The Heart's Frontier

by Lori Copeland;Virginia Smith

  A small smile curved the man’s lips above the bushy beard. “We are Amish. We repay our debts.”

  A sound from behind Luke drew his attention. He turned in the saddle in time to see Jesse waver, and then tip sideways and tumble out of the saddle. He landed in the dirt with a thud.

  Jonas chuckled. “It appears your friend needs your help too.”

  Disgusted, Luke shook his head. Yesterday he’d chased a stampede as bad as he’d ever witnessed and then spent the night rounding up strays, and now he had to play nursemaid to a drunken cowhand. “Yeah. It appears so.”

  He touched his hat in farewell again and rode off.

  Anger buzzed in Emma’s ears as she marched down the street, dust swirling around her feet with every step. That rude Englischer, sitting tall on his horse and staring down at them as though they were stupid. The Lord certainly would not send someone like him to help. If he’d given his money to her, she would have thrown it back at him. How could Papa stand to take it?

  “Granddaughter, you’ll walk my legs off my body and pound my heart through my apron,” Maummi complained.

  Contrite, Emma slowed her pace. Her grandmother’s face did look flushed, and her chest heaved with exertion. Perhaps they really should call for the doctor.

  But what kind of doctor must be retrieved from a saloon?

  Rebecca ran up from behind and fell in step with them. “Weren’t they handsome?”

  Alarmed, Emma gave her sister a startled look. Dark tendrils of hair clung to her damp forehead, and her eyes sparkled with something that should not be there. “They are not handsome. They are Englisch.”

  Even as the words left her tongue, she admitted privately that they were untrue. Though he was arrogant and rude, she could not deny that Luke Carson was a handsome man. Or he would be, if he would wash away the dirt and cut his hair in a proper manner, like Papa’s. And those dark eyes, the rich deep color of chocolate. Straight seeing too, unlike poor Amos Beiler’s.

  “My dearly departed, Carl, was Englisch.” Maummi’s mouth curved into a smile at a memory only she could see. “A more handsome man you never saw.”

  Emma had heard the tale many times, how Maummi met a handsome young Englisch man while on rumspringa and had chosen marriage to him over church baptism. Their marriage was short lived, for Grandpa Carl had been killed less than two years later, leaving Maummi with a toddler and a baby on the way. Thank goodness she’d had the sense to return to her family and her faith then, so Papa and Aunt Gerda had been raised in an Amish district.

  “Surely our grandfather was not like these men.” They arrived at the boardinghouse, and Emma helped her grandmother up the wooden steps and into the shade of the deep porch. “He didn’t spend his time in saloons.”

  “Certainly not.” Maummi sank into one of four rockers behind the railing and eyed Rebecca. “Most Englisch are rowdy in their ways, and to look on them overmuch will invite temptation. Remember your instruction, girl. ‘Keep your eyes cast down until the Lord raises them. Then you will see only what He wants you to see.’” She quoted the oft-repeated proverb in the tone of one about to launch into a lesson on humility.

  Though Emma might agree with the lesson when it came to her fanciful younger sister, she herself had no desire to hear it repeated. She hurried toward the door. “I’ll speak to Mrs. Gorham. Rebecca, stay here with Maummi.”

  With a resentful stare, Rebecca sank into the second chair while Emma made a hasty retreat toward the boardinghouse door.

  “’Tis unfair.” Rebecca’s surly voice trailed after her.

  “What?” Maummi asked absently.

  “That the Englisch are so…charmingly rowdy.”

  FOUR

  A few miles outside Gorham, Luke returned to a sluggish herd and seven even more lethargic men. Yesterday’s stampede had sapped the energy out of them and run a few pounds of meat off the beef besides. He’d suffered some hard days in the saddle in the months since they started out from Texas, but yesterday’s incident was the worst. And they were within a few days of their goal. He couldn’t afford to let it happen again. The cattle had already lost weight on the long trail, and no time was left to fatten them up again before they were counted and loaded on the train in Hays.

