The Heart's Frontier

THIRTY-ONE



Apple Grove, Kansas

September 1881

Fall had reached its cool fingers into Apple Grove. For the first time in months, the morning sun failed to warm the chill from the air. Emma pulled a pan of biscuits from the oven and set it on the iron surface, glad for the heat inside the small room. She slathered the biscuits with a slice from the roll of butter she had helped Maummi churn a few days before.

“Mind that butter, girl.” Maummi’s voice held the same instructive tone she’d adopted for years, ever since Emma could first pull up a stool and reach the surface of the countertops in the family kitchen. “Too much and you’ll make the biscuits soggy. And reach for me a jar of strawberry preserves when you finish there.”

“Yes, Maummi.”

Emma did as she was told, her mind wandering as her fingers grasped a glass jar from the high shelf opposite the kitchen’s deep washtub. Did Luke like strawberry preserves? She didn’t know because she’d never had a chance to ask him. They had known each other for a mere week, and that almost two months ago. Why, then, did thoughts of him continue to plague her?

As always, memories of the handsome trail boss tugged on her like melancholy weights dangling from her heart. To say she missed him was a gross understatement. Every thought was saturated with his presence. Where was he now? Probably leading another cattle drive from Texas, making more money to buy his farm. Would he ever leave the trail, or would he end up an old cowhand like Griff, always talking about making a home but never doing it? Sleep eluded her when she laid her head on her pillow at night, her imagination filling the empty place beside her with thoughts of a dark-eyed cowboy. Even her dreams were full of him.

She filled her days with work. Gathering eggs, mucking out the horses’ stalls, and maintaining the family garden plot alongside Maummi and Rebecca. Every so often Bishop Miller stopped by to check on her and Papa. Though the Switzers had been completely restored to the good graces of their Amish district, the bishop seemed especially concerned for Emma. He had sorrowfully rejected her request to attend the baptism classes that started two weeks past with the explanation that he doubted her readiness to commit to a life of dedication to the Plain way. He’d advised waiting until next year to join the classes. Rather than the bitter disappointment she expected, Emma actually felt a flicker of relief. That would have worried her, had she allowed herself to dwell on it. Instead, she filled her time with the endless tasks of farm life.

In two more days she and Maummi would leave Apple Grove and move to Troyer to live with Aunt Gerda. This time a delegation of eight Apple Grove Amish men would accompany them. Maummi’s hutch was already loaded on the wagon in the barn, awaiting their departure. Try though she might, Emma couldn’t muster any enthusiasm for the journey.

When the hot buttered biscuits had been piled on a platter and placed in the center of the table, a commotion outside drew her attention. Maummi rose from her stool in the corner of the kitchen to peer out the window.

She turned a surprised expression toward Emma. “Set two more plates at the table. We have guests.”

Rather than obeying immediately, Emma crossed to the window to peek outside. What she saw set her heart to fluttering.

Two horses and their riders drew to a stop in the side yard. Rebecca appeared from the doorway of the barn to investigate the arrival, and she dropped a pail of milk in her excitement. Jesse and Griff called cheerful greetings toward her as they dismounted.

Her heart pounding, Emma retrieved two more place settings and rearranged the table to accommodate their guests. There was no sign of the one cowboy she longed to see, but at least these two might bring news of him. She exited the house after Maummi at the same time Papa arrived from the field.

“It is a good day when we can welcome friends to our home,” he told them, his smile wide. “You’ll join us for dinner?”

Griff placed a hand on his belly and grinned toward Maummi. “Can’t tell you how I was hoping you’d ask.”

Jesse’s limp was barely noticeable as he trailed Maummi and Papa into the house. He spared a smile toward Rebecca, who looked ready to keel over with excitement, and then took his place at the table. He and Griff devoured schnitz and knepp, buttered sprouts and potatoes, and biscuits with jam, answering Papa’s polite questions between mouthfuls. Yes, they had gotten along well since the end of the cattle drive in July. Griff had delayed his plans to look after Jesse. No, they hadn’t yet taken on new assignments, though they both had multiple offers and intended to head back to Texas soon.

Emma bit her tongue and toyed with her food. Luke’s name loomed over the table, an unspoken and unacknowledged presence that she could not stop thinking about. It wasn’t until the meal was almost over and Maummi had served up heaping portions of apple pie that she finally gathered the nerve to ask the question that had pressed on her mind since the moment she laid eyes on the pair.

