The Heart's Frontier

TWELVE





Morning saw the herd up and ready to move early. Luke’s sleep had been fitful after his watch, plagued by dreams of his boyhood farm and working alongside his ma, back before she died of consumption. The morning sun burned his tired eyes, and it was a good thing McCann’s coffee was strong enough to raise the dead this morning. As he filled his mug for the second time, he scanned the landscape behind them. A thin line of smoke rising into the sky told him the Switzers were up early. Today was Thursday, and the herd had lost yesterday. They had to cover considerable ground today. If they did, they would still arrive in Hays with a day to spare before the cattle train left on Monday.

After a hearty breakfast of biscuits and gravy, Luke took his place in the lead with Jesse and Kirk riding point. He pointed Bo toward the herd and watched his boys take up their positions. Griff, Kirk, and Morris stood ready at the flank positions. Vic whistled and clucked to his charges in the remuda, and they were ready to go. Charlie and Willie galloped toward the back of the herd, and as Luke watched, he couldn’t help taking a final glance toward the Switzers’ campsite. The smoke from their campfire had ceased, and that big hutch was an unmistakable landmark in the back of that wagon. The reddish hair of the oxen was also visible, yoked at the front of the wagon. The Switzers had broken camp and were on the move.

Right behind his herd.

“All right.” He whistled. “Move ’em out.”

The call went down the line, Griff shouting back toward Charlie and Willie. Full bellies, plenty of water, and an easy day had rendered the cattle cooperative. The lead cows surged ahead without much prodding, and the rest followed. In a short time, they had spread out wide on the prairie and settled into a comfortable gait. The day promised to be hot, with few clouds in the sky to break the sun’s heat. Luke decided not to push too hard, but set an easy pace.

A few hours into the day’s journey they left the river behind and headed northwest across a wide plain. Easy travel, because the only interruption to the landscape were stands of flowering persimmon, bittersweet berries that by fall would be a deep red, and tall black walnut trees. According to Luke’s map, by early evening they should be able to make up the ground lost by the stampede and pick up their previous route, the western variation of the Chisholm Trail that headed toward Hays. At that point the Switzers would veer off to the west and head home. He turned in the saddle to check their location.

Still there.

All morning they had kept up, and now it looked as though the wagon had gained a little on the herd.

Jesse rode up beside him, his expression dark. “What in tarnation is going on?”

“What?”

He jerked his head backward. “That Aim-ish bunch is following us.”

Rather than give his friend anything to harp about, he glanced over his shoulder and adopted an air of innocence. “They are? Well, I’ll be a monkey’s uncle.”

“You are a monkey’s uncle. You’ve been watching them all morning. Besides, Griff told me that you took supper to them last night.” His scowl deepened. “My pa always warned if you feed a stray, you’ve got him for life.”

Lifting an indifferent shoulder, Luke faced forward. “I figure tomorrow morning they’ll break off and head for home.”

“You figure, do you?” Jesse studied Luke through narrowed eyes, their horses keeping step with each other. “You don’t suppose they’ll trail us all the way to Hays, do you? Especially one of the females, for instance. Last thing I need is an adolescent runaway trailing after me.”

Luke shook his head. “Not a chance. Where one goes the others follow. Relax. You’re English and—”

“You’re a monkey’s uncle,” Jesse finished. “Why aren’t they going east? I thought they were visiting family out there or something.”

He shrugged. “I guess they changed their minds.” The less knowledge he claimed of the Switzers and their plans, the less likely he would get ribbed or lectured. The weight of Jesse’s accusing stare stepped on a nerve. “Haven’t you got work to do?”

“You know, we’re moving pretty slow today.” Jesse’s statement held a note of suspicion.

Luke slowly turned to face him. Now he was stepping on his last nerve. “We’re making good progress.”

“Could be making better.” Jesse held his gaze. “You’re not purposefully holding the herd back so that wagon can keep up, are you?”

