Accidentally Amish (46 page)

“I want
all
of my family there,” Lisbet emphasized. “I wish …”

“You’re thinking of Maria, aren’t you?”

Lisbet nodded, tears springing to her eyes. “She should have been next, after Christian. Now we don’t even know where she is.”

“I’m sure she thinks of you often.”

“If she didn’t want to be baptized, she didn’t have to …” Lisbet set her mug down hard. “Why did she think she had to run off like that?”

Elizabeth shook her head. She had no answer.

Lisbet swallowed her sorrow and forced a smile. “And Jacobli had better behave himself at my wedding.”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “What did he do last night?”

“He was supposed to be peeling apples, but he gave Mrs. Hochstetler conniption fits by cutting faces into the apples and giving them names. Once they had names and faces, no one wanted to cut them up or crush them for cider.”

“That sounds like my Jacobli.”

“Then the Hochstetler boys started doing it. Mrs. Hochstetler took away their knives and sent them all outside.”

Elizabeth gestured to the generous basket of apples and peaches gracing her table. “Are there any faces in this bunch you brought home?”

Lisbet laughed. “Mrs. Hochstetler threw the faces in the cider press herself before they could turn brown.”

“How many bushels did you put out for drying?”

Lisbet shrugged. “I lost count. They just kept coming, so we kept peeling and paring. Their peaches are ripe, too, so that will be the next harvest. Jacobli is already scheming about what he can do with peaches.”

Elizabeth tried to picture her eldest son frolicking with the Amish young adults. He was eighteen and attended their church services frequently, though not regularly. John had been a few times also but seemed less interested. Or perhaps the difference was that Jacobli could get along with just about anyone and John was more particular. So far, to Elizabeth’s relief, Jacobli had said nothing about being baptized and joining the Amish church—though Christian and Lizzie raised the question frequently. He simply seemed to enjoy friendship with the neighbors. Jacobli’s recent habit of wearing Amish clothing unsettled her, however. He hardly took off his straw hat anymore, as if he were trying on a choice.

Lisbet giggled again. “Mrs. Hochstetler kept making jokes about how many
schnitz
pies she would have to eat over the winter to keep her weight up.”

“She’s fatter than any woman in the valley!” Elizabeth said.

“Because she makes the best
schnitzboi
in the valley, too.”

“The next time you see her, thank her for the basket she sent home with you. We’ll have a feast for breakfast today.” Elizabeth stood up and headed for the stairs. “I’d better get those sleepy heads up once and for all.”

She stood at the base of the stairs and called her children’s names one by one.

A deep, hoarse voice joined her with more urgency. “Jacobli! John! Joseph! Come down immediately.”

“Jakob, what’s wrong?” Elizabeth spun to face her husband who was standing in the door. David was right behind him.

“Where are the boys? Jacob! John! Now! David, bolt the door.”

The bolt thudded into place almost immediately.

“Jakob!” Elizabeth said again. She could count on one hand the number of times she had heard her husband raise his voice in the last nineteen years.

The weight of boys in men’s bodies tested the stairs as Jacob, John, and Joseph thundered down in a gangly knot of arms and legs.

“Make sure you bring Sarah,” Jakob boomed, and the girl appeared at the top of the stairs.

Jakob was at the mantel now, pulling rifles off racks and stuffing them with gunpowder. He slapped one Brown Bess musket into Jacobli’s hand and the next one into John’s.

“Jakob!” Elizabeth put a hand on his arm. “I must insist you tell me what is going on. Why has it become so urgent to go hunting before breakfast?”

“We’re not going hunting,” Jakob said, putting a gun into Joseph’s hands.

“But—”

“They shot John Miller in the hand,” Jakob said rapidly, “while he was swinging an ax like he does every morning. Like we all do every day. Just chopping wood.”

“Who would want to hurt John Miller?”

