The Heart's Frontier

ELEVEN





The gathering around the campfire ended early. McCann usually kept the men entertained with stories and singing, but tonight they were too tired to do much more than shovel fried beef, beans, and molasses cakes into their mouths.

Those who had the first guard of the night retrieved their night horses from the remuda and rode off to stand watch over the sleeping herd. The others slipped away one by one to their bedrolls. Soon only Griff and Luke were left seated around the banked fire, while McCann banged around in the chuck wagon, lining up breakfast.

A log collapsed in the fire pit, and sparks shot upward to disappear into the dark sky. The wood snapped and crackled as fresh flame engulfed it. From the direction of the river, a chorus of tree frogs serenaded sleeping men and cattle.

“Sure was a full day in the saddle, eh?”

“Wasn’t much of it spent in the saddle.” Luke winced at the note of self-recrimination in his voice.

“Quit beating yourself up, son. Everything turned out okay. We did some folks a good turn and lost nothing but a few hours. We’ll make it up tomorrow.”

The man was being kind. Luke appreciated it, but he refused to accept the grace offered. “We lost more than a few hours, Griff. We lost a whole day, thanks to me.” He picked up a piece of dry bark off the ground and tossed it into the fire. “A day we can’t afford to lose.”

“We’ll get to Hays on time.” The firelight cast an orange glow over his creased features. “You got any idea what that little gal was running after?”

A humorless laugh rumbled from Luke’s chest. “Yeah. That monster of a hutch. Like she could have done anything to stop that wagon from tipping over.”

“Ain’t that the truth?” From the confidence in the man’s tone, it almost sounded as though Griff were goading him. “You’re sure that was her worry? To save that hutch?”

“She told me so herself.”

“Doesn’t matter what she told you.” He leaned back on one elbow and looked up at the night sky. “I know different.”

His manner was one of a man who knew something and was purposefully holding it back. Luke got hold of his temper before he spoke again “What do you know, Griff? Or think you know?”

“You heard her scream when that wagon started to tip?”

“Yeah.” He remembered wondering who had screamed after he’d stepped back into the muck.

“Well, you probably didn’t hear what she said after that as she was running to help. I did, because I was standing closer than anyone else, watching out in case Jonas needed a quick hand with those oxen.” Griff studied him with a sharp eye. “She was crying out your name.”

Luke jerked upright. The man couldn’t have surprised him more if he’d slapped him awake with a wet towel to the face. “Mine?”

“Yep. Like this.” Griff lifted a hand to flutter over his heart dramatically, and swept his eyes upward. He affected a high, feminine voice. “Luke! Oh, no. Luke!”

Griff started to laugh, and a flush crept into Luke’s face at the ribbing. He picked up a green branch the width of his thumb and used it as a poker to stir the fire. The old man’s deep guffaws gave way to a cough, and the hacking doubled him over for a minute. When he caught his breath, he was still chuckling.

“At least one of us finds your joke funny,” Luke said in a voice as dry as a Texas plain.

“Oh, it’s funny, all right, but I’m not joking. That little slip of a girl was running to rescue you, calling out your name.”

Disbelief stole over Luke. Emma was coming to his rescue? Not that she could have done a thing. And her help caused far more harm than good, but knowing why she acted as she did started a warm glow simmering in the pit of his belly.

He turned around and strained through the darkness, looking over the sleeping herd. There, in the distance, a campfire flickered in the area where he’d left the Switzers and their wagon. The memory of Emma as he left her, her head downcast, wrenched something in his chest. He’d responded coldly to her apology. There’d been no cause for that. Especially when she’d only been trying to help.

With a rattle and a grunt, McCann climbed down out of the chuck wagon. Luke turned back to see him bend over and pick up the metal dishpan by the handle. “I aim to give these dishes a good scrub in the river, and then I’m hitting the sack.”

He crossed to the campfire and hooked the arm of his cook pot off the tripod with a towel.

An idea formed in Luke’s mind. “What are you going to do with the rest of those beans?”

“Throw them out, unless you boys want them.” He looked from Luke to Griff.

“Not me.” Griff patted a rounded belly. “I ate my fill.”

“Rather than throw them out, do you have a crock or a smaller pot I can put them in?” Luke cleared his throat and cast a warning glance at Griff to keep his silence. “Those folks back behind us might appreciate a sample from the best cook on the Chisholm Trail.”

