Softly Blows the Bugle

by Jan Drexler

  Elizabeth gathered up her knitting and put the needles and yarn in a basket at her feet. “Solomon invited me to see his house and farm. It’s a lovely, large house.”

  Aaron tapped his crutch on the hard-packed earth studded with gravel. “So, you liked his place?”

  “It’s still very Englisch. Abel Patterson left all of his furnishings, and they’re quite fancy. Too much for my taste, but Solomon likes it. He says all the houses back East are filled with upholstered furniture and pictures on the walls.”

  Aaron snorted. “Not all of them.”

  “Solomon also said that I could choose which things to keep and which to sell after we’re married.”

  The percussion of mortar fire wouldn’t have left him more numb than her statement did. “Is he . . . is he courting you?”

  “He wants to.” Elizabeth looked beyond him to the dark blue sky between the pine branches. “I haven’t told him he could yet.”

  “Don’t let him. He isn’t the man for you.”

  Her gaze skewered him in his place. “What does it matter to you?”

  “It doesn’t.” Aaron pulled on his beard. Why did it matter? “Except you’re the sister of my friend, and I want to look out for your welfare.”

  “And you think I’m in some kind of danger?”

  The image of Solomon’s smiling face yesterday afternoon flashed through his mind. The face might have been pleasant, but the man’s voice held a threatening edge. He knew what kind of man Solomon was, but he had no evidence, and without proof, Elizabeth would never listen to him.

  “You might be. Solomon might not be the man he appears to be. There’s something about him.”

  Elizabeth laughed. “Are you sure you’re not just jealous?”

  “Why would I be jealous? That would mean that I think of you as more than my friend’s sister.” He couldn’t meet her eyes.

  “I meant that you’re jealous of Solomon. He is everything you’re not. He’s an upstanding member of the community, a successful farmer. He has property and a house—”

  “And I have nothing.”

  Elizabeth stood, picking up her basket of knitting. “You have what you have. But Solomon belongs here.”

  She went into the house, leaving him standing there, the words she didn’t say hanging between them.

  “And Solomon is a whole man.” He said the words softly, but he couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his voice. “A whole man with a home to offer any woman that appeals to him.”

  He turned and started the slow, halting walk back to the Weavers’ farm, making his way down the lane and onto the main road. Elizabeth was right. He didn’t belong here. Nothing was more obvious. He should pack up tomorrow and head west. Head toward whatever was waiting for him out there. Except . . .

  Elizabeth had lit a lamp inside the house and a light gleamed through the pine branches. He couldn’t leave. Not as long as Elizabeth was in danger. He might not be the man for her, but he’d die before he saw her wed to Solomon.

  8

  On Wednesday, the last day of May, thirty-four men from Amish communities as far away as Indiana in the west; Ontario, Canada, in the north; and Somerset County, Pennsylvania, in the east began arriving in Holmes County. Levi met the train in Millersburg and drove the men to the farm where the meetings would be held. The mood of his passengers was solemn but determined.

  “They can’t ignore us this year,” one man said, a minister from Elkhart County in Indiana.

  “If they don’t listen to our needs, I see a split in the church coming.” The second man was close to Father’s age, with curly black and gray hair framing his round face.

  A tall man Levi recognized from the first meeting that had been held in Wayne County three years earlier shook his head. “I don’t know why those who want these changes don’t join the Mennonites or form their own church. Why do they have to make all of us accept their modern ideas?”

  Then the man sitting next to Levi on the wagon seat, a man older than anyone Levi had ever seen, gripped the top of his cane. He turned as far around as he could to address the ministers in the back of the wagon.

  “We must remain true to the old ways. If we stray, we stray from God himself.” He faced front again and tapped Levi’s foot with his cane. “You listen to what I say, young man. We can’t leave God behind in the quest for progress.”

  “I agree,” Levi said. “The church must hold on to Scripture, above all.”

  The old man nodded with satisfaction and rode the rest of the way in silence.

  On Thursday morning, the first day of discussions began. Levi stood outside the crowded house with Jonas and Aaron, trying to hear the proceedings. But even though he listened as closely as he could, he only heard every third or fourth word that was spoken in the meeting. Finally, he gave up and sat on the porch step next to Jonas.

