“I know that look,” he said. “What have you two come up with?”
“Littlefield is partial to fences.” Luke’s jaw was set with grim determination. He glanced at Jesse and smiled. “We’re going to do a little fence work ourselves.”
TWELVE
A breeze ruffled Katie’s hair as she placed the tip of her needle against baby-soft fabric for the next stitch. Many of the women in Apple Grove insisted that sewing on the Lord’s Day was sinful, but she didn’t agree. If her task had been a joyless one, such as mending ripped seams or darning worn socks, that would definitely be work and therefore forbidden. This kind of sewing was different. Making gifts for precious newborns or new brides helped her relax. She’d long since learned the trick of letting her fingers do the work while her mind wandered.
Today she had brought a chair out to the yard to sit in the sunlight and breathe in the fresh Kansas air. Her thoughts strayed to the morning’s church meeting while her gaze fixed on the western horizon, past the neat rows of corn Fader had planted while she’d been at the Switzers’. Jesse’s arrival at church had taken her by surprise. She’d had a hard time focusing on the preaching, even though Bishop Miller’s message about the necessity of observing the rules of propriety had been specifically for her benefit. That the Englisch cowboy had come to see her was obvious, and the fact had not gone unnoticed–by the bishop or by Maummi Switzer. The memory of Maummi’s shrewd and slightly disapproving stare had lingered into the afternoon.
A noise behind her alerted her to a presence. The slow, almost silent footfall on the grass could only be one person. A smile took her lips, and she placed the next stitch, though her ears were attuned to the sound. Wait. Wait. A little closer.
At exactly the right moment she leaped to her feet, turning with her hands out and her fingers curved into the shape of claws. “Raaaaahhh!”
Levi started, his wide-eyed expression every bit as shocked as she could hope. Then he threw his head back and moaned. “I thought this time I could do it. I made no more noise than a rabbit, and my shadow is behind me.”
Katie laughed, enjoying his consternation. “Even a rabbit makes noise, bruder.”
He scowled. “Ja, and has long ears. Like yours.”
She refused to take offense at his taunt, though she had been sensitive about her ears from girlhood. Which he knew, the pest.
Levi dropped to the ground while she returned to the chair and took up her sewing.
He plucked a long blade of grass before looking up at her. “I saw your Englisch man at the meeting today.”
“He is not my Englisch man,” she chided, “and do not say that around others. The gossips are already whispering about him. ’Twould do no good, and maybe even harm, to have my name spoken in the same sentence.”
“It already is.” The blade of grass went into his mouth, the end waving in the air as he chewed. “I heard it said that you are sweet on him and even spoke with the bishop about leaving the Amish to marry him.”
Katie’s hands fell still as her mouth gaped open. “Who voiced such a narrisch notion?”
He shrugged. “It does not matter if the notion is crazy or not. It is being said, and some are paying it credence.” The grass waved for a second or two. “Is it true?”
“Ach! That my own bruder would ask such a question!” His expression of inquiry did not change. She answered with more force than strictly necessary. “Of course it is not true. I would no sooner follow Englisch ways than…” She cast about for a suitable example. “Than Bishop Miller himself.”
He studied her for a moment more, and then gave a satisfied nod. “Gut. I told her so.”
Katie leaped on the word. “Her?”
Now it was her turn to study him, and she was amused to see the tips of his ears turn pink. Which could only mean one thing. “Mary Schrock you mean. I saw you hovering around her after the meeting.”
“I did not hover. We talked.”
She hid a smile. That her little brother was enamored with the pretty Schrock girl was apparent to anyone with eyes. For the past year the two had been seen standing off to the side at every community gathering, never far enough from the crowd to draw censure but isolated enough to exchange private words. Judging by the increasing red stain that spread across Levi’s face, those words had lately turned to more than the idle passing of time.
“Will we hear an announcement soon?” She focused on her hands where they held the soft fabric.