McCann looked at the pot in his hand and shrugged. “I got a couple of empty cans I can put them in.”

He headed back to the chuck wagon. The axle creaked when he climbed up inside, while Luke carefully avoided eye contact with Griff.

The old man rose to his feet and stood in front of Luke. “You and I have guard duty together in a couple of hours. You’ll be back by then, won’t you?”

Luke cleared his throat. “Of course. I’m only going to drop in on them for a minute and check to make sure they don’t need anything.”

“Uh-huh.”

When Griff turned away and headed toward the front of the chuck wagon, Luke glimpsed a grin deepening the creases around the edges of his mouth.





Emma sat beside the campfire and gritted her teeth against the tug of the comb through her hair. Maummi’s hand had never been gentle with this nightly task. When she was little, Mama used to comb her hair with such care that Emma hardly knew the task was being accomplished.

Thoughts of Mama turned her mind to the lost quilt, and the sting of tears prickled her eyes.

Stop it! There is no sense in being silly over a piece of fabric.

She blinked hard and managed to banish the tears before they filled her eyes. It wasn’t only the quilt bothering her tonight. The blundering dash that caused the incident with the cows, followed by Luke’s chilly farewell, lay heavy on her heart. But what weighed her spirits down most was the underlying cause for her action. Hours before, she’d determined to stay true to her faith and her community and reject thoughts of the handsome Englisch man. But what happened when she saw that hutch tilting toward him in the water? An emotional wave unlike anything she’d ever felt washed over her, and her feet carried her toward him at a run.

This doesn’t mean I care for him. I’d feel the same no matter who was in danger.

Would she? Oh, how she hoped that were true.

“There.” Maummi finished weaving her hair into a tight braid and tied off the end with a strip of leather.

“Finished in good time,” Papa said from the other side of the fire. He stood and lifted the rocking chair he’d been working on. “Good thing you are light, Mader, else this might dump you on the ground. When we arrive home, I will do a proper repair.”

“Home?” Rebecca, seated beside Papa, started to attention. “Not to Troyer?”

Papa placed the chair on the hard-packed dirt near the fire. “The Lord has restored a portion of what the enemy took from us, and I am grateful. But He has seen fit to put us in debt to an Englisch man.”

Maummi quoted a proverb. “‘The debt that is paid is best.’”

He smiled. “Ja. I cannot ask Bishop Miller to repay the large debt I owe Luke Carson. We must return home, so I can repay my own debt as soon as needs be.” He turned a tender smile Emma’s way. “It appears the Lord has granted me more time with my daughter.”

Warmth flooded Emma at the love she saw in her papa’s face. Rarely did he display emotion, and even more rarely did he speak of it. Instead, he showed his love every day through hard work and dedication to his family’s well-being. Tonight, when her feelings were so near the surface, his unexpected words moved her nearly to tears.

A satisfied grunt that was almost a purr came from low in Maummi’s throat, though the news that they weren’t going to Troyer hit Rebecca hard. Her mouth turned downward in a pout. “But I thought the Lord told you to send Emma to Troyer in the first place. Did He change His mind, then?”

Emma held her breath, shocked at her sister’s question. Such disrespect as to question both the Lord and Papa in the same breath. Rebecca must be extremely disappointed in the decision to voice such a rebellious thought.

Papa turned a thoughtful expression her way. “Would you have me question the reason for the Lord’s directives like Job of old?”

The mild rebuke was as harsh as Papa ever gave, and Rebecca snapped her mouth shut. He stared at her a moment and then put a hand on the top of her bowed head. “The Lord’s reasons are unknowable, daughter, but we must trust that He has them.”

When she nodded, Emma released the breath she’d been holding. Papa was right. Though returning home might look contradictory to the Lord’s initial direction, who knew but that He sent them on this disastrous journey in order to accomplish His unfathomable will? What that might be, involving the theft and destruction of their belongings, she could not imagine, unless it was to emphasize the truth of His sufficiency and their dependency on His daily provision for their needs.

Or perhaps He wanted us to meet someone along the way.

She shoved a sudden thought of Luke out of her mind.

Papa gave the chair a gentle push that set it to rocking, and then he stood back and spoke to Maummi. “Come and try out my work.”

