River of Mercy, page 9
With a close look at his friend’s tall frame, Gant saw that he looked leaner than usual, and Asa had no extra flesh to begin with.
“Some fresh eggs in the icebox too,” he added.
Gideon Kanagy drove the wagon back toward town after his last delivery to Aaron Lapp’s farm. Halfway down the road, he caught himself grinning again.
He’d been doing that all morning, ever since meeting up with Emma and her dat going in the opposite direction as he left Mose Bender’s place. Levi Knepp hadn’t stopped the buggy, of course. Not even for a minute. To the contrary, Gideon thought the man had actually urged his team faster just to make sure he and Emma would have no time for even a civil hello.
Even so, Emma had managed a brief but warm smile for Gideon, which he returned.
What Levi didn’t know was that his daughter had favored Gideon with more than one smile lately. While helping out at his mother’s farm, Gideon had taken to riding past the Knepp place in the afternoon, hoping to catch Emma outside. He knew it wasn’t likely, given the miserable weather they’d been having, but he’d made a daily attempt anyway. And twice his effort had been rewarded.
Yesterday had been one of those times. Emma was coming out the gate with some kind of a covered dish in her hands when he pulled up beside her. He wasn’t surprised that she glanced back at the house as if to see if anyone was watching before turning to him. It seemed that she was taking a dish of chicken and noodles across the road to the Mast farm. “Lovina sprained her ankle last week, so Mamm and I have been helping with extra food,” she told Gideon.
She gave him her usual small smile, though he noted it no longer seemed quite as shy as it once had. Ever since the day he’d taken her home in his wagon after finding her stranded alongside the road with a broken wheel, she had seemed a little more comfortable with him, a little more open in her speech and actions.
Gideon was glad for the difference. There was something about Emma Knepp that drew him. Something more than her pretty face, although she was an extremely pretty girl. Maybe it was a lot of things. Out-of-the-ordinary things, such as the fact that she seemed so…untainted. Pure. But not in a prudish, stuffy way. No, it was more a clean freshness about her that set her apart from most girls he’d gone out with.
It was more than her appearance, though. Somehow Gideon knew that Emma was unusual. Different. He could tell she was a good, gentle person but with a strength and kindness that made folks naturally respect and like her.
Young as she was, she was already someone special. At least she was becoming special to Gideon. And he found that surprising. Even a little scary.
For example, yesterday he’d actually asked her if she went to the singings—the Sunday evening gatherings for the Amish young people, where couples often started courting. A good number of those couples eventually married.
The look she’d given him had been one of obvious surprise and puzzlement. “Oh…well, sometimes I do. When one of my brothers is free to take me and bring me home.”
So she wasn’t seeing anyone in particular. At least not yet.
Then she’d added, “I’ve…I’ve never seen you there though.”
Gideon had almost choked on his reply. “Well, you just might soon.”
At first he’d thought she wasn’t going to say anything. But after a few seconds, she looked directly at him with a long, searching look that was unusual for Emma and said in a quiet but steady voice, “That would be nice, Gideon.”
She paused, and a faint blush stained her face as she added, “The next singing is this Sunday at the Springers’.” Again she hesitated. “In case you wanted to know.”
Gideon had gone on his way feeling a little light-headed and with his mind already set to show up at the Sunday night singing. He wondered only briefly if he would be welcome, absent as he’d been from the church services and the singings for months now. But he didn’t fret about it long. It wasn’t as if he were under the Bann, after all. He was still Amish, even if he hadn’t joined the church. He was still in his rumspringa and was allowed to have his running-around time before joining the church—if he ever did join.
Welcome or not, he was going to that singing.
Gant waited until late that night before taking Asa to the barn to meet the newest runaways. The children were already asleep, as were a couple of the women, but the men were wide awake. So alert and restless did they appear, they might as well have been keeping watch.
And maybe they were.
Silas, the youth who seemed more man than a boy, didn’t budge from his place at the far end of the barn, where he could look out through a wide crack between the boards. He didn’t even turn around until Gant and Asa were almost up to him.
Once introduced, he greeted Asa with an impassive, even cold expression. But then his interest seemed to quicken. In fact, the stare he fixed on the older man almost bordered on rudeness. It was as if he were taking Asa’s measure.
If Asa took exception to the boy’s scrutiny, he didn’t show it but simply stood regarding him with a faint smile that held a hint of curiosity. “So is your family with you, son?”
Gant had already told Asa about Silas, but Asa liked to ask his own questions and gather his own information.
“No family,” Silas said.
Asa crossed his arms over his chest, a sign that he was going to take his time sizing up the boy. “Where you from?”
“We come from more than one place.”
“Uh-huh.” Asa waited, as if expecting more than a short reply that hinted of insolence. When the boy offered nothing more, he tried a different tack. “You’re all traveling together though,” he said, glancing around at the people scattered about. “So you’re their guide?”
Silas nodded.
“You’re young to be taking on that kind of responsibility.”
“I’m old enough,” Silas said, his gaze holding steady. “Besides, there wasn’t anybody else.”
“I see. Well then, in that case I expect they’re lucky to have you. All the same, you’ve undertaken a heavy load for one so young.”
