Maummi pointed to indicate the one she meant, and Emma climbed up into the wagon to retrieve it. When she’d slid it over to the edge so her grandmother could rummage inside, she spoke in a low voice that could not be overheard.
“Why is Papa going so slowly, Maummi?”
The elderly woman didn’t bother to look up. “Why ask a question when you already know the answer?”
With a grim nod, Emma acknowledged her suspicions. “He is trying to put a distance between Luke and me.”
“‘Höret, meine Kinder, die Zucht eures Vaters; market auf, daß ihr lernt und klug Werd!’” The biblical proverb was one Maummi had often repeated when Emma was younger. Hear, ye children, the instruction of a father, and attend to know understanding.
She didn’t bother to hide an audible sigh as Maummi selected four plump apples from the crate. “I know Papa is wise and I must learn from him. It’s just that…”
That what? That she wanted to moon after Luke even though she knew there was no possibility for a future between them?
She picked up one of the apples and returned it to the crate before she slid the box back to its storage position. She couldn’t force a bite down her throat. When she turned, she caught Maummi’s sympathetic eyes fixed on her.
“‘Young birds must learn the paths of the sky from older ones. Else they lose themselves in the joy of soaring.’”
Emma made no response to the proverb as she hopped down from the wagon and trudged a little distance away. She knew Maummi meant the lesson kindly, but she was not a brainless young bird. Had she not always been obedient to Papa, as was proper? Did he think her incapable of making wise choices on her own?
While her family gathered in the cooling shade of the sparse trees, Emma climbed a short swell in the land where she could watch the cattle dwindle in the distance. When the last cow disappeared over the hill where Luke had vanished earlier, her frustration turned to heavy sorrow that dragged at her heart. She truly had seen the last of Luke Carson.
Well, and what of it? If she was as level-headed as she professed to be, why was she acting as if she’d lost a beau? He was not her beau and never would be. Too much separated them, not the least of which was their faith. She did not want a husband who stayed gone for months at a time on the cattle trail. When she found the man she wanted to spend her life with, he would attend Sunday meetings with her, and singings, and drive her to town in a proper buggy. He would raise barns with the other men in Apple Grove while she cooked noodle casseroles to serve him when his work was done. He would read Die Bibel in German, and train their children using proverbs. He would…
She blinked back the traitorous tears that threatened, suddenly impatient with them. He would not be Luke.
Loneliness rose up inside her. Whom, then would she marry? Though she had not relished the thought of Aunt Gerda parading her in front of every eligible man in Troyer, she’d been fairly certain she would find her future husband there. Now that she was going back home to Apple Grove, was Amos Beiler to be her only option? Her gaze strayed once again to the horizon.
Lord, has that been Your intention all along? Did You send me out on this ill-fated journey simply to make me agreeable to a future with Amos? She kicked a dried clot of dirt and watched it roll down the hill. If so, You could have saved me a lot of trouble by saying so.
Enough moping. Such dour thoughts were unbecoming to an Amish woman. She left the hilltop and headed toward the wagon. Rebecca had wandered off to the east and stood a distance away, her back bent as she inspected something in the grass. Maummi and Papa were out of sight, but as Emma approached the wagon she heard the low murmur of their voices. They had seated themselves in the shade, leaning against the wheels on the far side of the wagon.
Emma started toward the rear to get the apple she’d refused earlier, but Maummi’s words stopped her.
“I like the Englisch man. He makes for me a warm feeling in my heart.”
“The trouble is not in liking him,” Papa’s gentle voice answered. “He is not Amish.”
They were discussing Luke. Emma hesitated. She should make a noise to announce her presence. Instead, she ignored a warm rush of guilt and remained still.
“He is Christian.” From Maummi’s decisive tone, Emma could almost see her firm nod. “Like my Carl.”
“I fear you see in him too much of my fader. You would push our Emma to him.”
“Not so. But neither can you build a wall to trap her inside your backyard. She is a good girl and loves the Amish way. You must let her choose for herself.”
