by Jan Drexler
“I’ll come by when the strawberries are ready to pick,” Mamm said. “Naomi and I can both give you and Mattie a hand.”
“Here comes Henry,” Jacob said, his voice carrying over the other conversations on the porch. “It looks like Davey’s old Indian coming with him.”
Daed and Elias stepped off the porch as Henry and his companion approached. The man looked as old and ragged as he had when he brought Davey home. He walked with easy steps, his back straight.
“Good afternoon,” Daed said in English. “We are glad to see you again.”
“I come to see my friends,” the Indian said. “My name is Edekwshkwe Pamsat.”
Daed introduced himself and the others. The old man listened to the names and bowed to each man in turn.
“I came to see Davey. Your boy is well?”
“Crow Flies!” Davey pushed past Daed and ran to the old man. “Did you come for a visit? How long can you stay?”
Davey’s appearance brought a smile to the man’s face. “My young friend. You are well. I am pleased.”
“Your name is Crow Flies?” Daed asked. “Then the other—”
“Edekwshkwe Pamsat is the name in my language. In English it means Crow Flies, and that is much easier for Davey to say and remember.” His face grew serious again. “I come to bring you news. Bad news.”
The rest of the group gathered closer. Naomi pulled Davey back into the group.
“Bad men are here.” Crow Flies squatted on the ground and drew in the sandy dirt with his finger. A river appeared, and he drew a circle near it. “This is your farm.” He glanced at Daed, then extended the river south in two branches, and then beyond that he drew another circle. “The bad men are here. You call this place The Knobs. They will come to the Haw Patch. They will come to your farms. I have seen this. Edekwshkwe Pamsat has seen this.”
“Jedidiah Smith told us about them,” Jacob said. “They’re just horse thieves, aren’t they?”
“A horse thief is a coyote. These men are wolves.”
The Indian’s words were low toned and even, but a prickle ran up Naomi’s spine. She pulled Davey closer and he didn’t protest. She glanced at Cap. The thieves had taken his horses, but he didn’t volunteer to add anything to Crow Flies’ warning.
Daed rubbed at his beard as Crow Flies stood again. “Is there anything we should do to keep them away?”
The Indian spread his hands in a shrugging gesture. “Fight.”
“Our people don’t fight.” Shem pushed his way to the front of the crowd and faced Crow Flies. “Our people will give way to these men. They will take what they want and leave us alone. They will go away.”
Crow Flies leveled his gaze at Shem until the murmurs in the group died away. “Your people will not survive. These men will take what they want. They will kill those who defy them. They will destroy your farms. They will send you back where you came from.”
Shem straightened and pointed at the Indian. “That’s what you want, isn’t it? You want them to chase us off so you can have this land again.”
The old man regarded Shem with a sad, pitying look.
“Shem.” Daed’s voice was sharp. “You will show respect.”
“Whether you stay or go means nothing to me,” Crow Flies said. “My people no longer belong to this land. I only came to warn my friends, young Davey and his family, before I go home to my people again.”
Shem looked from the old man to the group behind him. “If you aren’t going to listen to reason about this Indian, I’m going. He is the danger, not this gang he says he is warning us about.” He looked from face to face, but no one answered him. He backed away, toward the road, then turned and headed toward the west, back to Clinton Township.
As he left, Davey broke away from Naomi’s grasp and ran to Crow Flies. “You can’t leave. I wanted you to teach me how to fish like a Pottawatomie. I wanted you to show me how to make a bow and arrow.”
Crow Flies laid a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Another time I will do this. Look for me next winter, when the geese have gone south.” The Indian gestured toward the porch. “One of your men is sick?” He looked at Daed.
“Christian Yoder. He had a seizure, an apoplexy. He hasn’t been able to walk or talk since then.”
Crow Flies handed his walking stick to Davey and followed Daed onto the porch. Annalise sat by Christian’s side. Naomi stayed close to Davey as he stuck by his friend’s side.
