Bride's Flight from Virginia City, Montana (19 page)

“When did this come in?” Zeph asked the clerk. “Oh, six, seven hours ago.”

They left the office. Zeph walked swiftly with long strides. Cody had to scramble to keep up.

“What’s wrong?” he asked with a worried look on his face. “What was in the telegram?”

Zeph didn’t answer. He continued to walk as quickly as he could to the train station. A part of him wanted to run.

There they were!
Thank You, Lord.
He hurried to Charlotte’s side.

“We were beginning to wonder when you two were going to show up,” said Charlotte. Then she saw his face. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Zeph passed her the telegram.

She read the telegram. Her face went white. “I don’t understand these words,
Abaddon
and
Apollyon.”

“Jude talked about them during a sermon once,” Zeph replied, his face grim. “Abaddon means ‘The Place of Destruction.’”

He could see fear creeping back into her eyes. “What about Apollyon?”

Zeph did not flinch from her painful stare. “It means ‘The Destroyer.’”

Chapter 21

T
hree buggies with matching dark horses were waiting at the train station in Lancaster. When Cody and Cheyenne stepped onto the platform, a short woman with a big smile climbed from the first buggy and came toward them, opening her arms. She was all in black—dark bonnet, long dark cloak with a cape at the shoulders, dark woolen shawl that fell down almost to the hem of her dark dress, and dark boots. The children ran into her arms, and there was laughter and a great deal of fast speech. The language was not English.

It was the first time Charlotte had smiled since she’d read the telegram from Omaha. “Pennsylvania Dutch,” she said to Zeph.

Another woman, much younger and very tall and slender, approached from the second buggy. She came up to Charlotte, inclined her head, and began to speak in Pennsylvania Dutch as well. Zeph noticed that the only difference between her clothing and that of the older woman was that she wore a lighter colored bonnet.

Charlotte turned to Zeph. “This is Sarah Beachey, the schoolteacher. I will be staying with their family. Her father is in the buggy.”

“You mean we’re splitting up?”

He said it as a joke, but Charlotte could see a flash of disappointment in his eyes. She gave a small smile and put her hand on his arm. “Yes, we are no longer Mister and Missus Fremont and Conner Wyoming. That journey is ended. Now I am Charlotte Spence again, and you are Zephaniah Parker. But I will never forget our short marriage. Don’t worry, we will talk again in a few days.”

Zeph was taken aback. “A few days?”

“I’m sorry. There are some things that have to be done. There will be meetings.”

“And I can’t be at the meetings?”

“You are not Amish.”

Zeph felt a mixture of hurt and anger rising in him.

“So we go through all that trouble and hazard to get you and the kids here safe and sound, and the best these Amish can do is give me the boot?”

“They are not giving you the boot.”

“I’ll get your things. I take it the kids are going with Aunt Rosa, if that’s her name?”

“Yes.”

She sighed as Zeph stalked off to the baggage car.

A man climbed out of the third buggy in a black coat wearing a cape and a flat-crowned, broad-brimmed hat identical to Zeph’s on his head. He was tall and massively built, with a beard that did not cover his upper lip. He followed Zeph to the baggage car.

Zeph was taking bags from the steward who was hauling them out of the car. The man reached forward and took two heavy carpetbags.

“Thanks,” said Zeph curtly.

“I am happy to help. My name is Augustine Yoder. Rosa’s brother. You know Rosa?” “I’ve heard about her.”

“I am the blacksmith. Also one of the ministers. Welcome.

Thank you for bringing the children home safely.”

Zeph grunted and took two more bags from the steward. “Miss Spence thought we might be here as long as four months.”

Augustine gave him a puzzled look. “Miss Spence?” Then he shook his head. “Four months? I think she will be at Bird in Hand longer than that.”

This was something Zeph did not want to hear. “I’ll take these bags to her and come back for the others. Perhaps you could take those others to the children?”

“Of course. Did you notice you and I are wearing almost the same clothing? You might be one of us.”

“Well, I’m not one of you.”

“Where did you come by your clothing, if I may ask?”

“Miss Spence made it. Except the sheepskin jacket.”

“This woman you call Miss Spence. Her mother was a wonder with the needle and thread. I see God has passed it down to the daughter as well.”

“You knew her mother?”

“Yah. The father and brothers, too. A good family, you know, hardworking. But we had our differences.”