Though he did not answer, his smile betrayed him. Katie had a hard time not squealing with excitement. Last fall Levi, Mary, and three other young people had completed the required classes and been baptized in the Amish church. At the time she’d wondered if one of those young women had caught her brother’s eye. After baptism an Amish man and woman could declare their intentions and marry. Often they waited until a few weeks before their desired wedding day to visit the bishop and receive his blessing on their union. Only then would the families be informed, and the excitement of preparations would overshadow everything from that moment forward until the marriage was accomplished.
At twenty years, Levi was old enough to marry. Mary, if she remembered correctly, was his junior by only one or two years, the same age she had been when she and Samuel were wed. A good age to start a family. A wave of sorrow threatened at the idea of children, but she brushed it aside, as she did more and more often lately.
“Well, please be sure to correct Mary about the rumor.” She grinned. “I would hate for my future sister-in-law to believe such a thing about me.”
The blush erupted full force on his face. He whipped the grass from his mouth. “How did you pry this out of me when all I intended was to ask you about the Englisch man? Not a word before we speak to Mader and Fader, ja?”
“Ja,” she agreed, though not without a teasing glance.
He lumbered to his feet, and she shielded her eyes with one hand to look up at him. When had he grown so tall? Only yesterday he was a small boy.
An awkward expression dawned on his features. “One day soon you will find someone, Katie. You are too young to be a widow forever.”
Her answer was a wistful smile. That was a subject she preferred not to discuss with her brother or with anyone else. “Will you do a favor for me?”
His strong body straightened. “Name it.”
“Fetch this chair to the house for me. I’ve stitched until my fingers are numb.”
She stood and watched Levi lift the chair, the muscles in his arms bulging like a man’s, no longer the puny, thin sticks she used to tease him about.
Jesse’s arms are even bigger with muscles.
The thought brought sudden warmth to the tender skin on her neck. Levi headed for the house, but she dallied behind. Her gaze strayed once again to the western horizon. The sun had crept low in the sky while she worked. Not many miles in that direction lay the Switzer farm. And Jesse. The rumor Levi had heard echoed in her mind.
When Levi and Mary were wed, the bride would come here to live. Levi would continue to work the farm with Fader, gradually taking on more and more responsibility until, years from now, he would take charge. Then Fader would build a dawdi haus and he and Mader would move into it, leaving the family home to Levi and Mary and, by then, their children.
And what of Katie? A feeling of desolation threatened as an image of herself, the unmarried aunt who occupied the small bedroom at the top of the stairs, loomed in her mind.
If Jesse asked me to leave the Amish, would I?
The answer rose up in a heart already heavy with sorrow. No. This was the life she loved, the one God had given her. She could not live any other way than the way she had been raised.
Besides, Bishop Miller’s accusations hammered at her heart, as painful as when he’d first said the words. Her barrenness was a curse she would not inflict on another man.
Swallowing past a lump that seemed to lodge in her throat more often than not lately, she turned her back to the west and headed
for the house.
Jesse stood beside Rex, his left hand on the pommel, and took a minute to gather his nerve. Rex turned his long neck to fix him with a brown eye as if to say, Well, what are you waiting for?
“Are you sure about this?”
Luke, who was already seated in the saddle, spoke quietly. There was something about the darkness of night and the song of the crickets that called for hushed voices, even though they weren’t being watched. At least not yet.
“I’m sure. There’s no way on God’s green earth I’m letting you boys have all the fun tonight.”
Colin’s soft laugh sounded from beyond Luke. “You call digging postholes in the dark fun? I’ve said before you had pickles for brains, and this proves it.”
Jesse grimaced in his direction, though no doubt he’d just wasted a good scowl. The dark was thick as mud tonight. Clouds covered the stars, and though the moon occasionally peeked through a misty break, its random appearance was no help.
“I may have spent years trying to pickle the rest of myself, but my brains are fine, thank you.”
Butch spoke up from behind. “You want me to get the milking stool?”
Luke chuckled, and Jesse rounded on the boy. “No, I don’t need a milking stool to get on my horse!” He instantly regretted his harsh tone, but if Butch told Luke and Colin he’d used a stool yesterday, he’d never survive the ribbing. He went on in a kinder voice. “I’ll get up there on my own. I still have one good arm and a couple of strong legs.”
