The Heart's Frontier

SEVEN





Those two over there are a fine pair.” Old man Weaver pointed a gnarled finger at a couple of oxen standing near the barn.

“They look good to me,” Luke conceded. “What do you think, Jonas?”

They had found Weaver’s place with no problem, though the trip had taken longer than he’d hoped. Though Jonas could keep his seat in the saddle, he wasn’t the horseman Luke was. Apparently the Amish didn’t ride much, though he mentioned owning a horse that pulled his family’s buggy. Every time Luke glanced upward at the sun, it had crept up a little farther in the sky, and his sense of frustration mounted. His Triple Bar herd had certainly crossed the river by now. If he was lucky, the boys had taken the initiative to keep them moving instead of waiting around for him. The way things were going, this good deed was going to cost him one of the three spare days they had.

Jonas didn’t answer for a long moment as he examined the animals. Finally, he shook his head slowly. “These are not for me. They are eltlich.”

Eltlich? Luke studied the pair more closely. “They look like oxen to me.”

A small smile curved Jonas’s clean-shaven lips. “They are old.”

Weaver didn’t deny it. “This pair’s seen some years come and go, but there’s a lot of work in them yet. They’ll do you fine.”

Jonas’s pleasant expression didn’t fade as he eyed Weaver. “The animals taken from me were young and strong, and they worked hard on my farm. I will pay for new ones, but they must live a long time. I have not the money to replace my oxen again in two years, or even five.”

A new respect for his Amish friend rose in Luke. He might not be accomplished when it came to negotiating a deal, but there was nothing wrong with his eye for farm animals. And judging by the glint of steel in those honest eyes, he wasn’t about to settle for less than he wanted. So much for Luke’s hope that this transaction would take no more than a few minutes.

He scanned the area around the barn. “What about those over there?” He pointed to four animals clustered around the feed trough.

Weaver lifted a shoulder. “Good animals, and younger. They’ll cost you a bit more, though.”

Of course they would. Luke clamped his jaw shut.

Jonas took off across the field, leaving Luke and Weaver to follow. When he drew near to the feeding animals, a couple skittered sideways a few steps. He spoke to them in a low, soothing voice in his own language, and when the oxen calmed, he walked in a full circle around them, his gaze traveling over every inch of their sturdy bodies. He squatted down on his haunches and inspected their underbellies, and spent a long time examining their strong legs.

When he approached Luke and Weaver, his expression was confident. “Dat one.” He pointed. “And dat one.”

Weaver dipped his head. “You have a good eye, mister.”

“All right.” Luke turned to face Weaver. Now it was his turn, and he intended to get them for the best price he could, and as quickly as he could. “So how much for the pair?”

Jonas held up a hand. “First, I must see them pull together.”

Weaver’s smile broke forth and he nodded approval. “Not only a good eye, but a good head for buying livestock. Never buy a team without seeing them work.”

Luke stifled a groan. Next thing he knew, Jonas would insist on plowing a field to try them out.

Weaver clapped a friendly hand on the Amish man’s back. “Come on and give me a hand with the yoke.” They set off together for the barn.

Luke didn’t bother hiding his sigh as he trudged after them.





With their purchases packaged and piled around them in front of the general store, Emma and Rebecca perched on crates and sipped a sweet drink, compliments of the storekeeper. The man had brought a straight chair outside for Maummi, who drank her soda pop with obvious pleasure. Emma savored the liquid on her tongue and tried to identify the source of flavor. Orange for certain, and bubbly stuff that backed up in her nose if she drank too quickly. Eyes watering, she took another delightful sip.

Maummi’s voice sliced into her analysis like a knife through a hot cake. “Emma, mind you your learning about Amish and Englischers?”

There was no question of the reason behind her comment. Emma sipped once again before answering with a lesson that had been quoted to her from infancy. “Amish live in the world but are not of the world. By staying separate, we are more able to honor Christ with lives of purity, humility, modesty, and peacefulness.”

After studying her for a long moment, Maummi nodded. “See that you mind it well.”

Rebecca lowered her bottle. “You didn’t stay separate, Maummi. You married outside the church.”

Maummi’s back stiffened, and she fired another shot from her arsenal of sayings. “‘Young folks should use their ears and not their mouths.’”

Under the weight of her grandmother’s disapproving glare, Rebecca fell silent. Emma considered the point well made, though she couldn’t think of a way to voice her question without giving the impression she harbored feelings for Luke. Which she did not. Not serious feelings, anyway.

After a moment Maummi consented to answer the charge. “My Carl was a gentle man, with such humility that he might have been Amish himself.” A faraway wistfulness gathered on her face. “Patient too, which trait he passed on. They are alike, my Carl and my Jonas.” Then she shook herself. “When he died, ach! The pain. I thought I would die with him.” She held Emma’s gaze with hers. “Where must we go when we are hurt?”

Emma knew the answer as well as she knew the story. “We go home.”

Maummi nodded. “Always home. To family, to community. My district made me a part of them, and my children with me. Without them the world would have swallowed us up.” She cupped her soda pop in both hands and examined the contents. “I would spare you that pain.”

“But surely pain comes to Amish and Englisch alike.”

“Ja, but the Englisch way is lonely.” She shook her head. “The Amish have each other.”

Emma witnessed that truth every day. When the Yoders’ barn burned at the beginning of the summer, the entire district helped raise a new one. Not a harvest or a planting passed without neighbors lending a hand, and not a person fell ill without receiving meals from dozens of kitchens in the community. Hadn’t all the women of Apple Grove helped Amos Beiler care for his children since Lydia died giving birth to the last one? With a start, she realized Maummi and her two little ones had probably received the same care as Amos. Emma’s own papa had been a fatherless child, and yet he had never lacked for attention or for strong examples to guide him into manhood.

These were reasons she loved her Amish life and never intended to leave it. When the instruction was offered again in a month or so, she would attend the classes and be baptized into the faith she loved come fall. Why bother with rumspringa? Let Rebecca have her time of running around, as most young people did before they were baptized. Emma saw no reason for it. Why sample the ways of the world when the way of happiness had surrounded her like a soft wool blanket all her life? No, her plans were set. She would enjoy the peaceful Amish lifestyle, commit to her faith through baptism, and then wait for the Lord to show her the husband He had selected for her, either in Troyer or back home in Apple Grove.

She leaned forward to cover one of Maummi’s blue-veined hands. “Don’t worry for me.” With a sideways smirk at her sister, she added, “Save your worrying for the place it’s needed.”

Rebecca responded with a grin and a show of her tongue. Then her face brightened as her gaze fixed on something behind Emma. “There’s Papa, along with a new pair of oxen.”

Emma turned to see a small parade approach the first of the buildings lining the main street of Gorham. Two sturdy-looking oxen walked side-by-side, with Papa riding horseback beside them. He looked stiff atop his horse, his arms locked at the elbow while he gripped the reins in front of him. But even from this distance she could see his triumphant grin.

Though she didn’t wish it, her gaze was drawn to the man bringing up the rear. Far from stiff, Luke sat sure in his saddle, as though his horse was an extension of himself. Even more than his snug tan trousers and elongated hat, his relaxed posture made a striking contrast to Papa.

Emma forced herself to look away. There was no profit to be gained in staring.

Besides, Maummi’s watchful gaze burned into the back of her head like a branding iron.