The Sound of Distant Thunder

by Jan Drexler

  Even Ruby had nothing to say to that, but lowered her bread to her plate, uneaten. War. Abraham propped his elbows on the table and leaned his head in his hands. Would men ever learn to live in peace?

  He ran his hands over his face, glancing at Lydia. She hadn’t said anything, but her forehead creased with worry as she glanced from him to Jonas. She rose and gathered the few plates from their supper to take to the sink. Ruby joined her, but Abraham knew the women were still listening.

  “I’ll not be part of anything that supports war.”

  “I thought that,” Jonas said. “I told him you weren’t interested in selling.”

  “And yet he’s coming here?”

  “He’s delivering the lumber for my house in a week or so and wants to talk to you then.”

  Jonas paused, watching him, his eyes lit with . . . what? Excitement? Only an inexperienced youth would be excited about war.

  “You should consider it, Datt. We could make a lot of money selling timber and such.”

  An icy knot formed with that statement. How could Jonas suggest such a thing? “Money? I’ll not be part of any blood money. I refuse to make a profit off other men’s suffering.”

  “But Mr. Stevenson will buy the lumber he needs from someone. Why shouldn’t it be us? What does it matter?”

  Abraham sighed, tired of the talk of war already. And to have this discussion with his own son was breaking his heart. A sudden fear of the future gripped him, a fear that no matter how hard he tried, he wouldn’t be able to stand apart from this war. A fear that it would reach insidious tentacles into his own home.

  “It matters because of principle. I won’t participate in anything that will help the war, whether I could profit from it or not. I won’t support a war in any form.”

  “But doesn’t the church only teach against a man’s participating in fighting? It doesn’t say anything else about war, does it?”

  “The church teaches that any involvement in war is sinful, Jonas. War is cruel and brutal and doesn’t solve anything.”

  “What about the slaves? Isn’t it right that the North should fight this war if it could lead to freedom for thousands of people?”

  Abraham rubbed his forehead. “Fighting one evil with another won’t solve anything. I agree that slavery is wrong and should end. But war isn’t the way to do it.”

  Jonas ran a finger along the edge of the table. “I understand what you’re saying.” Then he grinned. “When I told Mr. Stevenson you wouldn’t be interested in selling, I don’t think he believed me. I wonder how high his price will go as he tries to convince you?”

  “It doesn’t matter what he offers, we’re not selling that timber.”

  Jonas rose from the table. “I’m going to visit Katie before it gets dark.”

  “Don’t be out too late, Son.”

  He paused at the door. “I still think it would be a good idea to raise sheep, though. With cotton nearly impossible to buy, we could supply wool cloth to the entire county.” He winked at Ruby. “We could be a family of weavers, right?”

  Abraham waved him out the door, finally smiling at the boy’s teasing. What he wouldn’t give to be young and carefree again.

  Lydia set a cup of tea in front of him and sat down at the table while Ruby brought pieces of pie for the three of them.

  “Jonas is missing out on his pie again,” she said.

  “If I know him, he’ll have his share when he comes back from visiting Katie.” Lydia cut the pointed end of her piece.

  “I’ve noticed that he spends nearly every evening with her.” Ruby picked at her pie, breaking off a piece of crust and popping it in her mouth. “Should we start making a wedding quilt for them?”

  Abraham let the women’s conversation fade to the background as he stared at the doorway where Jonas had disappeared. The boy’s questions disturbed him more than he wanted to admit, and he was glad when Lydia and Ruby moved from talking about Jonas to discussing tomorrow’s work. He cut through his pie with the edge of his fork. Cherry pie, made with the first cherries from this year’s harvest. Their lives were so blessed, and yet the world still intruded.

  He couldn’t remember Samuel ever having such questions as the ones Jonas brought up. Samuel was like his mother. He accepted things as they were and never tried to change them. If something wasn’t the way he wanted, he worked around it or waited for the situation to change.

