Gladden the Heart

by Olivia Newport

  “Depends which direction he went,” Niklaus said. He lifted his eyes to Jacks Mountain.

  “We’ll find him.”

  Niklaus did not know the name of the English man who spoke, but he nodded gratitude.

  “If you can help, move over toward the barn,” Niklaus said. He would need to know how many men were available before formulating further instructions.

  Relief rushed through Susanna. Niklaus and Adam were taking charge. The muddle of spectators—the number was still growing—gradually sorted itself out so that there was a clearer indication of who might ride with the search party.

  “I want to go,” Susanna blurted out.

  “Someone must stay with Phoebe,” Niklaus said.

  It was the sensible choice, but Susanna’s impulse fought it.

  “If Noah comes home on his own,” Niklaus said, “someone must be here—someone who knows his needs.”

  Still the notion that she must stay behind stuck in Susanna’s throat.

  “I will stay,” Mrs. Krabill said.

  “As will I,” Mrs. Lantz said. “The children will be glad for the break from their chores waiting for them at home. Surely the search will be accomplished quickly.”

  Susanna met Niklaus’s gaze. He nodded slightly.

  “I’m coming, too,” Patsy said.

  “I would expect nothing else,” Niklaus said. “You have the finest horse in the valley and can teach us all a thing or two about riding.”

  Adam dragged Noah’s saddle out of the stable and bridled the horse Phoebe specified as the best the Kauffmans had before handing the reins to one of the men who had arrived encumbered with a wagon.

  Susanna turned to Phoebe. “Forgive me. I was thinking of myself. I will stay if you want me to.”

  Phoebe squeezed Susanna’s hand. “You go. It will comfort me to know you are there if they find him on the mountain.”

  “I pray that he steps out of the woods and into your arms,” Susanna said, “and that we have all worried for nothing.”

  Niklaus was giving instructions, a strategy for riders to canvass the area around the Kauffman farm before heading up the mountain. A ridge halfway up the mountain would be the meeting place if no one spotted Noah before reaching it.

  Adam swung his own horse around to where Susanna stood and leaned down to clasp her arm. Susanna forced down the knot in her neck and let him hoist her up. The search party stirred up dust as it thundered off the farm.

  “Faster!” Susanna said to Adam’s back for the second time that afternoon.

  Maybe she should have ridden with Patsy. Galahad charged ahead of them.

  CHAPTER 34

  Adam’s stallion was no Galahad, but he could be coaxed to give more than he was accustomed to giving as the riders surveyed the acres Niklaus had assigned them to inspect. Susanna gripped Adam’s waist but sat up straight in the saddle behind him to look in every direction.

  “He is not here,” Susanna said.

  “We have been around twice,” Adam said.

  “We should head for the ridge. Is this horse up for the climb?”

  “Of course.”

  Adam pressed his knees into the horse. Susanna leaned into him. They gathered speed steadily.

  Suddenly the horse began to rear. Adam yanked the reins to one side before the rising front legs could dump Susanna off the back. The road’s shoulder was uneven and sloped, but once all four hooves were on the ground again, Adam stared back at the road.

  The bishop’s reddish-brown horse had bolted in from a side trail and halted abruptly, under the bishop’s command, across the trampled earthen road, impeding progression from either direction.

  “Good afternoon, Bishop,” Adam said, turning his horse back in the right direction.

  Disapproval flared in Shem’s eyes, which quickly settled on Susanna sitting astride behind Adam.

  “Please, Bishop,” Susanna said, “let us pass. Noah Kauffman has gone missing, and we are searching for him.”

  Shem gave a slight nod. “I have encountered others from the search party.”

  “Has anyone seen Noah?” Susanna asked.

  The tremble in her voice was something Adam wished he would never hear again.

  “No,” Shem said.

  Adam urged his horse back to the flat, narrow road, but Shem’s horse remained unmoved.

  “None of this should have happened,” Shem said.

  Adam swallowed his reply. Lectures about “should” would not change the fact that Noah was missing.