Zeph carried four of Charlotte’s carpetbags to the buggy where she stood with Sarah Beachey and her father. Aunt Rosa had also walked over with the children to speak with Charlotte. The Pennsylvania Dutch ceased once Zeph showed up.

Charlotte took Zeph by the arm. “Aunt Rosa, this is Zephaniah Truett Parker. He is the brave young man who saw us safely from the Montana Territory to Lancaster.”

Aunt Rosa smiled a smile full of brown and white teeth and took one of Zeph’s hands in both of hers. “Thank you, Mister Parker. We are so grateful. So much we wished to see the children again, Samuel and Elizabeth. And, you know, the last time I saw our girl she was only fifteen years old. Now look at her. A woman. A beauty.”

Zeph found he had a hard time keeping his anger stoked with Aunt Rosa smiling up into his face and clasping his hand. He touched the brim of his flat-crowned hat with his free hand. “I believe she is God’s masterwork, Aunt Rosa.”

Charlotte flushed and Sarah Beachey dropped her eyes, but both Mister Beachey and Aunt Rosa laughed heartily. Mister Beachey climbed out of his buggy and stretched out his hand. “If God has a good eye then so do you, young man.
Velkommen.”

Zeph shook the man’s hand. “A pleasure to meet you, Mister Beachey.” “Moses.”

To his surprise, Zeph found himself saying, “Thank you all,
danke schoen,
for finding homes for Miss Spence and the children. It has been a long and exhausting journey for them.”

“Ah,” said Moses Beachey, raising his eyebrows, “you know some of the language?”

“When I was a boy, there was a rancher in Cheyenne by the name of Mueller. I listened to him talk the talk. His was not exactly the same as yours, but sometimes I remember a word or a phrase.”

“Gute,”
said Aunt Rosa. “In no time you will be talking like one of us.”

This rankled Zeph, but he covered it up with another touch to his hat brim. “I must get Charlotte’s other bags. Excuse me.”

Charlotte followed and stopped him a short distance from the others.

“Z, be patient with them. They are trying to be kind.”

“I know it. I just don’t like them always assuming you’ve come back to live here or that I’m anxious to become one of them.”

“Who knows what will happen over the next few weeks?”

“Weeks?”

Zeph glanced over at the others. They were obviously listening. Without thinking, he began to speak to Charlotte in Spanish. “Señorita, what makes you think we have weeks? Have you forgotten the telegram?”

Charlotte’s face clouded over. “No.”

“It came from Omaha.”

“The accomplice—”

“The accomplice is in Iron Springs. That’s how Seraph Raber knew we would be in Harrisburg. How could the army or Colonel Austen have known if they had Seraph or not? The others wouldn’t tell them he was one of the four who escaped. For all the army knew, he was one of the two they hung. Omaha, Charlotte. He’s three days away. Four days, maybe, but that’s stretching it. You think it will be hard for Seraph to locate a man and a woman who just came into Bird in Hand with two kids in tow from Montana?”

“What are you going to do?”

“At least I can tell them what Seraph looks like now. We have Cheyenne’s drawing. The army will know if they hung him or not. If not, we’ll know he’s still at large. I’ll telegraph Colonel Austen. I’ll telegraph Matt, too. I’ll try and throw some grit in that accomplice’s eyes. I’m going to tell Matt we’re pushing on to Philadelphia because the kids have relatives there.”

“Aren’t we going to tell the Amish that Seraph Raber is hunting us?”

“What can they do? Throw stones? Why, they wouldn’t even do that. No need to get them and the kids all worked up. You know we can’t stay here after three days, not if they haven’t caught Raber. We’ll have to run.”

“No.”

“To save others’ lives. You know he won’t care who he murders to get to us.”

“No.”

Zeph stared at her and the blazing lights in her blue winter eyes. “I guess I’ve run out of Spanish,” he said in English.

“Where did you pick it up?” she asked, also in English.

“Same place as you. Ricky hired on that Vicente when you were still a girl, didn’t he? You’ve been learning Mexican since you were a kid on the Sweet Blue. Well, Dad brought in a hired hand to help on our place in Wyoming when I was no bigger than a cricket. I learned from him, same as you. Pablo was his name. A great man. A true vaquero.”

“I was fifteen when Ricky brought me to the Montana Territory. Hardly someone you’d call a kid, señor.”