  Jonas, though. Abraham smiled to himself, remembering Jonas as a four-year-old, rescuing a runt piglet from the sty. Anyone else would have let nature run its course, and the piglet would have died. But Jonas had fought for that little pig, feeding it cow’s milk from a rag soaked in the pail until the pig learned to drink on his own. He fed it table scraps and sour milk until the pig grew to be as large as its littermates. Jonas never worked around a problem, he worked through it.

  And now he was trying to work through this problem of the war. Jonas would wrestle with it until he came to a decision. But Abraham had no idea what that decision would be.

  Abraham speared another bite of the pie but left it on his plate and laid his fork down. If Jonas had already joined the church and been baptized, then they’d have a better idea of where his thoughts were leading him. But as long as he was outside the church, he was free to test new ideas. Once he found that those new ideas didn’t satisfy the way belonging to the Lord did, then Jonas would welcome becoming a member of the church body.

  But that was the worry and the focus of Abraham’s daily prayers for his son, that he would see joining the church as a privilege rather than a means to an end. More than one young man had joined the church only so they could be eligible to marry, and he prayed that none of his children would be guilty of that.

  JUNE 1

  Levi Beiler rose from the fellowship meal on Sunday, thinking that he needed to ask Mother to let his trousers waistband out a little. Katie Stuckey had made the cream pie he had eaten for dessert, and she was the best baker among the girls, no question about that.

  As some of the younger girls cleared off the soiled dishes so the women could take their turn at the table, Levi wandered over to the barn. Church was at the Lehmans’ farm today, and Caleb had already gathered their crowd at the pasture gate.

  “Look at that colt,” he said as Levi joined them. “Isn’t he a beauty?”

  Jonas Weaver leaned on the top fence rail. “He has a lot of potential. Is your father going to train him?”

  “Datt and I are working with him together.”

  Levi slid into an empty spot along the fence next to Jonas. Peter Lehman was the best horse trainer around, and Caleb had inherited his skill.

  “What did you name him?” Levi watched the foal. The bay colt, a perfect copy of his mother, looked over his shoulder at the five young men along the fence, switched his tail, and broke into a sudden run to the far side of the pasture.

  “We named him Blitz, because he’s as fast as lightning.”

  “He won’t need that speed when he’s pulling a plow,” said Ben Fischer.

  The others laughed, and Caleb joined in. “It’s a good quality, though, Datt says. He’s spirited and lively, and once he’s trained, he won’t balk at doing anything we ask him.”

  Some girlish laughter rose from the yard next to the house, where the tables and benches had been set up under a shade tree. Levi wasn’t the only one who turned his attention away from the colt. The girls were all dressed in identical black dresses with white aprons, but each face was different. Levi let his gaze linger on Katie’s joyful expression before seeking out Rosie Keck. But she wasn’t with the other girls.

  “Henry, where’s your sister today?”

  “She went to Smithville to visit our cousins. Someone in the family had a baby and she went up there to help the family for a couple weeks.”

  Levi leaned back against the fence. Rosie was supposed to be his girl, but he couldn’t get her to pay much attention to him. He figured she wasn’t ready to settle down, ev
en though he was.

  His gaze drifted over the group of girls and found himself watching Katie again. She was Jonas’s girl.

  They had all decided a couple years ago which of the five of them would marry each of the girls. There were only four girls to choose from, but Henry had already been interested in a girl from Berlin. Ben had said they should choose while they were young, so they wouldn’t have to ruin friendships by competing for the same girl. But Jonas had picked Katie before Levi even knew it was time to stake his claim. So he had chosen Rosie. A pretty enough girl, but not as pretty as Katie. On top of that, he had this uncomfortable feeling that whenever Rosie laughed, it was at his expense.

  Jonas nudged him with his elbow. “Are you going to that ministers’ meeting next week? That’s the only thing the men are talking about today.”

  “For sure, I’m going. I wouldn’t miss it.”

  Ben, the youngest of them, laughed. “You’re going to spend three or four days sitting on hard benches, listening to a bunch of old men talk? I’m glad I’m not going.”

