Softly Blows the Bugle

by Jan Drexler

  “No spot for our own garden, that’s for sure.” Elizabeth kicked a stone to the side of the road. “But you Stuckeys have that big garden for the family, and our family has this one.” She grinned at Katie. “I guess this is the year that you are part of the Weaver garden.”

  Katie blushed. “By harvesttime Jonas and I hope to be married. I’m glad to be able to put up what garden produce I can before then.”

  “And we’re glad to help you.” Elizabeth smiled at the friend who was like a sister already.

  Mamm was hard at work with her hoe when Elizabeth and Katie arrived.

  “Is Ruby coming today?” Elizabeth asked, stopping to train a stray bean stalk onto the trellis Mamm had erected when they planted the beans last month.

  “She said she’ll be down later. Roseanna brought word that she is pickling eggs this morning, but she’ll come down when she’s done.”

  “Pickling eggs?” Katie took a hoe from the pile Mamm had brought out to the garden. “Her hens must be laying well.”

  Elizabeth picked up her own hoe and started at one end of the corn row. The little shoots were almost hidden in the weeds that had sprung up since last week. May was always the month to fight weeds in the garden. By June the plants would be tall and full enough to shade the ground beneath them and keep the weeds from growing as well. She worked steadily as Mamm and Katie visited, but she didn’t pay attention to their conversation. The combination of the bright sunshine, the earthy odor of the garden, and the call of the red-winged blackbirds along the creek transported her thoughts to many childhood days of hoeing weeds. She had hated the task then, but now that she was older, it was a joy. A quiet respite from the busyness of life.

  A movement on the other side of the pasture fence caught her attention. It was Datt’s bull, Samson. Datt had raised him from a calf, but Elizabeth hadn’t seen him for a long time. Datt had been keeping him in the far pasture, away from the cows. This spring the bull had grown to his full size and looked like a brute instead of the sweet yearling she remembered.

  “Mamm, is Samson supposed to be in that pasture?”

  Mamm shaded her eyes and watched Samson walk along the fence as if he was looking for a weak spot.

  “He must have broken through his fence again. Abraham needs to sell him. We have no need for a bull, and he’s getting too big for the men to handle. I’ll let your datt know he got out again at dinnertime.”

  The bull raised his head and looked in their direction.

  “Here comes a visitor,” Mamm said, turning to see what Samson had noticed. “It looks like Solomon Mast.”

  “Is Datt in the barn?” Elizabeth put her hoe down. “I’ll go fetch him.”

  “Ne, he’s out in the fields.”

  Mamm dusted off her hands and walked to the farm lane and Elizabeth joined her. Solomon drove his horse over the stone bridge and into the farmyard and smiled at them as he pulled his horse to a stop.

  “Good morning, ladies.” He touched the brim of his hat.

  Elizabeth looked at her feet to keep from staring. The various Amish communities had different customs, but she had never heard any Amishman greet anyone like that.

  “Abraham is out today,” Mamm said. “You’ll find him if you follow the farm lane west along the creek.”

  Solomon stepped out of his buggy. “I didn’t come to see Abraham. I had hoped to find Elizabeth here.”

  “Me?” Now she didn’t worry about staring. Solomon’s face was as pleasant as she remembered, with dark eyes set wide and a ready smile. White teeth gleamed above his beard.

  “Do you mind? Perhaps we could go for a little walk?”

  Elizabeth wiped her hands on her apron, sure that garden dirt clung to them. “I’m busy right now. The garden needs to be hoed.”

  “Katie and I can get along without you for a few minutes,” Mamm said, turning back to her work. “Take your time.”

  “Well then.” Solomon indicated the lane leading along the creek past the house. “Shall we?”

  He set the pace, walking slowly between Elizabeth and the creek. She strolled next to him, waiting for him to begin.

  “I hear that you are a widow.”

  “That is right.”

  “And you have heard that I lost my wife a few years ago.”

  Elizabeth glanced at him. “I have heard that.”

  “I thought”—he caught her gaze and smiled—“that since we’re both alone, perhaps we should learn to know one another, to see if we’re compatible.”