  “What do you think they’ll decide?” Jonas asked.

  “They’ve already decided it. They want to write down their position in an official paper to present at the ministers’ meeting next week. Right now, they’re discussing who should be the one to do the writing.”

  Aaron chuckled. “The more men there are to discuss something, the longer it takes.”

  “There’s someone else coming,” Jonas said, looking down the road. “An emigrant wagon.”

  The three of them walked to the road to greet the newcomers.

  “We’re looking for Weaver’s Creek,” the driver said.

  “You’re nearly there,” Levi said. “Keep going down this road about three miles. Is there someone in particular you’re looking for?”

  “Dan and Ephraim Zook.”

  “You must be their father. They’ve been expecting you.” Levi reached up and shook the man’s hand.

  “I’m Casper Zook. This is my wife, Rosina.” He lifted the cover of the wagon. “Come on out. There are young folks out here you’ll want to meet.”

  A young man about Levi’s age pulled back the wagon cover and jumped out. “Name’s Tobias,” he said, then he reached up to help a girl out of the wagon. “And this is my sister, Elise.”

  She was beautiful. A shy smile, blue eyes, and a dark red dress that was neat and clean in spite of riding in an emigrant wagon. Levi swallowed. Then she glanced at him and her cheeks grew pink. She looked away again and that lovely face was hidden in the depths of her bonnet.

  Jonas stepped forward. “I’m Jonas Weaver, and my friends are Levi Beiler and Aaron Zook.”

  “Zook?” Casper looked closely at Aaron. “You don’t look much like any of the rest of us Zooks.”

  Aaron’s face was as red as his beard. “I was told that I take after my mother’s side of the family. They were Scotch-Irish.”

  Casper’s eyebrows rose. “Scots-Irish? Not Amish? I’d like to hear your story when we have more time, but right now I’d like to see my sons. Can you direct us to their farms?”

  Levi glanced back at the house. He hated to leave, but nothing much would happen today, and he couldn’t let this opportunity to get to know Elise better slip out of his hands. “I can show you. I need to get home, and the Zook farms are on the way.”

  Jonas nudged his arm with an elbow. “Why don’t you ride with the Zooks? Aaron and I can follow with your spring wagon.” He grinned and shifted his eyes toward Elise and back at Levi.

  “We’d be pleased to accept your help,” Casper said. “Come on up here and take the reins.”

  Levi climbed up to the tall seat of the wagon and lifted the reins. The tired horses shook their heads as if to say they thought they had gone far enough.

  “It’s only a mile or so to Ephraim’s farm.” Levi started the horses, conscious of Elise standing in the wagon bed, looking out between him and her datt . . . close enough to touch. He swallowed.

  “The boys have written about their life here. They praised the fertile soil, the rolling hills, and the strong community.” Casper watched the scenery as they traveled along the road toward the Zooks’ f
arms on the northern edge of the Weaver’s Creek district. “That’s one reason we decided to come out here to join them.”

  “I’m glad you came.” Levi swallowed again. “I mean, we’re glad you’re here. Dan and Ephraim are welcome members of our community. They’re becoming well known around the county for their harness making.”

  “So, tell me about this Aaron Zook. Where is he from?”

  How could he explain the situation?

  “Jonas worked in a hospital during the war. Aaron was one of the patients there and came home with him after the war was over.”

  Casper fingered his beard. “So, Aaron was a soldier?”

  Levi nodded. “He wasn’t raised Amish and joined the army when the war started. He said he did it after his father and grandfather were both killed in the fighting.”

  “Zooks fighting in that terrible war.” Casper shook his head. “I wouldn’t have believed it, but many strange things have happened during the last years.”

  Tobias, standing in the wagon bed next to his sister, said, “Look! That has to be Ephraim’s barn. It’s exactly as he described it in his letters.”

  “That’s right,” Levi said. “We’re almost there. Dan’s is just beyond it, down the road.”

