The Newcomer

by Suzanne Woods Fisher

  “Not that one.” He pointed across the room. “Her. Over there. She’s striking-looking.”

  Bairn looked up to find that the newcomer’s eyes were riveted on Anna. She and a handful of other women were passing out slices of bread to the men, filling tin mugs from a hot kettle. A stray lock of her blonde hair had slipped and lay across her cheek. Absently she coiled it and tucked it inside her prayer cap.

  “Her name is Anna König. She is the only English speaker in the church, other than young Felix. Don’t let him fool you, he has much to learn though he considers himself fluent. Anna could probably teach you, if y’ve a mind to learn.”

  “Oh, I won’t need English where I’m going.”

  Bairn rolled his eyes. He was tired of this we-think-we-still-live-in-Germany business, and nearly said so, but then something blurted out of the newcomer’s mouth that stopped him cold.

  “Is she unmarried?”

  Bairn stiffened. “She’s spoken for.”

  “So, then, she’s not married.” The newcomer’s smile was easy, but a light flared behind his eyes. Bairn’s eyebrows lifted and he started to say something, but Maria interrupted, holding out to the newcomer a tin cup filled with hot tea. He moved forward to take it from her, thanking her heartily as if he’d never received such a welcome gift, and once again, Maria offered him a warm smile in return.

  The newcomer looked across the room to give Anna a quick, gleaming look before dropping his gaze to his tin cup, as if he sensed he was being watched.

  Bairn noticed.

  6

  Up the Schuylkill River

  October 21, 1737

  Excitement was in the air, though Anna’s heart wasn’t engaged in the idle chatter. It was already missing Bairn.

  With permission granted from the clerk at the Court House, the immigrants had declared their loyalty to the Crown of England, though not their allegiance, and were cleared to leave Philadelphia. So after a few days of gathering supplies, observing Sunday as a day of rest, the little church of Ixheim was on its way to the frontier come the dawn of Monday.

  For the first few miles, the road leading out of Philadelphia was swift and smooth, but the farther northwest the convoy traveled, the more narrow the road became. Bairn had warned them it would eventually shrink into an uncharted Indian trail. Be prepared for long, hard miles over a muddy, primitive road, for the lurching and bucking of wagons over ruts.

  Bairn had insisted on buying new axes for the journey. Already, they had proven indispensable along the way for clearing the trail of a fallen tree or fashioning a temporary bridge to cross a stream. The caravan stopped often in order to move or cut branches out of the way. Twice, they watered the horses and let them rest.

  Christian, the leader of the church in Jacob’s absence, had warned they would not stop for a meal until the day’s end, hoping to make as much progress as they could. Such slow, plodding progress! They planned to arrive in a few days’ time, but Bairn had warned Anna it would take longer to reach their destination far up the Schuylkill River.

  Anna’s thoughts wandered often to Bairn, sailing away on the Lady Luck today. On a windy day, a ship in full sail could slice through the water and cover one hundred miles, maybe more. For the group on their way to the frontier, they would be lucky to make a fraction of that by day’s end. The women and children walked alongside the wagons to keep the load as light as possible for the horses. Wheels would get stuck in mud; the horses were new to them and poorly trained; the wagons were heavy, filled up with heavy iron tools, borrowed and purchased; bushels of apples and potatoes crowded around the large wooden chests brought over on the Charming Nancy.

  Little by little, the group was moving forward toward a new life, unlike Bairn who, it seemed to Anna, had moved backward. Back to his worldly life.

  His last words to her were, “Look for me come spring,” and she had tried to give him a brave smile in return. Please don’t die, she thought, but she lifted her voice to call, “Gott segen eich!” God bless you. She wondered if she would ever see him again.

  As Anna trudged along beside Maria and her daughter, Catrina, she silently scolded herself. She would not let herself go down that path of vague fears. She wouldn’t. Bairn had told her he would be back, that he just wanted to make one more journey, and he had yet to break a promise to her. She trusted him. She loved him. And she believed he loved her.

  She thought she would never fully understand the man, but she did understand this much at least: he loved the sea. She was a jealous lover, that sea. She would not give a man up easily.