  When the two men approached the herd, the others greeted Jesse with sullen stares. His job had been to accompany the cook into Gorham to replenish supplies and escort him back. Unfortunately, while McCann arranged for the provisions, Jesse wandered into the saloon and then insisted he’d catch up later. The minute Luke saw the chuck wagon roll into sight without an escort, he knew what happened and headed in to town to fetch his employee. By then Jesse had seen the bottom of at least a dozen shot glasses.

  Jesse passed Willie, jerked a nod, and continued on toward the chuck wagon. Following behind, Luke held Bo in check while he scanned the herd’s condition. The cattle were spread out for almost a mile across the prairie, with the majority of them clustered in the center. Their heads hung down, and he saw a few gaping mouths, sure signs of fatigue and thirst. Still, they weren’t looking too bad, considering the rough night they had.

  He checked the position of his men. Willie and Charlie rode drag, following at the rear to keep the herd moving. Griff and Morris were flank riders, maintaining a position at either side to make sure the herd didn’t spread out too far. Off to the left, directly behind the chuck wagon, Vic was the wrangler in charge of the forty-horse remuda.

  Because Luke and Jesse had been gone for a few hours, Kirk, who normally rode flank, had taken the position of point rider. He appeared to be doing a fine job keeping an eye on the lead cows. A good point rider was critical, because if a lead went astray, the entire herd would follow.

  Pa would be proud. This might be his first time to personally be responsible for the herd, but Luke planned to make it successful. Following in his father’s footsteps wasn’t easy, and he wasn’t certain it was what he wanted, but for the time being he’d do what he’d done since he was a youth: herd cattle to market. Only this time he was trail boss, not Pa.

  Luke overtook Willie, the youngest of his men. “How are they doing?”

  This was only Willie’s second cattle drive, but he’d done a good job on the trail. He made no secret of the fact that he intended to hire on as a flank rider on his next drive, now that he had some experience under his belt. Luke would recommend him without hesitation. The drag position was the least favorite on a drive, because the men at the rear rode in the dust and stench of the herd.

  “Tired.” Willie didn’t bother to hide a big yawn and then an even bigger grin. “I’m not the only one either.”

  Luke gave the kid a sympathetic smile. “Hang on. I’m going to call it a day soon.”

  He kneed Bo into a gallop and caught up with Jesse as they neared Griff, who was riding flank on the left. An experienced cattle wrangler, Griff countered his grizzled experience with a rough manner that offered no quarter.

  “Hold up a minute, Jesse,” Luke called.

  Jesse slowed. Griff gave him a narrow-eyed glare and spat into the dusty grass as they approached. “I see you found him.”

  “Yeah. He’s not feeling too good at the moment, if it’s any consolation.”

  As if to prove Luke’s point, Jesse moaned and pushed his hat further down on his forehead.

  Griff’s glare deepened. “Nope. No consolation.”

  “Hey, you’d deny a fellow a couple hours’ of fun because you can’t join him?” Jesse shook his head and clucked as he fell into step beside them. “Selfish. That’s what these men are.”

  “Selfish or not,” Luke replied, “they have been working all afternoon while you’ve been throwing your money away on whiskey and women.”

  “No women.” He heaved a dramatic sigh and pulled a mournful face. “I ran out of money.”

  Luke wasn’t in the mood to humor him. He’d worked hard not to show favoritism during the past two months on this drive, and he couldn’t ignore Jesse’s infr
action. Everyone knew they had been friends for years, ever since they worked their first cattle drive together as boys. A good trail boss treated his men equally and made sure everyone was treated fairly. For this stunt, Luke was going to assign him a double watch tonight, and deliver an even more pointed message now.

  He speared Jesse with a look. “Willie needs a change of scenery. Go relieve him, and tell him I said to move up to the right flank.”

  Jesse’s jaw gaped. “Me? A drag rider? You’re pulling my leg, right? I’m the best point rider on the Chisholm Trail.”

  Luke kept his face expressionless. “You are when you’re sober.” He poured an unspoken warning into an unblinking stare. For a moment he thought his friend would argue. Then Jesse snapped his jaw shut, jerked his horse’s reins, and headed for the back. Griff guffawed and then sat a little straighter in the saddle.

  “He’s too cocky for his own good,” the cowhand commented.

  Luke nodded. “Problem is, he’s right. He is the best.”

