“That is gut. It has been a while since he has written, ja?”
I nodded. “Neither of us has been writing as often over the past two months.”
“You will need to tell me what he has to say about his life in Texas. I hope he is finding some happiness. I am sure it is hard for him. Moving to a new city while he is still grieving your Mutter and not having you there, either—I am sure he is lonely.”
I didn’t comment, for I wasn’t sure if my father and the lovely lady he’d mentioned in his earlier letter had continued to see each other. Cousin Louise removed the mail from her family’s box and trundled off toward the other room.
With a thrust of my index finger, I finished opening the envelope and, leaning against the sorting table, scanned the pages. There it was—a reference to the lovely woman he had met. I slowed to a word-by-word examination of the contents.
In my last letter, I mentioned a lady I had met. Her name is Ardella Mitchell. I think you would like her. We have been seeing each other and have much in common.
How much could he have in common with the woman? My father worked for the railroad and traveled a great deal. Maybe she had traveled to the places he’d visited, or perhaps she enjoyed reading. My father did enjoy discussing the many books that he read. Or maybe she held a position with the railroad, though I doubted that idea. My father was never one to think women should work outside the home. Then again, if she was a widow, maybe she’d been forced to go to work and viewed my father as an opportunity to resume her former way of life. I forced myself to stop guessing and returned to the letter.
I know you may find this news disturbing, but once the proper mourning period has ended, I plan to marry Ardella. No doubt you will think my decision rash, but I am lonely and she has been an excellent companion to me. Please do not think that my haste to remarry means that I do not miss your dear mother. It was my desire to live out the remainder of my years as her husband, but since her death I find myself in need of love and companionship. I do not think she would have wished me to remain alone. I hope you will feel the same way.
I pressed a palm to my cheek. I should be pleased to learn that my father had found someone with whom to share his life. Instead, a clawing sense of betrayal inched its way from my feet to the top of my head. How could he? So soon. In a few more days, it would be only nine months since my mother’s death. Could he not have waited longer before he pledged his love to another woman? Tears threatened as I continued to read.
Ardella is eager to meet you and has expressed a deep desire to build a friendship with you. She is a fine woman, and I believe you will like her very much. She is hopeful you will come to Dallas and live with us once we are married. Ardella has a lovely home and says there is more than adequate room for you. She is eager for you to make your home with us. I know this is a great deal for you to take in, but with an open mind and loving spirit, I know the two of you will become dear friends.
So they had already formed their plans—not only to marry but also where they would live. If the elders decided to send me from the colonies, I would be making my home with my father and his new bride. I tried to envision how all of this had happened so rapidly. My father had said he would be traveling a great deal, yet he’d had time to develop a committed relationship with Ardella. Still, I had to consider my part in all of this. Had I gone to Texas, my father wouldn’t have been as likely to seek the companionship of a woman. I sighed and returned to the final paragraph.
Please write soon so I must not worry for too long. It is my deep desire to gain your understanding and to know you will embrace these decisions regarding my our future. I send my love and hope to hear from you by return mail. Love, Papa
I didn’t miss the fact that he had crossed out the word my and inserted our. Nor did I miss his signature. He knew that signing Papa would touch my heart with greater force than if he’d signed Father. There was little doubt he wanted my approval. He had added a hasty postscript at the end, saying Ardella would like permission to write to me.
It seemed they were going to do everything they could to gain my acceptance. I pondered the letter for a brief time and then tucked it into my pocket. If I didn’t leave right now for my meeting with Berndt, I’d miss him. I stepped to the doorway of the mail room and spied Cousin Louise in the kitchen. “I’m leaving, Cousin Louise.”
She looked up from the worktable. “There was gut news from your Vater?”
“I suppose it depends upon how one interprets good news.” I forced a smile. “I’ll read it to you when I return.”
“Ja, that would be nice.” If my remark about good news confused her, she gave no indication. “Remember what I have told you about your talk with Berndt.”
“I remember,” I called before rushing out the door.
My thoughts were a jumble as I went to meet Berndt. There was so much I must explain to him, yet I wasn’t certain I could control my emotions. I was pleased to discover we were not brother and sister, yet trying to accept the fact that we were not related and I could indeed let myself love him as a woman loves a man felt very strange. I could only hope that once he understood why my behavior toward him had changed, he would still care for me. Of course it would matter little if the Grossebruderrat insisted I leave. I’d have no choice but to go to Texas.
As I recalled the contents of my father’s letter, my heart squeezed with sorrow at the thought of his replacing my dear mother. But I hadn’t walked far when I remembered what Cousin Louise had told me about my Opa and how he hadn’t let my mother follow her heart and remain in the colonies. My father had wanted me to move to Texas with him, but he gave me the opportunity to follow my own path.
If I’d gone with him, perhaps he wouldn’t have met Ardella. But that’s not what happened. I came to the colonies, and Papa met Ardella. We both traveled our own paths. How could I fault him for wanting to fill the void in his life? I wasn’t required to find joy in his choice, but I needed to show him the same respect and kindness he’d shown me.