  “If Noah had been exposed for what he is,” Shem said, “it would not have come to this.”

  “Bishop.” Susanna’s single word held a tome of pleas.

  From down the road, horses’ hooves beat toward them. Charles and Patsy had circled back.

  “Ah,” Shem said, as Charles reined in his horse. “Here we have the true cause of these circumstances.”

  Charles’s response was swift. “In my own ministry, I find that human willfulness is often the cause of undesirable circumstances, such as those who would stand in the way of good works and well-being.”

  “Willfulness, indeed.”

  Shem’s ability to keep his animal completely still was remarkable, and without the distraction of even a dipping head, Adam’s eyes saw the ire in the bishop’s posture.

  “You willfully encouraged a sheep of my flock,” Shem said. “You willfully lured one of my fellow ministers into your snare.”

  “Snare?” Charles’s eyebrows rose. “‘The Lord is known by the judgment which he executeth: the wicked is snared in the work of his own hands.’”

  Shem glared. “‘The wicked is snared by the transgression of his lips: but the just shall come out of trouble.’”

  “Noah is the one in trouble now,” Patsy said, “and no one can possibly think him wicked.”

  “Is he not snared by his own words?” Shem lifted his heavy eyebrows. “Who are we to interfere with the will of God who chastises?”

  “Will of God?” Charles’s pitch rose. “The Good Shepherd cares only for his sheep and calls him by name.”

  They were losing time—precious minutes. Adam turned his head and whispered to Susanna. “Hang on with all you have.”

  Her arms tightened around him, and Adam secured his grip on the reins before signaling his horse forward. The road was blocked, but if his horse could not manage the ruggedness of the shoulder with speed, then Adam would think twice about taking him up to the ridge. He rushed around Shem and his statuesque horse and past Patsy and Charles on their restless beasts. Within seconds he was galloping again, with pounding hooves trailing behind.

  Only when they reached the ridge did Susanna allow her lungs to fill and empty with capacity. The two English men were already there.

  “Nothing?” Susanna searched their faces.

  “We circled our area three times,” one of them said. “Even made some inquiries. No one saw Mr. Kauffman come through that sector.”

  Patsy and Charles arrived.

  “You must forgive me,” Charles said to Susanna and Adam. “Frustration got the best of me, and I spoke with disrespect to your bishop.”

  Susanna’s eyes rolled. Could anyone have maintained self-control during that encounter? They might be there still, sparring with Bible verses, if Adam had not had enough of it.

  Niklaus arrived next, still leading the empty horse they all hoped Noah would ride home in his own strength.

  Then came two more Amish men on horses.

  After a few more minutes, it seemed no more would come. The search party was already diminishing.

  “What did you see and hear?” Niklaus asked.

  The English recounted the conversations they had instigated. The Amish men described the back roads they had thought to examine, places the English had no reason to go but which the Amish often used to travel between farms.

  There had been more volunteers when they organized on the Kauffman farm, but Susanna had expected that some would dr
op out of the search, constrained by their own circumstances. Still, her gut clenched at the reduced number.

  “One of the others might have found him,” Susanna said. “They would have made sure he got home instead of coming up here.”

  “One of us could ride down,” Patsy said, “to be sure.”

  Niklaus shook his head. “They know we are on the ridge. If someone found him, they would send a rider to us.”

  “Wherever he is,” Charles said, “he is well hidden.”

  A final rider crested. Susanna’s stomach sank.

  “I cannot speak to the lost among this group,” Shem said, “but to my own church members, I say that I believe you should return to your families and not interfere with the workings of God in this matter.”

  “Shem.” Niklaus turned his horse toward the bishop. “Whether you count me among the lost or your own church members, I do not know. But I am certain God’s will is compassion, and if we may be instruments of compassion, we will have served Him well.”

  “I must insist,” Shem said.

  None of the Amish moved. Susanna braced her hands on the back of Adam’s saddle.

