The Heart's Frontier

TEN





Emma sat on the empty trunk beneath a tall tree on the riverbank and tried not to look anyone in the eye. She hadn’t meant to cause a stampede. Granted, she didn’t know cattle would startle so easily. And she certainly didn’t mean for so many to run straight into the river. After the first two sank belly-deep in the mud, couldn’t the rest of them see the predicament and stop?

And after all that, their trunk was empty. All her belongings, along with Mama’s quilt, had been removed. Luke had barely spoken a word since his men fished him out of the river, half drowned. And he certainly couldn’t be pleased right now. Once again he was waist deep in the rushing water trying to haul his cattle out. She kept her gaze to the ground lest he looked up and saw her misery.

“Jonas, pull her out,” Luke called from the middle of the river.

She raised her eyes to watch without lifting her head. Papa had one end of a length of rope around an ox’s neck, the other end secured around a steer in the river. Jesse stood on one side of the frightened animal, and Luke on the other. Papa led the ox, pulling the bellowing steer forward. Its head disappeared under the water, cutting off the sound with a gurgle, and then it resurfaced a moment later, still bawling. The steer was dragged onto the shore, where it wallowed on the grass, loudly voicing its displeasure.

Luke cut the knot from around its middle while Jesse loosened the second rope with which they had tied the rear legs together to stop the steer from struggling. They both jumped back when the animal broke loose. It scrambled to its feet and trotted off down the trail toward the main herd.

The cow’s rescue set the rest of them to hollering. Emma’s gaze swept over the last six bovine bodies mired fast in the muddy riverbed bottom. With only the top of their backs and their heads sticking up out of the water, they were like a logjam of frightened roasts. The sound of their bawls filled the air, accompanied by the shouts of cowboys who hollered instructions to each other about how to safely maneuver them out.

It was all her fault.

Emma’s chin drooped lower on her chest.

Up in the wagon, Maummi straightened from a crouched position, a hand pressed against the small of her back. She’d inspected every square inch of her hutch, and judging by her fierce expression, she wasn’t happy with the condition. She stepped to the wagon’s rear edge and sat, preparing to drop to the ground. Griff hurried to help her.

“Here you go, ma’am.” With strong arms, he lifted her down and set her on the grass as gently as if handling a baby.

Maummi brushed her apron and looked sideways up at him. “Danki.” Then she switched her gaze to Emma. “Dopplich Englischers. A scratch, on the far side. Forty years and no scratches. Now?” She sliced through the air with a vicious gesture. “A scratch.”

“I saw that, ma’am.” Griff hooked a thumb in his belt. “More a scrape than a scratch. You might be able to buff it out when you get to where you’re going.”

She pursed her lips but acknowledged the suggestion with the faintest of nods.

The old cowboy turned a kind gaze toward Emma. “Don’t feel too bad, miss. The sight of that wagon tipping would have stampeded me too. Nothing but plain bad luck that the cattle spooked in the direction of the river. Since we didn’t lose a single head, there’s no cause to fret. There’s not a man here who hasn’t seen worse than this.”

For some reason, his kindness only made Emma’s misery worse. Swallowing against a lump in her throat, she managed a weak smile of gratitude.

Even Maummi spoke in a voice without its usual sharp edge. “Did any of our things in the trunk survive?”

Emma drew in a shuddering breath. “Nothing.”

“I’m guessing when that wagon got mired down, the thieves packed up whatever they could carry and chucked the rest in the river.” Griff turned to look upstream. “All except that stuff over there.”

Emma jerked upright. He pointed to a small cluster of trees behind them.

“Not much left, and some of it took a beating, but we moved it out of the way so the herd wouldn’t trample it any further.”

“Rebecca,” Maummi called as she headed toward the trees. “Lend a hand, girl.”

Rebecca turned from her vantage point on the bank and followed. With a quick “Thank you” to Griff, Emma hurried after them.

Stuff was an appropriate description for the mound of clutter piled on a grassless embankment inside a small copse of trees. Emma stood, speechless, and stared at the havoc that had been made of their belongings. Everything had been uncrated, and the few breakable dishes Maummi had carefully wrapped for the journey lay in shards. A couple of the crates had been splintered.

Maummi crossed to the other side of the jumble to where her rocking chair lay on its side. She stood over it and peered downward. “Broken.”