Emma rose and helped her grandmother stand. The broken pieces of the chair leg had been fitted together and secured with sturdy slats from the useless crates and bound with rope like a splint on a broken leg. Two spindles in the back had to be removed, but they were not side-by-side, so the resulting gaps weren’t big enough for a body to slip through.

When she’d seated herself gingerly and gave a trial rock or two, she nodded. “A fine job. Danki, Jonas.”

At the sound of approaching hooves, Emma’s muscles tensed. Had the thieves returned to steal Papa’s new oxen? A quick glance at Papa’s face confirmed the idea had occurred to him too, though the only sign that he anticipated trouble was a tightening of his lips as he straightened and faced the approaching stranger. She couldn’t make out details, but she relaxed a fraction when she saw the silhouette of a lone man on horseback. A moment later he rode into view, and her muscles tensed again.

Luke.

Papa’s posture relaxed when he identified their visitor. Rebecca jumped to her feet, smiling broadly, but Maummi stopped her from running toward the horse with a hand on her arm. Emma remained where she was beside the fire, her legs drawn up beneath her dress, arms wrapped around them. Had he come back to chastise her for her foolish behavior? If she could slink off into the darkness and hide, she would. Instead, she hugged her legs closer and rested her chin on her knees.

“Evening, folks.” Luke dismounted, looped his horse’s reins around a nearby tree branch, and strode into the circle of firelight cradling a bundle in one hand. “I’m on guard duty soon, but I thought I’d check to see if everything’s going okay here first.”

“You are welcome to share our fire.” Papa gestured for him to be seated.

“Thank you.”

Instead of sitting on the opposite side, near Papa, he came around the campfire and dropped to the ground between Emma and Maummi. Surprised, Emma drew her feet up closer to her body and hugged her legs even more tightly.

He set his bundle between them and unwrapped the thick cloth covering two large cans and a smaller cloth-wrapped package. A savory odor arose from the open cans. “My cook thought you might be able to make use of these beans for your supper, ma’am, or maybe your breakfast.” He offered them to Maummi.

Maummi regarded the cans with obvious suspicion. “You have given us much already, Mr. Carson. We would not like to be a burden and take your food as well.”

“Ah, don’t worry about that.” Luke turned an endearing smile up at her. “We ate well, and these were the leavings. If you don’t want them, the cook will throw them out.”

Her eyebrows arched and her lips pursed. Emma knew her grandmother well, so she had no difficulty following her thoughts. Hadn’t she heard the lesson often enough? Waste is ungratefulness for God’s bounty. Maummi rose from her chair and took the cans from his hands, and then she inclined her head. “Danki to your cook.” She headed toward the wagon, a can in each hand.

“I snagged these too.” He picked up the smaller bundle and folded back the cloth to reveal a pile of flat little cakes.

He reached around the empty rocking chair and handed two to Rebecca, indicating with a nod for her to pass one to Papa. Then he turned and extended one toward Emma. Turmoil churned her insides. Why was he being so nice? By all rights he should have ridden off and counted himself lucky to be rid of her. That’s what she thought he’d done a few hours ago.

When she reached for the cake, his fingers curled around it to prevent her from taking it. Startled, she raised her gaze to his.

“I wanted to apologize for being short with you earlier.” A softness crept into his voice. “You had no way of knowing that these cattle were prone to run after their stampede the other night. I shouldn’t have taken my temper out on you. Will you forgive me?”

A note of tenderness softened the gaze that held hers. She could push no words past the lump that wedged in her throat. When she nodded, he opened his fingers to release the cake.

“Ahem.”

Emma tore her gaze away and fixed it on her grandmother, who was standing at the back of the wagon with a fork in one hand and a can of beans in the other. Her direct stare and crooked eyebrows spoke her disapproval louder than words could. Emma returned the stare without blinking. Would Maummi have her be rude and ignore his apology? Or did she worry that Luke intended more by his words and gesture than mere regret for a hasty reaction? The thought sent a happy thrill through her. On the other side of the empty rocking chair, Rebecca chewed a mouthful of cake, her round eyes fixed on Emma. Papa’s calm countenance had not changed as he relished his treat with obvious enjoyment.

Luke spoke to Maummi in an easy tone. “How do those beans taste, ma’am?”

