by Leslie Gould
Mathilde stood toward the front of the church, Baptiste still in her arms. Behind her was a painting of Christ on the cross and then statues on both sides. Emma shivered in the unfamiliar structure. The Anabaptists had left the Catholic Church over three hundred years before, choosing simplicity of worship, nonresistance, and adult baptism.
But here she was in a cathedral, doing what she believed God wanted her to do.
There was shouting outside, yet Emma felt oddly safe. She passed by Isaac and continued on to Mathilde, putting her arm around her. Isaac stepped to Mathilde’s other side. And then Judah joined them. They huddled together, with Baptiste in the middle.
“Peace be with you,” the priest called out, speaking in a thick French accent from the other side of the closed door. “This is a place of safety, not of violence.”
“Someone will summon the sheriff,” Judah said.
“Is the priest going to be all right?” Emma asked.
“The bishop,” Judah corrected. “He’s Father Célestine de la Hailandière, from France.”
“Oh.” Emma was surprised he was the one who met them.
“He’s been expecting us. I told him we might have trouble—although I expected George would have found us earlier.”
There was a long stretch of silence and then the firing of a gun, again.
Emma flinched. There was more shouting and someone yelled, “Drop the rifle. You’re under arrest!”
Another voice called out, “George, give it up!” Probably Frank Lawrence.
Mathilde sighed in relief.
But then there was more shooting and then another yell. As an eerie silence settled, Emma could hear someone say, “Is he dead?”
Tears stung Emma’s eyes. She didn’t want George to be dead. Just locked up in jail.
She couldn’t hear what the answer was, but a few minutes later, the bishop opened the door. “It is now safe.”
“George?” Emma squeaked.
“Wounded,” the bishop answered. “They are taking him to the jail. A physician will attend to him.”
The bishop came toward them and extended his hand to Mathilde. “Bonjour.”
Before he reached her, she bowed slightly.
The bishop took her hand and lifted it. “God has answered my prayer. Now I pray he will reunite you with your family.”
EARLY THE NEXT morning as the sun rose, Isaac and Judah, who did the best he could with his injured arm, saddled the horses while Emma told Mathilde good-bye. “Please send a letter and let me know you and the children are safe in Kansas.”
“Oui,” Mathilde answered. “I’ll ask one of the nuns to write it for me.”
Emma’s eyes filled with tears.
“When you get back to Union Township, go to my wigwam. I’ve left something there for you.”
Emma gave her a questioning look.
Mathilde smiled. “You’ll see.”
“Denki.” Emma smiled back. “For whatever it is.” Then she said, “I wish I had a good-bye gift for you.”
Mathilde shook her head. “You brought me here, and hopefully I’ll be with my family soon. It’s the greatest gift you could give me.” Mathilde squeezed her hand. “Judah is a good man after all.”
Emma nodded and wiped away a tear. “God be with you.”
Mathilde replied, “And with you.”
As they mounted their horses, the sheriff rode up. “Glad I caught you before you left. I wanted to tell you that George Burton succumbed to his wounds during the night.”
Emma gasped. She despised George, but she didn’t want him dead. Judah sagged a little in his saddle. She guessed he felt the same way.
The sheriff asked, “Do you know his next of kin?”
Judah sat up straight again. “George was living on their farm in Elkhart County, Union Township, but his mother-in-law, wife, and children are all living in Chicago now.” He listed all of their names. “Lenore owns property there. I believe her home is in Norwood Park.”
“All right,” the sheriff said. “I’ll write a letter to his wife there.”
“What about Frank Lawrence?” Judah asked.
“I let him go last night,” the sheriff said. “The boy said his folks live in Missouri, and he was going to return there.” The man tipped his hat.
After the sheriff rode off, Isaac led the way out of town and Emma followed, with Judah taking up the rear this time. But after a few miles, he caught up with her and rode beside her.
“I have a confession to make,” she said. “I wasn’t certain until George took the second shot at you, that you were being honest about not working for him, about truly trying to save Mathilde.”
