Balm of Gilead

by Adina Senft

  Was wild Jesse Riehl really the one who did?

  And how could that be, because goodness, it would never work between the two of them.

  “So, Joe,” Amanda said on the way back up the steep hill out of Gap that buggies didn’t seem to be allowed on, “tell us some more about Colorado. What was it like being in a place where the nearest Amish folks were a hundred miles away?”

  “It took some getting used to.” Joe pulled at his seat belt, as though being restrained by anything but his own good sense irritated him. “And the ranch hands, well, they don’t pay a lot of attention to Sunday. Me and Simon got used to going for long walks—you know, to at least get out where we could hear God and look at the mountains He made—but when Simon got hurt, we couldn’t even do that. It was hard.”

  “But nobody judged you.” Amanda craned her head to look at him over the seat. “They didn’t make comments about it?”

  Joe shook his head. “Everybody knew we were Amish so they cut us some slack. Some of the guys, they played pranks and stuff to get us to react, but most of them were live and let live. Cowboys are like that. You spend a lot of time out there on the back of a horse and I guess you get used to leaving other people alone.”

  “Do you think an Amish girl would do all right?”

  Joe’s eyebrows shot up. “Handling horses? On a seven-day trail ride? I don’t think so—unless she’s got muscles built up from swinging hay bales at home.”

  “I was thinking in the kitchen, cooking. Or being a Maud.”

  “You thinking of going out West, Amanda?” Jesse said with a quick glance at her before he swung his gaze back to the road flashing by. “Are we the first to hear?”

  “Of course not.” She dropped her gaze and fiddled with her purse on her lap. “I was just asking.”

  If you asked Joe an honest question, he gave you an honest answer, so he didn’t tease her. Instead, he said thoughtfully, “I think an Amish girl would do all right if she didn’t mix with the cowboys and hands. Some of ’em are pretty rough, and some are there because they can’t get work anywhere else. Because the work is seasonal, the family takes what they can get. She’d be pretty lonely, though. Other than Teresa and the lady of the house, there were only the two housekeeping girls. And they were as rough as the hands.”

  “Guess I’d better look closer to home for work, then,” Amanda said lightly. “If Priscilla ever leaves the Rose Arbor Inn, maybe she’d put in a good word for me.” She smiled at Pris over her shoulder.

  “Katie Schrock is getting married this fall, you know,” Pris said suddenly. “She might work for a few months afterward, but when the babies start coming, she’ll give her notice. I can tell Ginny you’re interested, if you want.”

  Amanda’s laugh held self-mockery. “I only just thought of it this second. But maybe you’re right. Maybe I’d like being a Maud.”

  “You do more than clean bathrooms and make beds,” Pris told her earnestly. “If the guests come and Ginny isn’t there, I give them the tour and make sure they’re comfortable. She always has food and sodas in the TV room, so I show them that. And they always want to know about where the quilting places are, so I get out the map and give them directions.”

  “So you’re like an assistant?” Jesse teased. “You should ask this lady to pay you more.”

  “Neh.” Pris raised her chin. “I just do what any of us would do when company comes over. Make them feel comfortable and welcome, and offer them something to eat. That’s all.”

  “Seems to me that’s what they come to the Inn for anyhow,” Joe said with a smile, and all her pique dissolved in the warmth of it.

  They arrived at the field behind the gas station a few minutes later, and there was Atlas, patiently standing where Joe had left him, with all the grass within reach cropped down to stubble.

  “We’ll see you at singing, then,” Jesse said as he swung the car to the side of the road.

  “Actually, Jesse, I’m not going to go,” Amanda said. “Can you take me home? You don’t have to bring the car all the way in—I can walk from the road.”

  “I’m not ashamed of my car.”

  “I didn’t say you should be. But Dat and Mamm wouldn’t like it.”

  “We can take you, Amanda,” Joe said. “It’s no trouble.”

  “No, she’s with me, so I’ll take her home.” Jesse’s tone was firm enough to settle the question, which made Pris glad. If he cared enough to see her safely home, then maybe there was more going on here than even Amanda suspected.

