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

by Virginia Smith

  Whether Amos heard the sermon or not, Rebecca didn’t know. She listened with rapt attention. The man did not speak with eloquence, as did Bishop Miller when the message rolled from his tongue in the language every Amish person learned from infancy. Nevertheless, the preacher’s passion shone, carried to his listeners on the wings of plain, everyday words.

  Near the end of the sermon, Rebecca glanced at Colin, who listened with rapt attention. Was he memorizing the preacher’s message so he could sit at his desk later and write it down? His gaze slid sideways to meet hers. The smile he awarded her was private and full of meaning for her alone. She looked quickly down at her folded hands, disturbed by the jolt of happiness that smile delivered. Her thoughts turned guiltily to Jesse, who might even now be on his way to her.

  When Jesse arrives, she promised herself, everything will be good. And clear.

  She forced her mind to conjure up Jesse’s image and her dream of their happy life together. She had no difficulty picturing Jesse in Amish trousers and braces, and the image helped to settle her fears.

  Colin would never look right with an untrimmed beard covering his chin.

  Amos sat on the front step of the milliner’s shop long after the sun had gone. Music came from the Lucky Dollar Saloon, and the glow from lanterns inside created rings of light that spilled onto the street. Behind him Mrs. Evans’ shop was dark. The women had kindly invited him to share their supper, and then they had bid him goodnight. Why return now to the uncomfortable cot in Mrs. Sawyer’s boardinghouse when he would only lay tormented by his troubled thoughts?

  Two days he had been in this town, and he wanted to be quit from it with a longing that reached to the very depths of his soul. He yearned to stand in the middle of his fields and breathe the scent of growing plants. To watch the wind ripple across the hay field. To catch a glimpse of Karl as he carried the egg basket from the coop toward the house.

  He heaved a heavy sigh. If only Rebecca would put her kapp back on and return home with him. A few more days, she promised. By the end of the week, surely the man she professed to love would be here and she might see the error of her ways.

  Amos shifted on the step, but he could not get comfortable, either with his position on the hard wood or with his thoughts. If he could be sure that this man, this Jesse, would treat her well, he would leave her here. But what would he say to Jonas? That he had left his daughter in the hands of an Englisch cowboy she had not seen in four years? And if this man did not return her affections, as Amos devoutly prayed he would not, then perhaps Rebecca might look more kindly on him if he had proved his loyalty by staying at her side.

  The door behind him opened, and a soft voice exclaimed, “Why, what are you doing out here, sweetie?”

  He turned in time to see Sassy pull the door closed behind her. She crossed the porch and dropped to the stair close beside him. Too close. Uncomfortably close. As unobtrusively as he could, he scooted sideways.

  She noticed. “You act like I’m a desert rattler or something. You’re not afraid of me, are you?”

  “No,” he said hurriedly, glad that the darkness hid his blush.

  “Hmm. So you didn’t answer my question. What are you doing out here?”

  “Waiting.”

  “For Becca?” When he didn’t answer, she went on. “I hate to break it to you, sweetie, but she’s aiming her gun at another man.”

  As usual, her choice of words was unfamiliar, but he understood their meaning. “This I know.” He was embarrassed at the glum tone in his words.

  “Aw, it’ll be okay.” She leaned sideways and gave him a shove. “You’ll find a gal someday.”

  He shifted over a little more. Whether he was more uncomfortable at her words or the touch of her shoulder on his, he didn’t know. To cover his embarrassment, he rushed to ask a question. “And you? Why are you here and not inside with the women?”

  “They’re sewing.” She planted her elbows on her knees and dropped her chin into her hands. “I don’t sew or knit or any of that stuff. Besides, I have some serious thinking to do.”

  Amos eyed her sideways. She looked nearly as sad as he felt. “About what?”

  “I don’t rightly know what I’m goin’ to do. I planned to go to New York City and be a famous actress, but…” Her gaze flickered toward him. “Don’t tell anybody, but I don’t actually know how to act.”

