The Heart's Frontier

THIRTY





After the doctor and Rebecca had disappeared upstairs, Luke started to turn away, but footsteps coming down the hallway halted him. He turned and waited for Mrs. Switzer to approach. When she did, she tilted her head up to look into his face.

“Danki for saving her life.”

Bitterness welled up inside him and he shook his head. “Don’t thank me, ma’am. It’s my fault she was there to begin with.”

Her eyes narrowed as she studied him. Then she pointed toward a row of rockers that lined one side of the porch. “We will talk.”

Luke didn’t even consider denying her request. The fact that someone in Emma’s family was still talking to him left him feeling more than a little humble. And grateful. He crossed the porch and sank into one of the chairs.

Mrs. Switzer took the one to his right. “You speak of fault like one who feels the weight of guilt. Why is this so?”

“Yesterday she told me she wanted to talk to me about something. But when we had a few minutes together, she seemed reluctant and I didn’t push her. Then all day today I knew she was trying to get my attention, and I ignored her.” He looked straight ahead, at the dim candlelight in the window of the house across the way. “If I’d taken the time to talk to her, she wouldn’t have come looking for me and wouldn’t have gotten caught between those steers.”

“You did not want to talk to her?”

“It’s not that.” Luke glanced sideways. “Jonas…sort of asked me not to.”

They rocked for a few moments in silence. Twilight was falling, and the sound of the cattle no longer reached the doctor’s porch. The absence of the sun left the air cooler, though still heavy from the heat of the day.

“You see what a good father is my son.” Mrs. Switzer’s quiet voice joined hands with the dimness to form a comforting pair. “He’s always looking out for his girls.”

Luke nodded. “Yes, ma’am. I admire your son. I’ve grown to admire him more every day.”

“His father was a good man too.” She continued as though he had not spoken. “But he was not Plain. Not Amish.”

His head turned toward her. “He wasn’t?”

She shook her head and spoke in a whisper, as though relaying a great secret. “He was Presbyterian.” Luke could hear the tender smile in her voice. “A finer man never lived, my Carl. Only a few years we had together, and my papa did not approve. My mama cried herself nearly to the grave. But I would not trade one minute with him.” Her rocking stopped, and she turned sideways in her chair to face him. “Not one minute.”

Her meaning was crystal clear. Love was worth a sacrifice.

But he couldn’t ask Emma to make that sacrifice.

Could he make it? Could he become Amish?

An image flashed into his mind. Himself in black trousers, suspenders, and a round-brimmed straw hat. Clean-shaven lips, an untrimmed beard sprouting from his chin. Could he do that? For Emma, yes. He could.

But what about the rest of it? Trading in Bo for a workhorse. Subjecting himself to the authority of the bishop, the man he saw speaking sternly to Jonas and the Switzer women. Standing by, unresisting, while thieves stole his belongings and left his family helpless. Not lifting a weapon to rescue his daughter from cattle rustlers who intended to ravage her and sell her to savages.

No. That he could not do. If he did, his commitment would be so grudging that it would end up destroying any peace he and Emma shared.

He shook his head and spoke into the darkness without looking at Mrs. Switzer. “I can’t do it. I can’t become Amish. Jonas is right. I’ll never understand the Plain life.”

A chuckle rumbled deep in her chest. “There is more than one way to cut a cake, my mama used to say.”

Before he could consider her meaning, footsteps sounded in the hall and Jonas stepped through the doorway. He came to a stop in front of their chairs and actually made eye contact with Luke. The compassion with which his expression was saturated sent a finger of regret trailing down Luke’s spine. Clearly, Jonas had won. Which meant Luke had lost.

“She will speak with you now.” He switched his gaze to his mother. “Will you chaperone, please, while I check with the livery on our wagon and oxen?”

Mrs. Switzer bowed her head in acquiescence, and without another word Jonas left the porch.





Though tiny, the scabs on Emma’s skin showed starkly against the pale white linen pillow coverings. Luke entered the room, his hat in his hand, and hesitated in the doorway. She looked so frail that words were snatched from his chest, and all he could do was stand and stare at her.

Mrs. Switzer poked her head into the room. “The hallway is a good place to wait. I’ve found a comfortable chair out here.”

She disappeared, leaving the door open and them alone.

Luke clutched his hat brim in his hands and found that he couldn’t look the pale young woman in the face. “The doctor said you’re going to be fine. I’m glad.”

“Thank you.” Her voice fell softly on his ears. “You saved me yet again.”

“No, I only…” The words trailed off. “I’m sorry I didn’t come talk to you earlier today.”

Emma didn’t reply. When he finally raised his gaze, he discovered she was staring at her hands clasped on the sheet. Her long eyelashes curved against the backdrop of her scraped cheeks. So graceful, so vulnerable.

While words were still bouncing around in his thoughts, trying to figure out which would emerge, she reached beneath the bed linens and drew forth an item. “I made this for you.”

She held a white object toward him. Hesitantly, he crossed the threshold to her bedside.

The gift was a square of soft fabric the size of a handkerchief. The edges had been finished with fine, even stitching. In the center a colorful image decorated the plain white field. When he recognized it, emotion surged up from deep in Luke’s soul. It was his brand, the one he had designed as a boy. The one he intended to use one day when he owned his own herd.

“It’s beautiful.”

“I wanted you to have it,” she told him shyly. “For when you start your own cow farm.”

He grasped the kerchief between his fingers and met her eyes. “When did you make it? You’ve been pretty busy on the trail.”

“I began the night you told us of your dream to own your land and cattle. Every night I worked a bit…until my eyes were too tired to see.” She swallowed. “I am glad that you have this dream, Luke. I pray that someday you will have this place of your heart.”

He shifted. “Emma, I’ve been doing some serious thinking.” The words, barely acknowledged until this afternoon, welled up from somewhere inside him. He glanced toward the open door, aware that her grandmother was probably listening to every word. What did she say about there being more than one way to cut a cake? He lowered his voice to a whisper. “I’m expecting to get a bonus from this herd. Mr. Hancock is going to make a bundle, and he’s known for passing on his profits. If I can make this much money a few more times, I’ll have enough to buy back my old family farm in Texas. Then I’ll leave the trail. I’ll raise a herd of my own, and build a life.” He paused and caught her gaze in a meaningful one of his own. “A life for myself and my family.”

If only she hadn’t mastered her father’s talent of masking all her emotions. She stared at him through eyes that seemed so passive as to be indifferent.

“There are Amish cows as well as Texas ones,” she finally said.

He couldn’t hold steady under her gaze. He looked away. “I can’t become Amish, Emma. I want a simple life, but not a Plain one.”

When she looked up again, tears sparkled in her eyes.

“Emma…”

“What you say is true, Luke.” She looked past him as though he wasn’t there. “It is not meant for Amish and Englisch to be together.”

Maybe so, but his life would never be the same without her. And she might tell herself that Amish and Englisch didn’t mix, but would her heart believe it?

Did his?

Without another word, he turned and left the room, the handkerchief clutched in his fingers.