The other’s expression didn’t change, nor did he make any reply.
What kind of youngster was this anyway, when a man like Asa couldn’t crack his shell?
A similar thought had occurred to Gant when Silas and Gideon had first met. Gideon was obviously older and considerably bigger, and he had a maturity about him beyond his years. All that and the fact that he was white might have intimidated a Southern black, especially one who looked to be still in his teens.
But Silas had shown no sign of being unsettled by Gideon, no hint of being put off by him. So maybe it should have come as no surprise that he wasn’t cowed by Asa either.
Still, the more Gant came into contact with the unusual youth, the more his curiosity about him grew. Time would no doubt give up some of the mystery that hung over the boy like a cloud. Especially time spent with Asa, who had an uncanny way of peeling back the layers of another’s secrets and bringing them into the open without the slightest discernible effort.
He should know. Over the years, his good-natured friend had managed to unearth all manner of his secrets—even a few that Gant himself hadn’t been aware of.
15
THE WARNING
Be wary of a caution spoken by a friend when the words seem more to wound than to warn.
ANONYMOUS
Fannie left at a run, her lessons completed for the day.
Rachel was standing at the front window, watching her little sister bolt across the field for home, when she spied Samuel Beiler coming down the road. There was no mistaking Samuel’s buggy, even at a distance. His fancy, high-trotter of a horse made him hard to miss.
Samuel Beiler’s liking for rich-blooded, fine horses was no secret among the People. Gossip had it that he paid a pretty penny for this latest one. Of course, an Amish man’s liking for good horses wasn’t unusual. Not a bit. But it had always struck Rachel as somewhat odd that for a man known to be exceedingly tight with his money, Samuel traded or bought and sold his horses mighty often.
Hard on the heels of her thoughts came a sting of guilt. She was being unfair. She had no way of knowing if Samuel was extravagant with his money in any area, and even if he was, it was certainly none of her business.
She sighed when he slowed the buggy and pulled off the road in front of the house. What was it this time? She had so hoped he’d finally given up on any idea of courting her. By now her resistance to his numerous proposals of marriage should have quashed his interest. Yet he seemed intent on drawing her into a relationship she couldn’t even bear to consider.
Apparently he continued to believe that if he was patient and exerted enough pressure, she would eventually give in and become his wife. Rachel knew that many among the People believed she was foolish to reject Samuel. Some had even spoken to her about her unwise discouragement of his affection.
She couldn’t help it. Although he had been a friend of her family and a deacon and a preacher in the church for years, something about Samuel kindled an uneasy sense of distrust in Rachel. She simply could not imagine living under the same roof with him, much less tolerating the intimacies of marriage with him.
Not that he’d ever made any sort of improper advances. But there were times when he looked at her in a way that made her feel unaccountably…unclean. And there was something else, something that hinted of a current of anger continually churning just beneath the surface of his seemingly impeccable behavior.
Anger always put Rachel on edge. It was something she’d never had to live with. Her parents had both been even-tempered, and Eli, even when distressed or exhausted, never said a harsh word to her. His disposition had been unfailingly gentle and good-natured.
Truth was, she was never completely comfortable around Samuel or entirely trusting of him despite his declarations of high regard and affection for her. Yet most of the time she managed to treat him with the respect due to a leader in the church and to a family friend, which he claimed to be.
Even so, because any esteem or show of genuine warmth for him required real effort on her part, she had come to dread his visits. Although he usually called as a leader in the church, supposedly to see to the welfare and needs of a widow in the community, too often his calls turned personal. It was as if Samuel had made it his mission to rescue her from widowhood and bring her under his protection.
And his control.
Rachel, however, felt no need to be rescued or protected, and she certainly had no desire to be controlled.
For once, Samuel actually seemed to have come with the legitimate purpose of checking on a parishioner’s well-being. He spent only a few minutes in impersonal conversation before carrying in a hickory smoked ham sent by his sister, accompanied by an applesauce coffee cake large enough to feed half a dozen people. A wonderful cook who enjoyed sharing the fruits of her labor, Rebekah was forever favoring Rachel with delights from her kitchen and smokehouse.
Rachel appreciated the wonderfully gut fare, but she sometimes thought Rebekah must consider all widows to be poor starving souls dependent on the kitchens of others to keep them from wasting away. But with Samuel’s impersonal behavior and his sister’s generosity, she felt some of her earlier antagonism drain away.
He insisted on filling her wood box, and when he finished, Rachel felt the least she could do was offer him a hot cup of tea.
“If it’s no trouble,” he said, warming his hands at the stove.
“No, of course not. It will take only a moment.”
They drank their tea in relative silence until Samuel said, with his usual bluntness, “I hope you’re being more careful these days, Rachel.”
Rachel looked at him. “Careful?”
“Since your house was broken into. Surely you lock your doors now, even though it’s a bitter thing that we need to do so.”
“My doors were locked the night of the break-in, Samuel,” Rachel said quietly. “And yes, I always make sure they’re locked.”
He nodded. “A woman alone can’t be too careful in these times.” He paused. “So the intruder forced your doors, then?”