Emma knelt and grasped the corner of a bed sheet between a thumb and forefinger. When she lifted it up, she spied several slashes in the fabric, as though it had been purposefully cut with a knife.

“Why are they so mean?” Rebecca tugged a black garment free of the rubble, and then another. Dresses. They had been similarly destroyed.

A frantic flutter began behind Emma’s breastbone. Had the thieves slashed Mama’s quilt to pieces? She bent over and began tossing things out of the way, searching for a glimpse of bright color or the thick bag in which she’d wrapped it. Nothing.

“Here’s something, anyway.” Rebecca lifted a heavy black skillet out of the wreckage and held it up for Maummi’s inspection.

The old lady’s scowl deepened. “Why could we not find it before we paid good money for a new one?”

Behind them, the volume of the cattle’s frightened mooing diminished, and Emma peeked through the trees. Another cow had been rescued and galloped after the other.

While Maummi began the task of separating the few usable items from the debris, Rebecca sidled over to her.

“Why did you run toward the wagon, Emma?” She spoke low enough that Maummi wouldn’t make out the words while her attention was elsewhere. “Did you think to hold it upright yourself when four men could not?”

Emma kept her eyes averted under the pretense of picking up a sadly bedraggled prayer kapp. “I didn’t think anything. I ran because…” She shrugged. “I don’t know.”

In the silence that followed, she formed an unspoken prayer of forgiveness for the blatant lie.

And for the alarming reason behind her foolish action.





When the last steer had been hauled out of the river, Luke climbed the bank and collapsed beside his men lying on the grass. The work had been exhausting, and as he lay beside Jesse, his muscles protested. Judging by the sounds of the moans coming from the others, his weren’t the only ones.

Jesse spoke without opening his eyes. “She’s staring at me.”

Luke turned his head to eye his friend. “Who?”

“The younger one. Been staring at me all afternoon. It’s starting to make me edgy.”

A glance toward the Switzers’ wagon revealed Rebecca standing by the bench, her face turned their way. “How do you know she’s not staring at me?”

“First of all, because I’m better lookin’ than you.” A weak chuckle rumbled in his chest. “Second of all, watch.”

Jesse rolled onto his side and propped up on one arm to look the girl in the face. Startled, she swung around and became suddenly busy fiddling with something on the wagon bench. Her shoulders shook with a girlish giggle.

“See? She’s spooking me.”

“Since when did a girl’s attention spook you?”

“Since the girl isn’t older than thirteen or fourteen. Add another five years and it would be a different story.” He drew in a sharp breath with a hiss when he rolled back around to face Luke. “I think I busted a gut on that dad gum wagon. Thing’s as heavy as a full-grown steer.”

“That reminds me.” Luke sat up and rested his arms on his knees. “I haven’t thanked you for saving my hide back there.”

“You’re welcome.” Wincing, Jesse rose to sit beside him. “So now I figure you owe me a steak dinner and a bottle of whiskey when we get to Hays.”

He chuckled. “You know I won’t buy your whiskey, but I’ll buy you a bath and a shave. How’s that?”

“That’s all your life’s worth? A bath and a shave?”

“Nope. I’m worth a five-dollar steak, not one of those cheap things you’d try and force on me.” He grinned sideways. “But you need a bath. You’re starting to smell so bad you’re scaring the herd.”

Jesse pointed at the river. “I had my bath, thank you. And washed my long johns at the same time.”

Speaking of which, Luke would welcome some dry clothes. He climbed to his feet and scanned the sky. The storm had skirted around them to the north. He glanced toward the herd. From this vantage point he could see the chuck wagon in the distance on the far side. When the cattle had mired in the muck, he’d sent word to halt and let the herd graze. Kirk, Morris, and Vic kept guard while the rest had helped out with the rescue. Judging by the position of the sun, they only had a couple of hours of travel time left before they would need to find a good place to bed down for the night. He searched his memory of his last drive on the Chisholm Trail. As far as he could remember, there wasn’t another appropriate place within four hours of here. This would have to be it. What was a couple more hours when they had lost a full day?

He spoke to the men lying in the grass around him. “We’ll graze the herd a little longer and then settle them here for the night.” Jesse drew breath for an accusation, but Luke held up a hand to stop him. “It’s my fault. You men did a good job today. Let’s get those cattle taken care of and then get some extra shut-eye ourselves. Tomorrow we’ll get an early start.”

There was less grumbling than expected when the men rose and started gathering their belongings.

