The Treasure Hunt

by Rebecca Martin

  Ben and his wife and children lived in a small house on the corner of the Yoder property. Lydia knew that Ben wanted to buy a farm of his own, but he couldn’t afford it. And besides, there were no farms for sale nearby.

  Joe turned to Father and said, “We should tell Ben about Colorado, shouldn’t we?”

  Father gave him a slow, wise smile. “Let’s not get too excited, son.”

  It was Mother who finally asked, “Why do you call this area Pikes Peak Country?”

  Sam’s eyes gleamed some more. “Where the Amish are buying is less than a hundred miles from the Rocky Mountains. There’s one especially high peak called Pikes Peak. It’s over fourteen thousand feet high, and you can see it clearly from sixty miles away! I saw this little rhyme in the Sugarcreek Budget:

  Now if a home you wish to seek,

  Come where you can view old Pikes Peak.

  The land where plains and mountains meet,

  And our farmers grow macaroni wheat.

  Lydia was glad when the meal was over. All this talk about strange, faraway lands gave her an uneasy feeling. She did not like to think of people moving hundreds of miles away.

  Soon it was Sunday, the best day of the week. The Yoder family walked a mile and a half down the road to church, which was being held at John Swartzentruber’s home. As far back as Lydia could remember, there had been two church districts, the north district and the south district with ministers for each one. But Polly still remembered the days when there were no ministers at all here in North Dakota and the only time they had church was when a visiting minister came from the East.

  As the Yoder family neared the Swartzentruber farm, Lydia quickened her steps. There in front of the house were Mary and Susanna Swartzentruber, welcoming everyone with big smiles.

  What would I ever do without Mary and Susanna? Lydia asked herself as she ran to greet them. It would be terrible to move away from such good friends.

  Imagine Lydia’s surprise when even the minister, in his sermon that morning, spoke of a little girl who moved far away from home! Preacher Josiah told the story of the little slave girl who helped save the great Captain Naaman’s life. “There are not many stories in the Bible that tell about a little girl,” said Josiah, “but in this story, we read about a ‘little maid.’ Can you imagine how terrible it must have been for this little Hebrew maid when the Syrian soldiers broke into her home in Israel and carried her away as a captive to a strange land?

  “But this little maid did not lose her faith in God. Oh no. There was no doubt in her mind that God could heal Naaman’s leprosy through His prophet Elisha. You see, this little maid was the slave of Naaman’s wife, and that is why she knew about the great captain’s illness. So one day she summoned her courage and told her mistress about the prophet.”

  Josiah went on to tell the rest of the story about how the prophet commanded Naaman to wash in the Jordan River and how the captain felt it was beneath his dignity to do so. But Lydia’s mind stayed with that little maid of Israel who was torn from her parents and made a slave in a strange land. How wonderful that because of this little girl’s faith a great captain was healed of leprosy!

  3

  More Colorado Talk

  Monday was wash day. Lydia, Lisbet, and Polly all took turns at the washing machine. First the clothes were swished around and around in the sudsy water while they jiggled the tub back and forth. Then they had to crank all the clothing through the wringer. The part Lydia enjoyed the best was hanging the clean clothes on the line in the yard.

  This morning there was a strong wind from the west. How it tore at the dresses and aprons and trousers as Lydia pinned them up! “The wash will dry nicely today,” remarked Mother as she passed by on her way to the garden.

  When the wash basket was empty, Lydia found Mother down on her knees, digging carrots. “Will we have carrots for dinner?” Lydia asked.

  “Yes, we will. Aren’t the carrots nice this year?” said Mother, holding up a big orange carrot.

  “Mmmm. May I have one?” With her apron, Lydia wiped the soil from the carrot. It crunched crisply between her teeth. “Mother, do you really think Sam Peachy will buy land in Colorado?”

  Lydia fretfully wondered if Polly was going to move to Colorado.

  Mother sat back on her heels and looked up. With one hand she smoothed back the ringlets of gray hair that had escaped from her covering. “I don’t know, Lydia. Maybe he will.”

