The Newcomer

by Suzanne Woods Fisher

  “A new owner took out a blanket warrant for the land. I’m sorry, but you’ll have to vacate soon or risk prosecution.”

  “But . . . how could that be?”

  “The new owner holds the patent deed to the land. He paid the London Company in full and superseded the original land warrants.”

  Anna sucked in a breath and nearly choked. “But that isn’t right. It isn’t fair!”

  “Perhaps not fair, but it is legal.”

  Anna thought it over. “What if we don’t leave?”

  “I must warn against that. You could be evicted for trespassing. And then the new owner, if so inclined, could have all of you prosecuted.”

  There was silence for a time. “You are welcome to rest your horses and take some nourishment for yourselves,” Anna said, her voice low and controlled.

  “Thank you for the kindness, but we have a ways to go before the rain hits.” He swung up into the saddle, tipped his hat at Anna, and the two land agents cantered away.

  “What does this all mean?” Maria said.

  “Druwwel,” Felix said, scowling, hands on his hips, as he watched the land agents disappear. Trouble.

  She gave him a soft smile. Their Felix was growing up. “Wahr. Unne Druwwel hot mer nix.” True. There is nothing without trouble. She took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. “Awwer mir aaghalden.” But we will persevere.

  Ephrata Community

  February 5, 1738

  As the hooded brothers settled Jacob into the wagon that morning, Bairn’s mother said her goodbyes. Bairn checked the bit on the horse and made sure the borrowed wagon was properly secured. This would be an arduous, bumpy trip for his father and he prayed he would survive it.

  Sister Marcella had come out to bring them food for the journey. She was his mother’s favorite, and by the way the two women clung to each other, the feeling was returned. He tried not to look as if he was listening, but he heard Sister Marcella tell his mother that she had inspired her. “As I observed your constant care for your husband and child, it caused me to . . . reconsider my decision to leave my family.”

  “You’re leaving here? You’re going back to your husband?”

  “Yes. I’ve told Father Friedsam and sent word to Christoph to come for me.” She grabbed Dorothea’s hands. “I pray we meet again, my friend. Knowing you has changed me.”

  Bairn had a hard time keeping a smile off his face as he heard those words to his mother. She held herself straighter, stronger than he’d ever seen her. It was a kind and good thing for Sister Marcella to leave his mother with such affirming words. He knew his mother had received few of those in her lifetime.

  Over the head of the horse, across the large grassy area, he saw a group of robed brothers come out of a building and walk up the path to the construction site. One brother trailed behind the others, and there was something about the way this man walked that caught his attention. The other brothers walked slowly and solemnly, head down. This one’s chin was lifted. This one . . . he had a swagger. “Do you happen to know that one’s name?” he asked Brother Andrew.

  He lifted his head and squinted. “That’s Brother Mose.” He handed a woolen blanket to Dorothea to cover Jacob. “He’s a new convert.”

  Bairn stilled. “How new?”

  “A few weeks.”

  He turned to his mother. “See that Papa is comfortable. I’ll just be a moment.”

  He crossed the grass to catch up with the brothers, but quietly, so he did not draw attention to himself. When he had caught up with them, he reached a hand out to Brother Mose’s shoulder. Startled, Brother Mose turned to Bairn, then tensed. Bairn had never seen a person’s face change so fast. He caught a glimpse of something in his eyes, a slight panic, then there was nothing. He looked as relaxed and easy as a man could look.

  “Henrik Newman.” Bairn forced his words through clenched teeth. “Or is it Karl Neumann?” He glanced up at the brothers, who had continued walking ahead, unaware of what was going on behind them. “Perhaps now I should call you Brother Mose.”

  “I have joined the community. I’ve seen the error of my ways and have chosen a path of repentance.”

  “Hiding from yer wife, is what you mean.”

  Henrik’s gaze slid past Bairn to Dorothea, waiting at the wagon. A wariness returned to his eyes. “Where is she?”

  “Not with us, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  He studied his folded hands, held at his waist. “Do you happen to know where she went?”

  “On a hunt to find you. She won’t give up.”