The accusation sent an irritated flash through Luke like a lightning strike. Who was the trail boss on this drive, anyway? Friend or no friend, Jesse needed to learn how to keep to his proper place.

Luke turned and focused on the herd. “I’m not going to answer that. I don’t have to explain my decisions to anybody. If you don’t like the way I lead this cattle drive, then don’t sign on for my next one.”

Jesse must have heard the anger in his tone, or maybe he saw it in his face, because instead of flaring up, he jerked a nod. With a tug on the reins, he galloped back to his point position without another word.

Luke let his anger simmer a while. This was the problem with hiring friends. Jesse took liberties and the other men saw it. The result was a lack of respect for his position as trail boss. They talked too familiarly about him. One example was Griff telling Jesse about his visit to the Switzers’ campsite last night.

As soon as the thought entered his head, he knew it was unfair. How many cattle drives had he ridden? Plenty. And he couldn’t remember a single one where the men didn’t speculate over the boss’s actions and decisions. Even when he’d ridden under Pa’s leadership, the boys didn’t curb their talk because the boss’s son was sitting around the campfire. Days were long and lonely, and nights were for talking—about the boss, and each other, and any other subject that came up.

He turned and glanced behind him to the right, where Jesse rode. Luke had hired him partly because he was a good point rider, but mostly because he was a friend. He could be counted on to speak his mind, and if his opinions weren’t always impartial, at least they were thoughtful. Which meant he’d been thinking about Luke and the Switzers—or, more likely, Luke and Emma—and wouldn’t have made that accusation if he didn’t think there was a possibility that Luke was getting in deep water.

A bad joke, considering yesterday, but he laughed anyway. Then he sobered. Was that a possibility? Luke’s hand tightened on the reins as he searched his motives. Had he purposefully set a slower pace than he could have in order to keep that wagon in view? The reasons he’d come up with were true—the herd had run a few pounds off during that stampede, and he didn’t want to risk them losing any more weight. It also wasn’t wise to push a herd that had stampeded recently because of the risk of causing another blind run. He glanced backward and watched the lead cattle’s pace, which was nowhere near a run. It could even be called leisurely. Maybe even slow.

His gaze was drawn to the wagon behind them. Jonas had maintained his position, easily keeping up with the herd. Though they were too far away for him to see their faces, he clearly picked out Emma on her father’s right, for she sat taller than her sister on the other side. From this angle, he could see a flash of white from Mrs. Switzer’s kapp where she sat in her rocking chair in the back of the wagon.

Is Jesse right? Am I setting an easy pace so they can keep up?

He shrugged off guilt. He was doing what any man would do in his place. Any Christian man. After all he’d done to help them, he’d hate to see those outlaws come back and take what little remained. On the other hand, he had no intentions of letting the Amish follow the herd. They were grown folk; they could do for themselves. He straightened and pulled a kerchief up over his nose. In spite of the rains, dust was kicking up. All he needed was a nice, blinding dust storm.

But Luke knew there was a reason why his eyes strayed to the back of the herd more than usual. He had no doubt he would see Jonas in Hays on Wednesday, money in hand to repay him.

Jonas. Not Emma.

When that wagon drops out of sight, I won’t ever see her again.

He turned back in the saddle, the sudden knowledge burning in his mind. Jesse’s accusation was true. His attraction for Emma really was at the root of the day’s slow pace. Part of him wanted to make sure she was safe, but the biggest part of him wanted to keep her in sight. Stupid, because after tomorrow they would return to their very different lifestyles—hers as an Amish woman and his as a cowboy. Those two were about as compatible as cougars and kittens. Throw them together, and somebody was going to get hurt.

My responsibility is to get this herd to the railhead in Hays on time. Early is better.

They could safely pick up the pace with no danger to the cattle. And putting some distance between him and Emma suddenly seemed like a good idea.

He shifted his weight in the saddle, ready to urge Bo to a faster pace. Hooves pounding the ground beside him drew his attention to Kirk, who drew up to his side.

