Gladden the Heart

by Olivia Newport

  Niklaus would not let that happen. Despite Deborah’s caution that he should take ropes in case he had to tie Noah across a horse, Niklaus prayed constantly under his breath for a joyful outcome. Behind him, Shem rode without speaking. They were off any sort of path used for horses. Noah was on foot. He could have wandered in any direction once he began his ascent of Jacks Mountain. And the ground was rife with slopes and indentations that could endanger the sturdiest of horses. Niklaus and Shem zigzagged back and forth across the stretch of mountain Niklaus had chosen for them, peering at the earth for any sign of recent disturbance. Dirt that had been kicked. Splotches of color that might signal clothing. Had Noah even been wearing shoes when Susanna last saw him working in the barn? Niklaus had not thought to ask.

  The silence between Niklaus and Shem had begun the moment they split from the other teams and persisted undisturbed during the search. Niklaus vacillated between being grateful for the silence and wishing they might use this time alone to clear the air between them. Shem was not an unkind man. The excitable state he entered beginning the day Noah first preached after the church meal befuddled Niklaus. Shem took seriously his responsibilities as a spiritual leader. Niklaus credited him generously for that. But was a minister not first of all a gentle shepherd? Niklaus turned over phrase after phrase in his mind, searching for something conciliatory to say to his old friend and fellow laborer in the gospel, but every thought was fraught with risk under the present circumstances. The wrong phrase, the wrong word, the wrong inflection—anything might provoke a tirade from Shem that would distract both of them from their task.

  Find Noah.

  Niklaus wanted to find Noah. He was less sure of having Shem at his side when the moment came, a sentiment for which Niklaus immediately asked God’s forgiveness. He then asked for discernment to choose his words wisely.

  From the height of the mountain, Susanna looked westward above the valley that ran from west to east. The sun that ought to have cheered her was instead ominous. The afternoon was waning far too quickly and would soon yield to dusk. She thought back through the afternoon, calculating the time spans of each stage of discovering Noah missing, gathering help, eliminating the obvious possibilities closer to home, organizing a strategy for covering the terrain of Jacks Mountain.

  Even the search party they began with was not nearly enough for the densely forested acreage. From her vantage point now, she could behold the entire valley, red barns dotting green and yellow fields, white houses, horses and cows in the pastures that looked as small as she felt. Against the challenge of finding one man on a sylvan mountainside, even ten pair of eyes were wholly insufficient. Yet had they taken time to gather a larger search party, they might have only sent Noah closer to danger. Susanna did not see the English pair. Most likely, now they were eight—or possibly only six, if the Amish duo did not come into view soon.

  The time was well past when Noah would have fallen under. If he had left the farm consciously with a specific intent, by now he would be unaware of his surroundings. What did he see when he looked out the window of his house while he preached? Sometimes he seemed to look right at people, even point at them to underscore his words. But did he see them? Patsy and Susanna had spent weeks keeping him safe inside his own house, anticipating where he might step that could lead to harm, what he might touch that could injure him. How could he possibly be safe on Jacks Mountain when he ought to be home recovering on the davenport, sleeping while Phoebe prepared his late supper?

  “Adam,” she said.

  “I know.”

  She needed to say no more. He understood her.

  Adam reined in his horse, halting even the slow progress they had been making.

  “What?” Susanna said. “Do you see something?”

  Adam shook his head. “I want to light a lantern while we can still see what we are doing.”

  Susanna shivered at the thought but nodded. She dismounted to allow Adam to unhook the lantern from the saddlebag and find matches. A breeze gusted just as he adjusted the wick, extinguishing the flame. It took him three times to make sure the flame would hold. Had he also put extra oil in the saddlebag? Susanna prayed they would not need it.

  He handed her the lantern. “You will have to hold it. I have nothing to hang it from.”

  She nodded, parting her lips to breathe past the bulk in her throat.

  “It will be dangerous to try to go down the mountain after dark,” Adam said as they settled themselves back on the stallion.

  “I do not care about that,” Susanna said, “only that we find Noah.”