  “Would that mean Polly is going to move to Colorado?” There, the question was out—the painful question that had been bothering her since Saturday evening.

  Mother bent to dig more carrots. “Yes, it probably would.” Mother’s voice sounded strange, as if there was a lump in her throat. Something told Lydia that if Polly moved away, it would be just as hard on Mother as it would be for her.

  “Why can’t Sam just get a home here in North Dakota?”

  “You heard what the men said,” Mother replied, still in that muffled voice. “It’s very hard to buy land here.”

  “Well, yes, I know that.”

  “Sam is not the only one who’d be interested in homesteading in Colorado. Ben and some others would be interested too. You see, young men who didn’t homestead here in North Dakota could get land very cheaply in Colorado. Father and I homesteaded here, so we would need to pay more for land in Colorado. But it would still be much less than here.”

  Lydia moved closer to Mother. “You mean we are interested too?” The thought left her breathless.

  Mother got to her feet while holding the pail of carrots. She patted Lydia’s shoulder. “I don’t know if ‘interested’ is the right word, but I can tell you this much. We’re praying about it.”

  “Why would we want to move?” Lydia asked, keeping step with Mother as she hurried to the house.

  “For one thing, the wheat price is very low, Lydia. Father says there will be very little money left over by the time he has paid for the threshing, the twine, and the bags. We might not even earn enough money to buy seeds next spring. So that is one reason why we would consider making a new start somewhere else. And another reason…Well, Lydia, if our children are talking of moving so far away—”

  “Then you want to go too,” Lydia finished for her.

  As she went back to jiggling the wash tub, her feelings were as mixed-up as the clothing that splashed about in the suds. Colorado sounded exciting—but frightening too.

  That night before they slept, Lydia told Lisbet about the conversation with Mother in the garden. Lisbet sucked in her breath. “That sounds as if Father and Mother are actually thinking of moving to Colorado.”

  “Are you glad?” Lydia asked.

  For a minute there was only the sound of Lisbet’s breathing in the darkness. Then she said, “I don’t want to move. I like it here. Our friends are here.”

  “That’s just how I feel, but I didn’t tell Mother that.”

  “What I can’t understand—” Lisbet said slowly. “I mean, Father often talks of how God blesses us with happy hearts, even if we don’t have all the things we’d like to have. Why isn’t he content here? Why would he dream of making more money in Colorado if he keeps saying it’s not money that makes us happy, but trusting and obeying God?”

  “You should ask Mother those questions. I wondered about that too, but I didn’t know how to put it into words. Ask her tomorrow.”

  “Well, I’ll see…” Lisbet’s voice had grown sleepy. Soon the two sisters drifted off to sleep.

  That night it rained, and the next day the air had a sharp, cold tang to it. “We’ll have frost soon,” Mother said, giving voice to her prediction. “We’d better bring in the last of the pumpkins, beans, and corn.”

  All day Mother and the girls trundled back and forth between the garden and the cellar, bringing in the late vegetables for winter storage. Joe, Ben, and Jake went to help thresh at another farm with the Yoders’ one team of horses while Father took the other team to haul his first load of whe
at to the elevator.

  Toward evening Lisbet saw Father far in the distance across the prairie coming back home. “I hope the wheat price is better now,” she said wistfully as she loaded a pumpkin onto the little wagon.

  Mother added another one to the load. “What makes you say that?” she asked curiously.

  “Because…” Lisbet said and then hesitated. “Because if we could make more money here, we wouldn’t have to move to Colorado.”

  Mother stood with both hands on top of the pumpkin, looking at the seventeen-year-old. “We have no plans to move away.”

  “No, but you’re thinking about it.”

  “Praying about it. We want to do God’s will,” said Mother firmly.

  “But, Mother, why would we want to move? I thought we’re supposed to be content and not always wishing to have more. I thought we’re to be happy even if we don’t have all the things we’d like.” Lisbet’s words came out in a rush.

  “Very true,” Mother said quietly. “We are not discontented. We are just concerned about our children’s future. If they want to marry and raise families, they need homes of their own.”

