Piecing It All Together

by Leslie Gould

  About a mile from the Landis farm, they passed the big house they’d passed two nights before. Several outbuildings, including a large barn, were behind the house, which was two stories and had a wraparound porch. To the west was a large pasture, where a herd of cattle grazed, fifty or more head. Clothes hung on a line, and a little boy and a girl played in the area in front of the house. Emma was sure the little boy was Baptiste.

  She scanned the property. A woman wearing a blue calico dress walked toward the clothesline.

  Emma guessed it was the Burtons’ place. “We should stop,” she said. “Harriet, the woman who lives here, may be wanting Mamm to help her soon.”

  Isaac stopped the horses and Emma climbed down, then helped her mother. Mathilde waved from the clothesline and started toward them. Baptiste and the girl stopped and stared.

  Mathilde reached Emma. They all greeted her, and Mathilde reached for Emma’s free hand and squeezed it. She didn’t smile, but her doe-like eyes were warm and kind. The gesture warmed Emma, nurturing the connection she felt with the woman.

  Emma introduced her mother and said, “We were hoping to meet Harriet.”

  The girl, who appeared to be six or so, turned toward Emma and said, “She’s not feeling up to visitors.”

  Mathilde whispered to Emma, “Little Minnie is correct. Harriet is not well.”

  Emma thanked Mathilde and started walking back to the wagon as two men on horses started toward them.

  “Here comes Father!” the girl yelled. Mathilde scooped up Baptiste and headed toward the clothesline.

  The other rider was Jean-Paul, who steered his horse in the direction of the barn. George Burton continued to ride toward them on his stallion. Today, he wore work clothes instead of a suit.

  Emma called out a hello as George neared the wagon.

  Without returning the greeting, he asked, “What do you need?”

  “We just stopped to say hello, but your wife isn’t feeling up to company,” Emma answered.

  George ignored her, turned in his saddle, and stared at Mathilde for a long moment. Her attention, however, was on Jean-Paul, as he made his way to the barn.

  After a long moment, George, without replying to Emma, turned and followed Jean-Paul.

  Isaac urged the horses forward as Mathilde, with Baptiste on her hip, raised her hand in farewell. Emma waved back, hoping she’d see her new friend soon.

  But she doubted Mathilde would tell her why everyone seemed to fear George Burton—and why the man was so rude.

  CHAPTER 14

  The next Sunday, Emma and her family joined the others from Somerset County in Clinton Township for services at Joseph Miller’s home. A handful of more families had just arrived, along with several from Ohio. Emma found herself looking for Judah, but he wasn’t present. Why hadn’t she asked if he attended services with the group in the northeast part of the county? Perhaps Sarah had been right about him being a prodigal son.

  After church, during the meal, a young woman named Barbara caught Phillip’s attention, and when the Youngie went off on a hike, the two walked together. A young man by the name of Eli Wagler, who had been staring at her during the service, approached Emma and asked if she would like to join the others. She declined, and as she did, she noted a wave of disappointment pass over Mamm’s face.

  After he left, Mamm said, “It wouldn’t hurt to walk with him.”

  Emma shrugged. She had no intention of marrying someone in Elkhart County, not when Abel waited for her back home.

  “Eli’s from a good family from Holmes County. They’ve been here over a year and have already bought four farms, including one for Eli.”

  “Does he know I’m a widow?” Emma asked.

  “Jah,” Mamm said. “As a matter of fact, he does. I made sure to tell his mother, Fannie.” Mamm took Emma by the elbow, directed her toward a woman near the middle of the group, and then introduced her.

  A few minutes later, one of the other women asked about Mamm’s midwifery services. Moving and settling didn’t slow babies from coming, that was for sure. Mamm was now playing a needed and respected role in their new community, one she seemed to relish.

  Emma caught a few words of another conversation, one that involved Fannie. “They hate it here,” the woman said. “And their husbands have agreed to return east.”

  “To Ohio?” another woman asked.

  Fannie shook her head. “To Pennsylvania. Lancaster County, I think.”