He smiled. “I’ll get your other bags. Adiós.”

She gave his hand a squeeze.
“Vaya con Dios.”

In another ten minutes the three buggies were rattling east over the rutted road and slush to Bird in Hand. The long fields were sheeted with snow. Zeph sat next to Augustine Yoder in his buggy. There was only one carpetbag, a bedroll, and a pair of saddlebags for luggage.

“It is not far,” said Augustine. “My house and smithy are on the edge of town and closer to Lancaster. You will want to lie down, I think, and get some rest. Long journeys can be tiring.” “Mister Yoder—” “Augustine.”

“The last thing I want to do, believe me, is lie down. Back home I ride the land every day. I felt like a fox locked in a coop on that train trip. I want to use my muscles. You’re going to put in an afternoon at the anvil, aren’t you?”

He nodded. “That I am. I must put some iron rims on several wagon wheels.”

“Can I give you a hand?”

“Have you worked with a blacksmith before?”

“Not much. But it’s always fascinated me.”

“So. No food? Straight into the shop?”

“Bitte.”

Augustine smiled at Zeph’s use of the German word.

“And Mister—Augustine—thank you for taking the time to come to Lancaster and fetch us. And for giving me a few minutes at the telegraph office. I’m very much obliged. Danke.”

“Bitteschon.”

After Augustine had turned the buggy onto his property, Zeph jumped down and led the horse toward the large, gray barn. Augustine took Zeph’s belongings.

“Shall I remove his harness and rub him down?” asked Zeph.

“Yah. There are stables at the back of the barn and hooks for the tack. Please give the gelding some oats. The buggy stays in the barn as well.”

Augustine watched Zeph gently begin unhitching the horse, smiled, and nodded. Then he went to his house—white, plain, sturdy, two stories. At the door he leaned in and called to his wife in Pennsylvania Dutch. He put Zeph’s carpetbag, bedroll, and saddlebags in the hall and shut the door. Then he jerked his head toward a small building which stood about a hundred feet behind the house. “You will meet Rebecca at supper.”

Chapter 22

A
ugustine showed Zeph how to work the bellows to keep the furnace red-hot. “My boys used to do this. But now they are grown. One has a dairy herd; the other is a carpenter. And my daughter, my Katie, she is married to Amos Zook—he is the honey man, he has the beeyard, what do the English call it?”

“Apiary?”

“Yah. Big word. Why not just say hives?”

They set to work, Zeph pumping, Augustine hammering the strips of hot iron into hoops. In no time Zeph’s sheepskin jacket was on a peg, soon followed by the black coat Charlotte had made for him. Augustine looked at his clothing and pointed with his smoking tongs. “Who you call Charlotte?”

“Yes.”

“She has made for you a perfect
mutze,
a dress coat, do you know that? The vest, the broadfall pants, all from our people. Comfortable, eh?”

“Sure, but a little loose.”

“Your shirt, no collar, just like mine. You see that?” Augustine had stripped down to his shirt before he’d struck his first blow with the hammer. “But you need suspenders. Your pants want to sit around your knees.” He barked a laugh. “How did she miss that?”

“By not having to wear them herself.”

“Yah, but you are plain, very plain,
alle ist gute.”

Sweat made their faces shine, the heat and wood coals made their skin glow crimson and bronze. Zeph helped Augustine fit one, two, three, four, five wheels. Then the big man sat and mopped his brow with a towel before tossing it to Zeph to do the same.

“Do you have a watch, Zephaniah?”

“Mm.” Zeph walked over and pulled the watch from a pocket in his vest, which was hanging from a hook. The silver gleamed in the light from the furnace. “Five thirty.”

“Not so plain.”

“A gift.”

Augustine grunted. “Enough for today. At six, Rebecca will be wondering if we mean to make a night of it. Come, I’ll show you where to wash up.”

When they stepped outside the shop, the cold made Zeph suck in his breath.

Augustine grinned. “I have a good trade for the wintertime, eh?”

“Your smithy is as warm as California.”

“But in the summertime, I am always drinking water, gallons of it, and lemonade. It’s a different matter then. I feel like a ham dangling in a smokehouse.”

After he had cleaned up and changed into another shirt, equally as plain as the one he’d taken off, Zeph came to the table. Augustine and his wife were waiting patiently for him. They rose, the wife coming around the table to greet him and take one of his hands in hers.