  “Even with a lantern it will become difficult to search.” Reality muted Adam’s voice. “We cannot serve him well if we are foolish in the short term.”

  Lighting the lantern was a precaution. It was not yet dark. Someone might be closer to Noah than she and Adam were.

  “Where are the others?” Susanna said.

  Sitting on the horse, they picked out three other pairs of searchers.

  “The English have gone home,” Adam said.

  “Surely not.”

  “I do not see them.”

  Neither did Susanna. Eight. Half the number of people who left the Kauffman farm remained. She prayed the two Amish men were yet among the now eight pairs of eyes searching a darkening forest. Adam guided the horse as gently as he could. Susanna had only one arm at his waist now, the other extended to light their way. They traversed the yards in slow, hushed deliberation, both of them tensing at every sound of an animal scurrying across the forest floor or the shifting light. The stallion dipped to one side, and the lantern flickered, trapping a shadow in uncertainty.

  Adam pulled on the reins. “Hold still. Right there.”

  Susanna’s outstretched arm froze in place.

  “Higher,” Adam said. A few minutes ago, the lantern had seemed precautionary. Now he could not be sure of what he saw twenty yards away, much less up the mountain.

  Susanna raised the light. “What did you see?”

  Adam pointed. “There.” It might just be a play of light, the sun settling behind a tree trunk with outstretched branches. Adam inched the horse forward, his gaze not releasing what he thought he might have seen.

  “’Tis Noah!” Susanna said. “Faster.”

  “I do not want to lame the horse.”

  “Faster!” Susanna insisted. “You watch the ground. I will watch Noah.”

  Noah’s voice echoed off the mountain.

  “Is he preaching?” Adam nudged the horse to change direction. “Niklaus said we are to call out if we see him, yet I do not want to startle Noah.”

  “If he has fallen under, Noah will not hear us.” Susanna lifted the lantern and swung it side to side, hoping it would catch someone’s attention. “Patsy! Reverend Baxton! Niklaus! Bishop! Mr. Glick! Mr. Wagler!”

  Returning shouts soon met their ears. Everyone came to the front of the mountain, out of the thickness of trees they had been weaving in and out of all afternoon. Susanna swung the lantern in the direction of Noah, but it was unnecessary. Noah’s voice dominated the mountainside now, his words rising and bouncing.

  “On this holy mountain,” Noah said, his arms outstretched, “the Lord shall make his presence known. On this holy mountain, we shall behold his coming. His foundation is in the holy mountains. The Lord saith, ‘They shall not hurt nor destroy in all my holy mountain: for the earth shall be full of the knowledge of the Lord.’ He shall make his appearing and we will see the light of a new dawn break forth.”

  The booming echo made Noah sound closer than he was.

  Stay right where you are. Adam scanned the way forward for the most direct route to reach Noah. Preach all you want. Just do not move.

  CHAPTER 36

  Noah is moving.” Susanna gripped Adam’s waist more tightly with one arm while leaning forward to look over his shoulder. “He is starting to pace.”

  “He will stop,” Adam said.

  “You do not understand,” Susann
a twisted her spine to look beyond Adam. “We do not know what he sees.”

  “He will see a cliff.”

  “If he does not know to stay away from the hot stove,” Susanna said, “why would he step back from a cliff?” Adam had witnessed Noah’s falling under enough times to know he could not assume a reasonable response to the circumstances.

  “He did not stay on a trail,” Adam said. “I will do my best, but Patsy and her father may be closer.”

  Who might reach Noah first was difficult to ascertain. Distance, which was complex to judge and could not be measured as the crow flies, was only one factor. The steepness of the incline was another, and whether there might be a gully or chasm to navigate, or whether a horse might resist a needful jump. At least all four pair were aimed toward Noah.

  The Amish men called Noah’s name. Susanna sighed. Why could they not understand that he would not respond? Had they not observed this truth enough times on the Kauffman farm? Their intransigence vexed her. Did even they who had remained loyal to the search still believe falling under was a sort of trickery they could snap Noah out of simply by calling his name?