The old Indian felt Christian’s wrist and looked into his eyes. “You speak?”
“One word, today,” Annalise said. “And he sang hymns with us.”
Crow Flies nodded. “He is very weak. The white doctor has been here.”
“Dr. Samples.”
Crow Flies snorted. “That man leaves dead men lying in his footsteps. He took blood?”
Annalise nodded.
“Blood is the strength of a man. Do not let the doctor do this again.” Crow Flies lifted Christian’s left arm, held it, then let it fall to the bed once more. “You may regain some of your strength back.”
“He won’t . . .” Annalise held a hand to her mouth. “He won’t die?”
“You must give him hawthorn. Tea made from the flowers and berries of the tree.” He looked toward the forest surrounding the farm. “There are haw trees. They are blooming. Take the flowers. Dry them. Make a tea. He must drink some of it every day.”
“How will that help?”
“It strengthens the man. Relieves the headaches. He will soon feel better, but he must not stop drinking the tea every day.”
Annalise dabbed at the tears on her cheeks. “Thank you, Crow Flies, thank you. You have given us hope.”
“You have given me a friend.” He took his walking stick from Davey and started toward the road, motioning for the boy to follow. Was he expecting that Davey would leave with him?
“Ne, Davey.” Naomi ran after them. “Don’t go.”
“Davey’s mother come too,” Crow Flies said. “To the road with us, then bring the boy back.”
Naomi glanced behind her and saw Cap watching them. He wouldn’t let anything happen to her, even after their disagreement.
When they reached the road, Crow Flies felt in the pouch at his belt and brought out a stone with delicate marks on it like spider webs and as large as Davey’s fist. Naomi had never seen one like it before. He squatted down in front of Davey.
“This was my great-grandfather’s stone. It has many memories in it. Do you understand?”
Davey took the stone as Crow Flies handed it to him and nodded.
“You are young, and very few memories live in your head.” He touched his own gray hair. “Many memories live in my head. I have carried this stone since I was a boy. My father carried it before me. His grandfather brought this stone from his home, far to the north, on the shores of the big lake. It was a holder of memories for him.”
He closed Davey’s hand around the rock.
“Long years before the white man came, our people lived near the big lake. When my grandfather’s father was a boy, other tribes drove our people west to the big forest. Then we came to the rivers and waters of Michigan. This stone holds those memories.” Crow Flies faltered, and Naomi saw tears welling in his sunken eyes. “This stone is a pledge to you. I will remember you. If I am not able to come back to you, this stone will help you remember me. It holds the memories.”
“You might not come back?”
“My young friend, I am an old man. I do not know how many steps are left in my life, and I will use many to go north to Michigan to see my people. My family. My heart lives here, and I want to come back in the autumn. But I cannot see the future.”
He stood and walked away, not looking back as Davey buried his face in Naomi’s skirts, the stone clutched in his hand.
11
Nearly two weeks after Crow Flies left, Davey still talked about his friend. He had placed the strange stone on a ledge above his bed.
“If Crow Flies
doesn’t have his stone, how will he remember me?” Davey asked on Friday morning while he helped Naomi wash the breakfast dishes. “I remember him every time I look at it, but he doesn’t have anything of mine.”
“I don’t think he’ll have any trouble remembering you.” Naomi smiled as she dried her hands.
Davey dried the last plate while Naomi brushed off the table. “Jacob said our lambs will be born soon. Can we go over there today and see the sheep?”
She straightened her back. With so many chores to do, keeping tabs on Davey was wearing her out. Another trip to Jacob and Mattie’s to look at the pregnant sheep was one thing she didn’t have time for today.
“We’ll go tomorrow, or perhaps on Sunday afternoon. The sheep will be able to have their lambs without your help.”
“But I want to choose my own lamb as soon as they’re born.” Davey’s eyes grew wide. “How will he know I’m his shepherd if he doesn’t see me first thing?”
“How will you know which one will be ours?”
