The Heart's Frontier

TWENTY-SIX





Though she was too stubborn to admit it, Emma knew she’d made the wrong decision the moment she climbed into the saddle. Even picking up the reins with her sore hands made her suck in a hissing breath. But pride won out over pain, so she clamped her teeth together and took her place at the herd’s western flank. Thankfully, the cows under her charge behaved themselves, so she spent the long afternoon and evening hours in the saddle trying to move as little as possible and letting the horse have her way. When Luke finally called a halt for the night, she rallied enough to help put the cattle to ground, and then she fell onto her bedroll without even a thought of supper.

The next morning was worse. The first thing she became aware of, even before the last tendrils of sleep had unwound themselves from her conscious mind, was her stiff, aching muscles. The skin on her face felt tight and raw. Lifting an arm to peel away the bedroll brought so much pain she couldn’t suppress a groan.

“Rope another cow today, will you?”

She cracked open an eye to find Maummi standing over her, a cup in one hand and a cloth in another. The smirk on her face elicited another groan from Emma.

Maummi sank to her knees and helped Emma rise into a sitting position. She dipped the cloth in the cup, and began gently washing the scrapes on Emma’s face. The scent from the water was clean, fresh, and faintly grasslike. More violet leaf tea. Was the cook right, and it was nothing more than a granny recipe? Perhaps, but much good would come of keeping the wounds clean regardless.

“Consider this, granddaughter.” Maummi blotted as she spoke. “Which is more comely, a deer gliding through the twilight or a clucking chicken strutting in the glare of the day?”

Emma winced, and not because of her stinging scratches. This lesson was one Maummi had used to teach Rebecca, who always tended toward rowdy and loud rather than soft-spoken and gentle, as befitted an Amish woman.

“A graceful deer,” Emma answered sullenly, plucking at a loose thread where her dress had been mended.

“And do deer lasso cows?”

Emma wanted to retort that chickens didn’t lasso cows either, but she held her tongue. “No, Maummi.”

Her grandmother nodded. “When we are back in Apple Grove, you will leave the saddle horses and cattle and ropes behind, ja?”

Emma didn’t answer. The question asked far more than the words implied. Was she ready to step back into the role she’d left behind a week and a lifetime ago? She and Rebecca had certainly not led the lives of typical Amish women the past few days, wearing Papa’s trousers and straddling horses and working alongside Englisch cowboys. Watching the men and listening to their talk of their families and tales of trail life was far more interesting than listening to Mrs. Miller drone on about the virtues of her husband and son, or the tally of the pickles she’d put up the week before. Plus, Emma had enjoyed a strange sense of satisfaction that came from doing the work of a cowboy without the disapproving scrutiny of their Apple Grove neighbors.

And yet she loved her Plain life. She had never wanted anything else.

Until Luke.

A painful lump rose in her throat. When she returned home, she would no longer be able to look ahead and see him at the front of the herd, to admire the way he led. Never again feel the giddy flip-flop in her stomach when his gaze connected with hers across the campfire. In fact, today would likely be the last time she saw him, ever.

Unless he agreed to become Amish, to live by Christ’s teachings and the Ordnung. Long hours in the saddle yesterday afternoon had given her time to consider their discussion over and over. He hadn’t made a firm decision. In fact, she hadn’t actually asked the question. Surely the feelings she felt for him weren’t one-sided. There might still be a chance that Luke would embrace the Amish lifestyle if he really loved her.

Maummi’s hand hovered in the air, the cloth several inches from Emma’s face, her eyes probing as she waited for an answer.

“Maybe…” She clamped her teeth down on her lower lip. She couldn’t say the words, couldn’t bear to see denial, or maybe pity, in her grandmother’s eyes. Instead, she shook her head. “I don’t know, Maummi.”

One thing she did know. She would not give up hope that Luke would profess his love for her and join her in the faith, not until she heard it from his own lips. And she had until tonight, in Hays, for that to happen.





The last leg of the trail was the hardest of all for Emma. The cattle seemed intent on spreading out as wide as the entire prairie, and the farther they roamed from the main body of the herd, the slower their pace. Emma actually forgot her own pain for long stretches of time, so determined was she on keeping the western flank in hand. Behind her, Griff was having a similar experience, while on the far side, Morris and Rebecca rode with a stream on their right, which their cows seemed to consider as a natural barrier not to be crossed.

Even worse, Luke maintained his own position in the lead. Hours passed without him circling the herd to check on his cowhands. When she wasn’t chasing steers, Emma stared at the back of his head in hopes that he would turn toward her and she could get his attention. If he would only come back and ride a short while with her, she would find some way of turning the conversation in the direction she wanted.

Not only did he not look toward her, he didn’t stop the herd at noontime either. She kept watch for signs of a halt, but he seemed intent on pushing the cattle and the riders to the ends of their endurance. When the sun started its descent, she twisted impatiently in the saddle to catch Griff’s eye. He urged his horse into a gallop and soon drew alongside her.

“You doing okay up here, gal?”

“We’ve been a long time without a rest.” She swept a hand toward the cattle. “They are starting to look tired, and they seem hungry. They keep wanting to spread out and graze.”

He shrugged. “They’ll be okay. It won’t be much longer now. I’ve traveled this trail a half dozen times, so I know what Luke’s doing. He’ll push to get to a grazing field an hour this side of Hays, and then we’ll stop and let them eat and drink their fill. That way they’ll be at full weight when we arrive.” He peered more closely at her. “This is a cowhand’s life. We grab a bite in the saddle and keep moving. The beef will be okay, but how ’bout you? Belly empty, is it? I have some jerked beef you can chew on.”

