River of Mercy, page 10
Nor did he think he was mistaken about the source of at least some of the changes. David was convinced that much of what had transpired over the past few weeks could be traced to Samuel Beiler.
Perhaps that was to be expected. After the death of Bishop Graber, the People had naturally begun to seek out a leader within the community, albeit a temporary one, until a new bishop could be chosen.
The People had always looked after one another, but there were also those among them who required more than material necessities—folks who needed spiritual direction or advice in family problems or disciplinary matters. There were also the usual disputes and grievances to be settled. When it came to the young people, strong guidance from someone other than a parent was occasionally deemed necessary.
Sometimes, though rarely, a member deliberately disobeyed the Ordnung, evoking the Bann. Although shunning was applied to help the offending person see his sin for what it was and take the required steps to repent and be accepted back into the church, it could cause problems among family members and friends. It took a strong leader to deal with such situations.
With their former bishop of many years now gone, the People would naturally be feeling the absence of a spiritual leader. Both Malachi Esch and Abe Gingerich were growing more advanced in years, and Malachi was still grieving the death of his wife, so it was probably to be expected that some of the People would turn to their other preacher, Samuel Beiler, to be that leader.
Beiler was considerably younger than the other two preachers, physically strong and fit, and well experienced in matters of the church. David couldn’t stop the somewhat cynical thought that the man also had a way of conveniently insinuating himself into a leadership position. It was almost as if he wanted to be recognized as the People’s authority, although such a desire would defy the typical Amish man’s nature. An Amish leader would never actually seek authority or power, although a bishop needed to exercise both.
More common by far was a feeling of dread when a man received the call to serve as bishop. The duties and responsibilities that accompanied the position—a lifetime appointment, entirely without pay or any other form of compensation—could become burdensome and nearly overwhelming for most ordinary men.
However, once struck by the lot, a man was expected to serve regardless of how he might feel about it. David knew from his long friendships among the People that many Amish men held serious doubts about their capability to serve as bishop, but none would shy away from what they considered a genuine call from God.
In Samuel Beiler’s case though, David’s instincts told him that this was a man who would not be reluctant to assume the role of bishop and might even be eager to do so. David admitted to himself that his thoughts bordered on cynicism—not a fitting emotion and certainly not a common one for an Amish man to harbor. But if truth be told, he had never trusted Beiler. He had long sensed that the man’s disposition was prideful, his ambition probable, his character questionable and possibly bent.
At one time, Beiler had served as a deacon—a position that was often carried out less noticeably than that of a preacher. A deacon looked after the poor, saw to various needs of the community, assisted in baptisms and weddings, and sometimes investigated reports of transgressions, even carrying word about excommunication.
However, due to the departure from the community of another ordained deacon and a somewhat dubious transfer of duties by Bishop Graber, Beiler had quietly assumed many of the responsibilities of a preacher. When the time came to choose a man for the actual position, Beiler’s name was somehow submitted for consideration, despite the fact that things had never been done quite that way before. As it turned out, he was chosen for the position—a position he seemed to revel in.
Isaac Graber had always seemed partial to Beiler, for reasons David had never quite understood. The two men couldn’t have been more different in disposition. But he’d observed that Samuel Beiler had gradually made himself all but indispensable to the aging bishop, so perhaps that accounted for the way things turned out.
In any event, though David couldn’t prove that the changes he found so unsettling could be traced back to Beiler, neither could he help but be troubled. He also knew that to some extent the recent changes bothered Susan as well, so at least his distrust of the man wasn’t altogether personal. In fact, they had discussed their mutual concern only the night before.
Apparently, unlike some Amish communities David had heard of, the Riverhaven settlement had never been unreasonably strict in their rules and practices. At least not until recently. These days, however, there were rumors of more stringent regulations being enacted and less tolerance for those who broke those regulations either knowingly or unwittingly.
Not for the first time, one particular incident filtered its way into David’s thoughts. Three weeks ago on Sunday, he and Susan had hosted the church service at their house and, later that evening, the young people’s singing fest. When things were about to come to a close that night, Reuben Miller and Mary Yoder had been “caught” on their way to Reuben’s buggy by Samuel Beiler.
According to Barbara Short, a friend of Susan’s, Beiler had openly rebuked the two for “hanging around together” out of public view for quite some time. From what Barbara told Susan, Beiler had approached the couple as they were preparing to climb into Reuben’s buggy and leave for home.
Just how long they had been out of view was uncertain, but the two young people had been seeing each other for months now, so it wasn’t all that odd that they might have sought a few minutes of privacy when they could. Still, David acknowledged they probably should have reserved their time alone for the ride home.
He had to wonder, though, if Beiler must have kept an unreasonably close watch to have known about their movements and apprehended them as quickly as he had. In any event, from what Susan had been told, even though the two young people had admitted their indiscretion, Samuel Beiler had gone on to issue a harsh scolding in a loud enough voice that he could be heard at some distance.