“You see that?” He pointed to something in the distance.

Luke looked. The ground up ahead was littered with debris, as though someone had broken camp and left some of their belongings scattered on the ground. The sunlight reflected off a white surface. Had they found more of the Switzers’ belongings?

“I’ll check it out.”

He urged Bo into a gallop. As he neared the area, the white object took shape. His pulse surged when he identified it.

A quilt.

He dismounted and picked up the thick blanket. Pieces of brightly colored fabric had been assembled into an intricate pattern and stitched in place with small, even stitches. On the ground around the quilt lay a few pieces of clothing and some pottery containers. Some were empty and one was smashed, but several were still sealed with canvas and secured with twine.

Jesse galloped up beside him as he was scooping up the pieces and piling them in the center of the quilt.

“What’s going on?”

Luke continued his work. “I have a hunch this is part of the Switzers’ personal things. They’re going to get trampled when we bring the herd through.”

“Hmm.” Jesse dismounted and bent over to snatch up a garment. “You’re going to put these things off to the side in plain sight, so that wagon will come across them, right?” He held up the garment. “Or are you planning on wearing these?”

Luke turned and saw that he held up a pair of ladies’ bloomers, a smirk touching the corners of his mouth. Heat crept up the back of Luke’s neck. He snatched the garment out of Jesse’s hands and tossed it on the accumulating pile.

“The herd’s running wide,” he said. “There’s no place to put this stuff where it’ll be safe. Somebody will have to take it back to them.”

The last of it landed on the quilt, and he grabbed the corners to gather them up into a bundle. Though Jesse didn’t say anything, Luke felt his stare.

“Look, I’ve been thinking about what you said.” He wrapped a piece of rope around the bundle to close it, his gaze fixed on his hands. “We’re picking up the pace. We can cover at least another five miles before we have to stop for the night.”

He looked Jesse in the eye and let him see the apology there. Then he held out the bundle. “You want to run this back to them for me?”

Jesse held his gaze, and then his lips curved into a smile. Luke returned it, and an uncomfortable knot unraveled in his gut. Friendship was restored with few words, the same as when he was a boy growing up with his brothers.

Jesse held up his hands to refuse the bundle. “I wouldn’t go near that wagon if you paid me extra. The old woman doesn’t like me, and that younger girl bugs me. You take it. I think Bo needs to stretch his legs a bit.”

The herd had nearly caught up with them. With a grin, they climbed back into their saddles.

“Jesse’s got lead,” Luke told Kirk when he rode past. “I’ll be back shortly.”

“Sure you will!” Jesse called. “Just like all the other times!”





“Ach, a dozen washes and this stink will never scrub from our clothes.”

Maummi’s complaint gave voice to the misery they all felt. Emma had tried breathing through her mouth to avoid the terrible smell, until her tongue dried out and her lips became chapped. Seated on the bench beside Papa, she’d dozed off once and dreamt that a herd of rotting skunks had taken up residence beneath her bed.

Rebecca lowered the scant protection of her apron from her face. “I worry that the stink won’t scrub from our bodies.”

She immediately clapped the fabric back over her mouth and nose, though what good it did to breathe through an apron Emma couldn’t imagine. Perhaps if they came across some lilacs or roses they could rub the blossoms into the fabric. Even that wouldn’t kill the stench, though surely rose-scented manure smelled better than the fresh variety.

“A few more hours only,” Papa said. “Then the cows will continue north, and we will point our wagon toward home.”

If his words were meant to be comforting, they missed the mark with Emma. By tomorrow morning Luke and his herd would be out of sight. No longer would she be able to strain her eyes ahead to catch a glimpse of him overtop this sea of cattle. Not that she could see many details from this distance, but she could easily pick him out far ahead in the lead. Her gaze was drawn there now, and she scanned the distance for a broad-shouldered figure wearing a familiar hat.