After a moment, and a weighty glance at Emma, her glower faded. She made a show of dipping the fork in the can and extracting a small sample. Her gaze became distant as she chewed, and then she gave an approving nod.

“Good.” She tested another sample. “He cooks like a man, with no touch for seasoning. But good.”

A relieved sigh seeped out of Emma’s lungs. If Maummi complimented a man’s cooking, that meant she was prepared to be nice. Either Luke was beginning to win her over with his kind ways, or she had decided that there was no cause to be cross because in the morning he would be on his way and out of her hair.

Luke laughed. “I’ll relay the message.”

He settled himself on the ground with his feet toward the fire and his hat resting on the ground behind him. The knots in Emma’s stomach loosened as she bit into the cake. A good flavor but a little crunchy. Nothing near as good as Maummi’s, or even her own since she learned cooking skills at first her mother’s and then Maummi’s hands. She took it as a sign of the elderly woman’s determination to be nice when she settled back into the rocker, bit into her own cake, and said, “As well, good. A handful of chopped nuts wouldn’t hurt them any.”

“They are a favorite of the boys on the trail.” Luke popped the last of his cake in his mouth and leaned back, his manner easy. “Were you able to recover many of your things from the mess those marauders left?”

“They ripped up all our linens, and even our dresses and Papa’s breeches.” Rebecca pulled a face. “And everything they didn’t rip, they smashed.”

“Not everything.” Emma worked hard to keep the bitterness from her voice, but the probable fate of Mama’s quilt weighed heavily on her mind. “What they didn’t destroy, they stole.”

Luke turned his head to look her way. “You had something in that trunk, didn’t you? Something special.”

Tears sprang to her eyes at the sympathy in his tone. She nodded. “A quilt made by my mother.”

Papa’s gentle voice admonished her. “But we have forgiven them, haven’t we, daughters?”

Rebecca lowered her head, and Emma avoided the searching gaze that sought hers from across the fire. Times like these made her wonder if she would ever be ready to take the training and receive baptism. Surely forgiveness was the hardest teaching in all of Die Bibel. Forgiving Rebecca for a hasty word, or her friend Katie for slighting her at a Sunday night singing, was hard enough. But to forgive lawless men who had stolen one of the few precious ties she had to her mother? It would take her a lifetime to learn how to do that.

Luke might have been hearing her thoughts. “If you can forgive those no-good thieves, you’re a better man than I am, Jonas. You know if they cross your path again they’ll do the same thing.”

Papa nodded. “In all likelihood.”

Maummi rocked back in her chair and quoted, “Und vergib uns unsre Sünden, denn auch wir vergeben allen, die uns schuldig sind.”

“Pardon me, ma’am?”

“It is from Die Bibel,” Papa explained. “‘We forgive, even as we are forgiven.’” He shrugged. “It is our way.”

Maummi nodded, as if that explained everything. Luke’s expression betrayed his struggle to understand, but he remained silent, probably out of respect for their beliefs. The thought warmed Emma. A man who respected others deserved respect himself. Did he know Die Bibel? A person didn’t have to be Amish to love the Word of God.

Curiosity pushed a question out of her mouth before she could stop it. “Do you have faith of your own, Luke?”

A smile crooked his lips. “I used to think so until I met you folks. When I was a boy, my grandma read to me from the Bible at night.” His gaze slid upward to Maummi. “Only hers was in English. I loved the stories about David and the Philistine, and Noah, and so on. I learned my letters reading about the Lord’s life and death. She and Ma took me to preaching every time the preacher came to town, and when I was nine I was baptized in a river.” He glanced behind his back, where the waters of the river reflected a soft moonlight. “Kind of like this one, only without the muck.”

Maummi’s rocking stopped abruptly. “You are Christian, then?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He ducked his head. “I do a lot of thinking and praying during long days in the saddle. I admit, though, it’s been a number of years since I read the Bible on my own.”

“Your grandmother lived with you?” Rebecca grinned up at Maummi. “Like ours?”

“That’s right. Pa was a farmer early on, like you, Jonas.” He nodded across the fire. “But then he got a chance to ride along on a cattle drive back when I was seven or eight. He took to the trail and wasn’t home much after that. Grandma helped Ma raise me and my brothers. We worked hard on that farm.”