  Susanna squinted into the burgeoning shadows. At least they still had eight searchers.

  Noah took a step forward.

  “Adam!”

  Noah took another step forward. Then he dropped.

  “Adam!”

  Adam’s gaze snapped up from the amorphous ground. “Where did he go?”

  Susanna’s heart was hurtling out of her chest. “We must get to him.”

  “I am doing my best.”

  “Cut to the west,” Susanna said. “There must be a shorter way.”

  “I do not know this part of the mountain well,” Adam said.

  The blanketing darkness worked against them. Susanna panicked. “I am not sure I can see where he fell.”

  “He might just be kneeling,” Adam said. “Praying.”

  “Something happened,” Susanna said. Even when Noah knelt to pray, sometimes for nearly an hour at a time before beginning the Lord’s Prayer that would signal the end of his preaching, his voice never faltered. She heard nothing now.

  “Please, Adam, find a shortcut.”

  Adam swung his horse to the left. The animal’s hoof sank into soft ground, taking the horse to his knees and jolting both riders loose in the saddle. Susanna jumped off, holding the lantern aloft.

  She was not at the reins, and she had no intention of getting caught beneath a falling horse. Adam righted himself without leaving the saddle, and the stallion found his footing.

  “I will have to get off and have a look,” Adam said.

  “A look at what?” Her eyes once again searched for Noah. The horse was on four legs. What was there to inspect?

  “It will only take a minute,” Adam said, sliding off the horse. “Hold the lantern so I can see.”

  Niklaus reached the ridge where he believed he had last seen Noah, though he was as much as a quarter mile away from where Noah dropped from view, and leading a second horse impeded speed.

  “Shem,” Niklaus said, “you know this mountain better than anyone else I can think of. You saw where he was. Would he have fallen, or could he have climbed down?”

  Shem shook his head. “He was quite near the edge. My guess is he fell.”

  “What distance?” Perhaps a bed of bushes or a line of trees had cushioned the fall.

  “That depends on whether he tumbled or fell straight down. To the north of that ridge is a rocky path that eventually leads to a stream.”

  “And to the south?” Niklaus asked.

  “Quite a thick swath of forest,” Shem said. “It can be difficult to sort out which branches belong to which tree.”

  “So he might have tumbled down the rocks, or he might be in the trees.”

  Shem nodded.

  “You must lead the way,” Niklaus said, pulling his horse to the side. If there was a direct path to Noah, Shem would know it.

  The two men exchanged a silent stare before Shem pushed ahead, cutting at an angle Niklaus would not have supposed, and stopped abruptly on a narrow ridge.

  “Down there,” Shem said. “If he landed in the trees and not the rocks, we should be able to see him from here.”

  Niklaus saw nothing. Light failed by the moment, and he did not have the eyesight of a younger man.

  Shem was dismounting, so Niklaus did the same. Together they fell to their knees, and then to their bellies, and crawled forward.

  Below them about thirty feet, straight down off the ridge, Noah was sprawled on his back in a nest of towering evergreens. From above the trees, Niklaus could not count the trunks, and the number did not matter. Branches crisscrossed and intersected to form a delicate man-sized basket. If they did not support the weight of a man, they might at least have broken the fall and slowed Noah’s descent.

  “Shem,” Niklaus said, “is Noah safe there? Might he fall through?”

  “There are many branches,” Shem said. “But he must be careful where he puts his feet.”

  “Noah,” Niklaus called. “Do you hear me?”

  Noah did not respond. Although Niklaus heard a smattering of words, they sounded more like the waning phrases of a robust sermon than a response to the question. At least he was speaking.

  Susanna scrambled up behind them, lifting her lamp. “Is he all right?”

  Niklaus looked past Susanna’s shoulders. “Where is Adam?”

  “Being careful with his horse. I could not wait another minute.”

  If Susanna came so quickly on her own through the dark, Adam could not be far.

  “We are going to need Adam,” Niklaus said.