  Casper leaned forward and Levi jiggled the horses’ reins to get more speed out of them. They picked up their pace, and as soon as they turned into Ephraim’s lane, Tobias jumped out of the back of the wagon and ran toward the house. Levi pulled the wagon to a stop in the farmyard, and Casper climbed down, then helped Rosina. Levi jumped down from the seat and went around to the back of the wagon, hoping he wasn’t too late.

  Elise stood in the back of the wagon with an expectant look on her face. When Levi came close, he held out his arms, and she grasped his hands as she dropped to the ground. He held her hands in his for the briefest of moments, and she looked up at him, her blue eyes mirroring his own. The same shade of blue. She smiled, then went to join her mother. Levi’s hands tingled as the spring wagon drove up.

  “Levi.” Jonas tapped his shoulder with the buggy whip. “Are you all right? Or have you been bitten by a bug?”

  Aaron grinned, sitting next to Jonas.

  “It’s nothing.” Levi started to climb up into the seat of his spring wagon. “We’ll let the Zooks get on with their reunion.”

  “Wait a minute.” Jonas stopped him. “She’s looking at you.”

  Levi frowned. “It isn’t fair to tease me.”

  “I’m not teasing. Look behind you.”

  He turned, expecting to see the Zook family ignoring everyone but themselves, but Jonas was right. Elise was watching him until she saw him look. Then she ducked her head, her face hidden again by her bonnet. A roaring started in his ears. He had heard of someone falling in love at the first glance at a pretty face, but he had always thought that was just silly girls’ chatter.

  He had been wrong.

  The Sunday after the Zook family arrived was a non-church day. Aaron enjoyed the relaxed off Sundays, but Ma had taken him to church every week, down in the hollow where the preacher lived next to the sawmill. Even though Jonas had tried to explain the value of the fellowship time and rest the community enjoyed on these quiet days, Aaron still had the feeling they should be in church. Maybe it was the memory of that fiery preacher’s voice, echoing in the little frame building. Whatever the Amish believed, Aaron knew that Tennessee preacher would find fault with neglecting the meeting two Sundays a month.

  On the other hand, he enjoyed the relaxed atmosphere of the farm after the morning chores were done. The family lingered over breakfast, and then Abraham read from his big Bible. The language was high German rather than Pennsylvania Dutch, but Aaron could now understand most of what was read after weeks of being immersed in the language. On this Sunday, Abraham read the Twenty-Third Psalm. Aaron was surprised that he remembered the words in Englisch and could recognize them in German. He must have been no more than five years old when Ma helped him memorize those words, but he hadn’t thought of them much since she passed away.

  Afterward, he joined Jonas and Abraham on the front porch. The side porch was where Aaron sat most often, right off the kitchen and mud room. The front porch seemed to be saved for summer Sundays. Facing north, it was shaded all day long, with the westerly breezes ruffling the leaves of the morning glory vines Lydia had planted to break up the afternoon sun’s rays.

  Abraham dozed in his chair woven from willow twigs while Jonas fidgeted in the seat next to him.

  “I’m going to see what Katie is up to today,” he said as he finally rose.

  “I wondered what was taking you so long.”

  Aaron grinned as Jonas gave him a playful slap on the shoulder on his way to the porch steps. As he headed toward the lane that would lead him across the stone bridge toward Katie’s house, Aaron relaxed in his chair.

  Stretching his leg out in front, Aaron’s eyes closed as he listened to the bees buzzing in the flowers. He couldn’t remember such peace. Not since the war started. Rest. No worries. Nothing to tug him away, nothing to hold him back.

  His thoughts drifted to Elizabeth. Should he worry about her? She seemed so vulnerable when it came to Solomon. She was like a dove, unaware and unafraid, being stalked by a fox.

  That thought pulled his mind out of the drowsy place it had gone, then the buzzing bees and gentle breeze lulled him back until Lydia opened the front door.

  “Abraham.” Her voice was soft, reluctant to wake him up.

  Aaron sat up just as Abraham lifted his hat off his face.

  “Ja, what is it?”

  “We have visitors. The Zooks are coming.”