A bird cawed overhead and I turned toward the barn. Berndt said he would be there by two o’clock. Cousin Louise had given permission, but a young man and woman visiting alone was not looked upon with favor. Originally I had suggested we meet at the pond, but Cousin Louise said we could have our choice: the back porch or the barn. I quickly chose the barn, for on days when the weather was nice, several of the older sisters would sit on the back porch to clean and pare vegetables—and talk. I didn’t want them to overhear my conversation with Berndt.
In the distance I could see Berndt walking toward the barn, so I quickened my pace. I didn’t want him to think I wouldn’t be there.
Berndt saw me as I rounded the corner of the barn, and he waved and strode toward me. “Would you like to walk, or would you rather stay here at the barn?”
I glanced toward the barn. I knew Karlina wasn’t in there. Cousin Louise had insisted she rest after the noonday meal. She’d been unhappy because the shepherds and some hired hands had begun the sheep washing, and she’d wanted to be there during the process.
“Do you know where they’re washing the sheep?”
Berndt grinned and nodded. “Ja, at the pond. I was thinking it was gut we didn’t meet there, but if you want to go and watch, we can do that.”
“I’ve heard Karlina talk about it, so I thought it would be fun to see how it is done, but first I think we should talk. I have a lot to tell you.”
He motioned toward a tree a short distance from the barn. “I hope what you have to say will make me happy.”
His smile was as bright as the sun-drenched afternoon. My heart pounded a new beat as we walked to a large oak tree and stood beneath the towering branches. My voice quivered while I did my best to explain everything from my desire to learn of my mother’s past to thinking he was my half brother, to the revelation that my assumptions had been completely incorrect.
Berndt listened intently and interrupted only once. When I had finally completed the
tale, he rubbed his jaw. “So that is the reason you changed how you acted toward me? Because you thought we were brother and sister?”
“Yes.” Though I knew it would embarrass me, I needed to tell Berndt the truth. “I . . . I had started to think of you as a man I could love.” Heat spread across my cheeks, but I forced myself to continue. “But then I read those letters and began to investigate. Soon I came to believe you were my half brother, and I knew my feelings for you had to change.”
Using the tips of his fingers, he gently lifted my chin until our eyes met. “And now that you know we are not relatives, have those earlier feelings returned?”
Discomfort assailed me. How could I answer such a question and maintain my modesty? A woman didn’t declare her love for a man until she was certain of their future plans to wed. At least that’s what Margaret Holmann told me back when we’d attended school together years ago. Margaret had adopted the role of authority on young men back then, as she was never without an escort at her side. And all of the girls had listened to her.
I finally gathered enough courage to speak. “I believe my feelings for you are equal to those you possess for me.”
Berndt’s serious look gave me pause. I wasn’t certain what he was thinking. Had he expected a more direct response?
He leaned toward me. “In that case, I suggest that I go and speak with the elders tomorrow. I will tell them we love each other and seek permission to marry.”
I gasped and pressed my hand to the bodice of my dress. “Oh no. You cannot speak to the elders. That is impossible.”
He arched his brows. “And why is that? I know they may have some misgivings, but once you declare your desire to live in the colonies and embrace our faith, they will agree. I am sure of it. Your grandparents and Mutter lived here; you still have relatives here—there will be no problem.”
I shook my head. “You don’t understand. After they learned that Karlina and I visited the Sedlacek farm, the Bruderrat in East could not come to a decision about my future in the colonies. The matter has been passed on to the Grossebruderrat for determination. They may elect to have me leave. I didn’t follow the rules, and I caused Karlina to go astray.” I lowered my head. “I don’t think they will look kindly upon my request to remain here.”
Berndt squared his shoulders and inhaled a deep breath. “I will convince them! You are the woman I wish to marry. If you feel the same, then I will do everything in my power to influence the Grossebruderrat that they should give you another chance.” One corner of his mouth tipped in a smile. “They were young men at one time, too. They will listen to my plea.”
He looked deep into my eyes and stepped closer. When he wrapped his arms around my waist and drew me into an inviting embrace, I didn’t resist. A flash of heat seared my cheeks as I met his ardent gaze, and my knees felt as though they might buckle. He lowered his head and covered my lips with a passionate kiss. A delightful tremble raced through my body as I responded to the warmth of his kiss. I belonged right here—in Berndt’s arms.
“Say you wish to be with me always, Dovie.”
“I do want to be with you forever and remain in East, but—”
He touched his finger to my lips. “Then with God’s help, we will be together. Trust me.” With a wink, he grasped my hand. “Let’s go and see how much progress they have made washing the sheep.”
I smiled and nodded. “Oh yes. Karlina will expect a report from me.” I glanced at our clasped hands. “But I do not think holding hands is wise.”
He chuckled. “We are safe for a little while.”
We walked as far as we dared with our hands clasped, but once we caught a glimpse of the men at the pond, I pulled my hand away and put a little distance between us. There were a number of men standing in the water, as well as those who were moving the sheep toward the water. “Have you ever helped wash the sheep?”
“Nein. It is not something that appeals to me. Have you ever smelled a wet sheep?”
I laughed and shook my head.
“You’ll soon discover that it’s not a very pleasant odor.”
