by Jan Drexler
“Do you think we need to keep watch tonight? The horses seem safe enough here, don’t they?”
Jacob shook his head, as uneasy as Mattie. “I’ll sleep near them, at least. We haven’t seen the Bates brothers, but that doesn’t mean other troublemakers aren’t around. You go ahead and find your bed.”
Andrew almost laughed, but his grin turned to a wry smile when he saw Jacob was serious. “Whatever you want. Wake me up if anything goes amiss.”
He went on with Johanna toward the Hertzler wagon while Jacob put another small log on the fire. The look in Mattie’s eyes when she asked about the horses still worried him. What had she seen on the trail through the Swamp?
Mattie had gone toward the Schrock wagon with one of her nieces, but now made her way back to him. The first stars were showing in the darkening sky behind her, but he could see her silhouette against the faint light. It was only when she came close to the fire that he saw the worried look on her face.
“Shouldn’t you be with the horses?” She took a seat on the bench near him.
He would put the boards away out of the damp before he found his bedroll, but for now the makeshift seating was scattered around the fire. “They’re safe enough on their pickets. I’ll move them closer before I turn in for the night.”
She glanced toward the edge of the meadow where the horses were scattered over the dark grass, grazing.
“What is it, Mattie? You haven’t been worried about the horses before. Did you see something that makes you think they’re in danger?”
She didn’t answer, so he moved to the bench next to her and took her hands in his. They were cold in the night air.
“What’s wrong?”
She squeezed his hands. “I saw Cole Bates.”
His stomach churned. “You saw the Bates brothers?”
She shook her head. “Only Cole. He . . . he was following us along the swamp road.”
“Did he say something to frighten you?”
“He . . .” She stopped. Her voice dropped to a whisper so quiet he had to lean close to hear. “Did you mean it when you asked me to give you my pledge, Jacob? To give you my promise?”
His breath caught. “For sure, I meant every word. But can you keep your promise?”
She didn’t look at him, but drew her hands back and gazed into the fire. “I think I can.”
It was Jacob’s turn to look into the fire, as if a solution was in the shifting flames. He needed to know. He needed to be sure. His arms ached with the desire to hold her close to him, but he didn’t move. If she was going to give him her pledge, it had to depend on more than her thinking she could keep it. He glanced at her profile outlined against the firelight.
“I hoped that promising to marry me would keep you safe, but if you aren’t sure that is what you want, then your word won’t keep you from following whatever whim comes into your head.”
“You make me sound like a flighty little girl.” Her voice rose in protest. “I know exactly what I want.”
“And what is that?”
Mattie didn’t answer, but looked down at her hands lying in her lap. She opened one, and then the other. When she looked at him, a frown darkened her face.
“Maybe I don’t know yet.”
Jacob’s gut wrenched.
“Did you only ask me to make that promise because you wanted to keep me safe?”
It was Jacob’s turn to look into the fire. He would never give his heart to any other girl, but could he tell her that he loved her? Loving someone held risks. He had loved his brother, Hansli. And Liesbet. But his love hadn’t been enough to protect them.
“I want you to be my wife. I want you to help me build our farm, our family. To build our lives together.”
Mattie reached for a stick and stirred the glowing coals of the fire. “What if I don’t want to live on a farm? What if I want to . . . to see the mountains and the ocean? Would you take me to see them?”
Jacob watched Mattie as she pulled the stick out of the coals. The end had caught fire, flames circling the tip like a crown of liquid light.
“Is that really what you want? To travel on to the west, never having a home?”
“I want a home someday.” Mattie blew out the tiny flame. “I could go west to Iowa, or to . . . to Oregon.” She pushed the end of the stick into the coals again. “And then I could come back and be your wife.”
“Ne, Mattie. If you went west, you would never come back. You’d be lost from us forever.” He gazed at her profile against the firelight. Her delicate features were overshadowed by the shape of her kapp and the Plain clothes she wore. “And besides, how would a girl like you go west?”
