by Jan Drexler
He put his good arm around Amos’s shoulders, and they walked toward the house together.
Mamm followed the men. Ruby knew Amos would stay for a cup of coffee, if not for breakfast. She lingered, waiting for Gideon. He stood in the middle of the barn floor, frowning.
“Can we go to the playhouse?” Roseanna asked.
“For a little while. Until breakfast is ready.”
Roseanna and Sophia each took one of Ezra’s hands, and they ran out of the barn together as Ruby stepped closer to Gideon.
“You’re worried, aren’t you?”
He glanced at her, then looked at the horses. “Something about Amos’s story just doesn’t add up. How was he able to sneak into the raiders’ camp and take the horses without them noticing him?”
“You don’t believe him?”
“I believe he did what he said he did, but I can’t figure out why they would let him get away with it.”
“Do you think the raiders will come again and take the horses back?”
His eyebrows puckered. That worried look was back, but without the haunting fear that had once ruled him. “I wonder what their plan is. All I can think is that they let Amos get away in order to retaliate somehow.”
“Why haven’t we seen them in the past week?”
“They know the Union soldiers are hunting for them, and they might even know that Morgan has been captured. They probably feel safe here in Weaver’s Creek, but if they move around the area too much, the soldiers may spot them. I think they are laying low until they can either move east into Pennsylvania or south into Kentucky.”
Gideon put his arm around Ruby, drawing her as close as he could with Daniel in her arms.
“Don’t be afraid,” he said. He kissed the top of her head.
The children’s voices drifted into the barn, happy and carefree in their play.
“I can’t help it.” Ruby looked into his face. “I hate not knowing where those men are or what they might do. What if someone else gets hurt? What if they hurt you?”
He tucked one finger under her chin. “If anything happens to me, I want you to raise the children here in Weaver’s Creek.”
“Don’t say that. I don’t want to think about it.”
“We don’t know what the future holds. But I want to know that no matter what, my children will be with you, safe and loved.”
Gideon gazed into her eyes, then kissed the tip of her nose. He might have continued kissing her, but Daniel tangled his fingers in Gideon’s beard and pulled.
“Ouch.” He gently removed Daniel’s fingers from his beard, then he looked at Ruby. “I love you. There’s no other name for what I feel for you, but it seems like such a small word for a grand, wonderful feeling.”
Ruby’s eyes filled with tears as she laid her hand on Gideon’s cheek. “I must love you too. I’ve never felt this way, but you have become the center of my life. Don’t take any risks. Please. I don’t want to lose you. We need you, the children and I.”
“I don’t know what the next few days or weeks will bring, but I can face whatever comes with you here.” He took Daniel from her. “Is there someplace where you can take the children if the raiders come again? Someplace you can keep out of sight?”
“There is the cellar under the house.”
“The entrance is on the opposite side of the house from the barn, isn’t it? If you see them coming, go there as quickly as you can without them seeing you.”
“What will you do?”
“I pray that the Good Lord will protect all of us.”
He held her close once more, then they walked toward the house, calling the children to come in with them.
Inside the house, Amos and Daed were deep in a discussion about nonresistance and what the church should do about the situation they found themselves in. Gideon poured a cup of coffee for himself and joined them while Ruby helped Mamm finish fixing breakfast.
Daed’s face was pale. As soon as breakfast was done, Ruby hoped he would go back to bed.
“I can’t believe they will bother us anymore,” Amos said. “They have to move on sometime, don’t they? If we just stay quiet, they will leave us alone.”
“We can hope and pray for that,” Gideon said. “But we can’t count on it.”
“Meanwhile,” Daed said, “we have our crops and farms to care for. We’re in the middle of cutting hay, and so are the others. The raiders can steal from any farm they choose, or worse, with all the men in the fields.”
