Crossing (5 page)

Yancy was quiet as he listened to his father and his grandmother. The roast beef and potatoes were delicious, and he ate hungrily.

As they were finishing up, Zemira asked, “What do you want to do, Daniel? Will you be going back to hunting and trapping?”

“No, Mother, I don’t want to do that.” Daniel hesitated, but he had rehearsed what he wanted to say, so he forged ahead. “I want to come back and join the community. I want to work this farm. I want us to be a family.”

Zemira gave Daniel a direct look. “Do you think so, Daniel? You never took discipline well. It will be difficult for you.”

“I’ll give it my best,” Daniel said firmly.

“You’ll have to prove yourself. You know what that will be like.”

“It’ll be hard, but if you’ll have me, I’ll be grateful.”

“So be it then.” Zemira turned to Yancy. “What about you, Yancy? What do you think of learning to live with us?”

Yancy shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t really know much about you—about the Amish. But I’ll tell you the truth, ma’am. It doesn’t sound like I’ll like it much.”

“Call me Grandmother,” Zemira said softly. “And I’ll help you, Yancy. It’ll be so good to have family here again.”

“You’ll have to help me, too, Mother,” Daniel said. “I know I want to be here, but I’m still not sure where I stand with the Lord, and with Amish ways. It’s been so long….”

“It’s never too long, or too late, with the Lord, Daniel,” Zemira said. “You’ll see.”

R
ebecca! What are you doing? Daydreaming about a husband?”

Shadrach Braun leaned up against the doorjamb and sipped his lemonade. It was August, and it was hot. He had been out working in the fields and had come in to cool off for a bit before they finished up and had to put the stock away. He was dressed as all Amish men dressed for work—dark trousers, plain white shirt, suspenders, straw hat. He was not a big man but was tightly muscled, with dark hair and dark blue eyes that sometimes looked like a muddy green.

In the parlor his three sisters sat on low hickory benches, and his mother sat in her favorite rocking chair. Lois, the youngest sister at thirteen, and her sister, Judith, who was one year older, were plying their needles industriously, sewing pillowcases. Their mother, Adah, was making a chair cushion.

Rebecca, the eldest sister, had dropped her pillowcase onto her lap and was staring out the window dreamily. She turned as Shad spoke. “Maybe I was just meditating on things of the Lord, Shad. That would be better than sewing another one of these dumb pillowcases.”

Shad grinned. “I doubt very much that you were thinking of God. You don’t meditate nearly as much as you should, at least according to the bishop.” He came to sit by her. She was his favorite sister as he was her favorite brother, perhaps because the two of them were much alike.

Rebecca Braun was an attractive woman of twenty-eight. She wore the traditional unadorned garb of Amish women—a dark dress, white fichu, and white apron. Her devotional cap covered most of her coal black hair. Her eyes mirrored Shad’s, a dark blue with a hazel green tint. She had an oval face with a mouth that was full and attractive but too broad for actual beauty.

“So did you leave the fields to come in here and see if I’ve magically produced a suitor this morning, Shad?” she asked pertly.

Shad shook his head in feigned disgust. “You’re never going to get a husband, Becky. Look, Lois is only thirteen and she’s got her hope chest full, and Judith’s just a year older and her hope chest is packed full. Yours looks suspiciously empty, and you’re years older than them.”

Rebecca shrugged her trim shoulders. “I know. But if I should find a man that I would want to marry—which is highly unlikely, considering what I have to choose from—but anyway, if that happens I’ll just steal my sisters’ hope chests. I’m the eldest; I have the right, don’t I?”

Both of her sisters protested loudly and shrilly.

Adah said, “Oh, do be quiet, girls. Can’t you tell by now when your sister is teasing you?” Adah was a tiny woman, with red hair and green eyes. Though she was modest and quiet, she was fully capable of taking her children in hand.

Shad watched Rebecca. A mischievous grin played on her wide mouth as her sisters kept complaining to their mother. Rebecca was a self-sufficient, self-contained woman, but with a lively spirit. She had a temperament that could swing from hearty laughter to deep, honest anger. And she had a wry sense of humor that was sometimes embarrassing to her family.

“Don’t worry, Judith, Lois. Becky’s too picky. Your hope chests are safe.” Shad told Rebecca, “You turned down Chris Finebaum, and every girl in the community was after him. Dorcas Chupp stole him from right under your nose.”

“He’s boring.” Rebecca yawned ostentatiously, patting her mouth. “I don’t want to spend the rest of my life with a man that can’t talk about anything but crops and the weather. I want a man who is entertaining.”

“Oh, you want to be entertained? You should marry a juggler like that one that came with the medicine show last year.”

“Father is put out with you,” Judith said. She had red hair and green eyes, much like her mother. At fourteen she was already a serious young girl who was thinking forward to the time when her courtship would begin. “He says you’re frivolous.”

“That’s right,” Lois agreed piously. “Father has always told you to take the young men in the community more seriously, Becky.”

“That’s the trouble. They are too dead serious, deadly bore serious.”

“Shad!” Judith said accusingly. “Tell her!”

“I do try,” Shad replied with mock seriousness. “I’ve tried to teach my sister how to catch a husband. It doesn’t take. Now she’s twenty-eight years old and has run off three good men that I know of.”

“Three.” Adah sighed regretfully. “And they were all so fond of you, Rebecca.”