“I could find someone to take me.”
“No Amish man would do that.” He pushed against the fear rising. Would she go anyway? Or would someone else take her away? Someone like Cole Bates?
She dropped the stick and rose to her feet. “It’s only a dream, Jacob. A thought.” She started toward the wagons. “I’ll probably never see those western mountains.”
She left him sitting by the fire with his gut churning. Jacob reached down to pick up the stick again, and blew out the tiny flames that were trying to claim it.
Mattie gave up trying to sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Cole’s mocking smile, his outstretched hand as he invited her to come away with him. To go to Oregon with him. She turned her mind away from the memory of his kiss. It had been rough and frightening. Andrew’s kisses had never felt like that. It was like Cole wanted to control her, to possess her.
She slipped from her pallet to the seat Daed had built on the front of the wagon. She hadn’t ridden there, but Naomi and Mamm had when they hadn’t ridden in the spring wagon. They talked as they rode, knitting to pass the time.
Pulling her blanket around her, Mattie made herself comfortable on the plank seat high off the ground. All was quiet in the camp. Jacob had shortened the horses’ picket lines and brought them closer to the fire. She could see the mound of his body lying by the glowing coals, as close to the horses as he could get. But if Jacob was sleeping, Cole could still sneak in and make off with some of the horses. The hair on the back of her neck prickled at the thought. Cole could be here now, watching the camp.
Watching her.
She pulled the blanket tighter, glad that the soft gray wool covered her white muslin sleeping gown. Now that she wasn’t alone on the road in the Swamp and she wasn’t hemmed in by Cole’s horses, she could let her mind play over the memory of his invitation with only a shudder of excitement rather than the panic of fear she had felt then. His words circled in and out of her mind. He was going to Oregon. He said he wanted to take her with him.
She would never go with him. She could never do that.
But the thought of it . . . What would it be like to go with a man like Cole Bates? She had told Jacob that she could travel west and then come back to him, but he was right. That would never happen. If she was ever brave enough to take a step like that . . .
Or foolish enough.
It would be foolish. The Good Book was full of warnings about fools and what their end would be.
If she did something like going west with Cole, it wouldn’t be only Jacob that she would be putting behind her. It would be Daed and Mamm, Naomi, Isaac, and Noah. But Henry would follow. At fourteen, nearly fifteen years old, he wouldn’t worry about any risk. He would try to find her. She was as sure of that as she was sure that the sun would rise in the morning.
Mattie slapped at a mosquito whining its way around her head and pulled the blanket up around her ears.
So, she had made her decision. She wouldn’t follow Cole Bates anywhere, not even to Oregon. She’d do it for Henry’s sake, and for Mamm’s. Someday she would go, though. Perhaps when Henry was older, they could go together.
She brushed at the prick of a mosquito biting her forehead.
If she married Jacob, though, she would never see any place beyond Indiana. No good Amish man would
want to leave his farm and church behind just to let his wife see what was beyond the horizon. And no good Amish woman would want to go, either. Hannah was right. She needed to learn to be content with what God had provided for her.
Mattie squirmed on the hard plank. She was old enough to be baptized, but she hadn’t joined the baptism class the last time the ministers held it. There was too much to do and see before she tied herself down. But if she wanted to marry Jacob, she would need to be baptized first. She sighed, leaning her chin on one hand. If she chose to join church and marry Jacob, the door to the west and Oregon would be tightly shut. She wouldn’t go back on her vows, and she would never leave Indiana.
She glanced over at the fire again, at the soft mound that was Jacob. Could she be content with him, building their life together on an Indiana farm? A farm like the one she had seen when they first arrived in Ohio, with a white frame house, a Dutch door, and children feeding the chickens on a gravel path?
One of the horses lifted its head, ears pricked, and Jacob sat up. Mattie tried to see into the darkness on the other side of the fire, but there was no movement and no sound. The horse resumed its grazing, but Jacob stayed sitting up. Mattie counted to ten, slowly, but nothing happened. Jacob didn’t move. He must have heard something.