  Abraham stretched as he rose from his seat, then went to greet the Zook family. Aaron followed, curious about these relatives who weren’t really related. Sharing the same last name with Dan and Ephraim had come to feel ordinary while he had been working with Dan in the harness shop, but the thought they might be family was just wishful thinking.

  He stood back as Abraham greeted Dan and Ephraim and their families and was introduced to Casper and Rosina, and Rosina’s children, Elise and Tobias. Lydia stepped forward then, inviting the women to join her in the kitchen. Dan’s and Ephraim’s children ran off to play in the little house near the barn that Abraham had built for his grandchildren. The men followed Abraham back onto the porch, and Aaron leaned against the porch rail as the men sat in chairs.

  Half listening to the conversation, Aaron watched the Zook men. They looked like any other Amish fellows, and certainly nothing like him. But they also looked a lot like Grandpop with their round faces and wide-set eyes. The mannerisms were similar, too, giving Aaron the feeling that they could have been sitting on the front porch of Grandpop’s cabin in the Tennessee hills.

  Then Dan turned to him. “How is your new leg doing? Does the harness work the way you wanted it to?”

  “Ja, for sure it does.” Aaron showed where the harness was strapped onto his leg outside his trousers. “The details you suggested, like using soft leather for the side next to my leg, work fine. It doesn’t slip at all.”

  Casper was closest to Aaron and leaned closer. “That’s fine stitching. Dan, is that your work or Ephraim’s?”

  “It’s Aaron’s. He knows quite a bit about harness making.”

  The older man looked up at Aaron. He was about the same age as Pa had been when he died.

  “Who taught you, son?”

  “My grandpop. He did harness making off and on, whenever someone would pay.”

  “And you’re from Tennessee, you said.”

  Aaron nodded, wondering what the man was thinking.

  Casper looked at his sons, then back at Aaron. “There’s a story in our family, about my datt’s brother. Years ago, back before the second war with England, Datt’s brother had a row with his father and ran away. He was never heard from again.”

  Abraham leaned forward. “That’s a tragedy. What do you think happened to him?”

  �
��We never knew. My father, Heinrich was his name, had been very close to his brother as they grew up. He told me that there was something about him that was worrisome. He was a rebellious child, and it only grew worse as he got older. He got so he was against everything the family stood for—their faith, the work they did, even eating together as a family. He was only sixteen years old when he left home.”

  “I’ve never heard this story, Datt,” Ephraim said.

  “By the time I married, and you boys came along, we had stopped talking about him. I think the memories just hurt my father too much. I know he never forgot his brother, though. I was named after him.”

  Aaron’s mouth went dry. The reason for Casper’s story began to become clear.

  “Did anyone ever try to find him?” Abraham asked.

  “My grandfather never stopped looking for him. At first, they thought he had gotten lost in the forest. There were some that said the Indians had taken him captive.” Casper ran his hand over his face. “There was even a report from a trader that he saw a young man living with an Indian tribe in western Pennsylvania, and the description matched Datt’s brother. To my grandfather’s death, he hoped that his son would return.”

  “You think,” Aaron started, but he couldn’t think of the Pennsylvania Dutch words. He started over in Englisch. “You think your father’s brother might have ended up in Tennessee.”

  “Now that I’ve met you, I think so. He knew harness making, and he could have a grandson about your age.”

  He swallowed. “Grandpop’s name was Cap, not Casper.”

  Casper smiled. “That’s a short name for Casper. My grandson is called Cap.” He stood. “And your father’s name?”

  “His name was Henry. Grandpop said he named him after his brother.”

  “Henry is the Englisch way to say Heinrich. He named his son after my father.” Casper’s eyes filled with tears in spite of his widening smile. “It couldn’t be, could it? That we would find the answer to the mystery here in Ohio?”

  Dan grinned. “The evidence seems to point that way. What do you think, Aaron?”

  Aaron ran his hand over his face, suddenly aware that it was the same gesture Casper had made a few minutes ago. Talking with him . . . it was as if Grandpop had come back to life as a younger man. “It sounds like it could be possible. I never thought Grandpop’s family in Pennsylvania would still remember him.”