“Oh, they managed to get over me soon enough,” Becky said cheerfully. “All three of them married only a few months after I ran them off.”

“For shame, Becky. Shad has a point and you know it,” Judith put in. “A good Amish girl marries early and has children.”

Shad shrugged. “You all might as well face up to it. Becky isn’t your typical Amish woman.”

Lois was still naive in many ways. “Becky, don’t you want to find a good man and get married?”

Becky picked up the pillowcase and put in two stitches, apparently thinking over the question. “I haven’t so far. Perhaps God will send me a husband. He would have to, to make me want to get married.”

“Becky, I just don’t understand you,” Judith exclaimed. “It seems like you
want
to be an old spinster!”

“Oh, don’t worry about me. If all else fails I can always catch me an English.”
English
was what the Amish called someone outside of the Amish community. “If that’s what happens, just pray he is so weak I can persuade him to join our church.” She got up and tossed the pillowcase in the cedar trunk that constituted as her hope chest which, truth to tell, was pitifully empty. “I’m going out to see the new baby goat. If a suitable man comes by, be sure to tell him my demands for a husband. He’s got to be able to take orders from his wife; if he’s an English, he’s got to become Amish; and he’s got to be entertaining.” She winked at Shad and left the room.

“She’ll never get a husband, Mother.” Shad sighed. “You and Father will have her on your hands for the rest of your life.”

The next day Rebecca decided to take her dog, Hank, into the woods to look for herbs. In spite of the fact that she was not really the ideal Amish woman—she was an indifferent cook, disliked putting up canned goods and preserves, cared little for sewing, and often went barefoot when it was considered scandalous—she was a very good nurse and was good at herbalism.

She had filled her basket and several sacks with black sage, which was good for tea to calm the nerves. She had also found a good bit of burdock that was good for purifying the blood. Some said it was also good for a rattlesnake bite, but Becky didn’t hold too much with that and hoped she never had to test it in that way.

She sang softly as she made her way home. The Amish didn’t believe in using musical instruments. They thought they were frivolous. But they did sing, and Becky had a good voice. She sang a very old hymn from the traditional Amish hymnal, the
Ausbund
. It dated back to the 1700s, and all of the hymns were in German.

Suddenly Hank ran off barking, which he rarely did, so she became curious. “What have you stirred up, Hank?” She followed him and came to a wide creek that was covered with a log jam—the beginnings of a beaver dam. Hank stood on the bank, barking monotonously, at the beavers, Becky presumed. Looking across the stream, she saw a large growth of redroot, which made an excellent tea that was good for relaxation, tending to sleep. She had discovered that it was also good for excessive menstruation, diarrhea, and dysentery, and the leaves and the tender stems could be eaten raw in salads.

Carefully Becky started across the creek, stepping on one half-submerged log to another. She was a sure-footed woman, but one of the logs suddenly rolled over and threw her off balance and she fell into the creek. The log continued rolling until it came to rest across her thighs. It was heavy, and since the stream was shallow, it was only halfway in the water and there was no chance that it would float off. It seemed securely anchored right across her.

Becky knew she wouldn’t drown, but it would be a long time before she was missed. Her family wouldn’t know where to look, for she had just told them she was going to look for herbs, not the direction she was going. In fact, she hadn’t planned that at all. She had merely wandered along and picked the herbs that she found.

Even though it was August and the heat was oppressive, the stream was cold. She knew that even in the blistering heat of summer a person could get chilled and shocked if they were submerged too long in cold water. She struggled and struggled, but the log didn’t move at all.

The minutes passed slowly, and after almost an hour of trying desperately to free herself, her legs ached with the weight of the log, and she knew that she couldn’t fight anymore. She was exhausted.

Becky began to pray with all the faith she had.

As the sun fell down into the deep woods to the west, Becky began to shiver, and at the same time she was growing drowsy. She knew this wasn’t good, that it was a sign that she was slowly going into shock. She heard Hank, now somewhere in the distance, baying. He had a distinctive call, starting deep in his chest and ending up with a high howl. He bayed on and on, for a long time it seemed to Becky, and then suddenly he stopped.

Wonder what old Hank’s doing…. He’s too lazy to tree a raccoon. Barking at squirrels or something?
she thought sleepily.

Then he bounded up, long ears flapping, tongue hanging out the side of his mouth. He splashed right into the water and started licking Becky’s face.

She scratched his head, murmuring, “Dumb ol’ dog.”

“Not so dumb,” a deep voice said somewhere behind her. “Came and got me. You’ve got yourself in a right predicament, haven’t you, ma’am?” A man wearing buckskins and riding a bay mare came into her sight at the stream’s edge. He dismounted, and she saw he was tall, with a sun-bronzed face and chiseled features.

“Hello,” she said lamely. “And yes, I have gotten myself into a predicament. I was going to get”—she motioned weakly toward the other side of the stream—“that redroot. Can you get me out of this?”

He waded out into the stream. “I can. When I lift the log, pull your legs out.” He reached around the log that pinned her legs, grunted, and lifted one end.

Becky waited until the pressure eased, then she leaned back and pushed with her hands until her legs came free. When she was clear of the log, he dropped it heavily. Becky sat up and then tried to stand but found that her legs were numb; she could barely move them. So she just sat. “Just give me a minute,” she said then shivered.

“Ma’am, you’re already freezing. You don’t need to sit in this cold water anymore. If you’ll allow me …?” He reached out both arms and she nodded with relief, reaching up to him.