“I wondered about that,” he answered.
“Isaac told me that the reason you went back to work for George was so you could keep an eye on Mathilde, but she told me she hardly saw you and that you seemed friendly with George.”
“Jah, I didn’t want it to be obvious what I was doing. George wouldn’t have trusted me then.” Judah glanced toward Emma. “I know Mathilde wasn’t the only one suspicious of me. Others were, long before she became so.”
Emma thought of Sarah and her harsh words. And Phillip and his suspicions. She’d let what others thought sour her own opinion of Judah.
“I regret not trusting you,” Emma said.
“You couldn’t know for sure,” Judah said. “It’s not bad to be cautious. I’m glad you weren’t too trusting.”
The trip home was mostly uneventful. The weather had started to turn warmer and wildflowers were blooming—Virginia bluebells, poppies, and skunk cabbage. The leaves of the trees filled out, and the wind rustling through the branches serenaded them as they rode.
One night just before they reached Lafayette, Isaac fell asleep while Judah and Emma remained around the fire.
“Isaac told me you wanted to be on your way to Pennsylvania by now,” Judah said.
She nodded.
“You gave that up for Mathilde?”
Emma waved the shifting smoke away from her face. “For the time being, anyway.”
Judah leaned toward her. “Are you that unhappy living in Elkhart County?”
He wouldn’t understand. He seemed to relish the frontier life. He didn’t care about the dirt and mud. About cooking over a campfire or a fireplace. Clearly he’d left Ohio behind for good, without a second thought.
Jah, Judah had turned out to be a good man with good intentions, but living on the frontier was a grand adventure for him, as it would have been for Asher before he lost his health. Judah wouldn’t understand why she wanted to leave.
“Does it have to do with your husband and children passing away, with them being buried back in Pennsylvania?”
Emma wasn’t sure how to answer him. Finally, she shook her head. “It’s more than that. I’m not a strong person. I’m not cut out for this.”
“This?” Judah appeared confused.
“How hard everything is. I could barely handle life in Pennsylvania, when things were going well. In Somerset County, I have others to rely on. Here I have to be stronger than I am—even more so now, with Mathilde gone.”
Judah placed his hands on his knees, leaning even closer to her. “Look at everything you’ve done. How you helped Betha. What you did for Mathilde. What you did for me. You risked your life for mine. George could have murdered me.”
“That was impulsive. You and Mathilde would have done the same for me, but ten times better. And the only reason Betha survived was because of Mathilde.” Emma sighed. “My husband was so excited to move west, but I didn’t want to go, and I let him know it. Then I fell apart when our children died.” She shook her head as the memories threatened to swamp her. “The truth is, I wasn’t a very good wife or mother.”
“You might feel that way,” Judah said. “But that doesn’t mean it’s true. Isaac said you loved your husband and son very much and served them well. That you were heartbroken when they, and your baby girl, died. Isaac said you were a wond
erful wife and mother.”
Tears stung Emma’s eyes, and she stared into the fire. “Well, Isaac is young. There’s a lot he doesn’t understand.”
“I’ve never experienced death as you have, but I know it takes time to recover. The Lord works, jah, but oftentimes mysteriously. And sometimes, from our perspective, slowly.”
She met his gaze through the smoke. “Do you know this from experience?”
He nodded. “Not as deeply as you do, but I thought I’d marry a woman in Ohio. But after I left, she decided she didn’t want to marry me.”
“Sarah said you didn’t want to marry her.”
“Really?”
Emma nodded. “Because she was a widow.”
Judah shook his head. “I’m sorry she said that, especially to you. Sarah’s made several assumptions about me—I didn’t realize that was one of them.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I would have returned to Ohio if I’d known how badly Ida didn’t want to move west, but by the time she wrote to me, she was already being courted by someone else.”
“So you really cared about her?”
“I thought I did.”
The smoke shifted away from the two of them, and Judah looked determinedly at Emma.
“Listen,” he said. “I’ll go with Isaac to take you back to Pennsylvania.”