  Pris and Joe got out, and while Joe untied Atlas and offered him some water from the jug in the back, Priscilla waved from the door of the buggy as Jesse looked both ways and swung the car in a U-turn.

  While Amanda would only have ten minutes alone with Jesse in the car as they zoomed home, she would have half an hour with Joe in the buggy as they…didn’t. It was a happy thought. In fact, she thought as they set off through town, taking their time and talking about whatever came into their heads, it worked out just about perfectly.

  Not until the last hill before County Road 26 did Atlas snort and a hitch enter his smooth gait. On the other side of the hill, a plume of dirty gray rose into the air, hanging like dust.

  “Easy, boy,” Joe said. “Whatever that is, he don’t like it. Easy.”

  Priscilla practically stood in her seat as they crested the hill. Down in the hollow, the fields on the north side narrowed into a cattle culvert where the dairy cattle would cross under the road to their barn on the south side. Some of the cows were already on their way in. A clump of them huddled in the culvert as if they didn’t know what to do.

  And hanging drunkenly off the road above the culvert, nearly perpendicular and facing backward, was a car.

  A white one.

  A 1965 Ford Falcon.

  Chapter 16

  Sarah felt the drumming in the ground beneath her feet as she let the chickens out into the yard, and lifted her head like a pointer sniffing the air.

  Hoofbeats. Coming fast.

  No one drove a buggy that fast unless the boys were racing—and they wouldn’t dare do that so close to people’s farms. Someone was riding a horse at a dead gallop—something so rare that it was like hearing the phone ringing in the shanty in the middle of the night. Nothing that out of place could be good news.

  Closer now. Coming up the driveway.

  Her heartbeat spiking, Sarah picked up her skirts and dashed across the lawn in time to see Priscilla Mast plunge out from under the trees and bring up the horse in a stamping, skittering halt in the yard. She was astride it, her green skirts and white slip blown back over her legs, using nothing more than a leading halter to give the animal guidance.

  “Priscilla! Was duschde hier?”

  The girl slid off the horse, half sobbing, half trying to breathe. “Sarah, you must come. Jesse Riehl and Amanda Yoder have been in a car accident!”

  A bucket of ice water thrown over her couldn’t have made the blood in her veins chill more than this sudden stab of horror and fear. “How badly are they hurt?”

  “I don’t know. The car went off the road and I couldn’t see them, but Joe sent me to get you. He’s the one who knows how to ride a horse but he said I wasn’t strong enough to pull them out, and besides, Atlas used to be a racehorse and girls were lighter and—”

  “Priscilla!” Sarah took her by the shoulders and gave her a shake. “Take a breath. Gut? Ja? Now tell me where they are. Did the car leave?”

  “Neh, I told you, it’s over the edge. Joe’s trying to get them out.”

  “Is it on top of the buggy?” Sarah’s voice cracked. If that were true, chances of their survival were practically nil.

  “No, Joe and I were way behind them. They’ve gone down Lev Esh’s cattle culvert—the last hill before the county road.”

  “Then—” She stopped. There was no making any sense out of this. The important thing was that two young people were probably injured, and they needed help. �
�All right. You get back on that horse and fetch Henry Byler. Ask him to call an ambulance, and then ask if he can drive me there. I’ll gather my things so I can help them before the ambulance arrives—and if it doesn’t come soon, we can try to take them to the county hospital in Henry’s car.”

  Sarah boosted her back up onto Atlas, who stamped and backstepped, but once she had his makeshift reins in hand, seemed to remember his old life well enough. “Go across lots. It’s faster.”

  The girl leaned over the horse’s withers and kicked him into motion, and they thundered over the lawn and through the orchard, heading for the hill.

  Sarah ran into the house, snatching up her basket on the way into the compiling room. Blankets. Bandages. Scissors. B and W salve. There was no time to make a healing soak for the bandages, but she had a good tincture she could give the Youngie for shock and pain.

  She had taken a first aid class at the hospital in the summer, but her skill at setting bones left a lot to be desired. So she would do what she could, and let the EMTs do their job when they got there.