  Griff shrugged. “He’s all right.”

  That was about as close to a compliment as Griff ever gave. Luke nodded and then kneed Bo into a gallop to join Kirk on point.

  They hadn’t made five miles that day when Luke thought it wise to call a halt. Dusk was setting in, and the cattle were dragging their hooves in the dust when they came to a wide, shallow river. A grassy plain on this side provided plenty of late summer grass for grazing, so the herd could fill their bellies and hopefully rest easier that night. He gave instructions to let the cattle have their fill while McCann set up camp and rounded up a hearty supper of beans and biscuits with thick pan gravy that the cook called Texas butter. Luke took the first watch alongside a sullen Jesse, and he encouraged the men to cut their tale-telling around the campfire short in favor of a good night’s rest.

  The next morning the sun rose in a clear blue sky. After a cup of strong coffee, Luke toed Jesse awake with the tip of his boot. Loud snores stopped abruptly as his buddy snorted to wakefulness.

  “Wha’s wrong?” His sober early morning voice was even more slurred than it had been the previous afternoon. He sat straight up on his bedroll, his spiky hair bearing witness to a rough night. “Stampede? Not again.”

  Grinning, Luke had to get his goat. He had one—no, ten times coming for the headaches he’d caused him. “Wrong? Why, not a thing. It’s a grand morning, and time to get a’move on!”

  Jesse groaned, settled back on his bedroll, and plopped his hat over his face. “A few more minutes, Ma.”

  Luke toed the hat off his face and hauled him up into a sitting position with one hand. Then he thrust a mug of hot coffee in Jesse’s hands. “Drink this. McCann brewed up axle grease this morning, but it’ll get your blood pumping. Then saddle up. I want you to scout upstream to see if there’s a better place to cross the herd.”

  A low, miserable moan came from Jesse’s throat. He sipped at the coffee and then gave his body a shake. “You’re after me this morning, aren’t you?”

  Luke grinned again. “Yep.”

  With a sigh Jesse took another swig and then struggled to his feet. “Okay, okay. I’ll do it, but only because I wouldn’t put it past you to put me riding drag the rest of the way.”

  “I’m glad we understand each other.” He slapped Jesse on the back with enough force that coffee sloshed out of the mug. “The next time I have to pull you out of a saloon or dance hall, you’re gone, Jesse, quicker than you can spit and holler howdy.”

  Thirty minutes later the herd had roused and started to graze. Luke and McCann were eating biscuits slathered with apple butter when Jesse rode back into camp. He looked better today, his eyes clearer and his cheeks not so sunken. He dismounted, crossed to the campfire, and filled a mug.

  “We’re at the best crossing.” He sipped the steaming brew and then pointed toward the river. “It’s wide and shallow here. Up that way it gets deeper, and there’s a muddy bank on the other side that will bog down the chuck wagon.”

  Luke tossed the final bite of biscuit in his mouth and chased it with the last of his coffee. “Sounds good.” He raised his voice to address the rest of the drovers, who were in various stages of packing up camp. “We’re crossing here. Let’s get a move on.”

  Jesse squatted down beside the fire and grabbed a biscuit. “You won’t believe what I found a half mile or so up the way.” He tore the bread open and piled on a dollop of apple butter before McCann snatched the can away from his grasp with a grunt.

  “What’s that? Another herd?”

  “Nah, better than that.” Jesse popped half the biscuit in his mouth and spoke as he chewed. “I found those Aim-ish people’s wagon. Looks like the thieves tried to take it across the river, got it stuck on the far bank, and then just left it there.”

  “Are you kidding? Was there anything left in it?”

  “Oh, yeah. A monster piece of furniture, and what looks like a trunk in the wagon bed. Some empty crates and such lying around the ground. I didn’t cross over to get a closer look.”

  The faces of the Switzers flashed in Luke’s mind. Jonas with his trusting gaze, assuring him that the Amish paid their debts. And Emma, her eyes framed by those long, curling lashes, looking at him and saying in her low voice, “If the Lord places it in your heart to help us, you will have our gratitude.”

  They might never know that their wagon and at least some of their belongings were only a few miles away. Not unless someone told them.