  Because she sounded as though she was relaying a great confidence, Amos responded with a nod and said, “I see.”

  “I mean, I might be good at it. Everybody always said I was pretty enough to be an actress, and I sing like a lark, but lately I’ve started to realize being pretty and singing don’t always get you what you want.”

  “And what is it that you want?”

  “I want to be rich. I want fine clothes and jewelry and a fancy house. I’ll give fabulous parties, and everybody will want to come to my parties because they will all like me.”

  For a moment, Amos could see her in that life, surrounded by fine things and laughing people. But when he looked closer into her face, he caught a glimpse of longing in her eyes, a longing for something he himself understood very well.

  “Possessions do not satisfy the soul.” He pitched his voice softly. “They do not turn a house into a home. Only love can do that. The love of Gott and family.”

  Moonlight glittered in suddenly wet eyes. “I wouldn’t know about that. I never had anybody but my mama, and she was a saloon worker too.”

  Compassion stirred in him with a strength that surprised him. How fortunate he was to have been surrounded by friends who shared his burdens. Yes, his days—and especially his nights—were lonely. But Gott had provided a home for him and his children. This woman knew nothing of the things in life that were worth having.

  “Perhaps now is a time to reconsider your plans,” he said. “Perhaps being an actress is not the life Gott has called you to.”

  Head tilted, she gave a nearly imperceptible nod. “Maybe.” Then she glared down the street toward the saloon. “One thing I do know is that I’m going to stick around this town long enough to march with those women. That’ll show Ed and the others.”

  “March?” Amos shook his head. The word he understood. But its meaning?

  She gave a start and then a quick smile. “Sorry. Don’t mind me, sweetie. I’m just chewing the fat and spitting it out before I think, as usual.” She straightened and turned toward him. “What about you? What will you do when you leave here?”

  “Go home to my children,” he said simply.

  “Children?” Moonlight gleamed on her smooth skin. “I didn’t know you had children.” A crease marred the expanse between her eyes. “I guess I figured since you’d set your cap on Becca that you didn’t have family.”

  Amos stared at his folded hands and let the long-familiar sadness wash over him. “My wife died giving life to my son.”

  A soft hand slid over his. “I’m sorry. I can’t imagine how hard that was. You must get real lonely.”

  She spoke as one who understood, and he could only nod in answer.

  “How old are they?”

  “Karl is five, Celia seven, and Sarah is nine.”

  “Sarah?” A delighted grin displayed a row of white teeth. “That’s my name. Sassy is a nickname my mama gave me on account of I used to sass her every so often. I figured that sounded more like an actress’s name than Sarah, so when I left Texas, that’s what I used.”

  Amos studied her face. Her eyes were hidden in pools of shadow, but the soft light reflected off of high, finely shaped cheekbones and soft pink lips. Since meeting her, he’d been too shocked by her flamboyance to really see her. Tonight she looked more vulnerable than he would have ever thought for such a strong-willed woman.

  “I do not know what an actress name is,” he told her, “but I will call you Sarah.”

  A smile curved her lips. “I’d like that real well… Amos.”

  With a shock, he realized her warm hand still cove
red his. Such personal gestures had never been comfortable for him, and he thought of pulling away. But then, with an even greater shock, he realized he didn’t want to.

  TWENTY-ONE

  Gus’s reins were loose in Colin’s hand as they plodded down the street on their afternoon rounds. It felt good to be back to a normal routine, calling a word of greeting to familiar faces, returning a wave here and a nod there. This would be the last time he executed this particular duty in Lawrence, because by this time tomorrow Patrick Mulhaney would have the sheriff’s badge pinned to his vest.

  Tomorrow. It seemed like only yesterday he’d read the letter that told him he would soon be free to pursue his dream, his calling. And yet the time had been nearly three weeks ago, and much had happened since then. He hadn’t met Rebecca three weeks ago.