“Ja. I know. I have raised both my daughters to serve the Lord and obey the Ordnung. If she chooses to leave the Plain way, as is her right, I can do nothing.” A long sigh sounded. “If the Lord had left my Hannah here, she would know what to do. Her desire matched mine, that our daughters choose baptism and the church. I fear I will fail her, and my Emma, and my Lord all at once.”
Maummi’s voice held a note of gentleness Emma rarely heard. “You have not failed, Jonas.”
Emma could listen no longer. She crept away without a sound and went back up the low hill, where she dropped down to sit in the grass. Hot guilt churned in her stomach, leaving her faintly sick. The guilt of eavesdropping was one thing, but the sorrow and self-accusation she’d heard in Papa’s voice was enough to make her sob. How could he consider himself a failure when he had surrounded her with love and guidance her whole life? What an ungrateful daughter she had become.
A breeze stirred the golden grass around her and she welcomed it, drawing it deep into her lungs. When she exhaled, she blew all her foolish feelings for Luke out with it. Her future was in the Lord’s hands, not her own. If He wanted her married to Amos Beiler in Apple Grove, so be it. She would not disappoint her Lord or her papa.
Luke awoke to the smell of coffee and bacon, one of the best combination of odors God ever concocted. Today it failed to rouse him. His eyes protested when he tried to pry them open, and grogginess hugged his brain like fog hugs a Texas river on a cool morning. He knew he’d be tired today when he had taken both the first and second watch last night, but he’d rather be in the saddle doing something productive than tossing on his bedroll, his brain too full to sleep.
The Switzers’ wagon had dropped out of sight yesterday, and the empty stretch of land behind the herd had pestered him like a bothersome horsefly. He couldn’t stop turning around and stretching his sight, trying to catch a glimpse of white from a bonnet. He’d even welcome the sight of that doggone hutch. But the prairie to the south of them remained empty.
He rolled off his pallet and stood to stretch while he scanned his surroundings. The cattle had stirred, and more than half were already up and grazing. Behind them, the prairie was still empty.
I hope the family isn’t in trouble.
With a final mental shake, he rejected the worrisome thought. He wasn’t their hired hand. He’d done his Christian duty, and now they were on their own. Emma was on her own.
As he shook out his bedroll, Luke surveyed the camp. Griff, Charlie, and Jesse were the only ones still buried in their blankets. Everybody else was out of sight, probably milling around the breakfast fire or getting their gear stowed for the day.
“Morning, boss.” Willie rounded the chuck wagon with a tin mug of coffee in each hand. “Thanks for taking the extra watch last night. I slept great.”
Luke took the mug he offered as he brushed off the thanks. “No problem. You’ll burn some added energy today. I intend to push this herd halfway to Hays before nightfall.”
He took a swig of coffee and nudged Jesse’s slumbering form with his foot. “Up and at ’em, cowboy. We have a lot of ground to cover today.”
Jesse stirred but didn’t sit up. “It’s early yet. Sun’s not even up.”
Laughing, Luke kicked the hat off his friend’s face. “Now it is. Come on, sluggard. Last one out of the sack gets to ride drag today.”
The threat got him moving. Groaning, Jesse sat
and squinted upward, his eyes unfocused and bleary. “There. You happy?”
Luke didn’t have time to answer. A gunshot cracked nearby, answered by another from a short distance away. The shouts of men filled the air—wild, high-pitched cries from unknown voices, and answering cries of dismay from his own men.
Jesse lunged to his feet. “What in tarnation—”
Luke didn’t bother answering. A sick certainty settled in his stomach as the shouts continued and more shots disrupted the peaceful morning. Startled cattle answered with distressed bawls and danced on nervous hooves. He leaped for the pile of gear near the head of his pallet and the rifle secured on the side of his saddle, while around him men scrambled to their feet. Griff’s harsh growl answered Jesse’s question.
“Rustlers.”
The word sent a bolt of hot, sticky fear straight into Luke’s gut.