When she failed to locate him in his usual place, she sat upright on the bench. Had he gone on ahead? An unusual movement drew her attention to the east, where a cowboy on horseback traveled around the edge of the herd. Her pulse stuttered when she recognized Luke. He was heading this way.

“Papa, look.” She managed to keep her voice at a normal level. “Luke is coming here. I wonder why?”

Perhaps they had angered him by following too closely.

The wagon rolled to a halt as Luke approached. Emma watched his face, squinting, until his features came into view. When she realized his gaze was locked onto her and a smile curved his lips, her heartbeat fluttered. He drew near and halted his horse on her side of the wagon.

“You folks are making good time today.”

Though he spoke to all of them, he did not look away from her. Emma returned his gaze, stomach quivering as though she’d swallowed a bird.

“We are eager to get home, now we’ve decided to return.”

Papa sounded distracted, and Emma became aware that he was watching her closely. She tore her gaze away from Luke and lowered her eyes to the hands clasped in her lap. Though she didn’t turn her head, she felt Maummi’s scrutiny like a coal applied to the back of her prayer kapp.

“Well, I won’t keep you long,” Luke said. “We found more of your things up ahead, so I thought I’d return them before you turned away.”

Emma couldn’t help looking up then. Her hopes rose when she saw the smile Luke fixed on her. He pulled a bundle from the other side of his saddle and edged his horse close to the wagon to lay it on her lap. Tears sprang instantaneously into her eyes, and she didn’t try to stop them when she spotted the familiar, brightly colored pattern.

Mama’s quilt!

“Oh, Luke.” The words came out on a breath that placed them somewhere between a sigh and a sob. “You found it.”

“Kirk spotted it first.” His voice softened. “It’s so beautiful, I knew as soon as I saw it that it had to be yours.”

In a moment that pierced straight through to her heart, Emma knew he wasn’t only referring to the beauty of the quilt. His features blurred behind a veil of tears. She couldn’t see her fingers fumbling with the knot in the rope that secured the precious quilt around the other belongings inside. Maummi climbed out of her rocking chair and stepped forward to peer over her shoulder. On the other side of Papa, Rebecca rose and stood on the floorboard, one hand resting on Papa’s shoulder for balance while she watched Emma untie the knot.

“What else is there?” her sister asked.

Emma laid back the folds to reveal a jumble of items, mostly clothing.

“Not much, I’m afraid. The way I figure it, they must have bundled a bunch of things inside the quilt back at the river and rode ahead a ways before stopping to sort out their takings. They threw out the things they had no need of.”

Maummi leaned over the backrest and gathered up three small crocks. “Spices they left. Tomatoes they took.”

“Men must eat,” Papa said. “Even thieves.”

In the pile in her lap, Emma spied a piece of fabric she recognized, and picked up the white canvas bag with Katie Beachy’s gift inside. The warmth in her chest expanded as she clutched the small piece of home in her hand.

“Well, I’ll leave you folks to sort those things out. I’ll see you in Hays, Jonas.” Luke held the reins in his left hand, and touched the brim of his hat with his right. “Afternoon, ladies.”

With one long searching glance at Emma, during which heat rushed into her face and she could not meet his gaze, he turned his horse and galloped away. Aware that Papa studied her from the side, she purposefully did not look up to follow his progress.

“Of all the things the thieves could have left behind, why didn’t they leave us something useful, like bed linens to protect us from the ground at night?” Rebecca leaned across Papa’s lap and snatched up a piece of clothing. “Instead, they leave this.”

She held the garment up. Horrified, Emma recognized her own set of underclothes. Luke had handled her bloomers! Her face burning, if she could have sunk to the floorboard and covered herself up with the quilt, she would have.

Papa stood. His expression, ever unreadable, was even more blank than usual. Never a good sign, in Emma’s experience.

“I will walk beside the oxen for a while,” he announced.

Emma drew her knees up to let him edge around and hop to the ground. Her face still aflame, she set about folding the miscellaneous clothing piled inside the quilt while Papa urged the oxen into movement, and the wagon lurched forward.