The Captive Heart

by Dale Cramer

  He pushed his horse to a hard gallop for nearly a mile, until they broke into the open above the tree line where they saw a solid wall of limestone cliffs dominating the crest. All three horses were lathered and gasping when he finally slowed down at the base of the cliffs. Only then did Rachel see the offset in the cliffs that marked the entrance of a narrow pass, a crack in the limestone. The yellow walls of the crevice were jagged and pocked, carved in steep terraces like pictures Rachel had seen of the Grand Canyon, and the path through the bottom wound back and forth so she couldn’t see very far ahead. There were places where it was so narrow that two horses could not run abreast of each other. Domingo rode on ahead while Jake and Rachel followed through the deep shadows of the pass for nearly a quarter mile, until they came out the other side to find a steep boulder-strewn mountainside dropping away in front of them.

  When they came out into the light, Domingo had already swung down from his horse and pulled a rifle from the saddle scabbard.

  “What are you doing?” they both asked at once.

  Domingo reached into his saddlebag for a length of heavy twine and tied one end of it to his rifle barrel. His hands jerked the knot down with a feverish haste.

  “There is not much time. You should go.” His eyes pointed to a trail sloping off to the left toward the tree line.

  “But what are you going to do?” Jake asked.

  “I will hold them here. You get her home, Jake. Stay on this trail, bear left at the fork, and you will come to the logging camp. You know your way from there.” He slashed the twine with his knife and tied the other end to the butt of his rifle to make a sling.

  “Why can’t we just keep running? If we ride hard—”

  “It’s too late, Jake! We cannot outrun them—El Pantera is almost upon us. This is your only hope.” Domingo slung the rifle across his back and draped a bandolier over a shoulder.

  “Then I’m staying, too,” Jake said flatly.

  “And do what? This is not going to be a wrestling match. Men are going to die.”

  “If you stay here, you will die,” Rachel said, her voice quavering.

  Domingo’s eyes were fierce and he spoke quickly. “It is a hard truth, Rachel, but sometimes men must fight to protect those they love. I don’t know if I will be able to stop them, but I can hold them for a while. If they make it through the pass you will have to get to Hacienda El Prado or you will die.”

  “But—”

  “Take my horse,” he said, handing Jake the reins. “I won’t be needing it anymore.” Then he turned to Rachel. “Please tell my mother and my sister that I am thinking of them, and ask your father to look after them.” He looked away for a second, hesitating. “Also, I want you to give Cualnezqui a message for me. Tell her . . . tell her maybe I was wrong. I don’t know.” He reached up and gripped Rachel’s wrist, his dark eyes full of regret, searching for words. “I do know this—there is no greater love. Now go!”

  He turned his back on them and bolted toward the limestone cliffs, leaping from rock to rock in sandaled feet.

  Stunned, Rachel sat motionless, watching him until he disappeared into the crevice. Disconsolate, yet too shocked for tears, she turned her horse about and began picking her way down the rocky trail along with Jake.

  Minutes later, as they reached the tree line they heard the echo of rifle fire from the pass behind them, and the smaller pop of pistols. Jake spurred his tired horse and they trotted as quickly as they could down through the softer ground of the forested slope, even as the sounds of a furious battle rattled the mountaintops. By the time they reached the bottom of the valley the shooting had stopped, and an eerie silence fell.

  All the way up the next slope Rachel kept looking back over her shoulder hoping to see Domingo emerge, and at the same time deathly afraid she would see that bicolored Appaloosa charging out of the shadows of the crack in the mountains.

  Neither happened. There was only an ominous silence, and the moan of the wind through the rocks.

  Perhaps it was because of Aaron, or because everyone looked up to Caleb Bender, or maybe they were all prompted by the same Spirit to seek company—devastated parents leaning on one another—but whatever the cause, all the Amish in Paradise Valley gravitated to the Bender home that afternoon. Word spread of the impromptu gathering, and they came by buggy and wagon and on foot, filling the house to overflowing, spilling out the doorways and up the stairs, all of them dressed in their Sunday best.