  Levi pushed at Ben’s shoulder as he laughed even louder. “This is an important meeting. What is talked about and decided here will affect all of us. This could decide the future of our church, and I want to be there.”

  Ben stopped laughing as Jonas agreed in his quiet voice. “I’m going too. My datt and Gustav are driving up to Smithville, and I’m going along.”

  Henry grinned. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think both of you were lining yourselves up to be ministers.”

  “Not me,” Jonas said. He leaned his elbows on the top rail, his back against the pasture fence. “Levi is your man, though. He has everything it takes to be a minister. Even a bishop.”

  As the others laughed, Levi felt the familiar feeling of pride wash over him and turned his thoughts away from it.

  “We all know that no one aspires to an office like minister or bishop,” he said. “The ministers are chosen by lot.”

  Jonas laid an arm around Levi’s shoulders. “That may be. But don’t you think the Good Lord prepares the ones he chooses? I wouldn’t be surprised to see your name on the list the next time they call for nominations.”

  Levi let Jonas’s words sink in and tamped down that flash of pride. The others went on to talk about the new wagon Ben’s datt was building, but Levi didn’t join in. Jonas was right, that God prepared the ones he chose ahead of time, but Levi thought it was prideful to look for that preparation in his own life. Perhaps that was why he loved to read the Good Book when none of his friends except Jonas did. And why his thoughts never wandered during the long sermons at church meetings. If God was preparing him for a call to be a minister, then well and good. He would do his best to be worthy of that call, as Paul urged in Ephesians.

  He found himself watching the group of girls again. When he married, he would need to choose a wife who would be the perfect minister’s wife. Rosie was too flighty. Too taken with things of the world. He needed to find someone more like Katie. She wasn’t only pretty, she also had the kind of personality that made everyone else like her. Even now, she sat in the center of the group, holding the attention of all the other girls. Ja, for sure and certain, she would make a fine minister’s wife.

  Jonas started telling about the house he was building in the woodlot along Weaver’s Creek.

  “Is it a log house, or are you building with boards?” Henry asked.

  “I wasn’t sure, until Katie told me what kind of house she wanted.” Jonas’s face turned red as he realized what he had said.

  “So Katie is choosing what kind of house to build?” Caleb said, jabbing Jonas in the ribs. “I think there will be a wedding soon.”

  Jonas laughed. “Not very soon, but eventually.” He grinned, no longer embarrassed. “You fellows should think about doing the same. We’re not getting any younger, you know.”

  Levi shifted his gaze over to Katie again, surprised at how Jonas’s words had felt like a cow had kicked him in the belly. He knew they were getting married someday, but things seemed to have gotten more serious lately. He needed to concentrate on finding his own wife. Maybe he would visit some of the other churches in the county to meet some new people. New girls.

  Anything to help him forget about Katie Stuckey.

  4

  JUNE 6

  Abraham gave the horses a day of rest on Friday, the first week of June. He spent the morning giving Rocky and Nan a good grooming, since he was planning to drive them to Smithville in the morning to attend this gathering of Amish ministers from almost every community in the country, from Iowa to Pennsylvania. The ministers had gathered before to discuss issues that faced the church, but this time the organizers were planning annual meetings. That was new. That and this disturbing change-minded undercurrent within the church, even here in Holmes County, drew Abraham to attend this meeting. Rocky stepped aside as Abraham brushed the horse’s flank harder than he intended.

  “Sorry,” he said, addressing the bay horse. “I’m worried about tomorrow.” Rocky turned his head. If Abraham didn’t know better, he’d think his horse was listening. “You know I don’t like new things.” Rocky nodded his head and Abraham grinned. “And I know you’re only asking for a carrot.”

  When he finished brushing both horses, he turned them into the pasture with the rest of the team. He leaned against the doorframe, considering this new thing. This annual ministers’ meeting. Bishop Moses Miller had been visiting from a neighboring church and had told Abraham and the other men of the church about it on Sunday. He had urged all of them to attend.