FOURTEEN
Papa seemed in no more hurry this morning than he had yesterday, but Emma didn’t mind so much now. During much of the night she had begged the Lord to make her more compliant, more obedient, more willing to accept the life He had planned for her. Long after midnight she finally fell into the peaceful sleep of one submitted to the will of the Father, who knew her heart’s desire.
She awoke to the sun rising into a clear blue sky over the wide Kansas plain. A persistent wind had blown all night and swept away much of the stench of the cattle herd. Instead, the sweet smell of prairie grass and the fresh scent of water filled the air.
After breakfast Emma and Rebecca collected the dishes—plain metal ones purchased back in Gorham—and took them to a nearby stream to scrub them clean. Sunlight danced on the moving surface of the narrow creek that had carved a deep swath through the land. When their chore was complete, Emma took the opportunity to wash the dust from her neck and face, while Rebecca wandered upstream.
“Emma, look here. I found a school of tiny fish. How colorful they are, like bits of rainbows playing about the rocks.”
Emma glanced at her little sister, who was bent over the stream’s edge and staring intently into the water. Delight made the girl’s tone light, and Emma couldn’t help a smile in response. Not so many years had passed since Rebecca was a child, tromping off to school swinging a book strap in one hand and her lunch pail in the other. How proud Mama would have been had she lived to see what a lively young woman her baby had become.
A movement in the distance drew her attention. Something was heading their way from the north and kicking up a lot of dust as it came. She caught a glimpse of brown hides. Alarm pricked her nerves to attention. Horses, maybe? Had the thieves returned?
“Papa!”
When he looked up from his inspection of the oxen’s legs, she pointed. His head turned as he followed the direction of her hand. Staring at the quickly approaching objects, Emma noticed that these animals were riderless. As they drew near, she also realized they were not horses but cattle.
They slowed on their approach, and the dust began to settle. Perhaps the wagon with the towering hutch in the middle of the trail looked like a barrier, or maybe they were tired from running. Regardless of the reason, their pace dwindled from a run to a trot, and then to a walk. One of them left the trampled trail and stood in the tall prairie grass. It inspected Emma and her family with a solemn, dark-eyed stare, its sides heaving from exertion. When it had caught its breath, the horned head casually lowered and the steer began tearing up mouthfuls of grass. Soon the others followed suit.
Where had they come from? A note of concern worried her thoughts as she counted them. Eleven cows did not just appear from nowhere. Either a ranch was nearby, or they came from a herd traveling in the area. And there was only one herd she knew of that had been through here recently.
With a determined step she strode toward them.
“Emma!” Maummi’s sharp tone sliced through the distance. “Take care.”
She waved a hand in answer but didn’t slow until she drew near enough to see the brand seared into the rump of the nearest steer. Three bars, two vertical and one horizontal, stood out clearly on the brown hide.
She turned and found Papa’s eyes on her. “It’s the Triple Bar brand. These are from Luke’s herd.”
Though his expression remained impassive, she saw acknowledgment in his eyes and his slight nod.
How did Luke lose almost a dozen cattle? Perhaps they had wandered off while one of the cowboys wasn’t looking. Surely in a herd of two thousand it wasn’t uncommon to lose a few along the way, but if that were the case, why had they been running?
Several possibilities presented themselves. Something had happened to frighten them. She herself knew how easily the silly things became startled. A prairie dog, maybe, or a snake in the grass. But then surely one of the riders would have noticed, wouldn’t he? Wouldn’t someone have come after them?
She scanned the horizon, but no cowboy on horseback appeared. At the sight of the wide open plain, the muscles in her stomach drew tight. What if something had happened to the riders? Or—she swallowed against a mouth gone suddenly dry—to their leader?
She ran toward her father, who stood watching the grazing cattle, lines heavy on his brow. “Something must have happened to frighten them away from the herd.”
He didn’t answer, but his lips tightened.
“We have to help them.”
His calm gaze slid to hers. “There is nothing we can do.”
The words pulled the knots in her belly tighter. “We can gather them up and return them.”
