She had not noticed the color of his eyes until this moment. Even from the distance between her cell and his desk, she could see they were blue, as blue as the sky on a sunny morning. Not like Jesse’s eyes at all, which were as dark as her own.

  With a pang of guilt, she tore her gaze from Colin’s. Jesse’s eyes are much nicer.

  Though just then she was having difficulty remembering their exact shade.

  Colin slid the Bible back in the drawer.

  The moment broken, Rebecca reached once again for her sewing. The sooner Mr. Diggs arrived with Jesse, the better.

  Amos stood on one side of the Hostetlers’ living room and kept an eye on Mrs. Switzer lest she swoon again. If she would but sit instead of pacing around the room, he could slip out of the house and return to work. He felt like an intruder witnessing the turmoil of this family whose daughter had brought shame on the Switzer name.

  Compassion stirred in him at the sight of Jonas’s slumped shoulders. His friend sat in a straight-backed chair with his hands folded in his lap and his gaze fixed on the floor.

  “It is the way of some young people on rumspringa.” Bishop Miller stood beside Jonas, his normally impassive face full of compassion. “To try the ways of the world and fall victim to the trying. Our Rebecca has ever been a willful girl.”

  Mrs. Switzer turned to glower in the bishop’s direction, something Amos affected not to notice. The bishop but spoke the truth. Always one to fidget in church was Rebecca. A bold gaze she had, her eyes rarely downcast with modesty like the other girls. Amos had heard the talk of those who said that Jonas Switzer allowed his younger daughter too much freedom, and even her grandmother did not teach her self-control as she ought. Mrs. Keim had once used the example of Rebecca Switzer to caution him against overindulgence with his girls.

  But Amos saw nothing wrong in a woman with spirit, so long as she was properly pious and obeyed the Ordnung. In recent years, ever since Rebecca had bloomed into a lovely young woman, he had considered the idea of courtship. Though thirteen years her senior, he had much to offer a wife. A good farm. A sturdy house. A peaceful life without want of any basic need. And Rebecca would be an admirable role model for his girls, no matter what Mrs. Keim said.

  “We must leave at once, Jonas.” Mrs. Switzer’s skirts swirled around her feet when she turned to cross the room. “I have money laid aside. We will rescue our Rebecca from jail.”

  Jonas looked up, sadness heavy on his features. “This Mrs. Evans says the cost is one hundred dollars.” He shook his head. “Between the two of us we do not have that. Perhaps after the harvest.”

  “Months from now is the harvest.” The old woman’s eyes flashed. “My granddaughter cannot stay in jail until harvesttime.”

  Amos spoke up. “I also have some coin put aside. Though not close to that amount, you are welcome to use it to buy Rebecca’s freedom.”

  Jonas cast a grateful glance his way.

  A heavy sigh sounded from the bishop. “The cost is not at issue. Rebecca’s behavior is.” He turned an unbendable gaze on Mrs. Switzer. “You must not go after her.”

  Outrage flashed in her eyes. “Leave her in an Englisch jail? Never!”

  Bishop Miller’s mouth hardened. Amos averted his eyes. To defy the bishop was to defy the church. And to defy the church was to risk the ban. Mrs. Switzer must have realized her error, for her lips snapped shut.

  The bishop directed a softer gaze toward Jonas. “Nor you, Jonas. Her family may not interfere with her rumspringa. Harsh though the consequences may be, perhaps she will learn from them. A hard heart must be softened before the seeds of peace may be sown.”

  Jonas nodded. “Yet acts of kindness are the plowshare of our faith. What better way to learn kindness than to receive it from those who share our way of life?”

  Bishop Miller did not reply. His hand rose to stroke his long beard beneath eyes that narrowed in consideration of Jonas’s question. Mrs. Switzer’s pacing came to a stop. Amos’s breath caught in his chest as he awaited the bishop’s answer.

  Finally, he nodded. “The point you have made is sound. But assistance must come from the community, not only from her family, lest she mistake the kindness for indulgence.”

  Amos took a forward step. “I will go. I will represent Apple Grove and ensure she knows the reason for our assistance.”

  The look Jonas turned on him was so full of gratitude that a blush threatened to rise into his face.

  “But someone must tend my children while I am away,” he added.

  “I will.” Mrs. Switzer nodded.

  “And I will take care of your farm,” added Jonas.

  A smile appeared on Bishop Miller’s face. “Einer trage des andern last, so werdet ihr das gesetz Christi erfullen.”

  Amos nodded at the familiar Scripture that expressed everything he loved about his Amish brothers and sisters. Bear ye one another’s burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ.

  And perhaps Rebecca would look favorably upon the one who delivered her from the harsh environment of an Englisch jail.

  And marry him.

  SIXTEEN

  It’s perfect!”

  Sassy’s enthusiasm in the dress was all Rebecca could have hoped for. She had bitten off the last thread on the final stitch late the previous night, while Mrs. Evans snored softly in the next bunk. Now, watching Sassy twist and turn in the center of her cell, her skirts dancing around her feet, Rebecca couldn’t help feeling pride in her handiwork. The ruffles she had removed from the shortened train formed a layered collar that started at the girl’s neck and ended in a lacy edging that lay across her bosom. Bows taken from the simplified hem puffed atop each shoulder. If Maummi were here, she would scowl at the collar and call it prideful frippery, but at least it provided a decent covering for the bare expanse of Sassy’s chest.

  From her seat at the small table, Mrs. Evans nodded approval.

  “Tasteful but stylish. And modest enough that even Annie would have trouble finding fault.”

  “Oh, her.”
Sassy’s pretty face pulled into a scowl. “I don’t give two figs for her opinion. She’d find fault just because of me wearin’ it.” She turned to Rebecca. “She don’t like me on account of she don’t approve of singing.”

  Rebecca’s loyalties warred within her. Though she owed Annie Diggs much, Sassy had provided a welcome distraction to the tedious hours spent in her cell the past few days. She had also grown fond of the cheerful blonde, far beyond the fact that Sassy had promised to contribute toward her fine in addition to the seamstress fee.

  “Perhaps it is not singing she disapproves of,” Rebecca said, twitching at a seam in Sassy’s skirt so it fell in a straighter line.

  “She’s right, my dear,” Mrs. Evans agreed. “You do work in a questionable establishment.”

  Blond curls bounced at a toss of the girl’s head. “I’m making an honest living, that’s all.” With a quick motion, she slid open the curtain that had protected her modesty while she donned the garment. “Sheriff, do you have a mirror around here? I want to see how the dress hangs in the back.”

  The strained look Colin turned on her brought a grin to Rebecca’s face.

  “No mirror in the jail. You want to see yourself, go home.”

  In reply, Sassy pulled a face that made Rebecca laugh.

  Mrs. Evans stood and reached for the bag containing her nightdress.

  “I must go too. The glass for the new window has finally arrived, and the carpenters come today to install it.”

  Rebecca gathered Sassy’s skirt and blouse and handed them to the girl. Sassy reached into a deep pocket in the skirt. Coins jingled when she scooped them up in her hand.

  “Here.” She thrust the money at Rebecca. “You done a fine job.”

  Rebecca looked down at the coins and did a quick tally. Ten dollars. She shook her head and held out her hand toward Sassy.

  “There is too much here. The price for this dress is four dollars, as we agreed.”