He turned back to the saddle, but not before giving Rex a loaded look. Help me out here, boy. I’d hate to end up on my backside on the ground.
He tightened his grip on the saddle horn and placed a boot in the stirrup. His right arm wasn’t completely useless. He’d been working to strengthen the abused shoulder muscles, and though it hurt to lift his arm overhead, he managed to grab onto the saddle. Setting his teeth, he gave a giant heave, pushing off with his right boot. Pain stabbed at his shoulder, but he bit back a groan and pulled, trying to take the weight on his left boot. He wavered, and for a second he thought he’d end up on the ground after all. But then Rex skittered sideways, and he felt pressure on his backside. Butch gave a shove, and Jesse managed to swing his leg over. Not the most graceful move he’d ever made, but at least he was in the saddle.
Once he had his balance, he nodded at the boy. “Thanks, son. Appreciate the help.”
“I can be more help if you’d take me with you. I’m stronger than I look, and I’m a good digger.”
Jesse looked down into the boy’s upturned face. Being left behind while the men rode out to a sneaky midnight job would be a bitter disappointment to any boy. He wouldn’t have stood still for it when he was that age, but he knew Butch would obey the way he always did. Maybe letting him tag along would be good for him.
Jesse glanced toward Colin, who was the boy’s guardian. “What do you think?”
Colin cocked his head sideways, his face hidden in the shadow of his hat. “We do have a lot of work ahead of us. Another pair of hands would be mighty welcome.”
Jesse indulged in a smile. Colin understood a boy’s feelings as well as he did.
Butch nearly hopped with excitement. “You mean I can go?”
“Yeah, you can go. But first run in the house and tell Maummi Switzer so she doesn’t worry.”
The child raced toward the house as though a wildcat were on his tail.
Luke chuckled. “I like that boy. Reminds me of myself at his age.”
Jesse poured his scowl into his voice. “Yeah, but don’t worry. We’ll train that out of him.”
The men enjoyed a laugh, and then Jesse kneed Rex toward the house. When Butch ran out, he was waiting beside the porch, which was higher than the milking stool. “Hop on up here.”
“Yes, sir!” He ducked beneath the railing and, grasping the hand Jesse extended, swung up into the saddle. He settled in behind Jesse and got a grip on the sides of his belt.
Colin raised a hand and pointed westward. “How far does the fence go in that direction?”
Jesse shook his head. “I never got to check it out. I’m thinking we should start at this end, though. It’s not likely we’ll finish the job tonight. Better to clear the way to the creek first.”
The three horses headed out at a walk. Soon they had left the house behind them, and skirted around Jonas’s barn. The goats stirred as they passed, but the cattle had settled farther away, their bodies a dark cluster of shadows on the ground edging the wheat field.
The men approached the corner of the fence east of the place where the stream narrowed and turned toward the north. The sound of rushing water filled the night.
“I don’t understand.” Colin said. “That stream runs from the north. Why wouldn’t Littlefield stake his claim farther up?”
“The creek bed’s a lot narrower up there, no more than a trickle.” Jesse had noted the distinction when he last traveled along the fencerow. “I figure there must be an underground feed close by somewhere, because it’s not near as deep as it is here. And the bank is steeper up a ways.”
“Not good for watering cattle,” Luke noted. “Especially when there’s a nice, wide place right there.” He pointed to the west, where the stream broadened and gained depth, a perfect watering hole.
Jesse agreed. “If you’re a power-hungry cattle baron who’s used to getting what he wants, why not take advantage of a prime source?”
They approached the narrow trench that marked the boundaries of Jonas’s farm, and halted. Colin and Luke dismounted and set about pulling tools from their saddlebags. Behind him, Butch swung his leg over and dropped to the ground, and then he stood looking up at Jesse.
