A Cowboy at Heart

by Lori Copeland

  After a long pause, Amos turned a sideways smile in his direction. “At least, that is the reason I will give the bishop.”

  Such a sense of joy flooded Jonas’s heart that his laughter rang out over the neat furrows of rich soil. Not only did Amos’s agreement relieve him of the burden of acting alone, but his words confirmed the heaviness that the Lord had placed in his heart.

  “It is hard work to build a new farm,” Amos said, his smile reflecting Jonas’s joy. “And even harder work to establish an Amish district.”

  “Ja,” Jonas agreed. “When we founded Apple Grove, ten families shared the burden. With only two, the burden will be even heavier.” He straightened and spoke from the confidence that was even then growing in his soul. “With the Lord’s help, we can do it.”

  “I may be mistaken, but I think there will be more than two sharing this burden.”

  Jonas looked sharply at him. Had Amos heard whisperings to which he had not been privy?

  “No one speaks against our bishop, but there is much that can be learned from watching a man’s eyes.” Amos shrugged a shoulder. “I watch.”

  Curiosity itched in Jonas’s mind, but he did not ask. Speaking about another man when he cannot speak for himself was gossip. “The Lord must appoint a new bishop and preachers. It will be good to have more than two to choose from.”

  Perhaps, if a few other families joined them in the new district, Jonas would be spared the burden of the Lord’s calling.

  A flicker of passion ignited in Amos’s close-set eyes. “I have long felt the desire to serve the Lord more deeply. Perhaps He will answer my prayers.”

  Jonas looked at his friend through new eyes. Amos had considered becoming a bishop or a preacher? Most men dreaded the call to leadership and the lifetime burdens that came with it. But when the Lord chose, a man answered. That was the Amish way.

  In a rare display of affection, Jonas clapped Amos on the shoulder. “I will pray that the lot falls to you, my friend.”

  Spurred by excitement at the news he bore, Jesse urged Rex into a gallop as he approached Jonas’s place. The road fell away beneath him as a welcome wind blew into his face. He breathed deeply, savoring the wholesome scents of prairie grasses and rich soil so different from the stink of a cattle drive. His heart felt lighter than it had in years, relieved of a burden that had descended on him long ago when he was a boy and learned that his mother’s death had left him alone in the world. Today he’d faced the urge to drink and won. Not because of anybody who might be watching with a disapproving frown or a pitying look. No, he’d done it on his own.

  Well, okay, Lord. You had something to do with it, didn’t You? Thank You.

  He took off his hat, urged Rex to a faster speed, and let the clean Kansas wind bathe him of the stench of whiskey once and for all.

  When he rode into Jonas’s yard, he found Amos hitching up his buggy. If he was going home, that meant he wasn’t worried about Sarah anymore. He stopped Rex nearby and hopped to the ground. Butch came running up to take the reins.

  “Do me a favor, would you?” Jesse reached beneath the horse and released the cinch on his new saddle. “Give him a good, long drink and then brush him down. And here.” He lifted the saddle off Rex’s back and thrust it toward the boy. “Put that over on the porch for me. It needs a good oiling.”

  “You sure oiling will help?” Butch’s eyebrows drew together as he inspected the saddle. “I’d say it needs to be thrown away.”

  Jesse heaved a laugh. “You’re probably right, but that was the best I could find for five bucks.”

  Butch hurried off with the secondhand saddle—or third or fourth, more likely—and Jesse turned to where Jonas and Amos were almost finished hitching up the buggy.

  “Jonas, I have good news! The best.” He didn’t hold back a wide grin. “Your troubles with Littlefield are over.”

  Instead of the joy Jesse expected, Jonas merely smiled and gave a nod. “Ja, they are. The land is his.”

  “No, it isn’t. He may think it is, but he’s dead wrong.”

  He described his trip to the land office and what he’d discovered.

  “So the land is yours fair and square. I paid your fee, and the title is filed with the United States government.” He cast an apologetic look at Amos. “I would have paid yours too, Amos, except I didn’t have enough money. You should get over there and do it right away.”