  The crunch of gravel in the lane told her Henry was already here. She grabbed a heavier jacket than the one she’d gone out with, and dashed outside. He was already pushing open the passenger door.

  “Where is Priscilla?” she said breathlessly, reaching for the seat belt.

  “She’s gone to get Amanda’s father.”

  “She won’t find him—he and Corinne are still at Hostetlers’ with Caleb.”

  “Then we’ll call them. Here.” He handed her his cell phone.

  She pecked at the screen with one finger as he accelerated down the road, concentrating so she wouldn’t make a mistake. It was a good thing church had been at Hostetlers’—the only reason she knew the number in their barn was because Jon employed Caleb and she’d memorized it.

  “Hallo? Jon Hostetler? Ja, this is Sarah Yoder. Is my father-in-law still there?”

  “Sure he is, Sarah. One minute and I’ll get him. Is everything all right?”

  “Neh. There’s been an accident. I need to speak to him urgently.”

  Jacob came on the line much faster than she might have imagined. “Sarah, are you all right?”

  “Ja, I’m fine. It’s Amanda. I don’t know how bad. Henry is taking me there right now, but I need you and Memm to come home.”

  The breath whooshed out of Jacob on a groan Sarah could hear even above the sound of the car. “Where did it happen?”

  “Lev Esh’s cattle culvert. The buggy was hit by a car.”

  Jacob breathed out a prayer. “We will leave immediately. Lev and Sallie are still here, so they will come, too. You will do—what you can?”

  “Henry called the ambulance, so it should be here soon. We’re nearly there—I must go.”

  “God be with you, Sarah—and Amanda—both our daughters.”

  Sarah swallowed, fighting back tears as she disconnected. Henry crested the hill and they saw the car below, dropped drunkenly over the edge of the slope, facing uphill. He coasted down and pulled over to the shoulder on the opposite site. “Where’s the buggy? Surely they couldn’t have left.”

  Joe popped into view from under the car’s rear wheels as he climbed out of the culvert. “There is no buggy. Amanda and Jesse were in his car. This car.”

  Sarah could not wrap her mind around this—so she focused on the important part. “Where are they?” She struggled to keep her tone from spiraling up into panic. “Are they still inside?”

  Joe shook his head. “Over here, on the other side. I got them out and checked them as best I could, but—”

  She and Henry scrambled around the car to find Amanda and Jesse on the ground on the other side of it, well out of the way in case it decided to change its center of gravity and roll all the way into the muddy cattle path at the bottom.

  “Amanda?” Sarah dropped to her knees next to her young sister-in-law and lifted her chin to check her eyes. “Ischt du okay? Are you in pain?”

  “Sarah?” Amanda’s voice was small, her skin white. Her Kapp was gone and her thick bob was coming out of its pins. “I’m so sorry.”

  “You have nothing to be sorry about, Liewi.” Amanda’s eyes responded to the light, contracting just as they should. And she recognized her. No concussion, then, probably. Thank the gut Gott. “Are you injured? Tell me where it hurts.”

  “I hit my forehead. And my ankle hurts.”

  An ugly bruise was already forming on her temple, and she’d have a black eye by tonight. Fortunately, there was something Sarah could do about that. “Let me put some salve on it, dear one. I have bandages right here.” She glanced at Joe, who had already taken a blanket and tucked it around the other boy. “And Jesse? What is his condition?”

  “I’m fine,” the boy said. “You look after Amanda.” But he didn’t sound fine. He sounded dazed, and his breathing was shallow.

  “Broken rib, maybe?” Joe hazarded. “Bruises from hitting the steering wheel. Lucky they were wearing seat belts. Some of these old cars don’t even come with them.”

  “It’s the law,” Jesse mumbled. “Stupid cow. It got out of the culvert. I tried to miss it, but hit the post on the guard rail and spun and—” He seemed to lose the thread of the sentence and broke off.