  For the briefest moment, the mask of bravado dropped off. “Don’t I know it. God’s truth, she’s a terror.”

  Aye, the countess was a true termagant. Not unlovely, but a termagant nonetheless. “Yer an ambitious man. Are you sayin’ you won’t put up with her, even for a German title?”

  “I’m a commoner. She’s the one with the title. Three times she started to dissolve the marriage. Three times! And then, like a cat playing with a mouse, she would have a change of heart and send her loyal manservant to retrieve me. Cold to her core, that woman.”

  “Was it all lies, all smoke and mirrors? Slipping into our church, was it just a game? Finding the weaknesses, marryin’ Anna?” Henrik had set his eyes on her, right from the start.

  “No,” he said, ever so softly, and there was no bluster to be seen or heard. “No, it was not a game to me. It was a new beginning, a fresh start. Magdalena and I were young when we met. We fell wildly in love and ran off to marry, despite the heartache it brought to our families. We were very immature, and both of us strong-willed. Our marriage had difficulties right from the start. It wasn’t long before she took up with another and had me sent away. So when she said she was dissolving the marriage for the third time, I thought she meant it. She had fallen in love with a Danish duke. Each time it happened, my conscience to remain faithful grew quieter. How much can a man bear?” He shrugged his shoulders in a helpless lift. “Es is net gfogt meh zu duh as mer kann.” A man can do no more than he can. “I ask you, is that so wrong?”

  Bairn shook his head. No. Of course not.

  “I had a vivid dream, an awakening. I made a promise to God that I would lead a straight and narrow life in the New World. No more selfish ambition.” He lifted a palm toward Bairn. “And it seemed to be a blessed beginning. After all, you found me on the docks that day. God cleared a path for me, guiding me to your church. And then I met Anna, the sweetest, loveliest woman I have ever known. I thought this was my new destiny, to serve God as best I could with a new life, a new wife.”

  Bairn’s eyebrows raised. “But the countess chased you down all the way to the New World.” He jabbed a finger at his chest. “And you ran away from her. Like a rat to the sewer.”

  “I retreated,” Henrik said reasonably. “I came to this place to seek a time of refuge.” He swept a hand toward the building. “Magdalena does not share my newfound spiritual fervency. I fear she never will.”

  “Newfound? I thought you’d said yer grandfather was a disciple of Jakob Ammann.”

  “Oh, that.” His dark brows rose coolly above his eyes. “Stories are meant to improve some with the telling.”

  Bairn stared at him. With a jolt, he realized that a part of him had started to feel sorry for this man. He was that smooth, that silver-tongued. That fascinating a tale-teller. He spun a web and pulled Bairn right into it.

  “Lach!” A jest. “Some of it’s true, mostly. My grandfather knew someone who was a disciple. Or maybe it was someone in the village who knew someone. It was a long time ago.”

  How could a man do so well by doing so little, by living on lies? That’s what Bairn wanted to know.

  Then Henrik’s smile slipped away. He threw back his shoulders and drew a deep breath. “If you happen upon Magdalena, I would like to rely upon your discretion of my whereabouts.”

  So, that was his plan. To hide here until the countess gave up the hunt and sai
led back to Germany. “Why should I do you any favor?”

  “Because I did many favors for you when you went off to sea. I searched for your brother in Philadelphia. I went out to look for your missing parents. I tried to help your church survive. I comforted Anna when she thought you were dead.” He jammed a finger right back at Bairn’s chest. “I filled your place. Your empty place. A place you left wide open.” A twisted smile crossed his lips. “And then there is this: ‘He who is without sin may cast the first stone.’”

  Aye, there was that.

  “She didn’t love me.”

  Bairn looked up sharply.

  “She only married me to save the church from collapsing.”

  “You didn’t mind being married to a woman who didn’t love you?”

  “Given time, she would have loved me. Had Magdalena dissolved the marriage like she had said she would, and had you stayed away like you were supposed to—” he sighed—“I would be a very contented man. Another opportunity, lost.”

  In that moment, Henrik Newman revealed himself. He was a charming opportunist, nothing more, nothing less.