  “You are very new in the area. We don’t know you yet.”

  “That’s true. But I wanted to see how you felt before any other beau has a chance to snatch you away.”

  He wiggled his eyebrows as he said this, and she laughed. “I don’t think there is any danger of that. I don’t intend to marry again.”

  Solomon stopped walking and grasped her hand. “Perhaps I can change your mind.”

  She held his gaze. His eyes were clear and open, his smile friendly. Elizabeth pulled her hand from his grasp and continued along the lane. “Tell me about yourself. Where did you live before you came to Ohio?”

  “In Lancaster County, in a small community outside Ephrata. I settled there soon after my wife passed on, but after two years I still hadn’t found the right woman to share my life, so I decided to try farther west.”

  Elizabeth watched his profile as he spoke. His voice had caught when he talked about his wife passing away, but he showed no other emotion.

  “Why did you choose Weaver’s Creek?”

  “Because of Abel Patterson. He had a farm to sell and I was looking. The situation was providential.”

  “Providential?”

  He smiled. “God’s providence. All good things come from God.”

  Elizabeth stopped at the gate in the fence between the farmyard and the wheat field. Feathery green growth covered the field, undulating in the gentle breeze. She had heard that phrase before, that all things come from God. Good as well as bad. Was it God’s providence that brought Solomon Mast to Weaver’s Creek? Could it be that God was giving her a second chance to make a marriage that was pleasing to him?

  Across the field, coming toward them along the lane, Aaron drove the farm wagon. Solomon opened the gate as he approached. Aaron drove through, then pulled the horses to a halt.

  “Solomon Mast, isn’t it?” Aaron asked. He made no move to climb down from the wagon seat.

  “That’s right.” Solomon stepped close to Elizabeth, close enough for their shoulders to touch. “I recall seeing you at the meeting on Sunday, but I don’t think I heard your name.”

  “Aaron Zook. I think we might have met before,” Aaron said, his voice hard. “A few years ago? In the Shenandoah Valley?”

  Solomon chuckled. “What would an Amishman be doing in the Shenandoah? We have no communities there.”

  Aaron’s eyes narrowed and Elizabeth felt Solomon stiffen. Why was Aaron being so rude?

  “I need to get to my work in the garden,” she said. “Are you going back to the barn, Aaron?”

  He shook his head, but his gaze didn’t leave Solomon. “Abraham needs to borrow a tool from Gideon, but I can give you a ride back to the house, if you would like.” His blue eyes shifted from Solomon to Elizabeth and softened. “You needn’t walk if you are in a hurry.”

  Elizabeth glanced at Solomon. She didn’t want to abandon him in the middle of their walk. “I’ll go back with Solomon.”

  Aaron slapped the reins on the horse’s back and went on, but twice he turned around to look at her.

  “That was a strange question for him to ask.” Solomon took her hand and tucked it around his elbow as they started walking back toward the house. “He doesn’t seem to be Amish. Where is he from?”

  “Aaron is from Tennessee. He and my brother became friends during the war.”

  His arm tightened under her hand, but his face was calm and relaxed. They were nearly back to the house and Solomon’s buggy.


  “I hope you’ve given some thought to my proposal. I think we could become very good friends.” He untied the black horse from the hitching rail. “Shall we go for a drive on Sunday afternoon? Just the two of us?”

  Elizabeth shook her head, her hands growing clammy. She took a step back. “It wouldn’t be proper. I mean, to ride in your buggy alone with you.” She had learned her lesson many years ago. Before they had been married, Reuben had always urged her to come with him alone, but a woman alone with a man was too vulnerable.

  A frown appeared for a second, so briefly that Elizabeth couldn’t be sure she had even seen it.

  “You are right, of course. Perhaps you have a friend or a sister who could accompany us?”

  Bells clanged in Elizabeth’s head. She shook them away, but the warning persisted. Would the memory of Reuben always affect her this way?

  “I wouldn’t want to leave the fellowship early. Maybe . . .” She licked her lips. “Maybe another time.”