“We should organize the men of the community,” Gideon said. “We can work together on each other’s farms and get the crops in. Amos, you can join with the Lehmans and the Kecks. Harm Bontreger lives near you too, doesn’t he?” At Amos’s nod, he continued. “Then the Stuckeys can work with us, and the folks on the east end of the district can work together.”
“How will that help?” Amos asked. “Even working together, the men are all in the fields while the women and children are in the houses.”
“Someone from each group will need to stay at the house to warn the others if something goes wrong.”
Mamm turned to the men. “I agree that having folks together is a good thing. But you wouldn’t need to leave any men at the house. We can sound the alert on the dinner bell if we see the raiders coming.”
“Then what would we do if we did see them?” Daed said. “We won’t fight them.”
Gideon shook his head. “But we can hide our valuables and our families. Each farm should have a plan. In Maryland, there was a cave on the neighbor’s land where we all went when the soldiers came by. It kept us safe, even though we lost all of our food and livestock.” He glanced at Ruby. “I’ve already mentioned to Ruby that she should take the children to the cellar if the raiders come here.”
Amos drained his cup of coffee. “I’ll visit each of the families in the community today and learn what they think about the situation, and we can discuss what to do.” He rose from his chair.
“Won’t you stay for breakfast, Amos?” Mamm asked. “It will be ready as soon as the eggs are done.”
Amos shook his head. “I need to get home so we can start planning. Tomorrow we’ll join together to support each other in this time of trial.” He looked from Daed to Gideon. “I hope this makes up for what I said at the church election. I listened too closely to my wife and I let her sway my feelings as I prepared for my sermon. I was wrong, and I hope you’ll forgive me.”
Gideon stood and took his hand. “There is nothing to make up for. I understand your concern for the well-being of the community.”
As Amos left, Mamm set the platter of ham on the table while Ruby took up the scrambled eggs from the pan.
“I never thought I’d see the day when Amos apologized for something,” Mamm said as she sat down.
Daed took a sip of his coffee. “The Lord convicts us all of our sins in his own way and his own time. Next week it will be me asking his forgiveness for something I’ve done.”
Mamm smiled at him. “I still say it’s been a long time coming.”
Late that night Gideon woke, the smell of smoke strong in the bedroom at Abraham and Lydia’s house. He jumped to his feet and looked out the window. The barn roof was ablaze, sending flames shooting into the night sky.
He grabbed his pants, pulling them on as he went out to the landing.
“Abraham!” he shouted down the stairs. “Fire!”
Sitting on the top step, he pulled on his boots and laced them tight. He got to the bottom of the stairs just as Lydia emerged from the bedroom.
“What is it? Did you say fire?”
“The barn is on fire.” Gideon grabbed his hat from the peg by the door. “I’m going to get the animals out of the barn.”
Abraham came out of the bedroom, carrying his shoes.
“Lydia, ring the bell. That might raise Samuel.”
“You can’t go out there,” she said. “You’re still recovering from your wound.”
“I will be caref
ul, but I can’t stay in the house waiting to see what will happen.”
As Gideon ran toward the barn, he heard Lydia ringing the big dinner bell. Its peal could be heard all over the farm, and he could only hope it would wake Samuel, and possibly the Stuckeys too.
The barn roof was completely engulfed, and smoke poured out of the big doors hanging open to the night. Horses neighed in fright, and all he could think of was getting them out of the burning barn before the roof collapsed. But someone grabbed him just as he reached the circle of firelight.
“Hold on there.”
Gideon pushed away from the hands holding him. It was a stranger, one of the raiders.
“We have to get the horses out of there.” He shouted over the roar of the flames.
“My boys have already done that.”
Then Gideon saw that the horses were in the pasture, crowded at the end farthest from the barn, neighing and pushing against each other in the effort to get even farther from the flames.
Samuel and his older boys came running from their house, followed by Ruby and Elizabeth. The flames roared higher and hotter and they all took a step back, away from the heat.
Gideon looked into the stranger’s face. It was the officer who had shot Abraham. His men stood behind him, their faces reflecting the red light of the flames.