While he talked, he picked up a stick and scratched absently in the dirt they had cleared around their campfire. Emma watched his profile. His eyes grew distant with memories, and the hint of a smile played around his lips.

“Do you miss farm life?” she asked.

Her question jerked him out of his reverie. He gave a quick shrug. “Sometimes.”

“What happened to your farm?” Papa asked.

“The bank took it.” The words were clipped through tight lips. “That’s when I joined up with my pa on my first cattle drive. I’ve been riding the beef ever since.” He tossed the stick into the fire.

An ache tugged at Emma’s heart at the idea of losing his family’s farm. When he stopped being a cowboy, where would he go if he had no home? Her gaze was drawn to the drawing he’d etched in the dirt. At the top, a half circle pointing downward with lines radiating from the outside. Below, a smaller half circle faced up.

“What is this?” she asked.

He looked at the drawing as though startled to see it there. “A silly sketch. When I was younger I had plans to buy a farm one day and raise my own herd. You’ve seen the Triple Bar brand on the cattle in my herd?” Emma nodded. “That’s Mr. Hancock’s brand, and it’s pretty plain. I always wanted something different. I wasted hours designing a brand for my cattle.” He pointed to the top circle. “That’s a sun, and that,” his finger indicated the smaller inside circle, “is a C on its back, called a lazy C. My grandma used to tease me when I was a boy.” He stiffened his back and adopted a high-pitched tone. “‘Luke Carson, the sun done risen over your head, you lazy boy. Git up outta that bed.’” He laughed. “She knew I used to stay in bed on purpose to rile her.”

Everyone joined in with a chuckle, even Maummi. A glance at her face revealed a softer expression than Emma had seen her display for Luke yet. The comment sounded so much like something Maummi would say, full of honeyed vinegar. Sharp, but with the sweetness of love to tone down the bitter taste.

Luke picked up his hat and climbed to his feet. When he stood, he swept his boot in the dirt and blotted out the sketch. Emma wasn’t sure anyone had noticed except her. Something about the finality of the unobtrusive motion saddened her.

“I need to get back. I don’t want Griff thinking I’ve left him to stand guard alone.” He set the hat on his head, and nodded toward Rebecca. “It’s been a pleasure meeting you.”

She climbed to her feet and dipped into a polite curtsey. “Thank you for the cakes.”

“Glad you liked them.” He offered a hand to Maummi. “I enjoyed meeting you, ma’am. I hope you get those scratches out of your hutch.”

“Danki, Mr. Carson. The Lord keep you safe on your travels.”

When Emma pulled her feet beneath her to rise, Luke turned to help her stand. She stared at the hand he extended. A strong hand, well shaped. She laid her hand inside his, and his fingers wrapped around hers, cradling them like tender arms around a newborn. Throat constricted, she allowed him to pull her to her feet.

“Have a nice life, Miss Switzer.”

The same farewell he’d spoken earlier, only this time the words were gentle, almost whispered. His gaze searched her face, as though memorizing her features, until she felt heat rise up her neck and threaten to flood her cheeks. Thank goodness for the dim orange glow of the firelight that might hide an embarrassing blush.

“You too, Luke.” Gently, she extracted her hand from his and swept it behind her back to clutch it in the other.

He shook hands with Papa. “Safe travels, Jonas. I hope you get to Troyer without any more trouble.”

“We have decided to return home,” Papa told him. “Will you stay in Hays until Wednesday? I will bring your money there.”

At the mention of Luke staying in Hays, a few miles from Apple Grove, Emma’s hopes rose, only to be dashed at Papa’s arrangement to pay back his debt. On the occasions when Papa and the other men of Apple Grove ventured into the infamously wild town, the women rarely joined them. If Luke didn’t come to the farm to collect his debt, she would not see him again.

Luke’s head cocked in surprise, but he made no comment on the change in their plans. “I’ll be staying over a few days to take care of some business and arrange for my next cattle drive. You can find me at the Howell House.”

His farewells made, he mounted his horse and turned it toward his camp. For a moment he paused outside the ring of firelight, a tall figure silhouetted by a narrow sliver of moon. Then he turned Bo toward the herd of cattle and galloped away. Emma fought a lingering sense of loss as she watched his shadow melt into the darkness.

It was a very good thing this Englisch man was gone from her life.

A very sad but good thing.