Climbing slowly down the spokes of the wagon wheel, Mattie paused when she reached the ground. It was silly for her to go to the fire, to see what Jacob had seen or heard, but she gave in to her curiosity. When she reached the fire, Jacob jumped.
“What are you doing here?” He whispered so quietly that she had to lean close to him to hear.
“I couldn’t sleep, and then I thought one of the horses heard something in the woods.”
He pulled her down to sit on the ground next to him. “There’s something or someone out there. You should have stayed in the wagon.”
“I saw that you were awake, and I had to see what was going on.”
“Stay here now, and be quiet. Watch and listen.”
The fire had died down to a few glowing coals that gave no light. The moon was a thin sliver near the horizon, and starlight filled the sky, but the horses were only black shadows on the dark field. Nothing moved except when one of them took a step to reach another bite of grass.
Mattie leaned close to Jacob’s ear, feeling safe near him. “How can you tell something is there?”
His lips brushed her cheek as he turned to whisper in her ear. “The frogs.”
He didn’t move away from her but held her close. She felt his soft breath on her cheek as she waited, listening. Then she understood what he meant. The frogs along the meadow opposite them were silent. Behind the wagons they continued, but beyond the horses all was silent, as if the frogs were waiting for something to happen.
“I’m going to go over there. You stay here.”
Jacob didn’t wait for her to answer before he was gone, threading his way between the horses. She could hear his progress as the horses stepped away from him or shook their heads in the dark. Everything else was silent, until a hand from behind covered her mouth.
A scream caught in her throat as she tried to wrest out of the tight grip that held her.
“Shh, Mattie-girl. You’ll wake the whole camp.”
She froze, bile rising in her throat.
“And you don’t want your sweetheart hearing you and coming back here to get a knife in his gut, do you?”
The hand covering her mouth and nose restricted her breathing. She clutched at Cole’s hand, trying to get some air in her lungs.
He turned her face toward his and leaned over her. “I’ll let you breathe if you promise to be quiet. If you make the least noise, someone is going to get hurt.”
She nodded and he released his hand. She gasped for breath, nearly coughing at the rank odor of stale tobacco smoke and whiskey that accompanied him.
He stroked her cheek with one hand, while the other one circled her waist, more closely than any man had held her before. “Oh, you’re a sweet morsel, you are.”
She turned her face away, but he grasped her chin and turned her toward him again.
“Here’s what you’re going to do.” He leaned over her. “You’re going to call your sweetheart to come back to the fire. Tell him you’re scared or something. And then you do your best to keep his mind off the horses.” His finger traveled from her chin to her neck. “I’m sure you’ll think of something to keep him from noticing what I’m doing.”
“What . . . what will you be doing?”
Cole chuckled and bent to kiss her cheek. “You don’t worry about me. Just keep that fellow busy.” He stood. “Count to ten, then call him. Do you understand? If I find him out there, I’m going to have to hurt him. So if you want him safe, make him come to you.”
He disappeared into the darkness. Mattie’s teeth chattered, but she counted to ten.
“Jacob.” She called his name softly, not wanting to wake up anyone in the camp. She didn’t doubt that Cole would keep his promise to hurt Jacob, or anyone else who got in his way.
She clutched the blanket around her and stepped around the fire, toward the horses in the direction Jacob had disappeared.
“Jacob,” she called again.
He appeared out of the darkness. “What is it? Did you see something?”
Her knees shook. “I’m . . . I’m scared. I want you to stay here with me.”
Jacob grasped her hand. “I’ll take you back to your wagon. I need to watch the horses.”
“Ne, I can’t.” Her voice rose in her panic. If she didn’t keep him here by the fire, Cole would hurt him, possibly kill him.
“Mattie, I need to take care of the horses. You must do as I say.”
