The Heart's Frontier (7 page)

With a jerk he realized he hadn’t delivered all the news. He looked at Jonas. “I don’t think that wagon is going anywhere unless you’re planning on pulling it yourself. Your oxen are gone, along with all your provisions, probably.”

Jonas seemed unconcerned. “We will buy more oxen.”

Luke glanced down the lonely street. “Gorham’s a pretty small settlement. There is a livery stable behind the blacksmith’s shop, though. If you’re lucky you might get ahold of a couple of mules.”

He shook his head. “I use oxen for my farm. The Lord knows my need. He will provide.”

The man seemed awfully confident. The chance of someone having a pair of oxen to sell in tiny little Gorham was slim, but Luke didn’t want to argue. Besides, he didn’t have time. “I expect you’re right. Well, I’ll leave you to it, then.” He nodded toward Mrs. Switzer and Rebecca, and touched a finger to his hat brim when his gaze slid to Emma. “Ladies, it’s been a pleasure.”

He started to turn away, but Jonas stepped in front of him. “The Lord will bless you for the help you have given already.” A flush rose on the man’s face, above the point where the untrimmed beard gave way to tanned skin. “May I ask for your help one more time? We have no money to pay for the oxen the Lord will send, or for provisions to replace those taken from us.”

Of course they didn’t. Everything they owned had been stolen. Luke held back a sigh. It was short-sighted of him not to see this coming. He did have some U.S. notes in his wallet and a stash of gold pieces in his satchel, expenses for the trail. McCann’s thriftiness when provisioning the chuck wagon along the way had left them in good shape. The men had each received advances when they camped near towns big enough to afford a man a decent time, but Luke had kept the advances small. Give a man a wad of money when there’s a saloon nearby and he’s been on the trail for a month, and the herd might not move for days. As a result of wise money management, he had some put aside. He could help the Switzers and replenish it from his own pocket when he got to Hays. Then he would pay a visit to that Amish bishop.

He eyed Jonas. “You’re good for it?”

The man straightened. “
Ja
.”

Luke believed him. What decided him, though, was the intent way Emma watched him, as though she wanted him to say yes but expected him to refuse. Something about the way that girl looked at him made him think she didn’t trust him. That wasn’t fair, because he’d gone out of his way to be nice since the moment he landed in the dirt at her feet. That expression on her face, the slightly narrowed eyes and the way she tilted her head a tad so her laces hung uneven from her
kapp
, stirred up a yearning in him to prove her wrong.

“I expect I can spare enough to buy a decent ox or two.” He twisted his lips in a crooked grin and directed it toward Emma. “That is, if the Lord can manage to round up a pair out here in the middle of nowhere.”

The corners of her lips softened in an almost smile, and she gave a nearly imperceptible nod that made Luke stand a little taller in his boots. Whether she shared his skepticism about the oxen or she was grateful for his help, he wasn’t sure. Either way, he’d never been more eager to hand over a stack of notes to a stranger.

When he extracted his leather wallet from his saddlebag and started to open it, Jonas put a hand out to stop him. “We are not worldly in the ways of bargaining with the
Englisch
. Best you come along to make sure we are good stewards of your generosity.”

Luke arched an eyebrow. “Your English sounds pretty good to me.”

Rebecca giggled and then rattled off something in another language to her grandmother, who clucked and shook her bonneted head.

Were they trying to confuse him? They talked about not speaking English
in
English and then spoke in a foreign tongue. Luke took off his hat and scratched his head. “Pardon?”

Emma explained in the low, melodic voice that made him realize he’d been itching to hear her speak again. “‘
Englisch
’ is the name we use for all who are not Amish.”

Color crept up his neck as he smoothed his hair and put his hat back on. She must think he was a fool.

“I’m sorry, but I left my boys to handle a water crossing, and I need to get back to them.” From his wallet, he counted out a generous handful of notes and extended it to Jonas. The man made no move to take the money but simply stared at it.

Emma stepped up to stand beside her pa. “Mr. Carson, our people keep themselves separate from the world. This sometimes puts us at a disadvantage when dealing with the
Englisch
. If you could find it in yourself to help us once more, I know the Lord will bless you for it.”

The plea in the beautiful blue eyes gazing up at him put him at far more of a disadvantage than they. How could he refuse a pretty girl’s request, even if she was dressed in funny clothes?