  The two exchanged a quiet glance, not nearly as excited as Jesse expected. Well, excitement might have been too much to expect from these sedate two, but at least they could show a bit of gratitude. After all, he’d just saved their farms.

  “Danki, Jesse,” Jonas finally said. “You are a good friend.”

  His voice contained a notable lack of enthusiasm. Jesse’s gaze traveled from one to the other. “You two are up to something. Mind sharing it with your good friend?”

  Another swapped glance, and Amos nodded. Jonas looked back at Jesse.

  “We have decided to leave Apple Grove.”

  His jaw dropped. Surely his ears were playing a trick on him. “You’re leaving the Amish?”

  “No, no.” Jonas rushed to deny the accusation. “We will start a new community.”

  The reason dawned on Jesse. “You mean one where you can write your own rules?”

  Amos looked at Jonas before answering slowly. “We are Amish, Jesse. We will continue to practice Amish tenets, and we will live by the Ordnung the Lord dictates. But we will seek His wisdom concerning every decree.”

  A slow smile took possession of Jesse’s lips. If anybody could hear from the Lord and lead people the way He directed, it was these two. In fact, he’d trust either of them more than Bishop Miller.

  “So you see that my need for this farm no longer exists.” Jonas waved a hand toward the creek that was the source of the conflict. “Let Mr. Littlefield have it with my blessing.”

  “No!” The protest rose from a deep sense of injustice. Littlefield shouldn’t be allowed to profit from his bullying tactics.

  He would have gone on to try to convince them, but the door to the house opened and Katie came out, flanked by the Beiler children. Their gazes met, and she paused before descending the porch steps. An aching lump settled in Jesse’s throat at the sight of her. A lovelier woman had never existed. She averted her eyes.

  “We are ready,” called the oldest as they crossed the grass. “Mamm and Katherine are sleeping.”

  “Katherine?” Jesse raised a questioning brow in Amos’s direction.

  “Ja, that is the little one’s name.” He beamed at Katie. “Katherine Marta Beiler, after the two who saved her mader’s life.”

  The two younger children climbed up into the buggy, though the oldest daughter waited for her papa to lift her up. When Jonas helped Katie climb onto the front bench, Jesse realized she was leaving too.

  “You’re going home?”

  She gave a quick nod. “Amos will take me on his way. Sarah is weak, but she will recover with rest and food.”

  “And tea?” Jesse teased.

  The smile that flashed onto her face warmed him. “And tea.”

  Amos settled on the bench beside her and picked up the reins before speaking to Jonas. “Tomorrow evening, then?”

  “Ja.”

  With a flick of the reins and a cluck of his tongue, Amos urged the horse forward. Jesse stood beside Jonas and watched until they turned onto the road. Some of his newfound joy disappeared with that buggy. He’d hoped to speak privately with Katie and tell her of his victory at the saloon.

  “He’s coming back tomorrow to visit Sarah?”

  Jonas nodded. “And to meet for prayer about the new community.”

  Jesse turned to face him. “Speaking of that, it doesn’t make sense to walk away from your farm, Jonas.”

  “What makes sense is not always what is right. I am convicted that the move is right.” He laid a fisted hand over his chest. “I feel it here.”

  “That’s fine, b
ut don’t let Littlefield get away with stealing from you. Wherever you go, you’re going to have to file a new claim and set up a new farm. How are you going to pay for that?”

  A troubled crease appeared between his eyes but cleared after a moment. “The Lord will provide. I must follow my convictions and not resist when someone would take what is mine.” He turned a kind smile on Jesse. “You do not understand because you are not Amish.”

  Jesse watched his friend’s back as he walked away. With a feeling akin to wonder, he realized Jonas was wrong. He did understand. The man standing before him possessed a strength he admired more than he could say. Did he draw that strength from his faith? And if so, could Jesse one day have a measure of that force, that conviction, that let him turn his back while a scoundrel like Littlefield robbed him?

  Maybe. But Jesse was not Amish. Not yet.

  “Hey, Butch!”

  The boy stood beside the watering trough where Rex was drinking his fill. He looked up at Jesse’s shout.

