DC03 - Though Mountains Fall (19 page)

“Jah, it’s wonderful.” She said this with a sigh, a hint of sadness in her eyes. “I know I shouldn’t be having selfish thoughts on such a day . . . but two weeks is all the time we have left.”

“I’m having the same selfish thoughts,” he said. “After Communion your business in Ohio is finished.”

She nodded. “I’ll be going back home the next morning like I promised my dat.”

Jake held her close, his arms about her waist, and looked into her eyes. “It’s only for six months, Rachel. In March I come of age, and I promise you, from that day forward we will never be separated again.”

Chapter 15

R
achel’s last two weeks with Jake flew by. They saw each other almost every evening, but it only made the time pass faster.

The day of her first Communion was a crisp, beautiful fall day, slanting sunlight painting a landscape of brilliant reds and golds. Abe and Sarah Detweiler visited that Sunday, and after lunch they pulled Rachel aside to talk to her.

“It was an honor to have you with us at Communion this morning,” Rachel said.

Abe smiled warmly. “It was an off Sunday at my church, so I thought it would be good to join you. We have many friends here. But it was you I really came to see. I wanted to tell you that Sarah and I have talked it over—”

“And over and over,” Sarah added with a smile.

“And we have decided to give Mexico a try. We want our children to grow up without so much interference, without being influenced by outsiders every day. It’s important to us.”

Rachel fought hard to keep from jumping up and down with joy.
A bishop in Paradise
Valley!

“My father will be so happy to hear that,” she said. “We have been without leadership for a long time.”

“Well, you’ll have to wait a bit longer,” he said, scratching his rusty beard. “We’ll need time to find another bishop to tend my flock, and I’d like to get another crop in the barn before I go. I don’t want to leave my family in too hard a way, though I’m sure the church will take care of them in my absence.”

Rachel glanced at Sarah. “You’re not going?”

“Not at first,” Sarah said. “Abe wants to go down and get settled, find a place for us and get started.”

“And to be honest,” Abe added, “I want to make sure it’s safe—you know, what with bandits and all. Make sure it’s a place where we can live in peace.”

“I understand,” Rachel said, though she felt a twinge of doubt now that she knew it was to be a trial visit. She’d known of Amishmen in the past who went to a new place, took one look and got right back on the train to go home.

“Also,” he said, “Freeman Coblentz came to see me yesterday. They’re having a hard time of it since they came back because he wasn’t able to sell his place. He tried to sell it to the newcomers last year, but he set the price high because he’d already put so much work into it.”

“Jah, I remember. The walls of his house are half built, the well already dug, and some of the fences up. I don’t blame him for wanting more money.”

Abe nodded. “But it was a risk, and nobody wanted to pay his price, so it sits there. Anyway, when he heard I was going down he offered to let me use his place if I finish the house, and then if I decide to stay I can buy it.”

“I’m sure you’ll love it there,” she said, “and we’ll make you very welcome. So when will you be coming down?”

“In the spring,” he said, and her heart soared.

Later, Bishop Schwartz came to see Rachel, pulling her aside as she was helping clean up after lunch. “I hate to do this on the day of your first Communion,” he said grimly, “but it cannot be helped. I want you to take this to your father.”

He pulled a sealed envelope from his coat pocket and handed it to her. She ran her thumbs over it, knowing what it was without having to read it. The bishops had met. The matter was decided now, and final. Miriam was banned. All that remained was the delivering of the letter to her father.

She met his gaze and nodded solemnly. “I will give it to him.”

“I’m very sorry,” the bishop said. “We had no choice.”

She got a chance to talk to Jake that evening after the singing and told him about the letter.

He nodded. “Even knowing this would come, it still hurts.”

“But there is good news, too,” she said, and then told him about Abe Detweiler.

“
Spring
, Jake! Bishop Detweiler will be in Paradise Valley in the spring when you come down, and we can finally be married!”

“Gott has smiled on us,” he said. “I been thinking about something else, too. I’m thinking when I get back I’ll go to work for your dat. He’s been shorthanded since Aaron died, and he’s got extra room, too. After we’re married we can live in his basement while we save up for a place of our own.”

She hugged him fiercely. “That’s a wonderful idea, and you’re right,” she said, kissing his cheek. “Gott has smiled on us.”

The next morning Lizzie agreed to let Jake take Rachel to the train station. She said her goodbyes to the family at home, then had the luxury of saying goodbye to Jake alone at the station.

Rachel boarded a passenger car, found her seat, and looked out the window. Jake was watching her from the platform, his broad hat tilted back, his eyes steady and dependable as ever. Their future together was assured.

Touching her fingertips to the glass she mouthed the words,
Till spring
.

He smiled and raised a hand.
I love you
, his lips said.

Caleb hitched the buggy and left well before daylight for Arteaga, to pick up Rachel at the train station. He traveled alone and without fear. There was little need to fear bandits any longer. The greatest danger in any trip north to Arteaga or Saltillo had always been El Pantera and his men. As he drove north in the cold dawn Caleb thought with a chill that if El Pantera and his men still haunted those hills, it would only be as ghosts. Even now, he caught himself watching the ridgetops for that bicolored Appaloosa.

Everything in his world seemed divided these days. He was glad the bandits were gone, but deeply grieved by the thought that he had caused their deaths. He could not find it in himself to celebrate the death of any man—even the one who had taken Aaron from him—and the troops who displaced the bandits filled him with a growing sense of trepidation.

Even his excitement over Rachel’s return was overshadowed with foreboding. Though he missed Rachel sorely and couldn’t wait to see her again, he knew about the letter she carried, and knew what it would say. The return of one daughter meant the loss of another.

He handed Rachel the reins as they left the station, and then slowly, willing his hands and eyes to do a work nearly as grim and unspeakable as burying a child, he took out the envelope, opened it and read the letter. Even knowing what it would say, seeing the words there on the paper in the familiar jerky handwriting of old Bishop Schwartz nearly broke his heart. Unable to speak, he folded the letter carefully and slid it back into the envelope. He said very little the rest of the way home.

Darkness had fallen by the time they reached San Rafael, but there was still lamplight in the windows of the houses. Caleb turned down the street toward Miriam and Domingo’s house.

“No sense putting it off,” he said, and Rachel turned her face away from him. He pulled up in front of the house and handed Rachel the reins.

“You wait here,” he said. “I won’t be long.”

They were sitting at the kitchen table when the knock came, Domingo reading a book by lamplight and Miriam sewing, patching a pair of work pants. It was a small two-room house, and the sound of her father’s knock was still hanging in the air when Domingo opened the door. They just stood and looked at each other for a second, and Miriam knew. Even before he came in she could tell by the expression on her father’s face why he had come. It was the same look she’d seen in his eyes the day he buried Aaron. Domingo stepped back, waving him in.

Miriam laid aside her sewing and rose to her feet. Her father had not set foot in her house since she married Domingo. He walked stiffly, perhaps tired from the long day’s drive, but more likely making a conscious effort at formality. He took off his hat, and without a word of preamble opened the letter and read it to her, word for word.