Besides, she and Jonas were right. The Switzers would be suckers when it came to the ways in the world. The folks here in Gorham were decent people, but they would do whatever they could to strike a good deal, even at the expense of a family in trouble. That was the nature of a settlement like this, to make money off the few travelers who happened into town. He’d been dickering for deals in settlements like this for a dozen years, ever since his first trail ride at fourteen. Of course, it might take a while to convince Jonas to settle on a pair of mules when he had his heart set on oxen. Providing, of course, they were lucky enough to find even a mule for sale in this tiny, out-of-the-way settlement. More likely they would end up hiring a horse and cart. Still, how long could it take to inquire?

No need to mention it to Jesse, either. Everything will be fine as long as I get back in a decent time
.

He slid the notes back in his wallet. “I guess I can spare a few more minutes.”

The Switzers expelled a collective breath. He caught his first sight of a dimple in Emma’s cheek when she tilted her head sideways and smiled her thanks up at him. Quite an improvement over the suspicious look she’d awarded him earlier. He couldn’t help smiling back.

“Shall we go?” He gestured down the street toward the blacksmith shop.

Jonas and Emma both fell into step beside him, and Rebecca practically skipped off the bottom porch step in her hurry to catch up.

Mrs. Switzer halted them with a stern voice. “The girls will stay here and leave the bargaining to the men.”

Both Emma and Rebecca came to a halt with a puff of dust at their feet. Rebecca let out a disappointed moan. “Papa, please,” she pleaded.

Emma reached out and gave her sister’s sleeve a warning shake. “If
Maummi
says to stay, here we will stay.” The stern note in her voice brooked no argument, though she cast a quick longing glance of her own down the street.

Luke turned to face the old lady, who stood with her arms folded tightly across her chest. “Ma’am, that shady porch is pretty inviting, I’ll give you that, but I’m thinking you might want to go into the store and start selecting some provisions while we check on transportation. That is, unless you’re planning on going without food until you get wherever you’re going.”

The scowl on her face deepened, but the grip of her hands on her arms loosened as she considered his suggestion.

“Oh, I’m sure Papa can arrange for our provisions,” Emma told him. “After all, whether we go on to Troyer or return to Apple Grove, we’ll arrive in another three days…at least, as long as the weather stays good and we don’t encounter even more trouble. Surely he can get everything we need for only three days.”

Though she spoke in a tone free of guile, Luke noticed her eyes went a little rounder with what might be feigned innocence. The effect of her words on her grandmother was obvious. The woman straightened and her hands dropped to her sides. Her eyebrows drew together as she studied Jonas with obvious mistrust. Apparently, she didn’t like the idea of leaving the responsibility of food shopping to her son.

After only a moment’s hesitation, she marched down the steps and into the street. As she passed, she hooked arms with both girls and dragged them with her.

“We’ll need two baskets,” she announced. “One for each of you to carry.”

If she knew she’d been manipulated by her eldest granddaughter, she didn’t deign to show it. Jonas nodded, a smile twitching the corners of his clean-shaven mouth. He exchanged an amused glance with Luke and then started after them.

Luke followed, watching the three black-clad women stride down the street, arm-in-arm. There was nothing dull-witted about that Emma. She knew how to get what she wanted.

E
mma stood in the open doorway, a basket slung over her arm, while Rebecca followed
Maummi
around the small store. The shopkeeper sat on a stool behind a wide counter arranged with a variety of goods, puffing on a pipe. The tangy odor of vinegar from the pickle barrel mingled with the sweet-smelling smoke. Canned goods were stacked in crates along one side, and bins of beans and flour lined the rear wall. While
Maummi
inspected the store’s assortment of pans and roasting spits, Emma leaned out of the doorway and strained to catch the sound of male voices coming from the nearby blacksmith’s shop.

Luke had certainly surprised her with his news of their wagon, and especially with his generosity. She’d watched closely to see if he treated Papa with any hint of arrogance, and she could detect none. Perhaps she had judged him harshly yesterday.

The low drone of the men’s conversation drifted to her. She was able to identify Papa’s higher-pitched voice from Luke’s low drawl, but she couldn’t make out a single word.