“Emma.” A soft smile curved his lips. “We have no horses, no way to move cattle forward.”
“We have our feet.” With an enormous effort, she stopped herself from stomping one of hers out of sheer frustration.
Rebecca ran up to join them. “She’s right, Papa. Emma knows how to make cattle move. We all saw her do it yesterday.”
Had the situation not been so dire, Emma would have pinched her sister for her smug grin.
“We can all do it,” Emma insisted. “The four of us, along with two oxen, can certainly push a few cows down a trail. Especially if they belong to the man who has helped us over and over.”
A struggle clear on his features, Papa’s eyes moved as he studied her. What was he looking for? Did he suspect her of concocting a ploy to see Luke again? With a flash of guilt, she could not deny that she found the idea appealing. And yet what else could they do? Leave his cows grazing on the side of the trail and continue on their way? How could they live with their consciences after all he had done to help them?
Emma returned Papa’s gaze without flinching. After a moment, he turned away.
“I will pray on the matter.”
A low groan threatened to rumble from deep in her throat. And how long would that take? They could be here for days while Papa waited to hear from the Lord, and all the while Luke could be in trouble. In fact, with every moment that passed she became more certain that he was in trouble. He might even be hurt and waiting for someone to come to his aid.
Lord, please don’t take long to get through to Papa.
She’d barely had time to pace once from the stream to the wagon and back again before Papa turned to face his family. Whether the Lord heard her prayer, or Papa’s own sense of responsibility toward their rescuer convinced him, Emma couldn’t be sure.
“We will gather these cows and take them with us,” he announced. “If we find the herd along the way, we will return them. Otherwise we will take them home to Apple Grove, and I will send word to Hays for Luke to come and get them.”
Relief swept over Emma at the words. She lowered her head demurely to hide a smile she could not prevent.
One way or another, she would see Luke again when he reclaimed his cattle.
Luke squatted on his haunches in the grass, his gut churning as he inspected Jesse’s leg.
“It’s not that bad, Luke. If we splint it and wrap it tight, I can still ride.” Regardless of his brave words, pain pinched white cr
eases at the corners of Jesse’s eyes, and he spoke in a clipped manner, as though every word was a struggle.
“Don’t be an idiot.” Luke didn’t mean to snap the words, but at the moment he couldn’t muster the effort to comfort his friend. “I can see your bone sticking through your pants. You aren’t riding anything but a wagon to the closest doctor.”
To take the sting out of his words, he gently clapped Jesse on the shoulder before he rose to his feet. Even that light movement caused the tough cowboy to hiss in pain.
Luke’s gaze strayed beyond the chuck wagon to a somber place in the prairie grass. Grief filled him at the sight of a pair of bodies, cocooned in blankets. Kirk would have made a fine trail boss one day soon. Luke would have recommended him without hesitation. And Willie—
A knot of sorrow threatened to choke off his breath. He cleared his throat, fighting against the sting of tears. That boy wasn’t but fifteen years old, on his second cattle drive and young enough to still be in love with the idea of life on the trail. At home he had a ma and a houseful of younger sisters and brothers. Around the nightly campfires he’d told how he aimed to send most of his pay back home to help out.
Jesse followed his gaze and spoke in a soft voice. “They died well, Luke.”
A sarcastic blast exploded from Luke’s mouth. “Yeah? I don’t see how any fifteen-year-old can die well. Or twenty-five-year-old, either. They are dead, same as those rustlers lying over yonder.”
His gaze switched to the second line of bodies, set off a little ways outside the campsite. His men had taken out four of the rustlers during the skirmish. Luke was fairly sure his rifle had not fired a fatal shot because he’d aimed over the bandits’ heads hoping to scare them off. He’d watched Griff charge at a pair of men as they galloped through the herd to scatter it, and the old cowhand had taken them both out. In the ensuing confusion of gunshots and shouts and stampeding cattle, Luke didn’t see the other two fall. He and his men found the bodies when their compadres high-tailed out of there in a cloud of dust.
The Heart's Frontier Page 12