  “Aw, no.” Jesse took a step forward and made a show of peering closely into his eyes. “I see the thoughts churning up a dust storm in that brain of yours.”

  Luke straightened and replied with an innocent arch of his eyebrows. “What are you talking about?”

  “You’re thinking about going back there and fetching those Aim-ish people out here to their wagon, and I’m standing here telling you it’s a bad idea.”

  “You’re accusing me of bad judgment? And it’s Ah-mish, not Aim-ish. What’s so bad about the idea?”

  Jesse jerked his head toward the herd that had spread out and started wandering as they grazed. Kirk was already on his horse and standing guard over a couple of the leads to make sure they didn’t take off in the wrong direction. “You’re the trail boss. Your responsibility is here.”

  A flash of irritation itched the hair on the back of Luke’s scalp. He hated it when Jesse was right. Still, he wasn’t about to just stand there and endure a lecture by a rowdy cowhand.

  “You’re a fine one to talk to me about responsibility.” He scooped up his Stetson and set it low on his head. “How long could it take to ride back and let them know where their wagon is? You and the men can handle the crossing. I’ll wager a steak dinner that Bo and I will be back before the herd’s hooves are dry on the other side.”

  Jesse peered closely at him. “What’s behind this, Luke? You don’t owe those people anything.”

  As an answer, Luke set his jaw. No, he didn’t owe them a thing. Still, something had grabbed hold in his mind, and it had bothered him all night. He couldn’t shake the thought. The Switzers believed the Lord had sent him to help. What if they were right?

  “I won’t be gone long.”

  Jesse put up his hands in surrender. “You’re the boss, even if you are as stubborn as an old mule. But mark my words, Luke. This good deed of yours is going to end up costing us. You wait and see.”

  He shoved the last half of his biscuit in his mouth and tossed what was left of his coffee on the fire. The embers hissed and fragrant steam arose as Jesse strode toward his mount.

  It won’t take me any time at all to ride back to Gorham and let the Switzers know where their wagon is. Still, a small part of him worried over Jesse’s words. He was the boss, and this was his official first cattle drive. True, they were on schedule to arrive a couple of days before the cattle train left Hays and an hour or so delay wouldn’t affect the timing at all.

  On the other hand, his pa used to say, “Better early than la
te. Those what miss a date shouldn’t have started at all.”

  We won’t be late. Bo and I’ll run back there, tell Jonas Switzer where to find his wagon, and be back here in two shakes of a steer’s tail.

  “Men,” he called as he strode toward the remuda where Bo had been corralled for the night. “I’m heading back to Gorham on a quick errand. Jesse’s got the reins while you get the herd across this river. It’s slow and shallow, so crossing won’t be a problem. I’ll see you on the other side.”

  FIVE

  Emma sat in one of the rockers on the porch of the boardinghouse and watched Papa pace in the dusty street. Beside her, Maummi and Rebecca rocked in silence, their gazes also fixed on Papa. The fourth rocker sat empty. A brilliant sun peeked above the general store at the far end of the settlement, and she squinted against the dazzling rays.

  “We must move on to Troyer,” Rebecca said for the fourth time. “Aunt Gerda is expecting us. She’ll worry.”

  Frowning, Emma gave her a sideways look. Her sister’s enthusiasm for the journey had more to do with getting out of Apple Grove and into the excitement of a bigger community than concern for Aunt Gerda. Troyer offered far more in the way of frolics and singings and, of course, men, than little Apple Grove could hope to match. From the time Papa had first announced his decision to send Emma to Aunt Gerda, Rebecca had wanted to join her, and not necessarily due to sibling affection.

  “‘Hard it is to wait on the Lord,’” Maummi quoted from her immense store of Amish proverbs. “‘But worse to wish you had.’”

  They rocked in silence for a moment.

  “’Tis the Lord’s judgment, to my mind.” Maummi gave a decisive nod. “He never wanted us in Troyer to begin with.”

  Rebecca responded with a pout and an increase in the speed of her rocking. Emma hid a smile. Maummi had not been in agreement with the move to Troyer since the beginning. If it weren’t for the loss of her precious hutch, Emma would almost suspect her of arranging the disaster in hopes that Papa would forget the plan and return home.