The Roll of the Drums

by Jan Drexler

  “What do you have there?”

  He tried to keep his voice light, but he could see what they had found. Buttons. Two round, brass buttons.

  “Aren’t they pretty?” Sophia held hers up to show him. The US eagle molded into the surface was clear enough for anyone to see.

  “We found them here, on the ground,” Roseanna said, crouching to push the blades of grass aside. “We found two. Do you think there might be more?”

  Gideon stood, scanning the quiet crossroads. An army had been here once, and they could come again. His heart pounded in his ears. How long ago were they here? How long did they stay?

  “I think you need to leave those here,” he said, ignoring his daughters’ disappointed faces. “Whoever lost them might come back to look for them.”

  “What are they?” Sophia asked.

  “They are buttons,” Roseanna said, then she held hers up to Gideon again. “Why is there a bird on the front?”

  “It belongs to an army officer.” Gideon pushed them back toward the wagon. “He’ll be back to look for them, for sure. And it’s time for us to move on.”

  Gideon picked Ezra up and glanced around again, knowing it was foolish to think an army might be close. Those buttons were soiled. They had been here for a long time, a year maybe.

  But he still listened for the roll of drums.

  Once they returned to the wagon, the horses had rested enough to continue. Gideon walked to relieve some of the wagon’s weight, leading the team as the road sloped upward, away from the creek. They passed a lane leading to a house as they reached the crest of the slope, then Gideon stopped. In front of him, the valley spread out. The road they were on went down to meet the creek again, then followed it along the bottom of the valley. Beyond a wood, a large barn and farmhouse settled into the landscape on the far side of the creek. From there, the road swung to the right, away from the creek and past another farmhouse to disappear up the rise beyond.

  Unbidden, a verse from the book of Matthew came to him: “For I was hungry, and ye gave me meat; I was thirsty and ye gave me drink; I was a stranger, and ye took me in.”

  Gideon bowed his head. Pride ate at him, rejecting that he and his family were in need. Refugees from the war they had left behind.

  Mein Herr, you are teaching me humility. Once more. Help me to humble myself before you.

  Gideon glanced behind them, still uneasy. The war couldn’t follow them here. Ohio was a safe place.

  “Is this where we’re going, Daed?” Roseanna’s voice called, laced with longing.

  I was a stranger . . .

  “I hope so, daughter.” He climbed back on the wagon seat before driving down the slope to the creek.

  As they passed another farm lane, one that disappeared into a stand of pine trees on the right, a young woman met them, striding down the lane with an unhurried gait that would fit better on a man. She wore a proper kapp, but no bonnet, and wild strands of red hair framed her face. Gideon’s gaze met hers for a second, long enough to watch the coffee-brown eyes narrow and then shift to the wagon and the children watching her.

  Gideon pulled the team to a halt, leaning on the brake handle. “We’re trying to find the Weaver’s Creek community—”

  “You’ve found it!” The red-haired woman broke into his question as she halted and crossed her arms. He had spoken Englisch, unsure if he was in the Amish community yet, but she answered in Deitsch, his own language. “I’m Ruby Weaver, and my father’s farm is across the stone bridge there.”

  A smile crept over her face as she looked back at the children and then at Gideon again. He blinked to keep himself from staring at her. So forward! Perhaps they shouldn’t stop at Weaver’s Creek but go farther into Holmes County instead. Perhaps the Good Lord might lead him to a more conservative community where the women acted more like women than men.

  Then he glanced at Lovinia, asleep with Ezra and Daniel napping on either side of her cot, her raspy breath audible in the afternoon quiet. She couldn’t travel any farther. They had to stop here, at least until Lovinia was better.

  “Is there a place we could stay?” Gideon looked back at the young woman. “My wife is very ill.”

  “Ja, for sure. If you drive on to the house, we can ask my father where he thinks would be best.”

  “Daed, can she ride with us?” Roseanna didn’t stop staring at the stranger. “She doesn’t have to walk if we’re going the same way, does she?”