The man’s teeth shone in the firelight. “You Amish thought you could steal from us, so this is what you get in return. Your horses are ours, your barns are ours, your crops are ours. If we want to burn a barn, we burn a barn.”
Fury seethed in Gideon. Fury at the injustice and the callousness of the man in front of him.
“This is cruelty. Madness. What can you hope to gain?” His body shook as his fists clenched.
The man laughed and gestured toward the barn. “We don’t need to gain anything. This is war, you coward. War.”
Two of the other raiders passed a bottle, sharing the drink as they watched the barn. Behind him, he heard voices as Abraham joined Samuel. He turned to look at them and saw the flames reflected on their faces. Beyond them, Ruby and Elizabeth were going into the house. His gaze traveled up and saw sparks flying toward the house, landing in the summer-dry grass that surrounded it. Panic set in as Gideon imagined what would happen if the wind strengthened.
“The house,” he shouted at Samuel. “We need to get water on the roof and around the building. Get everyone out of there!”
The raider grabbed Gideon’s arm. “No one is going anywhere.”
As Gideon turned back to his captor, he saw the barn behind the man, heat dancing in waves before it as the wall above the big double doors shifted, single boards falling through the opening. The entire wall would come down soon. The gaps revealed the haymow, once full of sweet, dry hay, but now a glowing ball of pulsing heat, seething dark red and black. The open bay beneath the mow seemed to be empty, but then something moved. A figure ran, doubled over, toward the gaping opening, then fell headlong.
“There is someone in there!”
He pointed and tried to run toward the body lying on the ground just outside the door. It was a man, one of the raiders.
But the officer still had a grip on his arm. “No one is in there.”
Gideon turned on the man. “It’s one of your soldiers. I saw him fall. He might still be alive. Someone has to save him.”
The man’s face hardened. “If anyone was in that barn, he’s dead already. It’s no use risking your own life.”
In Gideon’s mind, he heard the same words from another man at another time. He was dead already, the soldier had said, and Gideon watched as the soldier ended the boy’s life. The pistol shot echoed in his head over the sounds of the flames and the burning barn.
Gideon’s eyes stung. “I have to try. I can’t stand by and do nothing. He’s one of your men.”
The man’s face shone in the firelight, grimy sweat pouring down his face. He scanned the other raiders standing on either side of him.
“Where is Tad?” The officer looked again, whipping his head from one side to the other. His voice rose. “Where’s my boy?”
His eyes grew wide as he stared at the figure by the barn, and his grip loosened.
Gideon pulled his arm free and ran toward the wall of fire. The heat seared his eyes and he buried his head in the crook of his arm, watching the ground beneath his feet. At the edge of his vision, he saw the boy’s hand outstretched toward him. He reached for it just as a cracking noise sounded from inside the barn and the haymow fell with a whoosh of flame and sparks and a deafening crash.
He grabbed the hand and tugged at it, turning away from the flames as he headed back, panic giving his legs the strength he needed to take step after step, the weight at the end of his arm threatening to pull him into the burning pit. The boy’s hand slipped in his grasp, but he tightened his hold, dragging him until he met Samuel and some of the raiders. They carried the boy outside the circle of firelight and Gideon collapsed on the grass in the blessed darkness, fighting for breath against the heat, smoke, and pain.
17
In the days after the fire, Ruby and Elizabeth moved back to Elizabeth’s cabin. Her sister was quiet. Maybe too quiet, and Ruby watched her closely. When Ruby asked if Elizabeth would rather join her in caring for the children, she shook her head.
“I need time to think, and to pray.” The corners of her mouth turned up, but her eyes were serious. “My life isn’t what I thought it was a few weeks ago, and I need to think what the Good Lord wants me to do now.”
Since Elizabeth seemed content, Ruby ran down the hill to help Mamm each morning. Besides the children, there were sick men to care for.