  Thoughts of her put a melancholy damper on his mood. Sitting on the same pew at church on Sunday had been a curious form of torture. After an initial flash of irritation, he’d been thankful for Amos’s glowering presence between them. Otherwise he might have been tempted to drape an arm casually across the pew behind her and to scoot as close to her as decorum allowed.

  In other words, to make a fool of himself.

  The days since she’d been released from jail had dragged long and dull. Kaspar wasn’t an engaging conversationalist, and he spent his time bellowing, not sewing. The only highlight in the past four days had been the few times he saw Rebecca, and then he’d had to steel himself against her presence.

  When had he fallen for her? Was it when she defied him and locked herself in her cell? Or when he told her of his dreams and she asked to hear him preach?

  Or was it when he saw her black-clad figure standing firm and rigid before Judge Tankersley, fire in her eyes and determination evident in the stubborn tilt of her chin?

  He pressed his heels into Gus’s sides. What difference did timing make? He’d fallen for a woman who loved another man. Who, in fact, took advantage of every opportunity to flaunt that man’s name in his face.

  Jesse Montgomery, you’d better be good to her, or I’ll…

  A laugh arrested the thought. Or he’d what? He had no need to pursue a woman whose heart belonged to another man. An Amish woman. Their lives and beliefs were worlds apart.

  When he reached the bridge that spanned the Kansas River at the end of Massachusetts Street, he pointed Gus northward, intending to progress through each of the town’s streets. But before he could turn onto Vermont, something caught his eye. Up ahead, a lone rider headed north along the river trail, a spare horse keeping pace beside him. Two horses, one rider. Normally such a sight wouldn’t spark a second thought, but in light of recent events, Colin studied the rider. From this distance he could see nothing more than a straight back and a hat. Packs bulged on the back of the riderless horse. Supplies for a long journey, perhaps? A man traveling with a spare horse was nothing new, unless…

  An outlaw languished in Colin’s jail. He’d arrived in town on the train and had not hired a horse. Like Benton, who arrived on the same train as Rebecca. What if Kaspar had arranged a meeting, one he had failed to keep?

  Hesitation caused Colin to slow Gus to a walk. In one more day he would turn his badge and his responsibilities over to Mulhaney. What use was there in following a traveler who had done nothing more than pass through Lawrence and replenish his supplies for a long journey? None. He did not intend to waste his last night chasing suspicions that would more than likely lead nowhere—or, worst case, somewhere. He was almost home free.

  Still…

  The man had seemed to turn from Louisiana Street and head north. Sumpter’s Mercantile lay halfway down that street. No harm in checking, was there? He urged Gus to a faster pace.

  The mercantile supported a brisk business for a Tuesday afternoon. Colin tethered the horse alongside a wagon, where a hired hand was loading several bags of feed while a gentleman stood watching. Inside he found Aaron Sumpter busy behind the counter, weighing dried apples while a customer watched the scale with a sharp eye. He ducked his head at the woman before fixing his eye on the store owner.

  “Have you seen a stranger through here this afternoon, Aaron? Would have been buying supplies for the trail.”

  Sumpter glanced up from the scale. “Had a man come through not ten minutes past. Never seen him before. Bought beans and jerked beef and such. That the one?”

  “Might have been. Did you notice if he was packing two horses or one?”

  The man considered and then shook his head. “I’ve been too busy to see who loads what, Sheriff. But I do remember what he asked me.”

  “Yeah? What’s that?”

  “He asked about news in town. If there had been any shootings or killings. I told him no, but we did have a famous outlaw over at the jail.” His head cocked sideways. “He seemed mighty interested in that.”

  A grim sense of satisfaction took hold of Colin. The stranger had been poking around, trying to discover what had happened to Kaspar.

  “Thanks,” he said as he left the store.

  Let it go. I’ll tell Mulhaney about it when he gets in tomorrow. It’s not my business anymore.

  But even as the thought occurred to him, he knew he couldn’t let the matter lie. The safety of the people of Lawrence was still his responsibility, at least for another day. He mounted Gus and headed swiftly toward the north river trail.