“We’ve lived in this valley for twenty years, most of them peaceful,” Jakob said. “The Indians never bothered us until this ridiculous war between the French and the British. First the British build a fort in Northkill, and now the French have the Lenni Lenape shooting at us.”

“But surely, Jakob—”

“Lisbet,” Jakob snapped, “what time did you and Jacob leave the Hochstetlers’ last night?”

“Late. After midnight. Once we finished with the apples, most of us stayed around talking or singing.”

“
Daed
,” Jacobli said, “what does that have to do with why you are handing out guns?”

“Or John Miller’s hand?” Elizabeth added.

“The Indians took advantage of the moonless night.” Jakob stood a rifle on its heel, gripped the steel shaft with both hands, and looked around the room. “You’re all old enough to hear this. They attacked the Hochstetlers. I suspect it was not long after everyone left. By God’s grace, you were gone already. The Indians set fire to the house. By the time neighbors saw the flames and got over there, it was too late to save anything—or anybody. The Hochstetlers crawled out through a cellar window, but nobody could get close enough to help, not even when Mrs. Hochstetler was stuck in the window.”

Elizabeth and Lisbet exchanged glances, regretting the banter about Mrs. Hochstetler’s size.

“The Indians found them trying to hide. Mrs. Hochstetler was stabbed to death and scalped. One boy and the girl were tomahawked. Hochstetler and the other boys are missing. The neighbors saw the Indians ride off with them—after they torched every building on the land. Even their married son had to watch from across the field and could do nothing.”

Elizabeth sank into the nearest chair. Sarah threw herself into her mother’s arms. “What are you planning to do, Jakob?”

“I plan to assure myself that my children and grandchildren are safe. I’ll ride all day if I have to. Jacobli and John, you’re coming with me. Joseph and David, you’re staying here. I know you’re all good shots.”

“Jakob, what are you saying?” Elizabeth could not believe her ears.

“We’ve never shot at anything we did not intend to eat,” Joseph said.

“They are still boys.” Elizabeth’s pitch rose. “You cannot ask them to do this.”

Jakob laid his hands on Joseph’s shoulders and looked him square in the eye. “You’re fifteen. We’ve raised you to follow your conscience. I hope you don’t have to do anything at all, but if you do, I know it will be right.” He turned to David, a year younger. “That goes for you, too.”

Elizabeth rose. “I’ve heard rumors that Mrs. Hochstetler was not always kind to the Indians who came to her looking for food. Perhaps they chose her in particular. Perhaps the danger is past.”

“I want to know my children are safe,” Jakob said. “Christian and the girls’ husbands—they would do what I suspect Hochstetler did. That man had guns in his house, and he knew how to use them. Why is his family slaughtered as if they did not have the means to defend themselves?” Jakob picked up his own rifle and stuffed his pockets with gunpowder packets and lead. “Bolt the door and stay away from the windows. If there’s any danger, go out through the tunnel from the cellar. And take the guns.”

Jakob and two of his sons rode their horses hard. He allowed himself a moment of relief when Christian’s house came into view and appeared unharmed but pressed on to see for himself that Christian, Lizzie, and their three small children were alive.

He swung off his horse just as Christian swung open the door to his home.

“I see you’ve heard the news.” Christian’s eyes went to his father’s gun. “You don’t seriously think that using a rifle is going to solve anything.”

“Is your family safe?” Jakob asked.

“We are unharmed, if that is what you mean.”

Lizzie appeared behind her husband, baby Magdalena in her arms and Christli and Veronica clutching her skirts. The sight of his grandchildren slowed Jakob’s heart rate.

“What if it had been your farm, Christian?” Jacobli asked.

“But it was not,” Christian retorted.

“What if it were?”

“Our lives are in God’s hands,” Christian answered.

“I imagine that is what Hochstetler said to his screaming wife and children,” Jakob said.

“They would not have been screaming,” Christian answered calmly. “They knew they were in God’s hands as well.”

“I’m not certain this is God’s way.”