  “Never mind about brushing him. I have a call to pay first.”

  He found Littlefield outside, overseeing work on yet another fence. This one was round, like a training corral for horses, and sturdier than the makeshift barrier he’d erected on Jonas’s farm. The man caught sight of him at a distance, and by the time Jesse halted Rex in front of him, he was flanked by Woodard and Lawson. Sawyer and another man continued their work on the fence, though they both kept cautious eyes on him.

  Littlefield held a lit cigar, which he raised to his lips before speaking. “Mr. Montgomery, you seem to be spending a lot of time here lately. You’re not looking for a job, are you?”

  Jesse controlled a bark of laughter that threatened at the idea that Maummi Switzer would call narrisch. What a crazy notion. “No, but thanks for thinking of me.” He continued before Littlefield could deny that his comment was an offer. “I came to talk about property boundaries.”

  “That again?” The man took a puff from the cigar and blew a stream of smoke. “Unless you’re here to tell me that your Amish friend has moved my fence back to its proper place, I don’t think there’s anything more to be said on the subject.”

  “Actually, I paid a visit to the land management office over in Hays City this morning.”

  “Did you now?” Littlefield’s smile deepened. “I’m eager to hear what you learned there.”

  Lawson’s chest heaved with a silent laugh, and Woodard’s lips crooked sideways. Yesterday the man’s smirk would have gone right through Jesse, and he would have been tempted to punch that ugly face. But today he felt…if not exactly kindly toward the man, at least satisfied to let his words do the punching.

  “Yeah, I had a good talk with a Mr. Reynolds down there. Nice fella, and he knows a lot too. Explained all the details about the Homestead Act to me.” Jesse pushed the brim of his hat back on his forehead. “I already knew about filing claims and building and planting and such. But I wasn’t aware that a man could hurry along the process by paying the government for his land.”

  Littlefield puffed on his cigar again, his expression arrogant. “A man needs to understand the law if he wants to work it to his advantage. You might instruct your friend on that count.”

  “Oh, yeah. I agree.” Jesse shifted in his saddle. “Jonas did everything he was supposed to. He filed his claim, built a house and a barn, planted crops, and marked his land with a furrow. What he didn’t do was go back five years later and file the final petition to get his title. A pity he didn’t understand. A man’s ignorance can hurt him.”

  Woodard snickered, but the smile had faded from Littlefield’s face. The snake’s eyes narrowed with suspicion, as though he knew Jesse was about to level him with a blow.

  “Yep. Poor Jonas almost lost everything because of an oversight and fifteen measly dollars. Good thing I went down to check on it before it was too late.”

  “What?” All amusement was now gone from the man’s voice.

  “Oh, yeah. Turns out there’s a fifteen-dollar filing fee that goes along with the petition for the title. Didn’t you know that? I had a twenty-dollar gold piece in my pocket to buy a new saddle with, seeing how mine got burned up in the fire.” He turned a look toward Woodard. “But I put it to better use. Now my friend’s claim is secure.”

  “That’s impossible!” Littlefield’s snarl snapped with anger. “I paid two hundred dollars for this land, and it includes the watering hole.”

  “See, that’s where you’re wrong. Reynolds tried to tell you about the fifteen dollars, but apparently you were in too big a hurry to listen. Jonas is the rightful owner of that watering hole, and I have a note from the government to prove it.” He patted his vest pocket.

  Woodard and Lawson had lost their smirks and stood watching their boss with caution. A deep red flush suffused Littlefield’s face and the muscles in his jaw bulged. If Jesse had been standing in front of him instead of in the saddle, he would have been bracing for the man to take a swing at him.

  “I do have some good news for you, though. My friend is thinking about pulling up stakes and settling elsewhere. Doesn’t like the stink in these parts. He might consider selling his place if the price was right.”

  “I will not buy that land.” The words were ground out between gritted teeth. “It’s already mine.”

  Jesse shrugged. “Well, suit yourself. We were going to give you first shot at it, but there’s another buyer waiting.” That was the most carefully worded statement he’d ever made. Not a lie. He didn’t claim that anyone else had expressed an interest in Jonas’s farm, though if Littlefield drew that conclusion, so much the better.