  “My uncle, Bishop Lemuel Miller, is one of the men behind this.” Bishop Moses was sometimes called little Moses, but there was nothing little about him. He was a large man and a strong leader, able to express his thoughts in ways that even the children in the congregation could understand. “The organizers want to find some sort of agreement between the differing factions, to make decisions about what our beliefs and practices should be as Amish in the world.”

  “What do you hope to gain from this meeting?” Gustav had asked.

  “Peace,” Bishop said, his face full of sorrow. “Peace and unity. The change-minded factions must be brought back to the narrow way of the church.” He sighed deeply, then smiled. “And I also hope that the division in the Indiana churches can be healed. But most of all, that God’s will would be done.”

  Gustav and Abraham had decided to attend the meeting together, and to Abraham’s surprise, Jonas had asked to come also.

  So in the morning, the three of them would start the long trek to Smithville, in Wayne County. Thirty miles would tax the team, but they would take the spring wagon and the burden wouldn’t be too great for the young horses. And they would have two days of rest before they returned next week.

  In the distance, the sound of a heavy wagon approaching drew him to the front of the barn. Braking as he guided his horses down the hill came the mill owner Stevenson with a load of lumber. Two men rode in the back, perched high on the stack of boards.

  “Jonas!” Abraham called.

  “Ja, ja, ja. I see him.” Jonas came from the shop where he had been repairing a harness, pulling the leather apron off as he came. “The lumber is here. I’ll help Mr. Stevenson unload it.”

  “Put the apron away first, Son.”

  By the time Abraham had crossed the stone bridge, Stevenson had pulled the team to a halt. Jonas came running to meet them.

  “I have your lumber here, young man,” Stevenson said. “Where do you want it delivered?”

  “I’ll show you,” Jonas said, climbing up to the wagon seat next to the sawmill owner. He looked down at Abraham. “Are you coming too? There are plenty of boards to unload.”

  Abraham nearly reminded the boy to temper his pride, but he didn’t blame him for his excitement. He knew the sense of accomplishment Jonas was enjoying. The fruits of weeks of hard labor were stacked in the wagon, filling the air with the aroma of freshly sawn lumber.


  Stevenson drove on, following Jonas’s directions until they arrived at the clearing in the woods. The boy had built a log bridge over the creek wide enough and heavy enough to support the wagon and team. Abraham nodded his head with satisfaction as they drove over it. The last time he had seen this bridge, it had been a single log. Only a footbridge. But Jonas had planned ahead, preparing what he needed as he expanded the little clearing.

  As the wagon halted, Stevenson whistled as he looked up into the towering branches over their heads. “One hundred sixty acres of virgin timber.” He glanced at Jonas. “You’re sure you don’t want to sell it? You haven’t heard my offer.”

  Jonas looked at Abraham, questions written in his eyes, but Abraham shook his head. “I’ll not make a profit from war.”

  “That profit would be high,” Stevenson said, trying to strengthen his argument with the powerful temptation money held. “And think of the good you could do with those resources! Your family would be very wealthy.”

  Abraham shook his head. “We won’t sell this timber.”

  Stevenson shrugged as he wrapped the reins around the brake handle. “I thought I’d try to convince you. Jonas told me you wouldn’t sell, and I see he was right.”

  With five men working, the lumber was unloaded and stacked before dinnertime. Abraham asked Stevenson and his men if they wanted to stay and eat with them, but the mill owner waved off his offer.

  “We have a cold dinner with us, and I need to get back to the mill.” He shook Jonas’s hand, then Abraham’s. “Anytime you decide to sell that timber, whether it’s wartime or not, contact me.”

  As the wagon rumbled away, Abraham examined the lumber. “This wood needs to season before you start building with it.”

  “I know. I’ll restack it so more air can reach the inside of the pile.” Jonas ran a hand across a board. “I hope to start building by the end of September. That will give the boards nearly four months of drying time.”

  “We have an hour before dinner. I’ll help you get started.”