  “Shem,” Niklaus said, “this is not your true heart. “You are not a severe man. Events of late are confusing for many of us. We will find our way out together, but in this moment we must think only of Noah.”

  Niklaus refused to let go of Shem’s eyes. He barely recognized the old Shem in the features carved into fury. Shem had always been more tightly wound than Niklaus, but he did not become bishop because he threatened church members into obedience. A heart of submission was gladly given.

  “You cannot change Gottes wille,” Shem said. “What God has decreed shall be.”

  “I do not wish to change Gottes wille,” Niklaus said, “only to accomplish it in the life of my friend and neighbor.”

  “Only God can accomplish His divine will.”

  Niklaus ran fingers across his mouth to mask his exasperation. This was not the time or place for theological nuances.

  “I will say to you,” Niklaus said, “what we said to those who gathered in Noah’s yard. If you are able to help, we are grateful to have you. If you feel you cannot in good conscience do so, then please do not hinder our efforts.”

  Shem did not move.

  “What will we do now?” Charles said. “We have come nearly a third of the way up the mountain, using several different paths, and we have not seen anything.”

  “Galahad can handle the whole mountain,” Patsy said. “I take him up all the time.”

  “’Tis true,” Susanna said.

  Niklaus nodded. “Galahad is a virtuous servant, and we may call on him to exceed his best.”

  A couple of horses adjusted their feet, as if recognizing what would soon be asked of them.

  “We are reduced to five pair,” Niklaus said, his eyes fastened on Shem again. He pointed up Jacks Mountain. “I suggest we pair off and comb the distance between here and that ledge. Moreover, we should remain within shouting distance of each other. If one of us sees Noah—or even a thread that may have come from his trousers—we will call for the others.”

  Around the ragged circle, heads nodded.

  “Patsy and Charles,” Niklaus said, “you take your horses to the bend and begin there.”

  Father and daughter were on their way before Niklaus made further assignments, sending the two English men next and then the two Amish men.

  “Adam and Susanna, since you are already sharing a horse, I see no cause to separate you now.” Niklaus held up a hand to stave off Shem’s imminent objection. “Go on. Waste no moment.”

  That left Niklaus with Shem. He might have scrambled the pairs differently, but at the moment, he did not trust Shem out of his sight. No one else should be left to endure Shem’s perplexing tirades.

  With her bonnet once again hanging by the ties, Susanna lifted her chin to prop it on Adam’s shoulder.

  “I do not know what I am looking for,” Susanna said. “Daed taught Timothy to track but never thought I needed to learn.”

  “Watch the trees,” Adam said, his breath warm on her face. “He may have caught a piece of clothing or lost a shoe. Or if he stumbled, there might be a batch of broken branches.”

  Susanna nodded.

  “What color shirt was he wearing today?” Adam said. “White?” Susanna squeezed her eyes and pictured the corner of the barn where she had last seen Noah. “Brown.”

  “That may be a little harder to see than white.”

  “I should never have left him.”

  “No one blames you, Susanna.”

  “I blame me.”

  Adam shortened the reins. “Hang on. ’Tis getting steep.”

  The horse took the incline ably, and when they reached a space flat enough, Adam halted.

  “We must not go so quickly that we do not search well and carefully,” Adam said.

  Pressure built in Susanna’s lungs. “Adam, I am frightened.”

  “‘Fear thou not; for I am with thee: be not dismayed; for I am thy God: I will strengthen thee; yea, I will help thee; yea, I will uphold thee with the right hand of my righteousness.’”

  “Isaiah,” Susanna murmured into his shoulder. “‘Be strong and of a good courage, fear not, nor be afraid of them: for the Lord thy God, he it is that doth go with thee; he will not fail thee, nor forsake thee.’”

  “My favorite. Deuteronomy,” Adam said. “Here is another: ‘Be strong and of a good courage; be not afraid, neither be thou dismayed: for the Lord thy God is with thee whithersoever thou goest.’”

  “Joshua 1:9.”