  Bairn turned to see his mother waiting for him by the wagon. He looked back and met Henrik’s eyes. “It is a surprisingly crowded place, this New World. Take care that our paths do not cross.”

  Henrik nodded, as uncertainty crept into his expression. “I’ll try to keep that in mind.”

  26

  Jacob’s Cabin

  February 7, 1738

  It was long dark when they arrived at her husband’s cabin, this land Dorothea had heard so much about. She hardly recognized her own boy when he ran to greet them. “Felix!”

  He helped her down from the wagon, then spun her in a dizzying circle as he held her. The arms that held her were thicker now, she noticed, and defined with muscle. Laughing, she pulled out of his embrace to better examine him. She could find few signs of lingering boyishness in him.

  But then she saw the boy still within. When Felix caught sight of his father lying in the back of the wagon, he burst into tears. “Is he dead?”

  “No, no.” Dorothea touched her son’s tear-streaked face. “He’s sick, that’s all.”

  Felix led the horse down to the pen to care for him—a horse must be well cared for, he declared with the instructive confidence of an eight-year-old boy, sounding so like his father that it brought tears to her eyes. Bairn and Isaac gently lifted Jacob into the cabin, setting him on a pallet close to the fire to keep him warm. Anna fussed over the baby, how big he’d grown, and then handed him to Peter to hold while she prepared a supper for them to eat. They were famished from two long days of traveling, exhausted.

  Sister Marcella had sent along a bushel of broccoli from the Householders’ provisions, so Dorothea pureed the broccoli for Jacob while the others gathered around the fire, eager to share news of the settlement. The Gerber cabin was nearly done, and with the weather so mild, no snow or rain, they went ahead and moved in. Work had already begun on the Mast cabin. “It gets easier with each one,” Isaac said and, clearly, Bairn was pleased with their ability to work together to achieve such progress.

  Tomorrow, Dorothea planned to pay a surprise visit to Maria at her new cabin. She could just imagine the look on her face when she saw Dorothea. And then they would go visit Barbara.

  She watched her two sons, Bairn and Felix, sitting together on a bench. Across from them sat Anna, with the babe on her lap. Her eyes took in the full measure of the cabin her husband had built for them. How hard he had worked—to the point where his health was jeopardized. Gently, she brushed Jacob’s hair back and bent down to kiss his forehead. Her heart felt full, nearly overflowing.

  “Something’s happened, Bairn,” Isaac said.

  The gentle atmosphere of the room shifted. Dorothea straightened up with a start, bracing herself. The only sound came from the fire’s pop and crackle.

  “We had a visit from land agents sent by the London Company. It seems there’s a problem with the land warrants.”

  “What kind of problem?”

  Isaac looked to Anna to explain further. “Someone has taken out a blanket warrant on the land your father claimed.”

  “That isn’t possible. We have proof. Dinnae you show them the warrants?”

  “I tried, but apparently they’ve been voided. The new owner finalized the claims by paying them in full.”

  “Yer telling me that someone has paid off the land? But who?”

  “We don’t know,” Anna said.

  “But it must have happened recently,” Isaac said. “The newcomer returned from Philadelphia just a few weeks ago and said everything was settled.”

  Dorothea was confused. “Who?”

  Ever eager, Felix spoke up. “The man with the white spot in his hair.”

  “What?” Dorothea turned to Felix. “What did you say?”

  “Weisskeppich.” He pointed to his head. White-headed.

  “His name is Henrik Newman,” Bairn explained. “He came off a ship and joined our church.”

  “I met that man.”

  “I do not think so, Mem. You and Papa had already left Philadelphia by the time the newcomer joined the group.”

  “No, not there. It was at the community. A few months back—mid-November. He knew my name. He said he was staying with all of you. He told me about Bairn and Felix going off to sea. He promised he would tell all of you our whereabouts. But . . . no one came. Not until Bairn arrived. Did this man not tell you where we were?”

  All eyes turned to Anna.

  “No,” she said, shame and disgust in her voice. “No, he did not.”

