The Heart's Frontier

THIRTEEN





Emma hefted her skirt and watched where she placed each foot. Following in the trail of a herd of cattle not only smelled terrible, it made walking a straight path impossible. Her gait resembled that of Mrs. Eicher at a frolic last year before anyone realized the cider had turned hard.

Still, picking a clean path was not a problem when traveling at the painfully slow pace Papa set. The wagon crept along behind her, every creak and crack magnified in the silence that surrounded them. When Emma had climbed down to walk beside Papa an hour back, Rebecca stretched out on the hard bench and drifted off to sleep. Maummi sat in her chair, her head bent over the mending in her lap, her body swaying with the movement of the wagon as the oxen plodded ahead.

Emma was careful to keep any hint of frustration from her tone. “I think the oxen could move a bit faster, Papa.” She glanced sideways, disappointed to see no reaction whatsoever on her father’s face. “At this rate, I fear we won’t see Apple Grove before August.”

“We are not expected before then.” He didn’t turn his head to speak, keeping his eyes fixed forward. “The Millers will mind the farm until our return.”

Emma drew a slow breath into her lungs and willed the anxious knots in her stomach to loosen. Up ahead, Luke’s cattle had dwindled to bug-sized spots of brown on the horizon. If she strained her eyes, she occasionally caught a glimpse of a cowboy or two, riding back and forth across the rear of the herd, but the men in the lead had disappeared behind a swell in the land far beyond. She had lost sight of Luke.

When she could once again trust her voice, she said in a pleasant tone, “If we delay, you’ll miss your meeting with Luke on Wednesday.”

Papa gave no reply but simply continued walking at the frustratingly slow saunter he’d maintained all afternoon.

Maybe she could push him a little. Gathering her skirts a touch higher, she stretched her stride a tiny bit. Not enough to draw comment, but enough that Papa would be forced to speed up in order to keep pace with her, perhaps without noticing.

Within a few minutes, she had pulled ahead of him like a sprinter outpacing a child. A backward glance revealed the same patient, unreadable expression on his face. Her teeth ground against each other. Was he doing this on purpose?

“A rest we are due, I think. This place is good.”

Emma came to a halt so quickly a cloud of dust swirled around her feet. “A rest? Rebecca has been resting for the past hour, and I’m not walking fast enough to need a rest.”

His tone held the tiniest touch of reprimand. “I need a rest, daughter.”

Her lips snapped together. He was slowing them down on purpose. A strong man like Papa would not need to rest after the leisurely stroll they had taken since Luke returned Mama’s quilt. She glanced over her shoulder at the quickly dwindling herd. Papa was trying to put distance between Luke and them. Between Luke and her.

Still perched in the back of the wagon, Maummi stopped work on the shirt she was mending and folded the garment. “A light meal we’ll have to keep up our strength.”

Emma worked hard to keep her frustration in check. They had no need for strength if they were going to inch across the Kansas prairie like turtles.

When Papa stopped the oxen in the shade of a cluster of trees, Rebecca stirred awake and sat up on the wagon bench. She stretched her arms high in the air and arched her back. “Are we there yet?”

“We have barely gone twenty yards all afternoon,” Emma shot back too quickly.

She ducked her head away from Papa’s look and went to the back of the wagon to help Maummi down to the ground.

“Reach that crate for me, Emma.”

Maummi pointed to indicate the one she meant, and Emma climbed up into the wagon to retrieve it. When she’d slid it over to the edge so her grandmother could rummage inside, she spoke in a low voice that could not be overheard.

“Why is Papa going so slowly, Maummi?”

The elderly woman didn’t bother to look up. “Why ask a question when you already know the answer?”

With a grim nod, Emma acknowledged her suspicions. “He is trying to put a distance between Luke and me.”

“‘Höret, meine Kinder, die Zucht eures Vaters; market auf, daß ihr lernt und klug Werd!’” The biblical proverb was one Maummi had often repeated when Emma was younger. Hear, ye children, the instruction of a father, and attend to know understanding.

She didn’t bother to hide an audible sigh as Maummi selected four plump apples from the crate. “I know Papa is wise and I must learn from him. It’s just that…”

That what? That she wanted to moon after Luke even though she knew there was no possibility for a future between them?

She picked up one of the apples and returned it to the crate before she slid the box back to its storage position. She couldn’t force a bite down her throat. When she turned, she caught Maummi’s sympathetic eyes fixed on her.

“‘Young birds must learn the paths of the sky from older ones. Else they lose themselves in the joy of soaring.’”

Emma made no response to the proverb as she hopped down from the wagon and trudged a little distance away. She knew Maummi meant the lesson kindly, but she was not a brainless young bird. Had she not always been obedient to Papa, as was proper? Did he think her incapable of making wise choices on her own?

While her family gathered in the cooling shade of the sparse trees, Emma climbed a short swell in the land where she could watch the cattle dwindle in the distance. When the last cow disappeared over the hill where Luke had vanished earlier, her frustration turned to heavy sorrow that dragged at her heart. She truly had seen the last of Luke Carson.

Well, and what of it? If she was as level-headed as she professed to be, why was she acting as if she’d lost a beau? He was not her beau and never would be. Too much separated them, not the least of which was their faith. She did not want a husband who stayed gone for months at a time on the cattle trail. When she found the man she wanted to spend her life with, he would attend Sunday meetings with her, and singings, and drive her to town in a proper buggy. He would raise barns with the other men in Apple Grove while she cooked noodle casseroles to serve him when his work was done. He would read Die Bibel in German, and train their children using proverbs. He would…

She blinked back the traitorous tears that threatened, suddenly impatient with them. He would not be Luke.