  In silence they peered into the thickening forest around them. Susanna lifted her eyes to the vastness of the Kish Valley below them. Her throat thickened.

  “In all of this that has come from the hand of God,” she whispered, her voice small, “Noah will be tiny. How will we find him? What if we are not looking in the right place?”

  “One more,” Adam said. ‘Thou shalt not be afraid for the terror by night; nor for the arrow that flieth by day.’”

  Psalm 91. Susanna knew it well. “There shall no evil befall thee, neither shall any plague come nigh thy dwelling. For he shall give his angels charge over thee, to keep thee in all thy ways. They shall bear thee up in their hands, lest thou dash thy foot against a stone.”

  “Adam,” she said.

  “Yes?”

  “How have we lost our way?”

  She listened to him breathe, three times in and three times out.

  “We will find it once again,” he said.

  CHAPTER 35

  Noah could be on Stone Mountain,” Charles said. “We assumed Jacks Mountain because it’s closer to the farm, but who is to say he didn’t cross the valley in the other direction?”

  Patsy shook her head at the thought that they had wasted valuable time on an erroneous assumption. What her father suggested was possible but unlikely.

  “With no horse,” Patsy said, “it makes the most sense that he would have left the farm by the back way, sticking to the paths the Amish use to visit each other.” Stone Mountain was on the other side of the valley, a long way to walk.

  “Perhaps he only meant to borrow a tool from someone,” Charles said.

  “Papa, I can’t explain it, but I do believe he would have come this way.” The search team had raced to adjoining farms and found no one who had seen Noah that morning. But what would take him up the mountain? He had begun to comment on the way Phoebe hovered. A few minutes of independence might have appealed, or a time of prayer without others measuring his every breath.

  They were on their way up to the highest ridge, where the mountaintop flattened. Patsy scanned for the other pairs. The mountain’s echo would keep them within shouting distance, but the sound might bounce around so that the origination would be hard to discern. Adam and Susanna still shared his white horse, making them easy to spot against the vegetation. The others rode darker animals and blended in, but she
found them.

  “What’s that?” Charles pulled his horse to the right and looked down and over several yards.

  Patsy followed. “A piece of cloth.”

  “It might be nothing.”

  “Or it might have torn off Noah’s shirt.” He had a brown shirt he fancied, and a dark green one that Phoebe preferred he wear when he worked.

  “Now that I am closer,” Charles said, “I believe it is nothing. Just a patch of muddied weeds.”

  “I am going to look.” Patsy dropped off her horse to navigate into the clump of trees. Varied evergreens populated the mountain this high up, nothing that would be dropping autumn leaves. She would assume nothing at this point. Anything that looked the least unusual bore inspection. The terrain angled down a few feet, and she turned her feet to slide down sideways, reaching for stray branches to sustain her balance.

  “Can you reach it?” Charles asked.

  “Just about.” She would have to release one last branch, let her weight surrender to gravity on the descending ground, and catch herself on the tree sporting the patch of unexpected color. There should have been footprints, or at least disturbed earth, if Noah had been this way recently, but Patsy would take no chances.

  She spread her fingers on the broad evergreen tree, ignoring the rough bark that scraped her palm and reaching with the other hand for the cloth.

  It crumbled immediately under her touch. If it had ever been a piece of whole cloth or a scrap of a garment, it was stuck on that branch long ago. Most likely it belonged to a trapper who passed this way years ago. Patsy moaned at the lost time.

  Niklaus’s horse was sure-footed and reliable, and the second horse tethered to his saddle seemed unbothered by the trek up Jacks Mountain.

  Jacks Mountain. The name arose when Jack Armstrong died on this mountain a hundred years earlier after confiscating a horse from a Delaware Indian who owed him money. The Indian tracked Jack Armstrong and with finality made sure there would be no further conflict about the debt. If Niklaus did not bring Noah safely home on this day, the Amish families might well take to calling it Noah’s Mountain. Losing Noah would be more on their minds than an English fur trader they had never known.