She scooped a spoonful of her dessert and held it before her mouth. “And what of Luke? Did he take another job as a trail boss, as he intended?”

Jesse and Griff exchanged a loaded glance before they answered.

“No,” Griff finally said. He set his spoon down on the rim of his bowl and speared her with a meaningful stare. “Haven’t you heard? Luke quit the trail. He took a mortgage and bought a farm not ten miles from here, just on the other side of Hays. The old Zurcher place. Mr. Hancock was so grateful for the extra profit from our cattle drive that he gifted Luke with a hundred head of longhorns to seed his own herd.”

A numb realization stole over Emma. Luke lived not ten miles from here? And he’d given up the trail and his plan to buy his family farm in Texas? She set her spoon down, the dessert untasted.

“I wondered if you knew,” Jesse said quietly. “He’s been working hard to establish his herd, but his heart isn’t in it. It’s like…” He glanced at Jonas and then back at Emma. “There’s something missing. Or maybe someone. So Griff and I were talkin’, and we think we know what’s missing. That’s why we’re here—”

She couldn’t take anymore. Emma’s chair scraped across the wooden floor as she pushed back to flee the table. They were all looking at her, and the reason pressed against her like the weight of water against lungs begging for air. Luke had settled a few miles from here...

As she exited the house, she heard Jesse’s pursuit. She ran to the hitching post where his and Griff’s horses were tethered, and then she stopped and turned to face him.

“Why didn’t he send word?” she asked, searching his face for the answer.

Jesse shrugged. “He’s a stubborn, mule-headed cowboy, maybe?” His tone grew soft. “Or maybe he’s afraid of being turned down. All I know is he’s got a big, empty house on that farm, and he’s waiting for someone to help him fill it up.”

A noise behind Jesse caused him to turn. Papa had also exited the house and approached them with a purposeful stride. His eyes remained steadfast on Emma as he spoke to Jesse.

“A moment with my Emma, please.”

With a final look at her, Jesse went back inside.

Emma couldn’t return her father’s gaze. She lifted a hand to stroke the muzzle of Jesse’s horse. The animal tossed his head and whickered softly in response.

Papa’s voice cut through the silence that surrounded them. “You still love him, this Englisch cowboy.”

Painful tears flooded her eyes. It was not a question, but Emma mastered herself enough to nod in response.

He sighed. “On the day of your birth, your mother and I stood gazing down at you in your cradle. We talked. We wished for our daughter a Plain life, a peaceful life. We wanted you to embrace our faith. Our ways. Our beliefs.”

His words sliced deep. “I know, Papa. I have. Really.”

Sadly, Papa shook his head. “You believe. But your heart leads you elsewhere.”

Silence fell between them, broken only by Emma’s quiet sobs. After a few moments, Papa reached out a hand and placed it awkwardly on her arm.

“Peace is not possible without love,” he whispered. “Above all, your mother wanted you to have love. I want you to have love. I want you to have it in a Plain life, but…”

Emma’s heart welled up with hope. Papa would never say the words that approved her rejection of the Plain way of life. But he came as close as he could when he wished her a lifetime of love.

Despite his reticence against displays of emotion, she flung her arms around him and clung to him. Never again would she enjoy this moment with her father, with her heritage and her faith intact. She would not be shunned, because she had not been baptized. But she would be Englisch. An outsider. Whispering a sweet and silent farewell, she leaned back and fixed her gaze on his.

“I love you, Papa.”

His lips twitched with unspoken words. Instead, he lifted an open hand and placed it on her forehead. “Go,” he said. “And find happiness.”

Joy sparked to life deep inside her and quickly flared to a blaze. Luke waited a few miles from here. She needed to harness the horse to the buggy, and quickly, before her nerve gave out.

When she turned toward the barn, her gaze snagged on four pairs of eyes that stood watching her outside the house.

Jesse strode toward her. “Take my horse,” he said. “He’s fast, and he knows the way.”

She looked down at her bulky black skirts. How could she ride like this? And then it hit her. She could ride astride now. No one would fault her. No one would condemn her if she did.

Rebecca’s grin lit the entire barnyard. That her sister wished her well would never be in doubt. Before Emma turned toward the horse, Maummi lurched forward and grabbed her into a hug.