  “Ach, ne.” The woman’s laugh bubbled, a sound Gideon hadn’t heard an adult utter in more months than he could count. The girls grinned. “I’ll run on ahead and tell Mamm you’re coming. She’ll want to make sure you have a good supper.”

  Ruby Weaver ran toward the stone bridge as Gideon stared after her. When she had said she would run on ahead, he thought she had been using a figure of speech. But ne, she ran as if she were Roseanna’s age rather than a grown woman. Roseanna and Sophia stood in the wagon bed, their heads on either side of him.

  “I like her laugh,” Sophia said.

  “What do you think, Roseanna?” Gideon waited for his oldest daughter’s answer.

  Roseanna glanced down at Lovinia, then back at him. “I think she could make Mamm feel better just by smiling at her.”

  Gideon caught Roseanna’s narrow chin in his hand and stroked her cheek with his thumb, thinking of the way the red-haired woman’s presence had brightened the afternoon, even with her forward ways. “I think you’re right, daughter. Shall we go meet the rest of the Weavers?”

  Both girls nodded as Gideon started the horses down the gentle slope. The road followed the creek at the bottom of the valley, then went to the right while Gideon turned the horses into the farm lane on the left and across the stone bridge.

  Ruby had disappeared into the large white farmhouse ahead of them, and as Gideon pulled the team to a halt by the porch, an older man stepped out.

  “Welcome, stranger. Welcome.” He tied the horses to the hitching rail. “I’m Abraham Weaver. My wife, Lydia, is inside. She’ll have a meal ready for you soon, but she’s already pouring glasses of fresh buttermilk for the children.”

  “You don’t have to—”

  “For sure, we don’t have to, but I can’t stop Lydia when it comes to spoiling little ones.” He lifted Sophia to the ground, then reached for Roseanna. “Ruby is making up the bed in Jonas’s room.” He peered over the side of the wagon where Lovinia and the boys slept. “We’ll put your wife there and Lydia will take good care of her.”

  Gideon jumped from the wagon seat. “I’m Gideon Fischer, and my wife is Lovinia. I’m afraid she is quite ill. The trip has been hard on her.”

  Abraham glanced into the wagon again, his face grim. Gideon knew what he saw. No supplies. A sick woman. Poverty.

  “Where have you come from?” Abraham asked, turning his gaze back to Gideon.

  “From Maryland, just south of the Mason-Dixon line.”

  “Did you see anything of the war?”

  “That is why we left our home. The armies ravaged our farms, scattered the families of our community, and left us with nothing.” Gideon swallowed, pushing past the pride. “We need refuge. Just until we can get back on our feet. Then I can pay you back.”

  “‘I was a stranger and ye took me in.’” Abraham smiled. “The Good Book only asks us to give, not to expect repayment. We have a place in our home for all of you, and you will stay with us as long as you need to. Perhaps you will find a new home for your family here in Weaver’s Creek.”

  Gideon pulled his girls close as he glanced around the Weaver farm. “Perhaps we will.”

  “Do you live here too?” the oldest girl asked Ruby later that afternoon.

  What was her name? Roseanna. That was it. “I live up the hill with my sister.”

  Ruby laid plates on the table for their supper while the two girls watched her.

  “Sisters are little girls, not grown-ups.”

  That statement came from Sophia. Her hair wa
s so blonde it was nearly white, and the straight, fine wisps escaped her braids, making her look like a dandelion puff.

  “Hush, Sophia.” Roseanna frowned at her sister. “When we’re grown up, we’ll still be sisters.”

  Ruby hid a smile as she continued setting the table. Mamm took a pan of cornbread out of the oven. Ruby glanced at the big pot of ham and beans simmering on the stove and the apple cobbler she had made for dessert.

  When Mamm had seen the Fischer family coming, she must have started planning the meal she could serve them. Otherwise, how could she have readied a supper like this so quickly? Only Mamm could be so well prepared.

  Roseanna followed Ruby as she circled the table. “Who is your sister?”

  “I have three sisters. Rachel and Miriam are married and live with their families several miles from here. Elizabeth is my younger sister, and we live together in her house.”

  “Do you have children?”