“
Daed
, in all these years, I have never heard you sound so
English
,” Christian said. “In your heart, you are Amish. You cannot possibly be thinking of doing this.”

“Don’t tell me what is in my heart, Christian.”

“If you shoot a man, will you have it in your heart to repent and ask forgiveness?”

Jakob ignored the question. “Please tell me you have prepared a place to hide. In the thicket perhaps, a dense place well away from the house where you could keep the children quiet.”

Christian nodded. “Lizzie and I have talked about this, especially if something happens when I am away. We would never raise arms against another human being, but of course we would do all we could to avoid harm to ourselves.”

Jacobli shifted in his saddle. “That’s not true, Christian. You would not do all you could. Would you rather see your children toma—”

“Jacobli!” Jakob spoke sharply then lowered his voice. “Do you not see the children standing right there?”

Christian murmured to Lizzie. She took the children and withdrew into the house. Christian closed the door and strode over to the horses.

“You have been to our worship services,” Christian said to Jacobli. “You have many friends among our people. You know our ways. I hoped that perhaps you would be ready soon to join the church yourself.”

Jacobli shook his head. “I’ve hunted with the Hochstetler boys. Their rifles were right next to the door when I was in their home a few hours ago. Only their father would have forbidden them to defend themselves. If I had a wife and children, if I were in the place Mr. Hochstetler was in, I believe I would make a different choice.”

“Your conscience would be forever smeared,” Christian said.

“Perhaps,” Jacobli said, “but my children would be alive.”

“When everything is calm again, you will reconsider.”

Jacobli reached for his straw hat. “I don’t believe so. May God give you grace, Christian, but I am no Amishman.” He tossed his hat on the ground. “
Daed
, we must find out if the Yoders are safe.”

R
uth removed the plain glass chimney of Annie’s new lamp, turned the wick up slightly, and struck a match. The wick caught, and she replaced the glass.

“It’s that easy,” she said.

Annie nodded. “I guess even a techno-addict like me can learn to do that.”

“This knob,” Ruth said, demonstrating, “controls the flame size.”

“Got it.”

“It’s a pretty lamp. You’ve found some real treasures in Mrs. Weichert’s store.”

“Her store seems perfect for a hundred-year-old house. I find myself wondering what the house was like when it was built. Maybe electricity had not even come this far out from the main cities. Maybe I’m not the first owner to light a kerosene lamp in this room.”

“Maybe not.”

Annie had added a cozy deep red armchair and a couple of end tables to the living room. The dining table shone with Ruth’s labor of the last hour. Upstairs a new bed suited the proportions of Annie’s bedroom. In the second bedroom, Annie had a small desk and a bookcase, but the main feature was a chair that folded out to a guest bed.

Ruth settled into the armchair. “I suppose soon you won’t have reason to run back and forth so much. I want to be sure to thank you now for helping me reconnect with my family.”

“It was my privilege.” Annie toyed with the kerosene flame. “You’ll be back, somehow. Remember, you promised to show me what to do with my floors.”

“It’s hard work to do yourself.”

“Hey, I’m all about hard work.”

Ruth saw the hesitation in Annie’s face. “It’s all right to talk about it, you know.”

“Talk about what?”

“
Mamm
and me. We talked for a long time. I’m not sure she will ever accept that I am not going to be baptized into the Amish church, but she has managed to get past her hurt at how I left. I am grateful to you for that.”

“And Rufus?” Annie asked.

Ruth tilted her head and twisted her lips. “I’m never quite sure what you’re asking about Rufus.”

“Is he well?”

“You know he is.”

“And happy?”

“He’s happy when you’re around.”

“That’s nonsense.” Annie fluffed a pillow on the sofa. “I have nothing to do with your brother’s happiness.”

Ruth shifted out of her chair and put a hand on Annie’s arm. “You’ve been avoiding him. It’s all right to talk to him.”

Annie wriggled free of Ruth’s grip to straighten papers on the coffee table. “There’s nothing to say.”