  What would it take, Anna wondered, for Bairn to love farming the way he loved the sea? She mused over the similarities as she walked: The field is like an open sea, the port to aim toward is the harvest. The keel is like the plow, carving through the dark soil. And then there is the weather! Both sailor and farmer must continually adjust. They both know that nature is in control, not them. Anna spent a long part of the day pondering these points, wishing she had thought of them in time to convince Bairn to stay.

  As they passed a meadow, Christian halted the lead horse. The sun dipped low on the horizon and they were all relieved to stop and make camp, tired and hungry. Anna gazed over the meadow, watching the wind play with the tops of the grass. The woods that rimmed the meadow were dense and dark, but dotted with the blazing red leaves of sugar trees.

  “Peter and I will go look for water for the horses,” Isaac Mast said. He and his son cut a path through the meadow toward the trees.

  A light, celebratory air animated the group as they made camp. Peter and Isaac returned after finding a creek. The men took care of the horses first, leading them down to the creek to water them. Barbara, Josef Gerber’s wife, and Maria started preparations for a meal. Anna found Catrina playing behind the wagon with a small kitten she had brought along. “Come help me sort the beans and put them on to cook.”

  Catrina stuck out her lower lip. “I’m so tired of beans. It makes my stomach hurt to think of eating beans again.”

  Anna was too tired to listen to Catrina’s complaints. “Then why don’t you find Felix and go collect dry twigs and branches for a fire?” As Catrina started toward the woods, Anna added, “Stay where we can see you.”

  “Because of . . . Indians?” Always anxious, Catrina looked frightened.

  “Because . . . it’s getting dark.”

  But Catrina had read Anna right. She was still uneasy about Bairn’s warning that they were heading into Indian hunting grounds. Just yesterday, Anna and Felix had gone to the market to buy food for the journey and overheard talk about an Indian attack that had recently occurred in the north. She asked a farmer what had caused the skirmish. “For the most part,” the farmer said as he lifted a bushel of pears off his wagon, “the causes are internal war between tribes.” He set the pear bushel on the ground and looked up at her. “You’re heading north?”

  She nodded.

  “How far north?”

  “Near the top of the Schuylkill River.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “If you do happen upon the Indians—and you will—always have gifts ready to offer to them.”

  “What kind of gifts?”

  “Trinkets. Pots and pans. Things that are uncommon to them.” He turned away, then spun around and pointed a finger at her. “And always, always offer food. You don’t need to invite trouble on yourselves by being stingy.”

  On the way back to the ship, Felix had asked her about the conversation with the farmer. “Anna, do you think the Indians will be friendly to us?” His face looked more excited than afraid.

  “I think so,” she had told him, thinking, I pray so. “Always remember that we trust in God. The farmer suggested that if you ever see an Indian, to offer him food. That, we do best.”

  Felix. Where was he, anyway? Anna gazed around the group and didn’t catch sight of him. She was about to go looking for him when Maria asked her for the beans. She was cutting vegetables for a soup broth that would
be cooked in a kettle over an open fire. Anna pulled a tarp off the back of the wagon and opened a sack of beans.

  “And I need someone to start the fire,” Maria said.

  Anna sighed and looked toward the trees for signs of Felix and Catrina. That boy! Whenever work was to be done, he was far from sight.

  Henrik, the newcomer, walked toward her from the creek with an armful of dry wood and kindling. “I thought you might need wood.” He set the wood in an open dirt area and knelt down.

  Within minutes, the fire was blazing and Maria couldn’t have been more pleased.

  “That’s the one you should set your sights on,” Maria whispered to her after Henrik walked away. She nudged Anna’s elbow. “The Lord taketh and the Lord giveth. A sign from above.”

  “I’ll hear no more of that nonsense.” Anna spoke sharply, but she had learned that was the way to handle Maria’s meddling. She took her turn at stoking the fire, watching the flames dance in the gathering darkness. Peter Mast had caught two rabbits, skinned them, and speared them onto a long stick to roast over the open fire. They were fortunate for this meal tonight. God’s blessing on their first night.