  Later, Emma approached the woman Fannie had been talking to. “I overheard you talking about two families who plan to return east. Whom were you talking about?” She kept her voice low.

  “The Martins and Slaybaughs,” the woman said. “They live in Newbury Township. Only the Martins are here today. The children in the other family have chicken pox. It’s been one thing after another since they got here. The wives are sisters, and they’ve convinced their husbands to leave next spring.”

  Emma asked, “Where are the Martins?”

  The woman looked around and then said, “Over there, by the sycamore tree.”

  Emma thanked the woman for the information and walked toward the couple, who were surrounded by nine children, ranging from a toddler to a boy around Isaac’s age. Surely they’d be happy to have a single woman to help with their children along the way.

  As she approached them, they seemed to be deep in conversation, but then the woman glanced up. She didn’t appear to be very friendly. Perhaps Emma had caught them at a bad time.

  Still, she explained that she was thinking about returning to Pennsylvania next spring. “I was wondering if I could journey with you. It would just be me and my horse and cow, plus a few belongings.” She’d leave her chickens behind.

  The husband and wife exchanged glances.

  “I could help with your children.” She gestured toward the group of women. “My mother is Tabitha Gingrich, the midwife, and I work with her. She’s taught me remedies and such. My knowledge might be beneficial.”

  The woman smiled a little.

  “I realize you might change your mind by then—” Emma began.

  “Oh, we won’t,” the woman said quickly. “But let us know if you are still interested when the time comes closer. We’ll see you at other services, I’m sure.”

  “We plan to leave the first week of April,” the husband said. “If we don’t see you before then, be at our farm by the first Monday of the month. If you haven’t arrived and we’re ready to go, we’ll leave without you.”

  Emma thanked them and returned to the group of women. The conversation had fallen to some Englisch neighbors, Yankees from Massachusetts. “They seem to think all of Indiana is their Promised Land,” one of the younger women said.

  “Won’t they be surprised when more Plain people keep coming?” Fannie said. “We sent a post back to Holmes County. Here all of our Youngie can have land to farm. Indiana is an answer to our prayers.”

  Emma imagined the Yankees felt the same way.

  When they left late in the afternoon for the farm, Phillip had stars in his eyes about Barbara. Emma was happy for him and longed for those days when she had felt that way about Asher.

  Two weeks later, after Dat and the boys had completed both the barn and the cabin, and Mamm and Emma had stuffed tickings with pine needles for their beds and moved the furniture into the cabin, Phillip started looking for a farm of his own. He wanted to buy before more settlers flooded into Elkhart County and the prices increased. When he found a farm in Union Township in late August, not far from the Landis place, Dat went to see it with him. When they returned, Phillip owned his own farm, thanks to money from their grandfather. The land had cost four dollars an acre, and he’d purchased one hundred acres.

  Isaac would inherit Dat’s farm, in time.

  That night, after Isaac had gone to bed, Dat, Mamm, Emma, and Phillip all gathered around the outside fire that they were still using to cook their meals, not wanting to heat the cabin. Dat’s next task was to
build a cook shed.

  “Emma,” Dat said, “you need to go keep house for Phillip and Isaac while they build the barn and then a cabin on the new farm. And you can help your Mamm out by attending the births in that area.”

  Emma shook her head. “I don’t want to do deliveries alone.”

  “Ach,” Dat said. “It is understandable that you don’t feel ready. But the mothers down there need help. You are more qualified than you believe.”

  Even though many of the midwifery fundamentals had come back to her when helping deliver Sarah’s baby, Emma was still afraid to be on her own. Would she ever stop missing her own children when she helped bring other babies into the world?

  Mamm leaned toward Emma. “God often calls us to do more than we think we can—or want to do.”

  Emma’s face grew even warmer than it had been. She knew that.

  “We need to make sure we work together to create a firm foundation for our family in this new land,” Mamm said. “And that means pushing ourselves and being diligent with the gifts God has given us. In turn, we’ll be able to serve Him more.”

  By the light of the fire, Emma could see her father’s eyes were full of care, just as Dawdi’s had always been. “Pray, Emma,” he said. “God will give you the strength you need.”