“I hope the cook ain’t serving beans again tonight,” Charlie said to no one in particular. He winked. “Been noisy enough around here today.”

Griff scooped his hat off the ground. “Some of those molasses cakes he whips up sure would go down good. Got an ache in my sweet tooth tonight.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Luke promised. “You fellows go on ahead. I’ll be along in a minute.”

They mounted their horses, and when the rest headed in the direction of the herd, Jesse paused to look down at him. “She’s doing it again.”

Luke glanced toward the Switzers’ wagon, where Rebecca stood openly staring in Jesse’s direction. When he looked her way, she giggled and turned away, more slowly this time.

Jesse shook his head, disgusted. “Can’t say I’m sorry to see the last of those Aim-ish.” He kicked his horse into a start and galloped off.

When he’d gone, Luke headed toward Jonas, who was inspecting the yoke still attached to his wagon. Mrs. Switzer was up in the back, sorting through a crate, while Rebecca stood watching Jesse ride away. He didn’t trust himself to look beyond the wagon, where Emma knelt in the grass beside the big trunk. Every time he remembered the sight of her running toward those cattle, spooking them into the river, anger heated the blood in his veins. No one had been harmed today, but wrestling a frightened steer mired in river muck had killed more than one cowhand in the past. She’d endangered the lives of his men and delayed his herd’s progress by several hours. No amount of sweet smiles could make up for that.

“Everything look okay?” he asked Jonas when he approached.

“Ja.” The man stood. “I can work around the missing pins. I feared for the bows, but thank the Lord they suffered no damage.”

“That’s good.” He glanced toward the oxen grazing nearby. “They are going to make you a fine team. They pulled hard and steady today. Made the job of getting the cattle out of the river easier and quicker than trying to use horses. Thanks for lending us a hand.”

A smile turned the corners of his shaved lips upward. “It is what friends do.”

Friends. Yes, he could honestly say he had made an Amish friend in Jonas. “You’d better get a move on if you want to make good time tonight.”

He shook his head. “Like you, we will stop here and start fresh tomorrow.”

“You need me to give you a hand with anything?”

“You have done much. Truly, you have been the Lord’s blessing to us. Our debt goes far beyond the money you have spent.”

Luke smiled and cocked his hat. “Which you’ll pay back, right?”

Solemn-faced, Jonas raised a hand, palm out. “You have my word.”

That his word was good, Luke had no doubt. He extended his hand, and Jonas took it in his strong, calloused grip.

“Good luck to you,” Luke said.

“The Lord bless your journey,” Jonas responded.

When he turned, Rebecca had fetched Bo and handed him the reins with a smile. “Thank you for the oxen and the candy and…everything. You will be in my prayers, Mr. Carson.”

In the back of the wagon, old Mrs. Switzer rose to tower over him. Was that disapproving stare of hers slightly less stern than before? Probably only because she was about to see the last of him. She straightened and lifted her chin as though about to impart a particularly important piece of wisdom.

“Danki.” That said, her lips snapped shut and she returned to her work.

“You’re most welcome. God go with you, ma’am.” Chuckling, Luke started to climb up into the saddle. A movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention, and he paused with his boot in the stirrup. Emma approached, her head downcast, her hands folded in front of her apron.

“I am sorry I almost drowned your cows.”

Her voice was so low he had to bend down to catch the words. Something inside him stirred with compassion, but he squashed it. This girl could have cost the lives of a dozen cattle, not to mention his men.

He kept his voice cool. “I accept your apology.”

A moment’s hesitation, and then a nod. She started to turn away.

Luke took his foot out of the stirrup. A wet slosh when he set it on the ground served as an unpleasant and unnecessary reminder of this afternoon’s near disaster. He stopped her with a question.

“What were you doing, anyway? Screaming and running as though you were chasing hens in a chicken yard?”

“I…” A blush stained the curved cheek half turned away from him. “I was worried about Maummi’s hutch.”

For some reason her answer whipped up his anger the way wind whips up a bonfire. Why, when that was exactly the explanation he’d expected? He set his teeth together to keep from snapping a response and swung up into the saddle. When he was looking down at the top of her kapp, which was no longer blindingly white and sat cockeyed on her head, words ground out between his teeth.

“Have a nice life, Miss Switzer.”

With a kick from soggy boots, he urged Bo into a gallop toward the herd, glad to have his duty over.