  Anna lifted the stick with the roasting rabbits to turn it once, when again she wondered where Catrina had gone to. She left Maria to mind the rabbits and walked toward the sugar trees, in the direction where the men had gone to water the horses. She’d seen Catrina run into the woods behind them, but the men had already returned and there was no sign of her. Anna was nearly to the trees when Catrina burst out of the woods and ran into her arms, trembling with fear.

  Then Anna heard it. A snarl. A gray wolf appeared in the shadows, its blue eyes pinned on Anna and Catrina. The unexpected sight rooted Anna to the ground, but Catrina’s frightened whimpers spurred her to take action. Moving slowly, she placed her hands on Catrina’s shoulders, never taking her eyes from the wolf.

  “When I say ‘go,’” Anna whispered, “run like the wind to the fire. Stay in front of me. Don’t look back, whatever you do.” Too frightened to speak, Catrina nodded, the back of her head shivering against Anna’s belly. The wolf started toward them, slowly, cautiously. “Run, Catrina.”

  Catrina took off toward the fire. Anna followed. Ahead of her, she saw the newcomer stand at a distance, watching.

  Anna turned her head to see the wolf break into a lope behind her. She ran for her life toward the fire, as fast as she could run. She glanced back one time to see the wolf gaining ground on her. Soon, it would be at her heels. A thunderclap blasted the air, exploding against her eardrums, and suddenly the wolf stumbled. Anna slowed, then stopped when she realized it wasn’t getting up. She saw the wolf’s body quiver, heard it whimper in muted fury. And then it stilled.

  Anna turned around and saw the newcomer standing alone, his arms still flexed, aiming a rifle, his eyes narrowed in concentration. Isaac Mast’s rifle. Anna walked up to him, breathing hard, shaking with relief. “Thank you.”

  “Most likely,” he said, smiling gently, “the wolf was lured to the camp by the scent of roasting rabbits. You and the girl stood between the wolf and his dinner.”

  The sound of the gunshot brought everyone running to them.

  Christian reached them first and quickly surmised what had just occurred. He clapped his hand upon the newcomer’s back. “You saved my Catrina, my little girl,” he said, his voice choked with gratitude.

  Maria and Barbara buzzed about the event as Isaac and Peter skinned the wolf for its fur coat. A light, jovial mood returned again. Maria proclaimed Henrik to be shrewd enough to grab the rifle and bring the animal down. “With one shot! Like David and Goliath.”

  Anna said nothing, but wanted to point out that it was a wolf, not a giant, that the newcomer slayed. Maria smoothed Catrina’s wispy hair back from her cheeks, then smothered her daughter in a tight embrace and said, “I think he’s a very pretty man. Don’t you think so, Anna?”

  Anna did not care if Henrik Newman was pretty or ugly or something in between. She was just grateful he had seen the wolf come after them and stopped it. But to object would only feed Maria’s needling. “Come, let’s get back to preparing supper. It will be dark soon.”

  As they gathered around the fire pit to stay warm, Christian asked the newcomer about his background. When Henrik told him that his grandfather had been a disciple of Jakob Ammann, the founder of the Amish church, Christian’s eyes behind his shiny spectacles went glassy. “Praise be to God,” he whispered.

  “Now we see the purpose God had in keeping us detained in Philadelphia. To allow time for Henrik to join our church.”

  The newcomer looked around to see who had spoken, and his eyes settled on the minister’s wife. “The Lord certainly brought our paths together.” His gaze swept around the blazing fire, and his eyes stopped when he caught Anna’s. He stared at her a moment, but then she dropped her eyes and felt her cheeks grow warm. “It’s a miracle that I made it to the New World,” the newcomer said. “And another miracle to be gathered together with like-minded believers. This entire endeavor is a return to Paradise. A return to the Garden of Eden.”

  Catrina sidled up to Anna. “Isn’t he comely? He’s the comeliest man I’ve ever seen.”