She eyed the unappealing strip of shriveled meat he extended. That was one part of trail life she could never get used to. Meals were not meant to be gobbled on horseback. They were meant for sharing with family and friends. Even if she were starving, she doubted she could choke down that dried-out hunk of beef.

“No, thank you.” Instead, she picked up the canteen that hung from the saddlebag and drained the last of her water.

A pair of steers chose that moment to make a break for the open. Emma felt sorry for them, held to an unyielding pace, crowded in with the others, and forced to follow in the footsteps that hundreds of other cows had trampled before them. If she were a cow, she’d be tempted to run away too.

But she wasn’t. She was an Amish girl, and her job was to make sure they followed the herd. She urged her tired horse ahead to cut off their escape.





The afternoon was half over when Luke called a halt. Finally, Emma could let up her vigil and let the cattle under her charge wander into the wide, open plain. They did so, tearing up great mouthfuls of grass along the way, stopping only to drink their fill from a half dozen small streams that crisscrossed the prairie.

Griff rode up from behind. “Let’s head in, gal. I’m ready for a good, long break. The railhead at Hays isn’t more than an hour’s easy traveling from here.”

She nudged Sugarfoot ahead to keep pace with him as they rode toward camp, where the chuck wagon stood sentinel on one side, and the Amish wagon with Maummi’s giant hutch on the other.

“Griff, what will you do when we get to Hays and this cattle drive is over?”

The old cowboy pursed his lips and thought a second before he answered. “I’ll probably hang around there for a while to see if I can rustle up another job. There’s still time to get back down to Texas and start another drive before cold weather sets in. If I don’t find anything in Hays, I’ll head on over to Abilene. There’s always something going on there.”

They rode on a few paces. Was that what Luke planned to do too? Drop off this herd and immediately find another one to lead?

“You mentioned the other day that you might want to settle down sometime.” Though she didn’t look at him directly, she watched for a reaction out of the corner of her eye. “Did you mean it?”

“You know, if I could find me a good woman, I would.” A grin twisted his lips. “But I don’t think your grandma will have me.”

Though his tone was light, Emma detected a note of regret in his words. And he was right. Maummi was as entrenched in the Amish life as her son and granddaughters.

She chose her words carefully. “If you decide to become Amish, I think she would welcome your attentions.”

The laughter she received in response hammered at her hopes. Is this how Luke would react to the same suggestion?

“Trust me, gal, I’d be the worst Amish man ever. I’ve been riding a horse way too long to start hitching up wagons or buggies now. ” He shook his head, still chuckling.

“Still,” she persisted, “some do convert to Amish. It is a good life, a peaceful life.”

The sideways look he gave her held a touch of sympathy. “I know what you’re thinking, gal.” His eyes softened. “He won’t do it. Even when he gives up the trail, he doesn’t have it in him to give up the life of a cowboy.”

He sounded so certain, so sympathetic, that Emma’s eyes stung with barely restrained tears. She couldn’t muster a reply, and instead fixed her gaze on the remuda, which Vic had stopped beyond the two wagons. Luke was there now, changing his saddle from Bo to a fresh horse.

He does have it in him. If he loves me, he will do it for me.

She managed a noncommittal nod for Griff and then kneed Sugarfoot forward. There were only a few hours left between now and the time they turned the herd over to the agency in Hays. She had to talk to him before then.

But when she reined Sugarfoot to a halt beside Luke, his greeting wasn’t as warm as she had hoped. A smile brushed across his lips but failed to stay in place. His gaze lit on her face briefly but then swept the landscape behind her.

“I hope the ride wasn’t too long for you. You did a great job. Thanks.” He bent down to fasten the cinch strap beneath the horse.

How does he know if I did a good job or a bad one? He hasn’t looked at me all day.

The thought almost shot out of her mouth, but she bit it back. “I was hoping to talk to you alone, but you never came back to ride with me.”

“Yeah? Well, I have a minute right now before I leave.” He kept working as he spoke, his eyes fixed on his hands.

“Leave?” Sugarfoot pranced sideways when she stiffened in the saddle. “You are leaving?”

“While the cattle eat their fill, I need to ride ahead into Hays to let them know we’re here and check on the train. It’ll take a couple of hours.”

He straightened, but the face he turned up to her wore the polite expression of someone whose mind was elsewhere. Emma’s words knotted in her throat. The kind, searching eyes of the Luke she loved had grown distant since this morning.

“What did you want to talk about?”

The sound of hooves from behind announced someone’s approach. She glanced back to see Papa riding toward them, his gaze fixed on her. He halted his horse directly beside her. Luke glanced at him and then turned back to the horse to check the position of the cinch straps.

“Emma, Maummi has need of you and Rebecca to help with the cooking. I will care for your horse.”

How did he know what Maummi needed? He’d just come in from the rear of the herd, where he’d been all day. She glanced toward the camp, where her grandmother knelt before Jesse’s chair, checking on his leg.

He is trying to separate me from Luke.

Knots tightened in her middle, and she had to bite back a frustrated retort. Though her lips were clenched shut against disrespectful words, she didn’t bother to school the resentful glance she turned on Papa. He returned it calmly, without the slightest sign of backing down.

Finally, she lowered her head. “Yes, Papa.”

She swung out of the saddle and landed a little unsteadily on the ground before placing the reins in her father’s hand. With one last longing glance at Luke, who did not look up, she headed toward the wagon to help her grandmother.

But she did stomp puffs of dirt with every frustrated step.