“Why would you do that? Because you haven’t traveled enough this year?” she joked. “Because you want to go an additional eight hundred miles?”
He grinned. “Something like that.”
She wrinkled her nose. “But seriously, why would you do that for me?”
“There’s not really enough work for both Walter and me on his farm.” He shrugged. “I’ll probably join the church when I go through Ohio, and then perhaps I’ll find a place to settle down on the return trip. Or just keep going west. I’ve heard of some Amish settling in Illinois and thought I might go there. Helping you get back to Pennsylvania wouldn’t be that much of a hardship for me before I settle down.”
“Well, denki, but perhaps I can find another family going in the summer or fall.” She stood. “Gut nacht.”
Emma left the fire and curled up in her blanket. But she couldn’t sleep, not even after she heard Judah leave the fire too.
WHEN THEY CROSSED the border into Elkhart County, Judah said quietly, “I’d like to go with you to Phillip’s cabin and speak with him, if you don’t mind.”
“All right.” Emma wasn’t sure if it was a good idea or not. She feared Phillip would deny sending George after them or confront them for leaving in the first place, which he had every right to do.
It was early evening when they arrived at the cabin. At the sound of the horses, Phillip stepped out of the front door. But the expression on his face was one of relief rather than anger. “You’re back.” He folded his hands together. “Is everyone all right?”
“We are,” Isaac answered. “But George is dead.”
Phillip exhaled. “He caught up with you?”
Emma nodded.
“He shot at us,” Isaac said. “And hit Judah.”
“Got my arm is all,” Judah said. “I’m fine.”
Phillip ran his hand through his hair. “It wasn’t until I guessed, out loud, that you’d gone to Vincennes that I realized George’s plan was to take Mathilde back by force. At first, when he stopped by, he pretended to be concerned about her. He’d found her wigwam down by the creek and assumed I knew about it.” Phillip exhaled. “He said he couldn’t figure out why you hadn’t told him what you were planning to do and assured me he wouldn’t hurt anyone, but the more I thought about the way he acted, the less I believed him.”
“All is forgiven,” Judah said. “I’m sorry we left you in a bad situation with the planting.”
Phillip shrugged. “It rained the first week you were gone, and it’s only now drying out. I’ll plant in the next couple of days.” He turned to Isaac. “And then we can go help Dat plant his field.”
Isaac nodded.
“By mid-May, Barbara and I plan to marry.” Phillip gestured toward Emma. “So you’ll be free to return to Mamm and Dat’s, or Pennsylvania.”
Emma didn’t respond right away. Finally, she said, “I’m happy for you and Barbara.”
“Denki,” Phillip answered. “I have a pot of beans on in the house, although they’re not very tasty.”
Isaac started toward the barn, but before Emma could follow him, Judah said, “Could I speak with you for a moment?”
“Jah.”
“On the last night in Vincennes, Mathilde said she’d left you something here. She wanted me to tell you when we arrived, and she also sent a note for me to give you. Could we go to her wigwam? For just a moment?”
Curious, Emma answered, “Jah.” Hopefully George hadn’t damaged Mathilde’s wigwam too badly.
She led the way. The creek was high, but Red crossed it quickly. Judah followed on his horse.
After they’d both dismounted, Judah said, “I need to say something before we go into the thicket.”
Emma turned toward him.
“I understand you want to return home, and, like I said, I will take you if you want.” Judah leaned toward her. “And I’m guessing there’s someone—a man—back there for you.”
“Did Isaac tell you that?”
“He started to, but I said I shouldn’t know all of your secrets.”
Emma shook her head. “Believe me, I don’t have many. Abel is my husband’s brother—Asher’s twin. At one time it seemed like a natural choice for me. But . . .” She wasn’t sure what to say. It was becoming more and more clear to her that she didn’t want to marry Abel. His letters had been terse, with no emotion or even any details of his life, even when she’d tried to connect with him through her own letters. Maybe her Mamm was right in her assessment of him too, that he lacked vision and ambition.