  Patsy and Charles converged.

  “Be careful,” Shem said. “This part of the mountain can be soft, and this ledge is not very wide.”

  Niklaus shifted from his belly to his haunches. “Patsy, watch for Mr. Glick and Mr. Wagler. Head them off. We do not need the weight of their horses near us right now, but find out what supplies they have with them.”

  Patsy expertly turned her horse around in the narrow space and trotted off.

  “Adam has another lantern,” Susanna said. “And rope.”

  “Someone may have to find him. He can leave his horse tied up if he needs to, but he is the young man among us, and we need both him and his supplies.”

  “I do not want to leave Noah,” Susanna said.

  “It may be the best thing for him that you do,” Niklaus said.

  “On this holy mountain.” Noah’s faint voice wafted upward, and he began to shift in the treetop, pulling in limbs from where they draped the branches and shuffling his feet in search of support.

  “Will he stand?” Niklaus asked.

  Susanna’s voice was small. “If he wants to.”

  Niklaus peered through the dark, hoping for a glimpse of Adam.

  “‘In that day shalt thou not be ashamed of all thy doings,’” Noah said, “‘wherein thou hast transgressed against me: for then I will take away out of the midst of thee them that rejoice in thy pride, and thou shalt no more be haughty because of my holy mountain.’”

  “We must get to him before he stands!” Susanna said. “He will not know that he should not take even a single step.”

  “This is a dangerous situation for all of us,” Niklaus said. “No one must do or say anything rash. We must all do what is best for our brother Noah.”

  Niklaus went to his saddlebags and began extracting supplies. They would need enough rope to lower at least one man down to Noah. Two would be better. Noah would have to be tied securely. They could tie the ropes to horses who could pull them up, but the horses must also be tied to trees to keep them from running too fast. Patsy or Shem would have to be in charge of the animals. Niklaus selected trees to knot ropes to. Another fall could endanger several of the men in the blink of an eye. He unhooked his lantern, taking time at last to light it, and hung it from a branch.

  Patsy returned with Galahad.


  Niklaus asked, “Did Mr. Glick and Mr. Wagler have any gear we can use?”

  Patsy shrugged. “I called to them, but they were heading down the mountain and did not hear.”

  Niklaus expelled breath. A search party that had begun with fifteen volunteers was down to four men and two women.

  Adam was behind Patsy, rope coiled over one shoulder and his second lantern in the other hand.

  “Do we have enough rope?” Patsy stepped aside for Adam to deliver his supplies.

  Niklaus welcomed the lit lantern that arrived with Adam. That gave them three. “Is your horse all right?”

  Adam nodded. “He’s tied over there.”

  At the ledge, Charles squatted to look down at Noah. Patsy crept toward the edge and balanced herself with one hand on her father’s shoulder to look down as well. Susanna extended her arm, holding a light as they all examined Noah from above.

  “On this holy mountain,” Noah said, still lying on his back, shuffling his feet occasionally and staring blankly up at them, “we will see that God acts for His people. On this holy mountain we will meet God in our spirits, just as Moses did when he carried the law down to the idolaters, just as Jesus did when He was transfigured before the eyes of Peter, James, and John. We do not come to this holy mountain lightly. We come expecting to find God here.”

  “He is amazing,” Patsy said. “That he could keep preaching after what has happened, that he could still speak such timely words—I will never forget this day.”

  “None of us will,” Shem said, still on his belly. “It is a day that should never have come to be.”

  “Does not God ordain our days?” Charles said. “Who are we to say that this day should not have come to be? Do you not teach your own people that God’s will is sovereign?”

  “Sin is all around us,” Shem snapped. “God is sovereign in the midst of sin, but that does not excuse us of our sin.”

  “Noah has not sinned,” Charles said. “He has only obeyed.”

  Shem scowled.

  Patsy squeezed her father’s shoulder. “Perhaps this theological debate can wait until Noah is safely home.”

  “Shem,” Niklaus said, “please help tie ropes to the trees. Adam and I will shinny down to Noah.”