  The man’s eyes narrowed to slits. “Another buyer?”

  “Actually, you might know him. He has a big spread down in Texas like you do. Name’s Robert Elway. As chance would have it, he’s in Hays City right now, buying up land and putting together a crew to move his herd up this way.” Jesse removed any guile from his smile. “You two will make good neighbors since you have so much in common.”

  The flush deepened to purple, and a vein throbbed in Littlefield’s forehead. “How much do you want?”

  “Me?” Jesse put a flat hand on his chest. “It’s not my land. But my friend might listen to an offer if I bring it. ’Course, I’ll have to think of his welfare and make sure he gets a fair price.”

  “I’ll give him two dollars and fifty cents for the twenty-acre strip that includes the creek. That’s twice what it’s worth.”

  No doubt Jonas would be happy with the terms, but Jesse shook his head. “He’s not interested in parceling out his farm. You buy the whole one hundred sixty acres or I’ll offer it to Elway.” He leaned forward, one arm resting on the saddle horn. “And, by the way, I think the price of land is about to go up in these parts.”

  Littlefield looked as though he might have an apoplectic fit. He crushed the cigar in his fist and then threw it on the ground and pulverized it beneath his heel, a stream of curses flying from his mouth. Even though Jesse had spent most of his life in the presence of cowboys, gamblers, and drinkers, he’d never heard some of the words Littlefield uttered. Woodard and Lawson each stepped backward, out of arm’s reach, and the two working on the corral cast anxious glances his way. Jesse arranged his features into an imitation of Jonas’s placid expression and waited for the man to finish.

  Finally, Littlefield regained a semblance of calm, though fury still showed in his rigid stance and clenched fists. “Five dollars an acre and not a cent more.”

  With an effort, Jesse kept his expression calm. He’d been hoping for three. When he could be sure his tone would stay even, he said, “I think he’ll consider that offer favorably. I’ll let you know.”

  The cattle baron whirled and stalked away. He stomped up the steps and into the house. The door slammed shut behind him.

  When he was gone, his men exchanged stunned expressions. They had probably never seen their boss bested. Jesse was tempted to taunt them with a victorious smirk,
but for some reason he couldn’t see the pleasure in it. What would arrogance get him, except a reputation like Littlefield’s? Instead, he bobbed his head in a brief nod toward Lawson and Woodard.

  When he tugged at the reins to turn Rex, he caught Sawyer watching him. Was that fear in his face? Jesse could set Sheriff Wiley on him, but what purpose would that serve? They would string him up for shooting a man in the back. Jesse had seen enough killing in his lifetime.

  He touched a finger to his hat in a gesture of farewell and had the satisfaction of seeing Sawyer’s jaw drop before he kicked Rex into a gallop.

  Now that one confrontation was out of the way, he might as well take care of the second before he headed back to the Switzers’ for the night.

  When Jesse rode up to the Miller place, a little girl he recognized from the church meeting ran from a chicken coop to gape at him, a basket half full of eggs clutched in her hands. He smiled a greeting but didn’t stop, instead steering Rex toward the figure he spotted in a distant field.

  The bishop heard his approach and straightened from his inspection of a row of bean plants. Jesse halted Rex on the grassy strip of land between one field and the next, and then he swung out of the saddle. Instead of coming toward him, Bishop Miller stood waiting while Jesse walked carefully between straight lines of six-inch plants, his expression stern.

  “Hello, sir.” Jesse greeted him when he drew near enough for conversation.

  His answer was silence accompanied by a slight nod.

  “I wanted to share something I learned today.” He related his conversation with Reynolds, concluding with, “So I figure you might want to let people know they need to get down to the land office as soon as they can.”

  He avoided mentioning Jonas or the deal he’d struck with Littlefield. Let Jonas handle his business with the bishop.

  “Danki.”

  For someone who’d had a mouthful to say the other night, he was quiet today. Jesse waited for him to say something else, but the man merely continued to stare at him.

  “All right, then.” He waved at the plants. “I’ll leave you to it.” He turned to go.