Frustrated, she took a cautious step backward. Her grandmother was so engrossed in searching for bargains on the store’s shelves that maybe she wouldn’t notice if Emma edged away to see how the negotiation was progressing.

“Emma!”

She jerked upright. Though she hadn’t appeared to be watching,
Maummi
turned a stern glance on her. Disapproval darkened her scowl. “Lift that pan down for me. The one on the hook.” A gnarled finger pointed at a heavy iron skillet hanging perfectly within the old lady’s reach.

Flushing damply beneath her high collar, Emma crossed the floor to comply. The shopkeeper hurried out from behind his counter, his pipe clutched in one hand, and arrived at
Maummi
’s side a step ahead of her.

“Allow me, ma’am. This here’s a mite heavy for a little thing like you.” He lifted the pan off the hook, and placed it in
Maummi
’s hands. “A fine piece of cookware. Of course, it needs seasoning, but I expect an experienced cook like yourself knows that.”

“Hmm.”
Maummi
gave Emma a final warning look and then turned her attention to examining the cookware. She weighed it in her hands. “Not as heavy as mine.”

“Ah, but this one packs lighter for traveling. Besides, it’s the skill of the cook that matters the most, not the weight of the skillet.”

While the two discussed the various features of the frying pan, Rebecca sidestepped toward Emma and spoke in a whisper. “You think he’s handsome, don’t you? Mr. Carson, I mean.” She cast a look toward the door with a grin.

Emma drew herself up. “Of course not. He’s
Englisch
.”

“
Englischers
can be handsome too.” She hooked the basket handle over one arm and covered a giggle with her free hand. “That one who rode away with him yesterday was most delightful to look upon. I wonder if he’s married.”

“You shouldn’t say such things, Rebecca.” Emma pitched her voice low and adopted a stern tone. “You shouldn’t even think them. Only think such things about Amish boys.”

Maummi
turned her head to spear them with a look and then resumed her conversation with the shopkeeper. Emma sauntered over to the crates stacked on the floor and picked up a tin of peaches. A dent creased one side.

Rebecca followed, her basket clutched in front of her apron. “I’ll bet neither of them are married. I’ve heard those cattle drives take the cowboys away from home for months and months. They would miss their families too much if they had them, so ’tis better not to marry until they are finished with life on the trail.”

Emma was impressed in spite of herself. “Where did you learn that?”

Rebecca shrugged. “I heard Jakob Miller talking to Aaron Zook after church one Sunday.”

Of course twelve-year-old boys would be full of thoughts of cowboys and cattle drives. And thirteen-year-old girls would be full of thoughts of marriage. Emma put the tin back in the crate and selected one without a dent. “I’m sure many cowboys are married.”

Her sister swung the basket from her arm. “I don’t think Mr. Carson is. Otherwise he wouldn’t look at you the way he does.”

Heat crept up Emma’s neck and into her face. Yes, she’d seen the way his gaze strayed toward her. Seen and enjoyed it too, even though enjoying the attentions of an
Englischer
felt slightly naughty. If Rebecca had noticed, then of course
Maummi
had. No wonder she hadn’t allowed them to go along with the men to the livery stable.

Emma replaced that can as well and moved toward a stack of tightly wrapped packages, with labels identifying them as dried apples
. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Rebecca heaved a forlorn sigh. “Well, I wish his friend had noticed me like that.”

“Rebecca!” She regarded her sister with a shocked stare. Dreams of marriage were one thing, but to voice such a wish about an
Englisch
man? One of
Maummi
’s proverbs leaped to mind, and she delivered it in a stern tone. “‘Think only pure thoughts, and purity will guide your life.’”

Rebecca’s eyes rolled toward the ceiling, and she moved away from Emma’s side.

Only pure thoughts? Emma glanced through the doorway in the direction of the blacksmith shop, where Luke Carson and Papa stood bargaining.

If enjoying the attentions of a handsome
Englisch
man wasn’t pure thinking, perhaps she should heed her own advice.

“Nah, I don’t have any oxen for sale here.” The blacksmith, a huge man with thighs nearly as big around as Bo’s neck, tossed his hammer into the loose sawdust that covered the floor. “I have one mule, but he ain’t for sale.”

Luke tried to keep an I-told-you-so look off his face, but he wasn’t sure he succeeded. He felt bad when he watched Jonas’s confident expression fade to one of dismay. Kind of a shame to see a man disappointed in his beliefs like that.