  Rebecca turned Mrs. Evans’ little wagon onto the river road in time to see Colin disappear around the bend at the north end of town. Though she’d unobtrusively watched for him all day yesterday, she’d seen him only once, and that had been from a distance. They’d had no opportunity to talk since leaving church on Sunday.

  And they likely wouldn’t again. She had come from an errand for Mrs. Evans without Amos following along for once, and she had stopped by Annie Diggs’ home to ask news of her husband. Mrs. Diggs had received word yesterday that his business was concluded and he would return by way of Cider Gulch on Wednesday, the day the ladies from the movement were scheduled to arrive for the peaceful protest.

  Jesse will be here tomorrow.

  The news had stirred up an excited flutter in her belly. Tomorrow she would finally see the man who held her heart—or did he? Confusion had begun to cloud her thoughts, and she didn’t want it. She had to press on with her goal, and she knew exactly how their meeting would go. He would insist on finding her the minute he arrived in town. Mrs. Diggs knew of her whereabouts and would direct him to Mrs. Evans’ shop. The door would open, and she would see his frame filling the doorway. He would scan the room, and when he caught sight of her, amazement at the changes four years had wrought in her would light up his face. She would go to him, deliver her well-rehearsed speech, and they would fall into each other’s arms. And then…

  And then I will never see Colin again.

  The thought brought an accompanying sadness. Their friendship would end tomorrow. She would return to Apple Grove with Jesse, and Colin would disappear into the west, where he would care for orphans, build his church, preach his sermons, and take a wife who shared his faith.

  The idea was depressing.

  Not that I mind him taking a wife. The man has a right to true love, just as I do. But I do wish I could hear him preach once before we part ways.

  No sooner had the idea occurred in her mind than she put it into action. She flicked the reins, and Mrs. Evans’ horse broke into a trot. The wagon bounced along the road that edged the river. When she passed the town’s last street, she barely glanced down it but urged the horse onto the rough trail that led into the surrounding countryside.

  She rounded a bend and left the town behind. Thick trees grew all along the river, and far to her left lay the plain she had seen from the train window when she arrived in town. Closer up and ahead, the ground swelled in a series of irregularly spaced ridges, high and sporadically covered with thick stands of trees. Cattle dotted the hillsides and wandered in and out of the trees. Colin was nowhere in sight.
Had he followed the river that curved to the right, or had he veered away toward the hills? After a moment’s indecision, she decided to follow the river a ways. The trail looked more defined in that direction.

  The sound of rushing water created a peaceful cushion for her thoughts. She hadn’t realized how accustomed to the noise of the town she’d become. When had she last heard birdsong or the wind rustling the leaves? She would not be sorry to leave the city behind when she returned home, but she would miss many things about life in a town, such as being surrounded by friends like Sassy and Mrs. Evans and Abigail. Of course, now she would have Jesse.

  A movement in the trees to her left jerked her from her thoughts. She peered through the leaves, a chill creeping across the back of her neck. Was it an animal? If so, it was a large one. The size of a man. Perhaps following Colin away from town had not been a good idea after all. If she were to be attacked by a bear or a cougar or—she swallowed against a dry mouth—a man, no one would hear her scream for help. Her grip on the reins tightened. Should she try to outrun whatever it was? No, a horse pulling a wagon could never outrun an unencumbered animal intent on its prey. The hair on her arms rose inside her sleeves.

  She saw the movement again, this time closer and headed her way. Definitely a man. A terrified scream caught in her throat. And then a familiar figure stepped out from behind a tree.

  “What are you doing out here?” Colin strode onto the trail.

  Relief wilted her tense muscles, and she sagged on the bench as she brought the wagon to a halt. “I saw you ride this way.”

  A frown gathered on his face. “Don’t you know it isn’t safe to wander around out here alone?”

  Rebecca’s temper flared in response to his testy reprimand. “I can take care of myself.”

  He opened his mouth to argue, but then he snapped it shut. “I hope Jesse Montgomery has the patience of a saint. He’s going to need it.”