by Murray Pura
He did not mind the chill. The presence of so many people had made the house very warm. It had been quite an experience. Zeph sensed God was trying to say something important to him through it all.
Jesu Christi am kreuz.
Jesus on the cross—for Zeph, for Augustine, for Sheriff Friesen, for Colonel Austen. For Lynndae Raber. Yes, even for Seraphim Raber. The Angel of Death had heard sermons like this. In some corner of his heart, they were still lodged there. He had chosen to ignore them.
Jesu Christi am kreuz.
Was it possible? Could God be expecting him to say something about this to Raber when they met? Would Raber be in any kind of mood to hear it? What if Raber just shot him or hanged him before he had a chance to open his mouth?
There was a cluster of barren winter trees, heavy branches outstretched, and Zeph found a patch of dry earth and sat in their midst. He looked back at the house. It was perhaps two hundred yards away. He could see some people moving about in the snow, crossing between the barn and the outhouses.
Lord, he prayed, if there is something You want me to say to Seraphim Raber, then please give me the words. Yes, bring us together and give me the words. May Your hand of mercy be upon him, may it be upon me, may it be upon all the people of Lancaster and Bird in Hand, may it be upon the woman I care for more than anyone else in the world even though I myself must release her.
He changed position so he could look out over the fields and sky rather than watch the smoke rising from the house chimney. His thoughts wandered back to Montana, back to the long train trip, back to the moment he put his lips to Lynndae’s in the baggage car of the train. Maybe he was just meant to get Lynndae and the children safely to Pennsylvania, and that’s all there was to it. It felt like there should be more when he turned everything over in his mind and remembered the feelings that had poured through him, but maybe that was the whole story. It hurt a bit, but a man got used to hurts or he died young. After all, she had never trusted or loved him enough to tell him the truth about herself—that she was Amish, that she was the Angel of Death’s sister. A darkness settled deeper inside him as he turned this bitter pill over in his mouth. No, there was nothing between them now. It was over.
Zeph checked his watch. Two o’clock. His mutze dress coat was no longer proof against the cold. Nor did he want to appear as if he had disliked the worship service. He started back through the snow to the white, two-story house.
He had only been walking for a minute when he noticed a figure coming over the fields toward him. It moved lightly and smoothly. His heart quickened—Lynndae Raber.
She stopped and looked at him in her white prayer covering and black dress with its gray apron. The sun brushed against her cheek and lit up her blue eyes.
“I have come to ask on this Lord’s Day,” she said, “if you can forgive me and we can start again.”
And she stretched a hand toward him.
Chapter 27
The feeling in him was to take the hand. He fought it. Dark feelings and sensations of light whirled around in his head and heart. She watched the struggle but did not drop her hand. It remained suspended in the cold afternoon air, fair, ungloved, lovely. Finally Zeph realized he wanted her and wanted to forgive her more than anything else in the world. He stopped resisting and reached for her hand. In taking it, he drew her closer to himself.
She squinted up at him and at the sun that rode his shoulder. “Are you forgiving me?”
He nodded. “You had your reasons. It’s not like I was your husband or lover. I’m sorry I’ve been so harsh.”
“Thank you, Zephaniah.” She touched his cheek with her free hand. “Everyone was asking about you.”
“I found the worship service to be a powerful experience. I just had no appetite for talk or food afterwards. I needed to be alone with the Lord. So I came out here to pray and think myself clear. Listen, we haven’t got a whole lot of time.”
“Z, we have all the time we need. The Amish like things to happen at a slow pace.”
“I’m leaving on a train in a few hours, Lynndae. I’ve got to go alone. You can’t come with me. Though I do pray to God you’ll let me take you with me in my heart.”
Her stomach went cold. “Are you heading back west?”
“No.”
“Then where are you going? And why are you going?”
“I can’t tell you everything. But I need your prayers. If all goes well, there’s no reason I won’t see you in a day or two.”
“A day or two?” She studied his eyes and every line in his face. “It’s something to do with my brother, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is. Lynndae, I can’t have him coming in here like he meant to do at Iron Springs and shoot everyone on sight and burn every house to the ground.”
“He won’t do that—”
“He will do that. He wants revenge for the men that were hung, and he wants revenge against the people who shunned him and his family for taking up arms for the Union. He will come here and set houses and haystacks ablaze. Unless I draw him off.”
“You?”
“He doesn’t want the kids anymore. I telegraphed his description to Colonel Austen and my brother. He knows the information will be right across the country and through all the Territories over the next couple of days. No, he wants the man who set him up at Alkali and had troopers ready to gun down his men or take them west to Cheyenne for a hanging. He wants me more than anyone else I guess he can think of right now. If I get him away from here, the people will be safe.”
“Z, I don’t want you to do this.”
“If I don’t, the Mary Beacheys and Aunt Rosas and Augustine Yoders are going to die.” “They have Sheriff Friesen.”
“A good man, but he’s not enough, nowhere near enough to take on a killer like Seraph Raber.” “And you are? Unarmed? Alone?”
“He wants me—Z. He’ll come after me. And he knows where I’m going.”