  They brought food and broke bread together. They sang the old familiar songs from the Ausbund, then Caleb read portions of the Psalms, words of hope and strength and deliverance, and one by one the men prayed for Rachel and Jake. They prayed for the faith and strength to be grateful for what the Lord gives and not question what the Lord takes away. Blessed be the name of the Lord. One of them even prayed for El Pantera, that Gott would either change his heart or stay his hand. No task was too large for their Gott.

  It was all a great comfort to Miriam, partly because of the words, the reminders of who they were, but mostly the songs, the voices, the supplications, the hearts strung together as one in common faith. They were a community, a family. They rejoiced and suffered, laughed and cried, lived and died as one. They all felt it. In such a moment, each and every one of them took comfort in knowing they were not alone.

  They were loved.

  Miriam and her sisters hovered close to their mother, and she seemed to take comfort in the gathering. While it lasted Mamm did seem a little better, a little quieter. The daughters of Caleb Bender closed ranks around her. Together they would endure whatever came. Together they were strong.

  Miriam did notice a curious thing that evening, a glaring omission. Domingo’s name was never mentioned—not even once. It was as if he didn’t exist.

  But there were prayers said for him. A series of long, fervent, heartfelt pleas went up on Domingo’s behalf, though Miriam was the only one who knew it.

  Nobody wanted to leave when darkness fell. Instead, they gravitated into little groups to stand around and talk. It was late by the time the last of them left. Leah and Barbara helped Miriam straighten up the kitchen and then they drifted upstairs to bed, leaving her alone with Micah.

  Miriam picked up the lantern and walked him out the back door to where his courting buggy was tied.

  A muffled wail came from upstairs and Miriam glanced over her shoulder.

  “Is she going to be okay?” Micah asked.

  Miriam shook her head. “I don’t know. If Rachel doesn’t come home soon I’m afraid Mamm will lose her mind. I pray to Gott Jake can bring her back. I would just die if anything happened to Rachel.”

  Micah nodded. “So would Jake. That’s what worries me. He’s a stout boy, but what can he do against a dozen bandits with guns? I’m afraid he might just get himself killed.”

  “There is hope yet,” Miriam said. “Domingo is with him.”

  Micah gave a little snort and turned to stare at her. “That’s what you think, Mir? A good strong Amish boy can do nothing, but that Mexican can?”

  She stared back. “That’s not what I said.”

  “It’s what you meant. You think Domingo can do anything. You think he’s some kind of hero.”

  “I didn’t mean to make you angry,” she said quietly. “I only meant that it’s good Jake has somebody with him who knows his way in the mountains, that’s all. Even with two of them it seems impossible.”

  Micah didn’t say anything for a minute, but then he softened. He slipped an arm around her shoulders and said, “Jah, it’s bad, Mir, but all things are possible with Gott. He is greater than any Mexican.”

  She’d heard enough. Too tired to bother with him anymore, Miriam said good-night, gave Micah a rather perfunctory peck on the cheek and went back inside, utterly exhausted. Harvey and Dr. Gant were asleep in the basement, her sisters and parents gone to bed upstairs. Pausing momentarily in the living room, Miriam closed her eyes and basked in the silence. Even now, after all
the grief and loss, she felt completely at peace here in her father’s home. There was no sound at all, save the reassuring clip-clop of Micah’s buggy horse rounding the house and heading down the driveway.

  But then the buggy stopped. There was a muffled shout as Micah’s horse pulled up short, and a few seconds later she could hear him turning around and coming back. Perhaps he’d just forgotten something. Miriam started for the back door, but she froze when she heard the sound of other horses, several of them, moving at a quick trot around the house toward the back. No one would come to visit at this hour unless something terrible had happened, but bad news always came by way of a single rider, and she could hear at least three horses.

  Bandits! That would explain why Micah had cried out and turned around. She flew to the steps and shouted a warning up to her father, then ran to the front door. Maybe Micah could at least delay them long enough for her to bar the doors. Panic-stricken, she jammed the plank into the brackets and raced for the back door, but too late.