“I’ll know.” Davey put the dishes in the cupboard. “Can I go see the sheep by myself? I won’t get lost.”
The sharp, clawing grasp at Naomi’s breath had become too familiar. Every time Davey wanted to go somewhere by himself, the fears clambered for her attention. The bandits, wild animals, a seven-year-old’s careless curiosity . . .
“Ne, Davey. Not by yourself. Let me finish my morning chores, and then I’ll see if I have time to go.”
“Someone else could go with me. I could ask Cap. I haven’t seen him since church at the Planks’ on Sunday.”
“He’s busy with his work.”
Naomi hadn’t seen Cap since Sunday, either. And even then he had been cold and distant, almost as if he didn’t care if she was there or not. He had greeted Davey, but his eyes hadn’t sought hers. He hadn’t found any excuse to talk to her. He had made it clear that he didn’t approve of the way she was raising Davey, but his opinion didn’t matter. He wasn’t her husband and didn’t have the burden of responsibility that she felt every second.
“Have you skimmed the cream yet?”
Davey’s lowered head was her answer.
“When you’re finished, you can help me in the garden.”
Mamm came in the door as Davey ran out. She held her apron by the corners. “The lettuce is coming along so well that we’re going to have to eat it quickly.”
“Does that mean you’re going to make wilted lettuce to have with our dinner?”
Mamm raised her eyebrows. “For sure. What else?”
“I’ll fry the bacon after I finish sweeping.” Naomi poured fresh water into the wash basin so that Mamm could clean the lettuce.
“Where was Davey going in such a hurry?”
“To do his chores. I think he’s trying to finish them quickly so I’ll take him over to Jacob’s to see the sheep again.”
“He could go on his own.” Mamm swished the green leaves in the water.
Naomi bit her lip. She didn’t want to argue about Davey with Mamm too. “I don’t want him to go that far by himself.”
“It isn’t that far. Just down the road a piece.”
“Jed Smith and Crow Flies both warned us about the bandits in the area.”
“On a quiet morning like this? Bandits won’t bother our small homes. They’ll be more interested in the big farms in Noble County.”
Naomi gathered the damp dish towels to take out to the clothesline. “And I’m sure he would stop by the Christian Yoders’ and play with William.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that. They’ll send him home in time for dinner.”
Naomi picked at a loose thread in one of the towel’s hems. Mamm left the lettuce swirling slowly in the water, wiping her hands on her apron, and stood in front of Naomi.
“You’re afraid he’s going to get lost again, aren’t you?”
Mamm’s tender voice brought tears to Naomi’s eyes. “I can’t help it. I don’t want to let him out of my sight, even here at home.”
“Is that why you haven’t let him visit Cap for the past week or so?”
Naomi couldn’t answer. She could let Davey run through the woods to visit their—his friend. She hadn’t spoken to Cap since their disagreement about the pony, but she hadn’t tried to mend the torn place either.
Mamm sat at the table, pulling Naomi’s hand down so that she would sit with her.
“When Davey was lost, I was as frightened for him as you were.”
Naomi wiped at her eyes.
“But he came home, safe and sound. God was watching over him.” She took both of Naomi’s hands in her own. “There comes a point in every mother’s life when she learns she has to trust God for her child. You can’t be with him every minute, and you can’t keep him from every danger.”
Mamm paused until Naomi looked at her.
“He needs to learn how to take care of himself in his day-to-day life so that when something more dangerous comes along, he’ll know how to respond to it. He needs to learn from his adventures, but he can’t if you don’t let him take chances.”
“But what if—”
Mamm squeezed her hands. “There will always be the possibility that something will happen. But you need to trust God.”
Naomi’s stomach turned. She couldn’t trust someone she couldn’t see. She couldn’t shift her responsibility to some unknown being in the heavens, could she? Davey was hers.