As we approached, Cousin George motioned for us to stay at a distance. A short time later he walked toward us. “Sheep don’t particularly like being washed, so they’re a little skittish. You need to stay over here where we’re washing them rather than with the ones on the hillside. The men are trying to keep them calm so that when they herd them down, they’re easier to handle.”
I glanced toward the rise. With all of the woolly sheep, it looked as if a snowstorm had descended upon the hillside. Karlina said the sheep preferred the closeness of their flock, so I thought they should be profoundly happy at the moment. The three of us walked toward the water, where the men had partitioned off a shallow section of the pond with wood slats that reminded me of a narrow corral. The sheep had been herded into a wagon, and one by one, they came down a ramp with protective sides and into the water. One of the men stood in the knee-high water and briefly submerged each animal, head and all, and then pushed it along to the next man, who sent the sheep up another wood ramp and into the bed of the wagon waiting at the opposite side. Once the wagon of dirty sheep had been emptied, the shepherds loaded another flock into the wagon and the process began anew. The clean sheep were taken back to the pasture, where the sun would help their wool dry before shearing took place.
“What do you think of our method?” Cousin George asked while he waited for another load of dirty sheep.
I wrinkled my nose. “It appears to be efficient, although wet sheep have an odor—and it isn’t particularly pleasurable.”
Cousin George tipped his head back and laughed. “You get used to it after a while.” He pointed to the partitioned area in the water. “Before we started washing them this way, we used to take them one at a time into the water, and with one man at the head and one at the tail, we would grab hold of their hooves and swing them to and fro in the water to remove the excess yolk.”
I arched my brows. The only yolk I knew about was the yolk inside an egg. Cousin George grinned. “Sheep yolk is the oily secretion that covers a sheep’s wool. It protects the sheep from rain and keeps the wool from becoming matted. When some of that substance is removed, the sheep are easier to shear.” He rested one palm on his opposing shoulder. “It was hard on the shoulders. This is better and we can wash more than seven hundred sheep in one day.”
The thought of washing that many sheep in one day amazed me. I was certain the men would be exhausted by the time they had completed this chore. Another wagonload of sheep was positioned near the water, and Cousin George watched closely as the men set up the ramp. “You tell Karlina I do not want her to come down here. Being around the water and the wet sheep will not be gut for her. She needs to rest, and then she can be at the barn when we begin shearing.”
“I’ll tell her, but I know she won’t be happy with your decision.”
“It is for the best.” He tipped his hat, turned, and strode off toward the wagon.
We watched a while longer, and I wasn’t sure if I felt more sympathy for the sheep or for the men who washed them. The men sounded as though they were enjoying themselves, while the bleating sheep appeared far less happy.
I was afraid Karlina would feel more like one of the unhappy sheep when I delivered the message from her father. But even the thought of delivering unpleasant news to Karlina couldn’t spoil my own happiness or squelch my excitement. The possibility of a future with Berndt burned warm in my heart.
CHAPTER 28
June 1893
Karlina
The decision had been made. Shearing would begin on Monday. At prayer meeting on Friday, Vater asked God for continued good weather. Since being washed, the sheep had regained the amount of yolk that provided their wool with excellent luster and softness, yet not so much as to cause matting. Extra shearers had been hired, and all was in readiness to begin shearing on Monday.
My father glanced around the group that gathered for p
rayer each evening. “I am asking all of you to join me in continued prayer that our sheep will not suffer from any effects of cold weather after we shear them.”
Brother Herman elbowed my father and chuckled. “I do not think you need to worry the gut Lord about the weather, Brother George. June has arrived, and from what the traveling shearers tell me, our sheep are the only ones in all of Iowa still wearing wool coats.”
“Ja, that may be true, but perhaps you should ask those shearers how many sheep were sick or died due to the cold weather that arrived after they sheared them so early. Like the others, I had planned to begin washing the sheep earlier, but I watched the barometer. It showed we would have a change in the weather. I was not willing to take any chance that our sheep would suffer from cold weather while their wool was wet or after they had been sheared.”
There were murmurs of approval. “I was only joking with you, Brother George. We are all thankful for your gut care of the sheep,” Brother Herman said. “You watch after your sheep just like the Father in heaven watches after us.”
Anton scooted to the edge of his chair. “Ja. Brother George says that just like sheep need a gut shepherd to care for them, we need the Lord to care for us.” He smiled at his mentor. “He also taught me that the sheep learn the voice of their shepherd and learn to trust him, and if we listen for God’s voice, we will hear Him speak to our hearts. He even showed me in the Bible where Jesus says He is the Gut Shepherd and the sheep hear His voice and know Him.” Anton tapped his chest. “I like that the Bible talks about us as sheep. Jesus said He would lay down His life for His sheep, and that meant He was willing to die for us. Isn’t that right, Brother George?”
“Ja, that is right, Anton. Jesus died so we could live. In the book of John, Jesus uses a parable about sheep to refer to mankind.” My father handed his Bible to Anton. “We have been talking about sheep, so why don’t you read the tenth chapter of John for us? Then we will pray.”
A Hidden Truth Page 25