  The door burst open just as Miriam reached the kitchen. She skidded to a stop, clutching her heart, for in the doorway stood a breathless, freckle-faced young woman with wild red hair spilling about her shoulders.

  Rachel!

  There was a split second when the two of them just stared at each other, hardly daring to believe this moment was real, and then Rachel broke down, rushing into her sister’s arms. There was a tumult of footsteps on the stairs, shouts of panic turning to screams of recognition and then unbridled joy as the whole family stormed the kitchen.

  ———

  Peering over Miriam’s shoulder, Rachel saw her brother and sisters part to make a path as her mother hurried across the room in a nightgown, her hair loose and untended. Mamm’s face contorted and her eyes brimmed with tears as Miriam stepped aside and she wrapped Rachel in a fierce, hungry hug.

  Mamm clung to her, weeping openly while the others crowded around to wait their turns. Dat stood there patiently in his nightshirt, the ring of gray hair pointing at odd angles around his bald head. His face held a mixed message. Rachel saw his joy at her return, but it was tempered by a deep and unmistakable sorrow. Looking into his eyes, Rachel mouthed a one-word question.

  “Aaron?”

  His head moved slightly, side to side, then tilted down, breaking eye contact. So it was as she feared.

  Her brother was gone.

  Rachel wept with her mother, tears of grief mingling with tears of joy.

  Chapter 31

  By the time Micah and Jake finished putting away the horses and came inside everyone had gone and dressed themselves and come back. Miriam and her sisters put together a meal for Rachel and Jake while everyone else gathered around the kitchen table.

  The pain and sorrow of the last week ebbed, and a tide of joy overtook them.

  Even Mamm smiled. For the first time since Aaron’s death, Mamm talked a little and made sense. Part of her personality returned. She still wept softly now and then, but she seemed to have pulled back from the brink of insanity.

  “So tell us what happened,” Miriam said, sitting across the table from Rachel. “We want to know everything.”

  “It was horrible. Awful.” Rachel’s face darkened even as she cut off a chunk of steak and stuffed it into her mouth. Slowly, she filled in the gaps in what Miriam already knew, describing how El Pantera and his men stopped the buggy, and what happened to Aaron.

  Mamm broke down again at that point. Rachel shot Miriam a worried glance and pressed on, describing how Ada grabbed Little Amos and ran away with him.

  “There were twelve bandits—some of them we’ve seen before. They tied my hands and put me on a horse with one of them.”

  She told how they camped that night and reached Diablo Canyon the next day. Once or twice Miriam saw something in Rachel’s eyes that said she wasn’t telling all she knew, but that was okay. The two of them would talk privately later, and there would be no secrets between them then. Miriam understood well enough that there were some things best left unsaid in front of Mamm.

  “I thought things were as dark as they could get,” Rachel said, “lying there in chains in a stall in El Pantera’s barn, waiting to be sold like a slave. But then they caught Jake and it got darker still.”

  Caleb stared at Jake. “They caught you?”

  “Jah,” Jake said. “And Domingo, too. They were waiting for us, knew we were there the whole time.”

  “They brought Jake down to the campfire where the bandits were having a fiesta,” Rachel said, “and made him fight El Pantera.”

  The girls all gasped. Micah leaned on the table, eyeing Jake.

  Jake raised a hand, shook his head. “I just wrestled him, that’s all.”

  Micah’s eyebrows went up. “You wrestled El Pantera?”

  Jake shrugged, talked around a mouthful of potatoes. “Jah. Would have beat him too, if he hadn’t cheated.”

  Rachel then told how all three of them had been chained in the barn, how Jake got loose and knocked out the guard.

  Watching her sister closely, Miriam knew she was hiding something here too, because Rachel was careful not to even look at her.

  “We got away in the middle of the night,” Rachel said quickly, “and took all their horses with us so they couldn’t follow—at least not for a good long while.”

  She told of the old farm couple who had helped them, and how, the next morning, they heard El Pantera and his men slaughtering the goats and chickens.