She rose from her seat and went out to the porch where her son was skimming the cream. Watching him work, she suddenly realized that he had grown. When had that happened? This morning he had still been her little boy, but now he reminded her of Henry. Mamm was right. She needed to start letting Davey grow up, and that started with trusting him to obey her, even when he wasn’t with her.
She clasped her hands together to keep them from trembling and stepped closer to him.
“When you have finished taking care of the milk, I would like for you to go to Jacob’s to check on the sheep.”
Davey looked up with a delighted grin. “Really? Truly? May I?”
Naomi smiled at his excitement. “Ja, for sure. But finish with the milk first, and be home in time for the noon meal. Even if Mattie invites you to stay and eat with them, I want you to come home.”
“I will. I promise.” He attacked the remaining cream with his skimmer.
“Davey, not so hard. You don’t want to mix the cream back into the milk.”
“Sorry.” He ran the skimmer over the surface of the milk pail and looked at her. “Denki, Memmi. I’ll tell you all about the sheep when I get back.”
Naomi tousled his straight, blond hair and swallowed the cautions she wanted to give him. “Have fun.”
“I will.”
His grin was so wide that she couldn’t help smiling herself. She hadn’t seen Davey this happy in a long time. Perhaps Cap had been right all along.
Cap lifted his rifle and took aim on the movement that flashed in the corner of his eye, but the squirrel darted around the tree trunk before he could set his sights on it. Dinner had been sparse and supper would be even less if he didn’t find some meat for his stew. A man could exist on beans for only so long. At least there were plenty of greens around. They had added a welcome change to his diet.
The wetland between the forks of the Little Elkhart River was a perfect place to hunt. No farmers had settled in the area because of the work needed to drain the swampy ground, so the area provided plenty of opportunities to find what game was available.
A movement to his left brought his rifle up again, but there was no squirrel this time. Instead, Jed Smith appeared from between some bushes. His leather clothing stood out against the light green leaves surrounding him.
“Mornin’.” Jed punctuated the word by spitting off to the side. He gestured toward Cap’s rifle. “Found anything?”
“Not yet.” Cap struggled to find the right words in English. “The squirrels, they are quick this morning.”
&n
bsp; Jed laughed as he walked toward Cap. “You’ve got that right. Them squirrels got to be faster than anything if they’re going to survive.” He looked closer at Cap, peering at his face. “You’re one of those Ay-mish fellows, aren’t you?”
Cap smiled at the strange pronunciation of the word. “Ja, I’m from the Amish settlement. My name is Cap Stoltzfus.”
“I thought so. You’re the feller what got his horses stole.”
Cap didn’t answer this. He hated to think about that day.
Jed ran his fingers through his beard, his shotgun resting in the crook of his arm. “Yeah, you Ay-mish fellows are all right, even though we differ on how human varmints should be treated.” He nosed the wind like an unconscious habit. “When those Yoders first bought the land north of mine a few years back, I wasn’t so sure about them. But they’ve been good neighbors. They let a man be, you know?”
“The Yoders are good people.” Cap motioned toward Jed’s gun. “Any luck hunting today?”
Jed hefted the game pouch tied to his belt. “A couple squirrels is all. Enough for stew tonight.”
Jed settled himself on the trunk of a fallen tree and pulled out a chunk of tobacco. Cap squatted on the ground near him, but refused the offer of the tobacco.
“Yep,” Jed said, “time was you couldn’t walk anywhere through this swamp without scaring up game. Deer, moose, anything. Even a bear or catamount once in a while.” He nodded in Cap’s direction. “Yes, sir, hunting was child’s play back then.”
“Where did the game go?”
Jed spit over his shoulder. “Too many people, I guess.”
Cap made himself more comfortable. “How long have you lived here?”
“I ended up here twenty . . . no, twenty-five years ago. Was on my way west when I came upon this Indian town.” He gestured vaguely toward the north. “They were a friendly people back then, the Miami and the Pottawatomie. Winter was coming on and the chief invited me to stay.”
“The West. Did you ever go?”