“May you find what I found,” she whispered, tears glittering in her eyes. “You have my blessing as a gift for your new home. And something else besides.”

Emma laughed at the meaning sparkling in her eyes. Then, with a grin toward Rebecca, she gathered her skirts, climbed into Jesse’s saddle, and pointed his horse toward the old Zurcher farm.




Luke stood out in the pasture, watching a pair of newborn calves frolic in the green grass. The sight of them sent a ripple of satisfaction to his gut. They were his, the first born under the Lazy C brand, and he couldn’t stop staring at them.

His gaze swept upward, over the wide open pasture and the herd that grazed within the fenced borders. To his right, the lush plants of the previous owners’ garden bore more squash and late red tomatoes than he could pick in a month. And behind him, a house loomed empty and lonely, the only furnishing his bedroll on the hard wooden floor in the biggest bedroom.

The silence of the farm, and the occasional call of a mother cow toward her playful calf, occupied his thoughts. In the dim recesses of his mind he heard the sound of a horse’s approach, but he didn’t credit it as real. Instead, his inner eyes were fixed on the image of a sweet face, a softly curving cheek, and a pair of lush lips that quirked at the edges and invited his touch.

A weight dropped around his body. In the next instant, a rope tightened, pinning his arms to his side.

He turned to find a haunting, laughing gaze fixed on him. At first his mind grappled to place the beautiful woman whose long hair swung freely around her shoulders, with no white kapp to hinder its dance in the Kansas breeze. Then somewhere in the depths of his chest, his heart lurched toward the woman who had lassoed his emotions months ago on the Chisholm Trail. His boots followed and took him to her side.

She lifted her end of the rope, her eyes dancing with humor. “I’ve been practicing my technique. How am I doing?”

Did her presence here, without her Amish kapp, mean what he thought? Was she ready to give herself to him, freely and without encumbrance? He’d longed for this moment through the long days and nights of the past two months. With an impatient hand, he freed himself from the confines of the rope and raised his arms to encircle her. Moving with reverence for the precious treasure he held, he pulled her gently to him.

“You’re doing fine,” he whispered.

He lowered his lips to cover hers. The moment they touched, a wave of emotion swept from his head to his feet. He felt her go limp in his arms, and he tightened his hold on her.

“I heard you’d given up the life of a trail boss and settled in Kansas,” she whispered when their kiss ended, her gaze locked onto his. “I could hardly believe it was true.”

“Yes, ma’am. It’s true.” He brought her upright and picked up a silky lock of her unbound hair between his rough fingers. “Does this mean you’ve given up your Plain life for mine?”

Her hand rose to rest upon his cheek. “Why must we choose one or the other? Instead, can’t we make a new life together?”

Overcome, he pulled her toward him again. In the moments before their lips touched for a glorious second time, she whispered, “There is something I need to tell you. Maummi is giving us a wedding present. I hope we’ll have room for it in our house.”

A movement behind her drew his attention. He tore his gaze from hers and focused on the unmerciful sight. Pulling from the main road onto his property was Mrs. Switzer in her ox-drawn wagon. Jesse rode on the bench beside her, and that hutch loomed in the wagon over their heads. Though he’d thought himself rid of the thing forever, it seemed determined to haunt him.

But it was a fair exchange. Maummi’s hutch for Emma’s heart. He’d take it.

“That,” he said as he lowered his head again to claim a kiss from the woman he loved, “is a price I’ll gladly pay.”




ABOUT THE AUTHORS


LORI COPELAND is the author of more than 90 titles, both historical and contemporary fiction. With more than 3 million copies of her books in print, she has developed a loyal following among her rapidly growing fans in the inspirational market. She has been honored with the Romantic Times Reviewer’s Choice Award, The Holt Medallion, and Walden Books’ Best Seller award. In 2000, Lori was inducted into the Missouri Writers Hall of Fame. She lives in the beautiful Ozarks with her husband, Lance, and their three children and five grandchildren.

VIRGINIA SMITH is the author of more than a dozen inspirational novels and more than fifty articles and short stories. An avid reader with eclectic tastes in fiction, Ginny writes in a variety of styles, from lighthearted relationship stories to breath-snatching suspense.


Learn more about Lori and Ginny at

www.CopelandandSmith.com