  “I wish Sam Peachy weren’t putting these ideas about Colorado into people’s heads,” Lisbet mumbled. She glanced toward Polly, who was out of hearing distance.

  Mother gave a little sigh. “Lisbet, try to believe that we are truly seeking God’s will.”

  “Okay,” Lisbet answered sincerely.

  “Let’s go and help unhitch the wagon,” Lydia suggested when she saw that Father’s team had driven up to the barn. She and Lisbet ran across the yard to the team of black horses. In spite of the raw wind, Ned and King were streaked with sweat.

  Speaking to Father across King’s broad back, Lisbet asked hopefully, “How was the wheat price?”

  “Lower than ever,” Father answered, managing to sound cheerful, “and Trevor, at the elevator, says the price is bound to go lower still when all the wheat starts pouring in from this area.”

  “It isn’t fair,” Lisbet said as she unhooked the trace.

  “There’s nothing we can do about it,” Father replied matter-of-factly.

  “But think of all the hard work you did, all those hours of plowing and planting and harvesting.” Lisbet replied, sounding as if she was almost ready to cry.

  Lydia glanced at her in alarm. Father said reassuringly, “At least we won’t go hungry.” And with that, he led the team to the barn.

  4

  Train Trip

  As North Dakota’s brief summer gave way to fall, every day held the same activities for the men. Every day Father hauled wheat to the elevator. Every day Ben, Jake, and Joe went threshing.

  And every day it seemed as if the threshers talked about Colorado. In the evening at the supper table, Jake and Joe spoke of Pikes Peak, homesteading, and sugar-beet farming in Colorado. Polly always listened with interest, while Lisbet and Lydia wished their brothers would talk about something else.

  As October drew to a close, so did the threshing season. Not long afterward, Father made a startling announcement. Father and seven other men were going to Colorado to look around. Ben was going, but his wife, Barbara, would stay at home. Jake was going too. “They are the ones who’d be getting land under the homestead law if we decide to settle there. Any land I’d buy would be higher priced because the government allows you only one free homestead.”

  Lydia and Lisbet had been doing the supper dishes when Father made his announcement. The two girls immediately stopped and turned to look at each other once the words were spoken. Lydia noticed that Lisbet appeared just as stunned as she was. They both realized that it really was happening!

  Jake and Joe sat on the bench near the stove, grinning at each other. Obviously this was no surprise to them. “I just wish I could go too,” Joe said wistfully.

  “Maybe later,” Father said with a smile.

  Lydia wanted to cry out, “Stop! Not so fast,” but she knew that would be no use, and so she asked in a tremulous voice, “When are you leaving?”

  “On Thursday. I’ll buy the tickets tomorrow,” Father replied. “We’ll be gone for more than a week.” He looked at Joe. “You’ll have to be the man of the house for Mother and for Barbara too.”

  But that was not the way it turned out. On Thursday morning Jake was sick. He had a sore throat and high fever, and his ears ached. Poor Jake simply wasn’t able to go on the trip! Much to Joe’s delight, he was allowed to go instead.

  As he boarded the train with Father, Joe was so excited that he thought he would burst. Only once before had he been on a train. As a small boy, he’d gone along to visit Grandpa and Grandma in Indiana.

  They traveled south, down through the plains of North Dakota, and before they knew it, they were in South Dakota. “It doesn’t look any different from North Dakota,” Joe remarked to Sam Peachy, with whom he shared a seat.

  “Not now, but wait until we get to the badlands,” Sam told him with a mysterious smile.

  “What are the badlands?”

  “Oh, it’s a place where all the bad people live,” Sam replied airily. When Joe looked worried, Sam chuckled and said, “That was just a joke. It’s the land that’s ‘bad.’ You’ll see. I’m told that when the Sioux Indians were at war with the United States, the badlands provided good hiding places for the Indians.”