“But I don’t.”
“You can’t. You might be crazy enough to follow me.” “I have things to say to my brother that have been left unsaid for too long.”
“Yeah, well, that’s exactly the way I feel about you and me.” “Pardon me?”
“It was no game for me on that train, Lynndae. I never had to act one moment since we became Mister and Missus Fremont and Conner Wyoming. For me, it was all for real.”
One hand touched her chin and lifted her face toward his.
“I love you, Charlotte. I love you, Conner. I love you, Lynndae. I forgive you. Just as Christ on the cross has forgiven me. I want you to be my wife. I want to marry you and take sunset rides in the Rocky Mountains. I want to fill you with God’s happiness. I want to raise a family with you and have a house full of good words and good laughter and good loving. That’s all I want.”
He paused.
She looked straight into his eyes. “Z, do you really mean all that you’re saying?”
“I mean it. But you can’t give me your answer yet. I know you’ve got your Amish ties to think about. Your home on the Sweet Blue. I guess, in a way, I’ve got no right to be saying these things to you when I might not be alive a day from now. But if I never said them today I might not ever get another chance. If things don’t work out the way I’ve planned, well, I want you to know that this cowboy really did love you, Lynndae. I love you more than heaven and earth.”
She touched his lips. “You’re a crazy fool, Zephaniah T. Parker. Do you think I’m going to wait another day to tell you how I feel when I’ve been waiting so long to hear you say the words you said to me just now? Amish are slow, but we’re not that slow. I’m not waiting another moment.”
She threw her arms around him with a strength that made him gasp. “I love you, I love you, yes, yes, yes, a thousand times yes. Marry me, take me back to our Rocky Mountain sunsets, and let’s ride until we find a stream where we can toss down our bedrolls and sleep under the stars and thank God for everything.”
Her face was close t
o his, and he could see the light dancing in her blue eyes like sunlight sparkling on water. “I guess I’m kind of confused right now, Lynndae Raber.”
“Why’s that?”
“I’m not sure how to kiss in Amish.”
She laughed. “Slow, and you take a long time at it.”
Zeph did as he was told. He had stopped feeling the cold of the afternoon air ever since she’d walked out to meet him. Now he felt heat roar through his lips and head and heart. Once he’d started, he had no idea of stopping and neither did she. He tasted her sweetness and her love, and there was nothing like it on the face of God’s good earth, nothing.
“Who needs breath?” he finally asked her.
“That’s why God gave us noses.”
A long time later they walked back to the house. Many of the buggies had left. By common consent, they did not touch or hold hands, nor did they have any intention of telling anyone anything yet. A hundred feet from the house he stopped, and she turned to look at him.
“I’ve got to go to the station now,” he told her.
She held his gaze and her eyes were violet. “You’ve given me the happiest hour in my life, Z. The hours to come will be the longest and the hardest.”
“But you understand, don’t you?”
“I do understand, my love. And I’m proud of you.”
“You’ll pray for me?”
“How can you ask that? I’ll be praying without ceasing.” Then she placed a hand on his heart. “Listen. Long ago, in Montana, I made a promise to my brother on his deathbed. The promise was that I’d never marry outside the family, never split up our ranch or join it to another’s, never let a marriage contract threaten the land. Never.”
A chill swept through him. “I’m no cousin of yours.”
“I’ve fought with Ricky’s words for years. Should I keep the promise, should I break the promise. Why do you think I never let you get close to me? Why do you think I never responded to your warmth and friendliness in a way a woman who adored you would? I made a promise to my dying brother.”
He was confused. “Didn’t you just say you’d marry me?”
“Yes, I did. And I meant it. But I need some time to make peace with Ricky. I need time for his spirit to understand. I want to go ahead and have a life with you. But please don’t ask for the wedding ceremony to be tonight or before you get on that train. I need time to work this through with him and God.”
Moses Beachey came around the corner of the house. He smiled. “There you are, Lynndae. We are just about to head home.”
She dropped her hand from Zephaniah’s heart but held his gaze. Neither she nor Zephaniah were smiling. “Yes. All right. I’m coming.”
“Mister Parker,” said Moses. “I have not seen you since the morning worship.”
“I found it a very moving and very meaningful time, Mister Beachey. Please convey that to the others. I don’t want my absence to be misunderstood. Those hours of worship and preaching meant more to me than many a church service has in a long time. I needed to be alone to pray and think over what I had heard taught and sung and prayed.”
Moses looked surprised. “But you do not have the language.”
“Today I understood the language of God’s Spirit, Mister Beachey, and that was all that was needed.”
Moses nodded and looked at Zeph for several moments, thinking. Then he said, “I sense God will bless you in the days to come.”
“Why, thank you for that, Mister Beachey.”
Zeph walked out to the buggy with the two of them and touched the brim of his piker hat. “Miss Raber, I wish you every goodness Christ has to offer those He loves.”
She inclined her head. “The Lord be with you, Mister Parker, night and day, day and night.”
Their eyes locked for a brief instant, and then Moses shook the reins. The buggy moved off down the rutted track of snow and mud. Zeph stood watching.