Loneliness rose up inside her. Whom, then would she marry? Though she had not relished the thought of Aunt Gerda parading her in front of every eligible man in Troyer, she’d been fairly certain she would find her future husband there. Now that she was going back home to Apple Grove, was Amos Beiler to be her only option? Her gaze strayed once again to the horizon.

Lord, has that been Your intention all along? Did You send me out on this ill-fated journey simply to make me agreeable to a future with Amos? She kicked a dried clot of dirt and watched it roll down the hill. If so, You could have saved me a lot of trouble by saying so.

Enough moping. Such dour thoughts were unbecoming to an Amish woman. She left the hilltop and headed toward the wagon. Rebecca had wandered off to the east and stood a distance away, her back bent as she inspected something in the grass. Maummi and Papa were out of sight, but as Emma approached the wagon she heard the low murmur of their voices. They had seated themselves in the shade, leaning against the wheels on the far side of the wagon.

Emma started toward the rear to get the apple she’d refused earlier, but Maummi’s words stopped her.

“I like the Englisch man. He makes for me a warm feeling in my heart.”

“The trouble is not in liking him,” Papa’s gentle voice answered. “He is not Amish.”

They were discussing Luke. Emma hesitated. She should make a noise to announce her presence. Instead, she ignored a warm rush of guilt and remained still.

“He is Christian.” From Maummi’s decisive tone, Emma could almost see her firm nod. “Like my Carl.”

“I fear you see in him too much of my fader. You would push our Emma to him.”

“Not so. But neither can you build a wall to trap her inside your backyard. She is a good girl and loves the Amish way. You must let her choose for herself.”

“Ja. I know. I have raised both my daughters to serve the Lord and obey the Ordnung. If she chooses to leave the Plain way, as is her right, I can do nothing.” A long sigh sounded. “If the Lord had left my Hannah here, she would know what to do. Her desire matched mine, that our daughters choose baptism and the church. I fear I will fail her, and my Emma, and my Lord all at once.”

Maummi’s voice held a note of gentleness Emma rarely heard. “You have not failed, Jonas.”

Emma could listen no longer. She crept away without a sound and went back up the low hill, where she dropped down to sit in the grass. Hot guilt churned in her stomach, leaving her faintly sick. The guilt of eavesdropping was one thing, but the sorrow and self-accusation she’d heard in Papa’s voice was enough to make her sob. How could he consider himself a failure when he had surrounded her with love and guidance her whole life? What an ungrateful daughter she had become.

A breeze stirred the golden grass around her and she welcomed it, drawing it deep into her lungs. When she exhaled, she blew all her foolish feelings for Luke out with it. Her future was in the Lord’s hands, not her own. If He wanted her married to Amos Beiler in Apple Grove, so be it. She would not disappoint her Lord or her papa.





Luke awoke to the smell of coffee and bacon, one of the best combination of odors God ever concocted. Today it failed to rouse him. His eyes protested when he tried to pry them open, and grogginess hugged his brain like fog hugs a Texas river on a cool morning. He knew he’d be tired today when he had taken both the first and second watch last night, but he’d rather be in the saddle doing something productive than tossing on his bedroll, his brain too full to sleep.

The Switzers’ wagon had dropped out of sight yesterday, and the empty stretch of land behind the herd had pestered him like a bothersome horsefly. He couldn’t stop turning around and stretching his sight, trying to catch a glimpse of white from a bonnet. He’d even welcome the sight of that doggone hutch. But the prairie to the south of them remained empty.

He rolled off his pallet and stood to stretch while he scanned his surroundings. The cattle had stirred, and more than half were already up and grazing. Behind them, the prairie was still empty.

I hope the family isn’t in trouble.

With a final mental shake, he rejected the worrisome thought. He wasn’t their hired hand. He’d done his Christian duty, and now they were on their own. Emma was on her own.

As he shook out his bedroll, Luke surveyed the camp. Griff, Charlie, and Jesse were the only ones still buried in their blankets. Everybody else was out of sight, probably milling around the breakfast fire or getting their gear stowed for the day.

“Morning, boss.” Willie rounded the chuck wagon with a tin mug of coffee in each hand. “Thanks for taking the extra watch last night. I slept great.”

Luke took the mug he offered as he brushed off the thanks. “No problem. You’ll burn some added energy today. I intend to push this herd halfway to Hays before nightfall.”

He took a swig of coffee and nudged Jesse’s slumbering form with his foot. “Up and at ’em, cowboy. We have a lot of ground to cover today.”

Jesse stirred but didn’t sit up. “It’s early yet. Sun’s not even up.”

Laughing, Luke kicked the hat off his friend’s face. “Now it is. Come on, sluggard. Last one out of the sack gets to ride drag today.”

The threat got him moving. Groaning, Jesse sat and squinted upward, his eyes unfocused and bleary. “There. You happy?”

Luke didn’t have time to answer. A gunshot cracked nearby, answered by another from a short distance away. The shouts of men filled the air—wild, high-pitched cries from unknown voices, and answering cries of dismay from his own men.

Jesse lunged to his feet. “What in tarnation—”

Luke didn’t bother answering. A sick certainty settled in his stomach as the shouts continued and more shots disrupted the peaceful morning. Startled cattle answered with distressed bawls and danced on nervous hooves. He leaped for the pile of gear near the head of his pallet and the rifle secured on the side of his saddle, while around him men scrambled to their feet. Griff’s harsh growl answered Jesse’s question.

“Rustlers.”

The word sent a bolt of hot, sticky fear straight into Luke’s gut.