She’d planned to return to Pennsylvania and marry him because that was what was easiest, but that wasn’t right for her or fair to him. She couldn’t go through with marrying him just because it was convenient.
“All right.” Judah cleared his throat. “I still need to tell you . . .”
Emma met his gaze.
“I’ve come to care about you.” He put his hand on her shoulder. “If I go back with you to Pennsylvania and you don’t marry Abel, I would like to stay—as your husband. I’ll take the money I’ve saved to set up a household, start a business. I know I won’t be able to afford a farm, but I’ll do whatever I can to support you.”
So many thoughts rushed through Emma’s mind. Asher and their children. Her grandfather. Her house in Pennsylvania. Her feeble commitment to Abel.
But what fully filled her heart was Judah. She could love again. Jah, Judah was a dreamer, like Asher was, but she felt better equipped this time to join in on the adventure. Still, as she reached for his hand, she said, “Give me some time.”
He nodded.
She led him through the thicket to the wigwam. The hide that had covered the doorway was now hanging lopsided, but as Emma crawled inside, it didn’t seem that George had disturbed anything, not the way she’d feared he had.
“Look.” Judah pointed to the pile of furs. A cradleboard sat in the middle, not Agnes’s, but one that Emma had never seen.
“It was Baptiste’s,” Judah said. “But the dreamcatcher is new.”
Emma reached for the cradleboard. It had a hickory hoop over the top like Agnes’s, but the strips of deer hide were twisted with blue ribbon, from Mathilde’s calico dress with the forget-me-not pattern. The dreamcatcher was the pattern of a cross with the feather of a loon hanging from it. A piece of paper fell from the top. On it was written, in charcoal, pour Emma.
Judah pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. “This is the note Mathilde wanted you to have.”
The paper was folded and sealed. Emma opened it. In the same script as the first, but written in ink, were the words pour Emma et Judah.
Wordlessly, she handed it to
Judah.
He smiled. “That last night, in her quiet way, she suggested I pursue you. Of course, she didn’t need to give me any encouragement. . . .”
Emma touched the dreamcatcher, causing it to swing on the hoop. She would recover. So would Mathilde. And Baptiste and Agnes too. They would embrace their new lives, thanks to the grace of God. That didn’t mean they would forget those they had lost, those they mourned, but they could hold all of it in their hearts. And then step forward in faith.
Emma turned toward Judah. “You don’t need to go to Pennsylvania with me.”
“Nee? Why not?”
She took his hand. “Because I’m staying here. With you.”
CHAPTER 29
Savannah
As Tommy’s Jeep inched toward the Chicago city limits, Jane said, “That’s all.”
“It can’t be,” I gasped. “What about their wedding?”
“Well, there is that. They married the next August on Emma’s parents’ farm as the blue daisies bloomed in the pasture. By that second summer, Emma had come to love Indiana, and, in time, she became an important member of the Plain community.”
“What about Mathilde?”
“In September, Emma received a letter from her, written by one of the nuns. Her family had been sent on to the Indian Territory, which later became the state of Oklahoma. Sadly, her mother had died on the trail. But Mathilde was reunited with her father and sisters. ”
I blinked my eyes to stop the tears. “Did Emma hear from Mathilde again?”
“I’m afraid not. That was the one and only time.”
My chest ached, and not just from my injuries.
“But,” Jane said, “Emma never forgot Mathilde and her family. In fact, she named her oldest daughter after her. Emma passed the story of her friend and the Potawatomi people down to her children and grandchildren and even great-grandchildren. The story has lived on through the generations.”
“What did Judah do to support Emma?” Tommy asked.
“Well, that was really something.” Jane shifted in her seat and glanced from Tommy to me. “Lenore wrote to Judah and asked him if he’d farm her land. When Lenore died, she left a stipulation in her will that Judah could buy the farm outright for a good price, which he did. By then, he and Emma had nine children and filled both sides of the house. Unfortunately, that original house was torn down in the early 1900s. My brother’s house, down the lane from my shop, was built on the property in 1904.”