  As the others went inside the cabin, Emma stayed outside, staring into the flames. She didn’t mind keeping house for her brothers, but how she wished she was keeping house for Asher and tending to her own two children, perhaps having another one soon. Tears pooled in her eyes.

  “Emma,” Mamm called from the doorway.

  “I’m coming.” Emma wiped her tears away.

  Mamm walked back and met her. “I know this is still hard for you, but it will get better with time. We’re praying for a wife for Phillip. And a husband for you.”

  She met her mother’s gaze. “I plan to return to Somerset County.”

  “I thought you’d put that foolishness behind you.”

  Emma shook her head. “That’s home.”

  As they reached the door, Mamm whispered, “We’re your home. This is what God wants for you.”

  Emma didn’t respond. Leaving without her mother’s blessing would be harder than she thought. But she didn’t want to stay. Life was much more manageable back in Pennsylvania.

  Two days later, Phillip drove the covered wagon, with his horse and Emma’s cow tied to the back, while Isaac and Emma rode their horses. They plodded along, swatting at the mosquitoes.

  They came upon an apple tree and stopped. Emma filled her apron with fruit, mostly from the ground, and dumped them in the back of the wagon. Back home, Emma would be making apple butter and apple crisps. She’d be putting up beans and tomatoes and making plum preserves. And cheeses.

  Time would tell what she’d be able to preserve here, but if they were going to eat through the winter, she would need to put up some sort of food. They would also need to dig a root cellar on Phillip’s property and build a smokehouse like they had on Dat’s farm.

  They turned off the main trail, and as they neared Phillip’s property, they saw a small cabin at the edge of a wood. Emma smelled the pungent smoke of a campfire and the stink of a hide tanning. She shaded her eyes. There was a lush garden on the property—rows of corn, squash, beans, tomatoes, and greens, much like the one on the Landis farm but twice the size.

  A woman stepped from the cabin. Mathilde. She wore a buckskin dress instead of her blue calico one.

  “Hello!” Emma called out.

  As Mathilde waved, Jean-Paul started toward them from the opposite direction on his horse.

  As he neared, he called out, “Mathilde, Harriet needs you. It’s her time.” When he caught sight of Emma, he said, “I was going to go get your Mamm. But would you come instead? George fears for Harriet’s life.”

  EMMA GRABBED THE bag of supplies that Mamm had packed for her from the wagon, including cloths to staunch bleeding, ergot fungi to speed labor, and rosemary oil for pain.

  Phillip and Isaac continued on to Phillip’s farm, while Jean-Paul hitched his horse to a cart and then drove the women and Baptiste to the Burton place as he smoked his pipe. Again, Emma found the scent of tobacco soothing. On the way, Emma asked him how Sarah and Hiram were doing.

  “Très bien,” he answered. “Mathilde helped her off and on for a few weeks, when she wasn’t at George’s. Sarah isn’t strong, not like Mathilde was after Baptiste was born, but she seems to be doing all right. Walter is very happy.”

  Emma wanted to ask how Judah was but feared her query might be taken as interest in the man. She found him interesting to talk with, but that was all.

  When they reached Harriet’s house, the little girl, Minnie, was outside, sitting on the steps in the heat of the day, while George paced along the porch. As they neared, he strode down the stairs toward the cart.

  Jean-Paul stopped the horse, but before he could jump down, George reached for Emma to swing her to the ground. She winced at his roughness.

  “Where’s the other midwife? The older one?” He helped Mathilde off the cart but had his face turned toward Emma.

  “In Jackson Township.” Emma grabbed her bag from the back of the cart.

  “I can go get her,” Jean-Paul responded.

  Mathilde reached for Baptiste, but George shook his head. “Leave him with Jean-Paul.”

  Baptiste began to cry.

  Jean-Paul put his arm around Baptiste and gave Mathilde a nod, then snapped the reins. The horse lurched forward, and the cart rolled away. Baptiste began to yell, “Maman!”

  Mathilde strode toward the house without looking back. From behind, with her buckskin dress and her hair in braids, she looked like a girl. But from the side and front, she looked as if she would deliver her baby soon too.