  She turned and strode toward the garden, searching for her abandoned hoe through clouded eyes. What was wrong with her? Solomon was a good man, a member of the church, friendly and solicitous . . . Her hoe struck deep into the packed dirt and ripped out a dandelion. And that was the problem. She didn’t deserve a man like him.

  6

  On Sunday, Aaron slipped into the back row of benches just in time for the service to start. Jonas had already taken his seat near the front next to Levi, but Aaron didn’t want to draw attention to himself by thumping up the aisle. Folks stared at him enough as it was.

  He looked around the room as the first hymn started. The congregation sang slow, drawn-out songs in a chant that sounded nothing like the hymns Aaron had heard before, and the words were in high German rather than the Pennsylvania Dutch he was more familiar with. He hummed along, not bothering with the words as he tried to identify the folks he knew from the backs of their heads.

  On the women’s side he found Elizabeth’s sister Ruby easily. Her red hair floated in light tendrils around the edge of her kapp. Next to her were her daughters and Lydia. Samuel Weaver’s wife, Anna, was next with her daughter. Aaron had seen them often at the Weavers’ farm. And then came Elizabeth, sitting very still, her eyes closed as she sang, her expression a slight frown, as if she was concentrating on the words.

  The singing ended and the song leader announced the next hymn, Das Lobleid. This was the one he was beginning to learn since the congregation sang it at every worship service. The song was a praise to God, and Aaron let the words surround him, singing along when there was a phrase he remembered. He watched the back of Jonas’s head five rows in front of him. Jonas would nod as one word, which followed several notes, ended and the next one began. It was just enough of a cue to allow Aaron to keep up.

  But then at the third verse, the man sitting three rows ahead shifted in his seat, blocking Aaron’s view. Aaron frowned and tried to lean to the left, but he was between two strangers and couldn’t move far enough. All Aaron could do was wait until the other man shifted again. He stared at the back of the man’s head. Straight black hair, smoothed against the head with the imprint of the hat band visible . . . Every thought of the church service and the song fled Aaron’s mind. He had seen that head before. He blinked.

  “Got any more information for me?” the lieutenant had said. The night was dark, the air filled with the smoke of a hundred campfires.

  “Sure enough.” That voice. Smooth as if it had been run through a grease bucket. “The Yankees are in Winchester, but they’re gettin’ ready to come this way.”

  “How about the provisions?”

  “The Dunkers have banded together to hide their stores.” The voice chuckled. “But I know right where they are, just a few miles from Staunton. I can show you on the map.”

  Coins clinked together as Aaron looked around the tent flap. The lantern in the tent showed the spy clearly, but only the back of his head. His straight black hair, shining in the light, smoothed against his head with the imprint of the hat band visible . . . a man dressed in the plain clothes of the farmers in the valley. He held out his hand and the captain dropped the coins into it.

  The song ended and Aaron blinked again. As the leader called out the number of the next hymn, Aaron stared at the back of the head. Solomon Mast’s head. But why would an Amishman have been in the Shenandoah Valley during the war? And why would he sell information to the army? He had to be mistaken. It couldn’t be the same man.

  After the services were over, the men arranged the benches for the fellowship meal. Aaron found a place at the table between Jonas and Dan Zook. Ephraim sat across from them.

  “When do you expect your father and the rest of the family to arrive?” Jonas asked Dan as he buttered a thick slice of bread.

  “Datt wanted to be here in time to attend the early meeting before the ministers’ meeting begins next week,” Dan said. “So, we expect him any day now.”

  “Does he have a place to live?”

  “Dan and I have their house nearly built,” Ephraim said. “Between us, we have more than enough farmland for all three families.”

  Levi sat down on the other side of Jonas. “We will certainly welcome them to the community. Will it be your parents alone, or do you have younger brothers and sisters?”

  “Datt remarried several years ago,” Dan said. “Our stepmother was a widow and brought her two children to the family.” He looked at Ephraim, his eyebrows raised in a question. “Tobias was eighteen when they married, if I remember correctly.”