The smith dusted calloused hands on the thick apron tied around his middle. “But old Weaver has a team of oxen he’s been talking about selling.”

Luke felt his jaw go slack.

An oversized grin spread across Jonas’s face. “The Lord provides for all our needs.”

Had he just been fed a dish of roasted crow by an Amish man? Or did defeat come from a higher source? With a suspicious upward glance, Luke asked the smith, “Where can we find Weaver?”

“His place isn’t far. About two miles south of here.”

From the look on Jonas’s face, Luke knew his next request without being asked. Would he go with Jonas to Weaver’s place? The words were on his tongue to say sorry, but no. He couldn’t keep the herd waiting any longer. Besides, Jesse would rib him for days.

But Jonas’s faith was a lot stronger than his. What if the Lord did want him to help the Switzers, as they said? Who was he to turn away from that? Besides, he’d given his word to help with the bargaining for a pair of oxen if they could be found. A man who went back on his word wasn’t worth steer’s spit.

Resigned, he gestured toward the back of the shop, where he’d glimpsed the livery stable through the open door. “You got a horse we can hire for my friend? We shouldn’t need it for more than a couple of hours.”

“Sure do.” The man untied his apron and hung it on a hook.

When the smith headed for the stable, Jonas placed a hand on his arm. “Thank you.”

“Happy to do it.”

As he spoke the words, Luke realized they weren’t entirely untrue. These folks had a way about them, something appealing in their openness that made him want to help. Well, all except that old woman, but he had the idea she might be sour by nature and not only with him. Of course, being on the receiving end of Emma’s grateful smile was something of a reward in itself.

That thought brought him around to the details of getting the Switzers and, perhaps, their new oxen, out to their wagon. They would need to hire a cart or something to carry the women. A driver would be necessary in order to return the cart and horse to Gorham. All this wouldn’t be cheap. And then there were the provisions.

He hoped Jonas was true to his word about paying him back.

“Why don’t you go on and see about that horse. I’ll go check on how your ma’s coming and let them know our plans.”

The round-brimmed straw hat bobbed up and down as he nodded, and then Jonas followed the blacksmith out the back door in the direction of the stable.

When Luke entered the general store, he found Mrs. Switzer standing before a counter full of cans and packages, chatting with the storekeeper as though they were neighbors. Her pleasant expression took him by surprise. So, maybe it
was
him she didn’t like.

Emma and Rebecca stood at the far wall, fingering a bolt of fabric. From a side view, he saw that those black dresses weren’t really as shapeless as he’d first thought. True, the white apron added a layer of bulk, but at this angle he had a fine view of Emma’s trim waist, and nothing could hide her soft, womanly curves. When she looked up and caught sight of him, a pretty blush rose on her high cheeks, and she quickly lowered her eyes.

The old woman, on the other hand, didn’t bother to hide a scowl.

“I have good news,” he announced. “The blacksmith told us of some oxen for sale not far from here. Jonas and I are heading over there to see them. We’ll be back as soon as we can, and you should be on your way by early afternoon.”

He sincerely hoped they would
all
be on their way by then.

“Papa was right!” Rebecca clapped her hands, her eyes dancing. Then she sobered. “I’m sorry, Mr. Carson. I didn’t mean to point out your wrongfulness.”

Emma gasped.

He grinned. “I know enough to admit defeat when I see it, little lady, and I won’t doubt the Lord’s provisions again, especially when claimed by a godly man. But please call me Luke.” His gaze slid to Emma’s. “All of you.”

She turned her back on him to focus on the bolt of fabric again, but not before he caught a smile and the deepening of her blush.

Mrs. Switzer drew in a breath that seemed to inflate her body to double its height. She glanced toward Emma and then speared him with a sharp gaze. “
Danki
for your help. We’re in your debt,
Mr. Carson
.”

Her meaning was unmistakable. No familiarities would be welcome from this old woman. And she wouldn’t tolerate any with her granddaughter either.

The shopkeeper, a jovial man with a girth almost as wide as the blacksmith’s, though without the benefit of muscle, gestured toward the goods piled on the counter. “These ladies have made good use of the time and my inventory. Though this one drives a hard bargain, I can tell you that. She’ll rob me of a profit today.” His grin belied his words.