The soldiers had left the area the morning after the fire, while the sky was still a pale gray. Thaddeus Brown, the captain of the group, stayed behind. His son had been injured badly, even though Gideon had pulled him away from the fire. After two days, the boy passed away, having never regained consciousness. They buried him in the family cemetery on the hill south of the pasture.
Thaddeus still stayed on the farm, though. He set up his tent by the fence at the edge of the pasture and ate his meals with the family, but he had lost the threatening bravado he maintained before the fire.
“I don’t understand,” Thaddeus said to Daed at the noon meal on Saturday, nearly a week after the fire. “I am your enemy, and yet you’ve welcomed me into your home. I tried to kill you, and yet you still treat me like a friend. You even grieved with me over my son’s death.” The man stared at his plate while he regained his composure. “I don’t deserve to be treated so well. I should be in a prisoner-of-war camp or shot as a spy.”
“We have only acted as our Lord has commanded us,” Daed said. He was recovering from his wound but still carried his arm in a sling. “The world tells us to fight and worry, but Christ has taught us to accept what he has ordained, to respond with love, and to create friendship where there is animosity. You have lost much in this war and we grieve with you.”
“What will you do now?” Gideon asked.
His voice still held the hoarseness of breathing in the smoke and heat of the fire, but it was better than it had been a few days ago. Ruby had been worried about him, but now he was breathing easier too. He was healing from his injuries.
He swallowed some water, then continued. “Will you rejoin the war?”
Ruby rose to fetch the coffeepot. Thaddeus had changed since his son passed away, but would he go back to the fighting that had cost him so much?
“One thing I know is that I can’t go home.” Thaddeus stared at his plate. “I’ve deserted my commission, my farm is destroyed, and my family is gone.” He glanced around the table. “And as much as you’ve welcomed me, I can’t stay here in Yankee territory. You may be able to forgive, but I can’t. The North has destroyed everything I hold dear. Every part of my life has been taken from me, leaving me empty and worn out. I can’t just turn my back on that.” He leaned his elbows on the table, pressing his fists against eac
h other. “The only thing I have left is hate. I have carried hatred for the Yankees in my heart for so many years that I can’t live any other way, and I don’t want to. So, I’ll be leaving soon. Maybe this afternoon, maybe tomorrow morning.”
“You won’t reconsider?” Daed asked. His face held the sorrow that Ruby felt.
Thaddeus shook his head. “There is no place for a man like me among civilized folks.”
“We’ll send some food with you, enough to carry you through for a while.”
The raider nodded his thanks, his face worn and his eyes shadowed.
After they had finished eating, the prayer time was longer than usual. Daed prayed for Thaddeus, asking for God’s protection over him as he left Weaver’s Creek. Silently, Ruby prayed that he would find peace wherever he was going.
Gideon took the children outside while Ruby and Mamm cleared up after the meal, and Daed went into the front room with Thaddeus.
“Do you think there is anything Daed can say that will make a difference in that man’s life?” Ruby asked as she and Mamm washed the dishes.
“If anyone can break through his hatred, Daed can. But only our Lord can change his heart and his mind.” Mamm sighed. “The world is very evil, and meeting a man like him reminds me of how that evil destroys lives. I don’t know what will become of him.”
Mamm went to rest once the kitchen was clean, and Ruby joined Gideon on the back porch. He sat on the step with Daniel, watching the children play under the tree. The playhouse had burned during the fire, but the children had adapted, using sticks laid in the grass for walls and leaves for dishes.
“You are feeling better today, I think,” Ruby said.
Daniel sat on his father’s lap, his head pillowed on Gideon’s chest.
“Every day I feel a bit stronger. I was just thinking about the barn and when we should plan to rebuild it.”
“We should do it soon.”
Daniel reached for Ruby and she set him on her lap. He yawned and rubbed his eyes.
“You’re right, and not only for the good of the farm. The community is unsettled. Folks are worried, and some are even frightened that more raiders could come. They no longer feel safe.”