  Ephraim nodded. “And Elise was fourteen. So, they are twenty-four and twenty now.”

  “And both of them are coming to Ohio?” Levi asked.

  “That’s what Datt indicated in his last letter,” Dan said. “I thought Tobias would be married by now, but from what Datt says, he’s anxious to establish his own home out here in Ohio.” He chuckled. “It sounds like he’ll be looking for a wife.”

  “Is your father a harness maker, also?” Aaron asked, concentrating on the Pennsylvania Dutch words.

  “He’s the one who taught us the trade,” Dan said. “I was thinking that it might be good for you to keep learning. You already know quite a bit about it, and it is a skill that you don’t need both legs to do.”

  Aaron took another slice of bread and laid a piece of ham on it. “I don’t know. The community isn’t large enough for so many harness makers. Besides, I’m not sure how long I’ll be around here.”

  Ephraim pushed his plate away and leaned across the table toward Aaron. “Even if you don’t stay in Weaver’s Creek, the harness trade is one you could do anywhere. You should learn from Datt while you can. He has a lot of experience that he’ll be happy to pass along.”

  Taking a bite of his sandwich, Aaron let Ephraim’s words settle in. He had never considered that he would be a tradesman. He had spent the years before the war hunting, fishing, and trapping. He had always planned to go back to that life once the war ended, but that was out of the question now. Even in the settled hills of western Tennessee, he would find it impossible to make a living with only one leg. He’d be at the mercy of every bear and panther in the forests, and even more so in the West. He’d heard tell of giant bears out there with grizzled shoulders that could kill a man with one swipe of their paws.

  A trade would provide a living, if he could stand being in a workshop all day long. And he enjoyed the feel of leather between his fingers. Dan had said he had a talent for stitching even seams. He had felt welcome and at home in the harness shop when they were constructing his wooden leg. It was something to think on.

  The men’s conversation continued without him as the others prepared to leave the table to make room for the women and children. Solomon Mast got up from his seat at the end where he had been sitting with Bishop Amos and Abraham. Instead of accompanying the other men outside, Solomon made his way toward the kitchen. He leaned against the doorframe, talking with the busy women in the crowded room. Whatever he sai
d made the women laugh, and then he stood aside to let someone through—it was Elizabeth. Her face blushed pink as she went past him, her hands full of clean plates and a smile on her face.

  Solomon watched her walk away, and his gaze caught Aaron’s. His smile widened, then he looked back at Elizabeth’s figure. Aaron’s eyes narrowed. In any other place, he would accuse Solomon Mast of taking liberties with a woman, watching her like that. But the Amish had different ways. Ways he wasn’t familiar with. Perhaps if two adults were courting, the man was freer to show his attraction in public, asserting his claim.

  Somehow, that thought left a sick feeling in Aaron’s stomach.

  “Solomon Mast is watching you.” Millie’s voice held a teasing lilt. She was washing the dishes after the fellowship meal while Elizabeth and Katie dried them.

  Elizabeth frowned as she dried the cup in her hands. “You must be mistaken. Why would he pay any attention to me?”

  Katie nudged Elizabeth with her elbow. “Because you’re a young widow and he’s a widower. What could be more normal than the two of you becoming a couple?”

  Elizabeth glanced behind her. Solomon smiled when he saw her looking, his expression warm and friendly. She turned back to her friends.

  “Nothing is going to come of it. He’s becoming acquainted with the people in the community, that’s all.”

  Millie giggled. “I think he wants to become acquainted with one particular member of the church, and that’s you. Don’t look now, but he’s coming this way.”

  Katie grabbed a dry dish towel and concentrated on wiping the next cup while Millie suddenly started scrubbing a plate. Elizabeth felt the warmth of someone close behind her.

  “Would you care to take a short walk with me?”

  Solomon’s breath stirred the hairs on the back of her neck, causing Elizabeth’s stomach to flip. She turned around and took a step back as he towered over her. His dark eyes twinkled as he smiled at her, and the scent of something rich and woody played in the air between them.