Jesse studied the ground. Once he got down, he might never get back up again. With a sigh, he shifted his weight to his left boot in the stirrup, grabbed a handful of Rex’s mane, and stepped down. He counted it a blessing he didn’t fall but landed on two feet.
Luke stood peering northward toward a rise in the land that was distinguishable only by a slightly lighter shade of black. “How far would you say Littlefield’s place is?”
Jesse knew what he was thinking. “Far enough that he won’t hear us.”
“What about his thugs?”
“Let’s hope they’ve drunk themselves into a stupor. They won’t be expecting trouble from Jonas, and they think I’m worthless at the moment.”
“Hey, this is good news.” Colin’s voice, barely above a whisper, drifted to them from a few yards away, where he’d gone to inspect the fence. “Look here.”
Using two hands he hefted one of the posts, which was nothing more than a long spike, up out of the ground.
“They must have barely pounded them in,” Luke commented.
“They were in a hurry,” Jesse said. “They did most of this in a single night.”
Colin turned his head at the same moment a break in the clouds let the moon’s rays through and illuminated his wide smile. “That’s a dirty thing to do, but let’s copy them. Come on, fellas. We have a fence to move.”
Jesse imagined Littlefield’s fury when he discovered that his boundary line had been repositioned. Oh, how he wished he could be there to witness that moment.
By dawn Jesse was not only thanking the Lord that he’d had a nap after church but wishing he’d slept a few hours more. In fact, he’d petered out after thirty posts or so, even though his job was only to hold the post in place while Colin pounded it into the ground. They set him on guard duty, and he couldn’t swear he hadn’t drifted off once or twice.
But the job was done. The fence was moved, more or less following the faint furrow in the land that Jonas had cut two decades before, though they’d had trouble finding it in places, so overgrown was the fertile land. Their gloves were in a sorry state, and every one of them bore wounds from wrestling with the barbed wire, though Luke’s hands looked the worst. They had taken care to wash them in the creek before settling on the ground to await the dawn and the
inevitable moment when their night’s work was discovered. Finally, the sun rose above the eastern horizon, painting the clouds overhead pink.
Jesse shivered against the morning chill, and shifted his weight in a vain attempt to find a more comfortable position on the hard, rock-strewn ground. In the dawn of light, he realized he wasn’t all that far from the place he’d lain after being shot. Had it really been eleven days ago? He extended his right arm until he felt the painful pull in his shoulder. Seemed as though it had been months.
“I’m hungry.” Sleep weighed down Luke’s words, making them slow and drowsy. “Wish we’d thought to get Maummi to pack us something for breakfast.”
“Mmm.” Colin’s hat muffed his voice. It covered his face as he lay prone on the ground, his arms cradling the back of his head. “What I’d give for a stack of Becca’s hotcakes right about now.”
“Hey, Luke, remember McCann’s breakfasts back on the trail?” Jesse could almost hear the sizzle from the cook’s frying pan and smell the bacon mixed with smoke from the campfire.
Luke groaned. “Don’t remind me. My stomach thinks my throat’s been slit.”
A loud snore issued from the place where Butch had curled up in a ball, bringing a quiet laugh from all three men.
“How can a kid that skinny make a noise that loud?” Luke asked.
Jesse chuckled. “I think he’s been taking lessons from Maummi Switzer.”
“Boys,” came Colin’s quiet voice, “we have company. Get ready. The party’s about to start.”
A pair of riders topped the ridge to the north and came to a halt, their silhouettes standing out starkly against the empty Kansas sky. Jesse cast a glance sideways at Colin, who had taken the hat off his face, his gaze fixed in that direction. His voice sounded calm and even, but there was no mistaking the underlying note of tension. “Hold off, gentleman. Let them make the first move.”
Jesse nudged Butch’s back to rouse him before climbing to his feet, his senses on high alert. His pistol, retrieved from Jonas’s barn, hung from his belt. Though he’d spent time yesterday practicing drawing with his left hand, he was nowhere near ready for a confrontation. Lord, I’d be much obliged if it doesn’t come to that.
A Cowboy at Heart Page 15