“You can’t go back out there.” She thought of flinging herself into his arms, to force him to stay with her. Cole had said she would think of something. “I . . . I need you.”
“What is wrong? Did you see something?”
Mattie clenched her teeth to keep them from chattering. If she told him about Cole, he would go off into the darkness to find him. But if she remained silent, Cole would take their horses and they would be stranded along the road. A sob broke through.
“Cole is here.” She clung to Jacob’s sleeves as he tried to pull away. “If you try to stop him, he’ll kill you.” Jacob wrenched one arm out of her grasp. “Jacob, don’t go out there.”
“I’m going to get Andrew and Josef. We can’t let him take the horses.” Jacob pulled her toward the wagon. “You get in your wagon. Tell everyone to stay inside.”
As Jacob roused the other men, the camp exploded into light and sound. The men lit torches from the dying coals and encircled the horses. Mattie watched their progress from inside the wagon, peering out through the front opening in the canvas. Finally, the torches made their way back to the camp. The men gathered the horses closer to the wagons, tying them to wagon wheels rather than leaving them on their pickets in the meadow.
Daed stopped at their wagon when he saw Mattie watching. “We saw nothing out there. If there was someone, we must have frightened them off.”
Jacob and Andrew stood behind Daed, and Mattie saw them exchange glances. Again, Jacob was asking the others to trust his word with no evidence, but Mattie knew. And for sure Cole Bates would try again.
19
The next morning was hot and humid as soon as the sun peeped over the tops of the trees on the eastern horizon. The women brought out a cold breakfast of dried apples and cheese, and Johanna took her serving to the bench near her family’s wagon where she and Andrew had eaten supper together the night before. She sat fingering her dried apples as she waited for him to finish helping the other men put the horses back on their picket lines in the grassy meadow. Had Cole Bates really tried to steal the horses last night, like Jacob and Mattie said? Jacob wouldn’t lie, but surely he had been mistaken. No one could be so mean as to steal horses, not in modern times like these.
Andrew finally came walking toward her, rubbing
his arm.
“Did you get hurt?” Johanna moved to give him room on the bench.
“I don’t know.” Andrew sat next to her with a thud, making the bench shake. “Maybe I slept on it wrong. Or I slept on everything wrong.” He stretched, rolling his shoulders. “I ache all over.”
“Here.” Johanna offered him her plate. “You take my breakfast and I’ll go get more.”
He shook his head. “I’m not hungry.” He leaned his elbows on his knees, rubbing his face. “It’s cold this morning.” He glanced at her. “Aren’t you chilly?”
“Are you becoming ill? If you’re achy and chilled, it sounds like you need to go back to bed.”
“Only babies go to bed in the daytime.”
Johanna stood, leaving her plate on the bench and taking his arm. “Come with me. We’re going to find your mamm.”
As she pulled a reluctant Andrew toward the Bontragers’ wagon, Johanna waved Nancy, Andrew’s mother, over to help her. Andrew seemed to be falling asleep on his feet and leaned against her so heavily that she was afraid he would fall to the ground.
“What is wrong?” Nancy took Andrew’s other arm as she joined them.
“I’m all right.” Andrew tried to shake off their help, but Johanna kept her hold on him easily. Too easily.
“I think he is sick.”
Nancy looked at Andrew’s face and the eyes that seemed ready to close. “You’re right. It’s to bed with you, young man.”
She called her husband, Yost, and son-in-law, Thomas, to help lift Andrew into the wagon, and Johanna helped her lay Andrew on a mattress.
Nancy felt his forehead. “He is burning up with fever.”
“He complained of being cold.”
Andrew turned to the side with restless movements, his teeth chattering as if he was chilled to the bone.
Nancy frowned as she covered Andrew with a blanket. “Chills and fever. I’ve seen it before. We need to keep him warm, and watch for the fever to break.” She looked at Johanna as if to judge her abilities. “Will you help me? We’ll need to watch him day and night for the next couple days.”