  Sarah couldn’t even allow her mind’s eye to consider what could have happened if Jesse hadn’t obeyed the law. And at some later time she would find out what Amanda had been doing in this car…but that time was not now.

  “The ambulance should be here by now, shouldn’t it?” she said anxiously to Henry, fixing a gauze pad smeared with B and W salve to Amanda’s forehead with tape. Then she took out a small bottle of tincture of valerian, cava-cava, and milky oats that she kept just for trauma. “Amanda, open your mouth. A little of this will calm your system.”

  Obediently, she opened her mouth and Sarah squirted half a dropperful onto her tongue. “Joe, the same for Jesse, please, until I get over there to have a look at him.”

  Joe administered the dose to Jesse as calmly as though he’d done it a hundred times before. “You have a real knack,” she said with approval as he handed the bottle back to her.

  “Maybe we could talk about that sometime,” he said. “Do you think Amanda might be able to walk up to the road? I don’t think Jesse can.”

  “If you think he has a broken rib, I won’t risk moving him.”

  “I’m all right,” came a slurred demurral from Joe’s other side.

  “If her ankle hurts, I don’t want her walking on it, either. It’s already swelling and we’ve got no ice. Listen—is that the siren?”

  Joe scrambled up the slope to meet the ambulance while Sarah had a look at Jesse. This wasn’t good. His gaze didn’t track properly when she passed a finger before his eyes, and if his rib really was broken, he could puncture a lung if they weren’t careful. Without moving him, she tucked the blanket between his shoulders and the ground.

  The siren chirped as the ambulance stopped above them, and Sarah heard Joe giving the EMTs what information he could. And then the two men were coming down the slope, a backboard between them and a big red case over the shoulder of one.

  “It’s all right, ma’am, we’ve got them now,” one of them said to Sarah. “The boy up there said you were treating them?”

  Rapidly, she told them what she’d done—such as it was—and the one who seemed to be in charge nodded. He knelt by Amanda. “What’s your name, miss?”

  “Amanda Yoder,” she said softly.

  “Do you know what day it is?”

  “Sunday. I shouldn’t have been riding in a car, should I?”

  “I hope it didn’t get banged up as much as you did. It’s a collector’s item,” the man said with a smile. “I need you to move your arms and legs for me, Amanda. Great. Now, wiggle your toes. Good. How many fingers am I holding up?”

  “Three,” Amanda said.

  “Good girl. You’re doing okay, but I don’t like the look of these contusions—or that
ankle. We’re going to take you in and get you fixed up, all right?”

  “But Jesse—”

  “We’ll look at Jesse now. You stay right there and I’ll be back in a second.”

  It didn’t take much more than a look before the backboard came out and Jesse was lifted on to it. “My car—” he mumbled restlessly as the men hefted him up and began to negotiate their way up the slope. Henry walked beside him.

  “Don’t worry about the car. Once the police are done with it, I’ll have it towed to my place.” The sheriff’s cruiser had already pulled in a safe distance behind the ambulance.

  “Doesn’t look like it took a lot of damage,” one of the EMTs said as they put Jesse on a gurney. “Those old ones were built to last.”

  “You should make him an offer,” the other one joked as the sheriff’s deputy joined them.

  “Don’t tempt me. Come on, let’s get the little lady aboard and get going.”

  Sarah could tell that Amanda didn’t want to go in the ambulance, but there was no gainsaying the EMTs and their backboard—or the tape that held her to it. “You must go to the hospital, Liewi,” Sarah urged. “They’ll make sure you’re completely fine.”

  “I am completely fine. I want to go home.”

  “When the doctor tells us that, I’ll take you home,” Henry said. “What would your mother say?”

  “She would say I was to go,” Amanda said reluctantly. “Are they coming? The hospital is so far away. They can’t get there before dark.”

  “I can have them there in half an hour,” Henry said. “Don’t you worry about a thing except letting these nice folks take care of you.”

  The EMTs loaded Amanda into the back, where she lay next to Jesse, fussing with her skirts and the blanket, trying to return it to Sarah. Henry pulled Sarah away. “The sheriff will need a statement. We can do that for them.”