  Caleb shook his head at that. “Such a waste. Do these men have no shame?”

  “No, Dat, they don’t,” Rachel said. “And there are worse things.”

  Things about which, Miriam noted, Rachel didn’t elaborate.

  Miriam could stand it no longer. Up to now Domingo had been a large part of the tale, but he was not here now, at the table with the rest of them. Had he gone on to his house without even stopping?

  “Where is Domingo?” she asked bluntly. From the corner of her eye she saw Micah turn and stare at her, but she dared not look at him.

  A new grief came into Rachel’s eyes and she shook her head slowly. “Miriam, I’m so sorry, but I fear we have lost Domingo.”

  Fighting back tears, Rachel told the story of how they had come to the narrow place called El Ojo, where Domingo made his stand. She paused for a moment, then said softly, “We never heard or saw anything after that, from the bandits or Domingo. He stopped them in the pass, but it cost him his life. He sacrificed himself so we could get away.”

  Miriam struggled to control her breathing. Micah was sitting right there beside her, watching her face. Slowly, she pushed her chair back, rose to her feet, smoothed her dress, and walked stiffly to the back door. She didn’t dare turn around.

  As she put her hand on the doorknob she said quietly, “Someone has to go and tell Kyra.” Then she picked up a lantern from the counter and went out, closing the door softly behind her.

  Images clashed and swirled in her mind, and she saw flashes of the barren rocks, the great horse coming to save her, the jaguar—el pantera—the battle, the falling.

  The emptiness and the moan of the wind in the rocks.

  Domingo was lost. It hadn’t been her after all, but Rachel he had died to save. He lived by the sword, and now her premonition had come true and he had died by the sword. She’d seen it all in her dream, and said nothing. And if she did nothing to prevent it what right did she now have to feel as if someone had ripped the very heart from her chest? She couldn’t breathe.

  The gatepost of the barn lot swerved into her path and she clutched at it before she collapsed, sinking to her knees, clinging to the post, the lantern sagging to the ground as she sobbed. A little sound came from behind her—the back door opening, closing.

  “Please, Gott,” she whispered between sobs, “please, please don’t let that be Micah.”

  Soft hands gripped her shoulders. Thin arms wrapped about her and Rachel’s voice whispered into her ear, “I’m so sorry,
Miriam.”

  As soon as Miriam could bring her voice under control she glanced back at the house with red eyes and whispered, “I’m surprised Micah didn’t—”

  “I stopped him,” Rachel said. “I told him to wait, to give us sisters a chance to talk.”

  Miriam touched shaking fingertips to Rachel’s cheek. “You’re very thoughtful.”

  Rachel shook her head. “Not really. It’s just that Domingo said something right before he left us, and I didn’t want to repeat it in there, in front of everybody.”

  In front of Micah.

  Miriam sniffed, trying to draw her mind back from the abyss.

  “What did he say?”

  “He gave me a message, just for you. I don’t know what he meant, but he said I should tell Cualnezqui that maybe he was wrong. And then he said, ‘I know this one thing is true—there is no greater love.’ ” Rachel’s head tilted then, her eyes puzzled. “Did he mean love for you?”

  It made no sense to Miriam either, yet the words sounded familiar. She thought they might be from the Bible, but how would Domingo know them?

  “Rachel, did Domingo ever say anything about the Bible? About reading it?”

  Rachel thought for a moment, and brightened. “Jah, he did, when we were on the trail, running from the bandits. He said he still didn’t understand, but he’d read some of it.”

  Miriam nodded slowly, staring into the lantern, and the rest of the words came to her out of the light.

  “I remember now,” she said. “It was Jesus who said those words. ‘Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.’ ”

  She wept, holding Rachel, the friend for whom Domingo had laid down his life. They stayed there for a few moments, two sisters clinging to each other by a gatepost, a small circle of light in a world of darkness, and then Miriam pulled away, wiped her eyes and helped Rachel to her feet.

  She heard the back door open as she was asking Rachel to help her saddle a horse. Micah called out to her.