David had known Mary and Reuben most of their lives. They were a fine young Amish couple, both of them trustworthy and obedient to the church. David seriously doubted that they’d been up to anything objectionable. They would have been humiliated by the experience.
He thought about how their former bishop, Isaac Graber, might have handled the situation and was pretty much convinced the older man would probably have rebuked the couple quietly and privately. Bishop Graber had never been one to make a scene or deliberately embarrass members of the church.
More than likely, he would have reminded the young people to live in such a way that would be pleasing to the Lord and in a manner that wouldn’t make another stumble, and that would have been the end of it. Beiler, however, had not only embarrassed the couple but imposed a punishment on them, ordering them to confess their transgression to the entire congregation during the next church service. They were also to avoid each other for the next month. Even Susan, a staunch believer in discretion and wholesomeness among courting couples, thought the preacher’s handling of the situation unnecessarily harsh and unreasonable.
There had been other changes as well. Rules had been tightened on how often courting couples could see each other, the time between dates being lengthened to three weeks instead of two.
Then there was the dress code, which, at least for women, was more rigid than it had ever been, allowing for no colors to be used in dress material—not even brown, but only black. Nor could the length of dresses reveal anything more than the tips of their shoes.
There was also a rumor circulating about a new rule being discussed that would dictate the conduct of a man and wife in their own home—that would, in fact, regulate the frequency of their most intimate relations. Such a rule was sure to be highly controversial in an Amish community.
The Plain People valued children as gifts from God, true blessings to be welcomed with joy and thankfulness. Any practice that would seem to limit the number of children a family might have would almost certainly be looked upon with indignation and resentment if not outright defiance.
It was only a rumor, to be sure, but David worried that if an issue that sensitive had indeed been raised, the church leadership was close to crossing the boundary of guidance and influence over the People’s private lives and venturing into an area that was nothing short of invasion.
He knew he wasn’t the only one questioning these new conventions. A few of the men he’d recently seen as patients—men he’d known for years—had guardedly broached their concerns, but David knew no more than anyone else about who or what was behind the recent changes.
His suspicions were just that—suspicions. He had no right to discuss his thoughts about such matters with anyone other than Susan, and even with her he had to tread cautiously—not because he didn’t trust her to keep his confidence, but because he didn’t want to cause even the slightest tear at the hem of her trust in the church and its leadership. Susan had been devout all her life. He wouldn’t be comfortable foisting his own doubts or suspicions onto her and had tried for the most part to keep his silence.
In spite of his caution, however, she was too sensitive by far not to know that something was bothering him. For a time he had been deliberately vague in his replies to her questions. Still, he should have known that she would eventually have her own concerns, and to be sure, only last night she had raised those concerns and her uneasiness.
It had been something of a relief to learn that she not only shared his concern about the changes taking place but also suspected that Beiler was the likely instigator of those changes. David had learned to trust his wife’s judgment. Where his own imagination tended to take flight all too easily, Susan was more practical and levelheaded. Before she formed an opinion or drew any conclusions, she had a way of gathering her instincts and examining them in light of any other evidence. Only then would she share her thoughts with him.
Last night she’d surprised him by raising the subject of the recent happenings in the community and admitting that, like David, she thought Samuel Beiler might be involved, at least to some extent. Hearing Susan echo his concerns in her usual direct way, David had realized with a new twist of dread that the trouble he had only sensed to be creeping in among the People was more than likely all too real.
Now, watching the storm hammer the usually serene landscape he so dearly loved, a chill gripped his spine. He knew that evil didn’t always entrench itself from the outside and that it could just as easily take an entire community captive from within.
Please, Lord God, don’t let that happen here. Place a wall of Your protection around these people, around all of us, that no evil can penetrate…
He was still praying when Susan quietly walked into the kitchen and took his hand.
17
A CHANGE OF PLANS
The hounds are baying on my track, my Master’s just behind,
Resolv’d that he will bring me back and fast his fetters bind.
GEORGE N. ALLEN, FROM The Underground Railcar
Gant was unprepared entirely for the message delivered to his door in the middle of the night.
Word came down the line from Keller’s station well after midnight, delivered by one of Tom Keller’s sons. So rushed was the warning that apparently no thought had been given to sending a note. Instead, young Merle Keller gasped it out in a harsh whisper. The boy quickly agreed to take the same message to Turner’s station, and then he bolted back to his horse and rode off.
Gant’s mind raced as he watched him ride away. So the runaways would not be leaving as planned. At least three teams of slave catchers had been spotted in Washington and Noble counties over the past few days. No fugitives or conductors would be safe on the roads regardless of how well traveled they might be.