  They could hear Harriet’s screams by the time they reached the front door. Mathilde opened it and led the way. Emma wished Mamm was with her. What did it mean that George feared for her life?

  The house had two narrow staircases, both taking off from the foyer. Emma followed Mathilde up the steep stairs to the left, and then into a bedroom. A woman, flat on her back in a big four-poster bed, kept screaming.

  “Harriet,” Mathilde said. “Emma is here.”

  The woman raised her head, just a little. Her long light brown hair fell around her shoulders, and her hazel eyes were lively. “Who is Emma?”

  “My mother is a midwife, and I work with her.” Emma put her bag on the bench at the end of the bed and walked to the side of the bed. “Jean-Paul has gone to find her. In the meantime, Mathilde and I will help you.”

  Harriet fell back against the pillow and groaned. “My other baby didn’t feel like this.”

  Mathilde glanced at Emma and raised her eyebrows. Emma guessed her other baby was the little girl, who appeared to be six or so. Perhaps Harriet couldn’t remember how much pain she’d been in the last time.

  “Let’s get you off the bed.” Emma thought of Mamm getting Sarah to stand and how her labor progressed after that.

  “No. I can’t.” Harriet lay still. “Last time I had a doctor, and I stayed in bed. I’ll do the same this time.”

  Emma sat next to her. “How long have you been having pains?”

  “A few hours.”

  “Have you had the urge to push?”

  The woman shook her head.

  When it took nearly five minutes until she had another pain, Emma guessed Harriet’s labor hadn’t progressed very far. When it passed, she said, “Never again. I’m staying on this side of the house with my mother.”

  Emma was baffled. Why were there two sides to the house? And what was Harriet saying? A woman’s duty was to her husband.

  “Harriet.” An older woman, perhaps in her mid-fifties, with her gray hair piled on her head and wearing a fancy dress with a full skirt, stood in the doorway. “How are you doing?”

  Harriet answered, “Mother, I’m frightened.”

  The woman frowned.

&nbs
p; Emma stood and introduced herself.

  She replied, “I’m Lenore Andersen. Harriet’s mother.” She pushed a stray strand of hair from her face. “Thank you for coming. Our maid left a few weeks ago—the last of the three who came from Philadelphia with us. It’s impossible to keep anyone all the way out here.”

  Emma smiled at her, trying to be sympathetic.

  “Come downstairs with me,” Lenore said to Emma. “You can tell me what you need for the birth.”

  Mathilde took Emma’s place at the side of the bed, and Emma followed Lenore down the steps. A moment later, they stepped into the parlor on Lenore’s side of the house. All around were beautiful pieces of furniture—an upright piano, a china cabinet, two settees, and a large cherrywood table with red velvet padded chairs. Emma had never seen such fine things.

  Lenore turned toward Emma. “Are you Plain?”

  “Jah, I am.”

  “My father had a shipping company back east,” Lenore said. “I’d see Plain immigrants on the docks sometimes when I was a girl, right off the boat.”

  Emma nodded as another of Harriet’s screams drifted down the stairs.

  “I don’t know what we’d do without Mathilde,” Lenore continued as they caught snatches of Mathilde’s reassuring French words. “She needs to stay here all the time, though. They owe George money, and we keep telling him to collect it that way, but he says Jean-Paul objects.” Lenore shrugged. “Hopefully we’ll soon be moving on to Norwood Park in Chicago. We’ve indulged George with his farming experiment long enough. It’s time for us to go.”

  Emma, surprised the woman had confided in her, said, “Right now we need to concentrate on Harriet.”

  “Of course.” Lenore sighed. “What do you need? Hot water? Cloths?”

  “Nothing right now, but we’ll need cloths and heated water later.”

  “I’ll do my best, with Mathilde’s help,” Lenore replied. “Send her down when needed.”

  Emma thanked her and headed back toward the bedroom. She was confused by all that seemed to be going on in the Andersen-Burton household. Separate sides of the house? A fancy dress on the edge of the frontier? Talk of moving to Chicago? Jah, Emma had never been around such people.