  Ruby shook her head as she placed the last knife on the table. “I’m not married.”

  “Why not?”

  If Mamm was listening to the girls’ questions, she gave no sign.

  “I’m just not.”

  Sophia tugged on Ruby’s skirt. “You could marry our daed, then you could be our sister.”

  “That isn’t how it works.” Roseanna frowned at Sophia. “If she married our daed, then she would be our mamm.”

  Ruby couldn’t keep back her laughter anymore. “That will never happen.” She led the girls into the sitting room and sat on a footstool. “If I get married, it will be to a man who isn’t married already.”

  Leaning against Ruby’s knee, Sophia grinned up at her, showing an empty space where she had recently lost a tooth. “When I grow up, I’m going to marry Ezra.”

  Roseanna gave a loud, practiced sigh. “You can’t marry Ezra.”

  “Why not?” Sophia’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “He isn’t married.”

  Ruby smothered a smile as Roseanna sighed again.

  “Because he’s our brother, and just a little boy. You have to marry a man, like Daed.”

  Ruby leaned back, bracing her hands on the edge of the stool behind her. She was glad for the silly turn the girls’ conversation had taken, because she didn’t have an answer to their questions. Contrary to what Mamm was fond of saying, God didn’t have a man for every woman.

  “Tell me about your journey,” Ruby said. It was time to change the subject. “Have you been traveling for a long time?”

  “Forever and ever.” Sophia ran her finger across Ruby’s knee, feeling the fabric of her apron.

  “It hasn’t been that long,” Roseanna said, correcting her sister again. “But it’s been a long time. We had to sleep under the wagon.”

  What kind of father would make his children sleep on the ground? “Were you warm enough?”

  “For sure we were.” Roseanna smiled. “Daed slept with us and wrapped us in his big coat. We never got cold once.”

  Ruby pressed her lips together, mentally chiding herself for judging the children’s father before she knew all the facts.

  “Mamm and Daniel slept in the wagon.” Sophia pressed closer, looking up at Ruby. “She coughs a lot.”

  “How long has your mother been ill?”

  Roseanna looked away. “She got sick while Daed was away. She couldn’t get out of bed, or even talk to us.”

  Ruby glanced at Mamm again. This time she was listening to Roseanna.

  “Who took care of you?” Mamm asked, looking into the room from the kitchen.

  “Roseanna did,” Sophia said. “She even changed Daniel’s diaper.”

  Mamm frowned. “The neighbors didn’t help you?”

  Roseanna shook her head. “They all moved away. But then Daed came home and Mamm felt better.”

  Ruby and Mamm exchanged glances. This family had suffered a lot before they reached Weaver’s Creek.

  Mamm smiled at the girls. “We’re glad you’re here now. And supper is almost ready. Would you go out and call Abraham and Ezra to come in? They went to look at the animals in the barn.”

  As the girls went out the kitchen door, Mamm pulled Ruby aside. “Their father has been upstairs with his wife and the baby in Jonas’s room ever since they arrived. He needs to come eat with us, but he may not want to leave her alone. Will you offer to sit with her while he has his supper?”

  “For sure, I will.” She paused. “Don’t you wonder what happened to the family? Why did their father leave them?”

  Mamm shook her head. “I don’t know, but we’ll wait for him to tell us in his own time. We won’t pester him or the children with questions.”

  “You’re right, but I hope he tells us their story soon.”

  Mamm tapped her finger on the end of Ruby’s nose. “Your curiosity will get you in trouble one day.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with being curious.” Ruby started for the stairway. “I learn a lot of things that I’d never know otherwise.”

  She ran up the familiar stairs. To her right was the room she had shared with her sisters, and tonight the Fischer children would sleep in it. How long would they need to stay here? Ruby shrugged her shoulders. Mamm would insist that they stay until the mother had recovered from her illness, at least.

  She turned left to go to Jonas’s room but paused in the doorway. The man, Gideon, sat with his back to the door in a chair at the side of the bed, his head bowed in his hands. The baby sat on the floor at his feet, mouthing a string of wooden beads. The little one grinned when he saw her, drool soaking the front of his shift. The mother seemed to be asleep.