A hand came to rest on his shoulder. It was Augustine. “So. It was a good day for you?”
“It was a holy day, Mister Yoder. Thank you for your sermon.”
“What? You understood some of it?”“Jesu Christi am kreuz.”
Augustine had been working a toothpick around in his mouth. He stopped. “I saw you under the trees. I thought the morning had disappointed you.”
“No. I was greatly blessed. I needed a place to pray.”
Augustine grunted. “So, what did prayer help you to figure out?”
“I would be much obliged if you took me to the station after we’ve dropped off Missus Yoder and I’ve picked up my luggage.”
Augustine looked hurt. “You are going back west so soon?” “I’m not going west.”
Augustine narrowed his eyes. His toothpick began to move around again. “All right. We should go.”
At the Yoder house, Zeph said good-bye to Rebecca and picked up his carpetbag, bedroll, sheepskin jacket, and the saddlebags, which he had stacked just inside the front door. She remained at the roadside while the buggy rolled over the mud and water to Lancaster.
“I hope to be back Monday or Tuesday,” said Zeph as Augustine hunched over the reins and stared straight ahead.
Augustine flicked the reins and sat back, appearing to relax a bit. “Gute. For Rebecca it is like having one of the boys back in the house again.”
“Mister Yoder, I am grateful for your hospitality and the kindness of the Amish community. Thank you for allowing me to worship with you this morning. My few days here have been very pleasant and invigorating. Now I must tell you something you will not want to hear. Seraph Raber is still alive.”
Augustine glanced at him in astonishment. “No, he was hanged with the other outlaw—”
“They didn’t catch him. He’s still at large. I am going to meet him.”
“What are you saying?”
“He is angry with me for trapping his men at the train last week. I am going to meet him and talk. But that does not mean he will not send some of his gang here after the children or to seek revenge against the Amish for shunning his family. You must get everyone to a safe place.”
Augustine considered this and worked at his toothpick. “He has no gang left.”
“Sheriff Friesen thinks he has a few that weren’t captured at the train. I believe he’s right. They did not vanish across the Mexican border. They may come here.”
“You want us to gather in one place?”
“Maybe not one place. It would be better if you used three or four houses. All at the same location. That way Sheriff Friesen will be able to keep an eye on all of you. You will need to tell him where you are.”
“When should we do this?”
“Now. Tonight. As soon as I’ve left on the train.”
“There are animals to take care of.”
“Let the men do that and then join their families in the houses.”
“In the morning also there are chores—”
“The gang may come at daybreak.”
“We have our farms and livelihood, Zephaniah.”
Zeph reached over and gripped Augustine’s broad shoulder as tightly as he could. Augustine looked at him in surprise.
“Mister Yoder. Seraph Raber has killed people past counting. He murdered the Kauffmans, Troyers, and Millers at Iron Springs. All that for no more reason than wanting to hurt and destroy. Now his men have been shot and hung. So he has a bigger reason. How much worse do you think he can be when real fury is in his heart?”
Lancaster was in sight. Matchbox quickened his pace. Augustine worked at his toothpick and flicked the reins to keep the horse moving smartly.
“You think Raber will meet you?”
“I’m counting on it.”
“Where?”
“South. A place I swore I’d never go back to.” “He will want to kill you, Zephaniah.” “That’s why I’m sure he’ll be there.”
“This is something for the rulers God has appointed over us. You do not carry a weapon.”
“No
t since the war. Another thing I swore I’d never go back to.”
“What can you do against his hate but remain among us and pray?”
“If I remain among you and pray, he will come right to where I am and cut through all of Bird in Hand to get to me—every man, woman, and child.”
“No, Zephaniah, this is not something you can do; this is for the law.”
“Mister Yoder, I am the law.” He brought the badge out of a pocket in his mutze and pinned it on his vest. “I swore an oath on the Bible I would protect people like you from people like him.”
“We do not swear oaths.”
“But I did.”
They were at the station. Zeph stepped down and pulled his luggage out of the buggy.
“Thank you, Mister Yoder. God bless you.”
Augustine sat in the buggy and looked down at him. His toothpick had stopped once again. “I will tell the pastors what you have said. We will move everyone before sunset.”
“That sounds right.”
“We will see you Monday or Tuesday.”
“I look forward to it.”
“Don’t forget your coat.” Augustine tossed him the overcoat he had left on the bench at the Zook house. “It is best to dress plain among the English.”
Zeph smiled and touched the brim of his piker hat.
The sun was an orange and purple blaze only a little ways above the horizon. Zeph walked into the station holding his gear. A clerk nodded at him and said the train south for York and Gettysburg would be along in forty-five minutes. Zeph thanked him and went into a restroom, where he uncinched one of his saddlebags and drew out his father’s Remington revolver. He turned it over in his hand. It was empty, and no stores were open on a Sunday where he could purchase ammunition. But maybe it would slow down Seraphim Raber just enough if he saw its butt sticking out of the waistband of Zeph’s pants. Which is where he put it, the long barrel grazing the inside of his thigh. Then he walked back to his seat in the station, checked his watch, and waited.