“The side door. He broke the glass and reached in to unlock the door from inside.”
“I came by when I heard to see if I could help with repairs, but you weren’t here. Only Dr. Sebastian and that Gant fellow working inside. The doctor said you were staying with him and your mother at the time.”
Now he was watching her closely, with that intense, disapproving stare he sometimes adopted with her. She felt as if she were a child caught in a questionable act and he a reproving elder.
Rachel chose not to reply but simply glanced away. His reference to “that Gant fellow” had stirred her irritation with him again.
“Why didn’t you let the People know you needed help, Rachel? You would have had friends at your door the moment they heard.”
“Doc is one of the People, remember? And Captain Gant knew about it as soon as it happened, because we were together—”
She nearly groaned the instant the words escaped her. Her impatience with what she viewed as Samuel’s interference had made her careless.
He looked at her, frowning as if she’d just confessed a terrible sin. “You were with Gant?”
His tone made it sound as if he’d just tasted something vile. “Didn’t Bishop Graber warn you that you weren’t to be with the outsider?”
“He said we weren’t to be alone together. The night of the break-in we were at my mother’s house having supper.”
Please, don’t let him press for more…
She saw his quick intake of breath, his look of surprise as he stood. “What is this? Your mother is entertaining the two of you as a couple?”
Rachel clenched her hands. “It wasn’t like that.”
There was no mistaking the anger that glazed his expression as he stood glaring down at her “Then how was it, Rachel?” He paused. “And how did Gant find out about the break-in if the two of you were at your mother’s?”
An unreasonable wave of guilt slammed into Rachel, a feeling that only renewed her resentment toward Samuel. This was none of his business, after all. Why should his remarks make her feel guilty?
But it was his business if he chose to make it so. He was a leader in the church, and therefore she was answerable to him for any behavior outside the Ordnung—the rules, unwritten as they were, that regulated the Amish way of life.
“Rachel, didn’t the bishop instruct you and Gant not to be together?”
“Bishop Graber said we weren’t to be alone together, that’s true. But after supper, because of all the bad things that have been happening, Jeremiah—Captain Gant—insisted on seeing me safely home.” She cringed at the note of defensiveness in her voice.
Samuel shook his head, his expression one of disbelief. “You have always had a bent toward rebellion, Rachel, but this is too much.” He stopped, and his expression turned hard. “What were you thinking, deliberately disobeying your bishop?”
Rachel couldn’t stop herself. “Bishop Graber is dead, Samuel.”
His mouth thinned. “You would do well to remember that there will be a new bishop, and he must be told of your disobedience. Your behavior cannot be ignored.”
A cold twist of unease coiled through Rachel as she was reminded that Samuel himself might be the next bishop. She knew as a certainty that if that should come about, her “behavior” would most definitely not be ignored. And in that jarring, unguarded moment, she finally put a name to the feeling Samuel Beiler had long evoked in her.
Dread.
She dreaded this man who for years had called himself a friend to her and her family, who had made numerous pronouncements of affection for her, even proposed marriage.
Her chair scraped against the floor as she shot to her feet. “I think you should leave now, Samuel.”
“Rachel—”
“I mean it. I want you to leave.”
He continued to study her, his stony silence oddly threatening. Rachel could almost sense him struggling to control his temper.
Finally, he released a long breath. “Your foolishness demeans you, Rachel. But I can see there’s no reasoning with you right now, so I’ll go.”
He started to turn but then hesitated. “It’s my responsibility as one of the leaders in the church to remind you that there’s always a penalty for disobedience to the Ordnung. Oftentimes a severe one. I hope you’ll give some serious thought to what you may bring upon yourself if you continue on this course.”
Rachel didn’t trust herself to respond, but merely stood waiting until he left, her hands clenched so painfully at her sides that her nails felt as if they would pierce her skin. The moment he stepped outside, she fairly threw herself at the door and locked it.
16
AN ENEMY WITHIN
Deliver us from the evil one.
MATTHEW 6:13 NKJV
David Sebastian took a break from restocking his medical case to stand at the kitchen window and gaze out at the storm battering the house. The temperature was dropping, turning the rain that had begun earlier to snow and icy pellets that slashed the windowpanes like shards of broken glass driven by the wind.
Susan and Fannie were upstairs, ensconced in the cozy sewing room, where they would no doubt stay until they completed the infant items they’d been creating for Waneta Fisher’s new baby girl. Feeling somewhat at loose ends, David had spent much of the morning doing things that didn’t really need to be done in an attempt to keep his mind off other matters that had been troubling him lately. Matters that had to do mostly with the winds of change he sensed stirring in the Riverhaven community.
There had been a time when few things seemed to change for the Plain People. From what he’d observed over the years, life among the Amish stayed fairly predictable and routine with little happening to interrupt or disturb their lifestyle.
Not so these days. A number of things seemed to be changing, and David harbored a measure of concern that at least some of the change wasn’t for the better. Of course, his conversion to the Amish church and his marriage to Susan were recent enough that he could be mistaken, but he didn’t believe that was the case. He’d been a physician and a friend to most of the Plain families for many years, so even though living Amish was fairly new to him, the people weren’t.