Gant wasn’t a worrier by nature. He had long ago learned that prayer was the underground operation’s most dependable defense. Over the years he had taken to heart the apostle Paul’s advice to pray without ceasing, so he often prayed for the refugees’ protection while they were sheltered in his barn and during a move. But this sudden and wholly unexpected change of plans spooked him a little.
He simply had too many people on the premises to hide safely. Concealing two or three runaways was risky enough, but eleven men, women, and children were currently counting on his protection. How in the world was he to shelter so many indefinitely?
He bolted the door and decided against going back to bed. Sleep was the furthest thing from his mind now. Too much to think about, too much to figure out. And some of that unceasing prayer would seem to be in order as well.
From his place by the stove, Mac growled. Gant looked at him, but an instant later a low rumble made him turn toward the window. Again, Mac gave a chuff, but he too had grown accustomed to the sound the bobcat made when he was close by and paid the animal little heed these days. The cat would remain well hidden. That halfhearted snarl he’d just offered was simply his way of making his presence known.
As if Gant needed a reminder. He was beginning to feel as though the creature had taken to tracking his every move.
Finally he went to the window and looked out, but as he’d expected, he could see nothing but darkness. But the cat was out there all right, slinking around in the trees and behind the bushes, watching the house and waiting.
Waiting for what? Gant wasn’t sure he wanted to know.
Asa was just as reluctant as Gant to break the news to the people the next morning.
They went to the barn early, before dawn, to get it over with before taking them their morning meal. Just as they expected, when the refugees heard about the delay, the weight of disappointment was heavy. Gant’s attempts to brighten the situation fell flat for the most part, although he could sense some of the folks making an effort to stay positive.
“It may not be all that long,” he said, watching their faces after he explained the problem. He couldn’t blame them for feeling discouraged and apprehensive. Even to him, his words sounded unconvincing.
The boy Silas made no attempt to hide his frustration. “How long will we have to wait?”
“There will be people keeping watch day and night, passing the word down the line,” Gant said. “As soon as the slave catchers are out of the area, we’ll know.”
“Are you talking about hours or days or what?”
Gant shrugged. “There’s no telling. All we can do is stay put until word comes that it’s safe to move.”
“So in the meantime we just sit here and wait to get caught,” the boy shot back.
Asa was clearly growing impatient. “There won’t be any getting caught so long as you do as Captain Gant says. You just have to stay out of sight and keep quiet.”
“That’s easier said than done,” Silas muttered. “Folks are already getting restless. They want to be on their way.”
Gant knew the boy was right, and impatience bred carelessness. But with everyone around them looking on and hearing their exchange, he held his own concerns in check. “No doubt. And I’m not saying it will be easy, but we don’t have a choice. We just have to wait it out.”
The boy’s mouth pulled down. “Oh, there’s a choice. I’ve outsmarted slave catchers before. I can do it again.”
“Boy, don’t go talkin’ foolishness!” Asa shot back. “Just because you’re willing to risk your own neck doesn’t give you the right to put other folks in harm’s way. You need to settle down and use whatever common sense the good Lord gave you.”
Asa’s outburst surprised Gant. He’d never known a man with a cooler head or one slower to rile. Something about the boy seemed to set Asa’s teeth to grinding.
Silas stood glaring at Asa but said nothing more.
The youth’s reckless air and apparent hotheadedness troubled Gant too. Before leaving the barn, he took the boy’s arm and led him aside. “Take care you don’t get your people stirred up. They’re counting on you. There’s always danger when you’re on the move, but there’s no need to go looking for more trouble. You’ll be safe here for now, so don’t get in a hurry and do anything foolish.”
“I don’t need you to tell me that,” the boy said, yanking his arm away from Gant’s grip. “I’ve done this enough times to know what’s safe and what’s not.”
Gant studied him for a moment. “Then you’re smart enough to know not to light out when there’s a gaggle of riffraff prowling about just waiting to turn a profit off someone’s lack of caution.”
For an instant, the youth’s eyes flashed defiance and a hint of deep-seated anger. But the fire banked as quickly as it flared. “I’m not stupid,” he said. “Don’t concern yourself about me.”
“See that I don’t need to,” Gant grumbled, following Asa out the barn door.
Outside, Mac trotted ahead of them, but Gant slowed. “That boy’s too young and too feisty to be in charge of all those people. Once you get on the road, you’ll have to cool him down more than once, I expect.”
Asa nodded. “He’s some too big for his britches, that’s for sure.”
They took up a faster pace again. “Comes with being young, I suppose,” Gant said. “He gets to you, doesn’t he?” he added, grinning.
“He’s a little impudent, all right.” Asa hesitated. “I can’t place exactly what it is about him, but he reminds me of someone.”
“Who’s that?”
“I don’t know. Just something about him…”
“Well, I can’t blame him for being jumpy. The longer we have those runaways under roof, the more risk for them all.” Gant paused. “For that matter, I’m worried just as much about you.”