  The railroad rambled south between rolling hills and followed the James River for many miles. Just as Joe began to wonder when they would ever turn west, they changed trains, crossed the Missouri River, and did just that. Now the land began to change. Rugged ridges and steep valleys carved their way through the plains.

  “Look at that strangely shaped hill!” exclaimed Joe, pointing at a hill that rose steeply on all sides and then ended in a flat top.

  “You’ll see lots more hills like that,” Sam told him. “They’re called buttes.”

  Sure enough, another steep, flat-topped hill came into view. Then several more appeared. “Say, are these the badlands you talked about?” Joe asked.

  Sam laughed. “Oh no, the badlands are much worse than this.”

  To Joe the train seemed to be traveling uphill much of the time. Peering westward he asked Sam, “That dark ridge along the horizon, is that a mountain ridge? Are those the Rocky Mountains?”

  “Not yet. What you see are the Black Hills. The Sioux Indians called them that because they look black from here. They’re all covered with pine trees, you see. That means they’re not nearly as high as the Rockies.”

  “And those are still not the badlands?”

  Sam shook his head. “We’ll change trains in Rapid City and head south again. Then we’ll see the badlands. You’ll know them when you see them. Nothing grows there.”

  Sam was right. The badlands were unmistakable. What a scene of desolation! What strangely shaped cliffs. The steep gullies were carved into the limestone! Joe had never seen anything like it. “It makes me feel like I’m on the moon or something,” he said to Sam.

  “Almost gives you the creeps, doesn’t it?” Sam replied cheerfully.

  “You sure couldn’t make a living in this area—not from farming, anyway.”

  Soon after leaving the badlands, they crossed the border into Nebraska, which held few surprises. The whole state was made up of plains, hills, and valleys, broken only by occasional streams and rivers, the largest one being the North Platte River.

  The boys enjoyed looking out the train window.

  The conductor on this train took a liking to Joe and Sam and came back repeatedly to talk with them. “That river’s the South Platte now,” he said, pointing out the window. “And that means we’ll soon cross the border into Colorado. Yep, here we are now in Colorado.”

  “Will we see the Rockies soon?” asked Joe.

  “Oh, it’ll be a while, but it’s a nice, clear day, so keep watching toward the west. The mountains will look like a jagged purple blur along the horizon.”

  That was exactly what Joe saw later o
n when the sun was going down, a jagged purple blur. “Are those mountains or just clouds?”

  The conductor stooped to peer out the window. “That’s the Rockies all right. Good for you! You saw them first.”

  That night they came to the bustling town of Denver. In the morning the mountains were much closer. “Looks like I could just walk over and touch them,” Joe said to Father, who smiled and said the mountains were farther away than they appeared.

  The sheer, rocky peaks took Joe’s breath away. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from them. He felt sorry for Ben, who sat on the other side of the train and, therefore, had no west-facing window.

  After leaving Denver they traveled east again on the Union Pacific Railroad. Joe was sorry to be traveling away from the mountains, but then Sam told him, “Now we watch for Pikes Peak.”

  Nobody had to tell Joe what it was he was looking at when the peak came into view. He knew the kingly mountain rising head and shoulders above the more distant mountains had to be it. He knew it before Sam cried, “There she is! There’s Pikes Peak!”

  It was beautiful. Its high, snowcapped ramparts gleamed in the sunlight. Joe thought, It sure would be something to live where I could see this mountain every day!

  At a town named Limon, Sam announced, “Some Amish are buying in this area. Elbert County, I think it’s called, but we’re going on to Cheyenne County.”

  Wild Horse. The name on the weather-beaten sign seemed to jump out at Joe. He turned excitedly to Sam and asked, “Is this the place?”

  “Sure is,” Sam replied with a grin. “I told you. Wild Horse, Cheyenne County, Colorado.”

  They quickly gathered their baggage and got ready to disembark. The land agent was right there at the station with his Ford car to take them out to the homesteads. As they drove, Joe turned his head this way and that, trying to take in all the scenery. It was just as Sam had said—tall, waving grass as far as the eye could see. “Does this look like North Dakota did when you first got there?” he asked Father.