  Clearing her throat, Ruby spoke softly. “Supper is ready. Mamm says you should come down and eat with the family. I can stay with your wife.”

  The face Gideon turned toward her was haggard and gray with exhaustion, but only for an instant. As soon as he saw her, his expression changed to the confident man she had first seen on the road. Ruby took a step back, feeling like she had intruded into his private moment of pain.

  “Ja, for sure. The children . . .” His gaze dropped to Daniel, still chewing on his wooden beads. “I’m sorry . . . I just left them downstairs . . . Are they all right?”

  Ruby smiled, determined to keep her questions about the family’s past to herself. “They are fine, but hungry.”

  He stood, gripping the back of the chair as if he needed support, then nearly sat again as he looked at his wife’s face.

  Ruby stepped into the room and picked the baby up from the floor.

  “Go,” she said, her voice firm. “You need to eat. I’ll sit with your wife and call you if she needs anything.”

  He took the baby from her arms as he nodded his acceptance. “Her name is Lovinia. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  Ruby shook her head. “I’ll stay until you see to your children and get them settled for the night.”

  “What about your supper?”

  “I’ll eat after I get home tonight.”

  “You don’t live here?”

  “My sister and I live at the top of the hill. It’s only a short distance.”

  He sighed, sounding very much like his daughter. “If you think Lovinia will be all right . . .”

  “For sure, she will.”

  His eyes met hers as he moved toward the door. “I . . . I don’t know how to thank you and your family for everything you’re doing.”

  She smiled. “You heard what my father said.”

  “‘I was a stranger and you took me in.’” A shadow of a smile appeared on his face.

  “You aren’t strangers anymore. Your daughters kept me busy talking all afternoon.”

  “Still, I don’t know what we would have done without your family.”

  Ruby sat in the chair next to the bed. “Don’t even think about it. Enjoy your supper.”

  He paused in the doorway. “Have you ever seen soldiers around here? Armies?”

  “Not here, but sometimes they pass by on the road to Farmerstown. W
e can hear the drums as they march. Once a group camped at the crossroads.”

  “But they don’t come to Weaver’s Creek?”

  “They never have.”

  He nodded his thanks and left. His footsteps sounded on the stairway as Ruby took her first look at Lovinia. The woman’s breathing was labored, as if each breath was a struggle, but she seemed to be sleeping soundly. Ruby laid her hand on the flushed forehead and felt the heat of her fever. Mamm had made a poultice for Lovinia earlier in the afternoon, and Ruby prayed that it would help.

  The children’s mother was a very sick woman.

  2

  On Sunday morning, Gideon emptied cups of oats into the horses’ feed boxes. He paused when he reached his own team. Samson and Delilah looked better for yesterday’s rest, and they would be able to rest today too. Abraham had told him to grain his team. He said the oats would do them good.

  But Gideon still hesitated. He was thankful for the Weavers’ hospitality, but shame still crept up his spine as he considered the rich gift in his hand.

  Samson whickered deep in his throat and extended his jug head toward the wooden scoop. The horse’s nostrils opened wide as he breathed in the scent of the grain before Delilah shoved him aside and reached for the oats with bared teeth. Their hunger forced Gideon’s decision to take advantage of Abraham’s offer. His pride was no reason to withhold grain from the starving horses.

  Later, sitting at the breakfast table with his family and Abraham, Gideon was reminded that the horses weren’t the only ones who had been on short rations this year. His children ate everything Lydia had prepared before she went upstairs to sit with Lovinia. Ezra even ate bacon, something he had refused when they had last had it at home.

  As he spooned oatmeal into Daniel’s mouth, he looked at his own plate. His eggs were getting cold, and the gravy that had smelled so appetizing when he had ladled it over his biscuits no longer steamed. He had no appetite, but he needed to eat to keep up his strength. While Roseanna shared her eggs with her baby brother, Gideon forced himself to take a bite of his biscuit before he pushed the plate away. The little food he had eaten settled like a stone in his stomach. How could he enjoy his breakfast while his wife was so ill?