  Anna watched Henrik from across the flickering flames. Yes, his looks were striking, but she was more captivated by how Henrik’s optimism lifted the spirits of those around him. When Bairn first brought him to the ship in Port Philadelphia, the entire group had been quiet and sullen, worn out by delays. It wasn’t long before Henrik had everyone relaxed and laughing over an amusing story, practically lighting the room with the warmth of his personality.

  He would be a welcome addition, Anna decided. They needed a young man with a strong back. They needed someone who helped them remember to face the future with a smile.

  She turned her attention to stoking the fire, then wiggled the leg of a rabbit to check it for doneness. Satisfied, she lifted the rabbits off the fire and gave them to Maria to slice on a platter. Supper would be a banquet tonight: fire-roasted rabbit, some late autumn blackberries found by the creek, a rich bean broth, all seasoned with gratitude.

  As twilight fell, everyone moved closer to the roaring fire to warm themselves. Joined in a circle, heads bowed, Christian gave thanks for a safe journey, for their health and the abundant food of this new land.

  Anna’s heart, which had just settled down to a regular beat after fleeing the wolf, started to pound again. She lifted her head and peered at the dark forest that edged their camp. Her eyes searched for every sign of movement. She saw an owl silently sail overhead and dip into the forest. She saw a beaver sit on top of a fallen log, combing its fur with its toenails. She saw a raccoon scurry through the grass. But no boy.

  Her shoulders shuddered. Not waiting until Christian said the word “amen,” she blurted out, “Where is Felix?”

  7

  Philadelphia

  October 21, 1737

  Felix was back on a ship, back where he belonged, where he was happiest. He was eager to explore this ship, a barque, different from the leaky Charming Nancy that had brought his church over the Atlantic from Rotterdam. He had learned every nook and cranny of the Charming Nancy; she was like an old friend to him. This new ship would take getting used to. Staying hidden did require a great deal of effort, at least until the ship was in open sea and he knew the captain would not be tempted to turn around to deposit him back on the docks of Port Philadelphia.

  He grinned, brimming over with satisfaction.

  Earlier today, he had carefully planned his getaway. He had stuffed his leather knapsack full of apples from a bushel in the back of one wagon, as he had no idea where his next meal would be coming from. In his pocket, he had nothing more than a Dutch dollar he’d found on the docks and about a shilling in copper. Felix wasn’t worried, though.

  He had taken great care to make certain that Anna, Maria, and walleyed Catrina had seen him frequently during the early morning so as to not arouse any susp
icion. He had to be especially mindful about Maria and Catrina. They kept their beady eyes on him all the time. And Catrina was everywhere he turned.

  Felix even made a big show of crocodile tears as he said goodbye to his brother Bairn. Very convincing, he was, and proud of his theatrics. As the wagon caravan began to roll forward, Felix walked beside it for a number of city blocks, chattering happily to Anna. He even carried the awful dog in his arms, just to throw her off. But then Maria and Catrina came alongside and distracted Anna with the day’s complaints—Maria was always complaining about something!—and as Catrina patted the awful dog, Felix saw his chance. He let Catrina hold the awful dog, which kept her occupied and would restrain the awful dog from following him. Two birds, one stone. Little by little, Felix dropped back behind them, still adding something to the conversation until Maria scowled at him and said that children should be seen and not heard.

  And there was his moment. He slipped farther and farther behind them, scooted around one wagon to get to the other side of the road, then kept walking more and more slowly until he was at the back of the caravan. He reached his hand into the apple and potato wagon, felt around for the leather satchel he had hidden, grabbed it, then ducked behind a tree. The caravan moved along on its lumbering journey.

  Felix stayed behind the tree until the caravan was out of sight and out of earshot, then he did a little jig step before he set off briskly, moving toward Philadelphia with bold, broad strides.

  When he reached the city, he made a quick detour to Market Street to say goodbye to the printer, Benjamin Franklin, who had been kind to him, then made a beeline toward the waterfront. The barque had been brought to the docks to load cargo into its hold. This was a welcome change from last evening, when he had seen the barque still anchored midriver. He kept out of sight, crouched behind barrels on the docks, seeking a glimpse of Bairn. He heard him before he saw him, giving orders to the stevedores on which barrels to load first.