  Bairn stood, made up a feeble excuse about checking the livestock, and walked outside. He needed time to think. He paced for a while, his thoughts as tattered and frayed as an old rope. At the fire pit, he added a log to its glowing embers, then watched the fire grow. After a while, Anna came out and stood beside him, offering him a tin of hot coffee.

  He took a sip. The warmth of the cup in his hands helped him feel more settled. “I am going to Philadelphia to get this sorted out. The sooner, the better.”

  She glanced at the cabin. “Your father . . . it doesn’t seem as if he’ll last long.”

  “I’m surprised he survived the journey. I was hoping Brother Andrew was wrong about the consumption, though it appeared he was more knowledgeable than I. But I have no doot Jacob Bauer would rather be here, on his land, surrounded by his loved ones.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want to wait . . . for—”

  “For my father to die? Nae, I think he would be quite upset if I let the mischief with these warrants slip away.” He pushed the end of the log into the fire. “There are some things I would like to tell him before I go. Just in case he does not last much longer. I thought, perhaps, I should leave a letter. You could read it to him.”

  “I could. But I think it best if you speak to him from your heart.”

  He glanced at her profile as she stared at the flames. He loved her dearly. All the way back from Ephrata Cloister, he had thought of Henrik’s remark, that she married him to save the church. It made perfect sense to Bairn; she would do such a noble thing. Anna König was the most fearless person he had ever known.

  “Your mother seems quite well. Surprisingly . . . ,” she searched for the right word, “. . . sturdy.”

  “Aye. And that is not a word I have ever heard ascribed to her. It seems as if her time over at Ephrata Cloister helped to ground her. I suppose that’s one thing we could thank Henrik Newman for—not letting anyone know he knew where they were.” He was glad she couldn’t see his face in the darkness, for he knew a trace of hostility toward the man shone in his eyes. “Anna, what happened to my mother over at Ephrata—a similar thing happened to me on the ship these last few months. A grounding, deep inside.” A vanquishing of fear. “I have no doot where I belong. Not any longer.”

  She was listening, but her eyes were fixed on the flickering fire. “It’s that time of yea
r when ships start coming and going, is it not?”

  “Darlin’, will you nae trust me again?” He put an arm around her shoulder. “Will you always question my comin’ and goin’?”

  She shook her head, stepping back, moving out of reach of his touch. “How do I know that you won’t leave again when life gets difficult, or when you have that itch to go, or when the sea calls your name?”

  He turned her full around to face him, so that she could look into his eyes and know him for what he was. “I don’t deserve you, Anna. I ken that. But I’m not leaving this time. I’m stayin’—for you, for my family, for the church. I’m not leaving. You must believe me.”

  “I want to. But I just don’t know if a man can change who he is. Henrik Newman couldn’t.”

  He felt a stain of color spread across his sharp cheekbones. To be compared to that rogue! It was humiliating. “Well, then, lassie, I’ll just have to prove it to you.”

  That night, Bairn hardly slept. He knew the trip to Philadelphia to sort out the land warrants might take a long stretch, so he spent time writing specific instructions for Isaac, Christian, and Josef to carry on with their work in his absence. Simon too. He always forgot about him, he was such a lazy man. He tried to sleep for an hour or two, then gave up and prepared to leave for Philadelphia.

  He crouched beside his father’s sleeping pallet. He needed to take the first step and his heart thumped hard. He picked up his father’s aged hand and held it between his, startled by the sight. This was an old man’s hand, webbed with wrinkles and liver-spotted. “We have some things to settle between us, Papa,” he whispered. His father’s eyes fluttered open, but Bairn was not at all sure he would be heard or understood. Still, Anna was right—it was best if he spoke from his heart.

  “Those years, when I was lost to you . . .” He stopped, his voice cracking. This was hard, so hard, to speak so frankly. It didn’t come easily to him. “They were not lost years. I learned a great deal, and grew to be a man. I forgive you, Papa. I forgive you for leaving me when I needed you the most.” He took a deep breath. “And I ask you to forgive me for leaving you, you and Mem, when ye needed me the most.”