Wonderful Lonesome Page 26

  “Of course you are right.” Rudy’s volume dropped.

  Abbie studied his face. “I don’t want to be right, Rudy. I want us to be of one mind.”

  He patted her hand. “We are. We’ll send the letter just as it is.”

  “It will only take me a few minutes to copy it fresh,” she said. “We should both sign it, don’t you think?”

  “Yes, let’s do that. I’ll pour some more kaffi.”

  Abbie watched his movements as he stood, turned to the stove, and reached for the pot. They had talked about these questions several times in the week since she accepted his proposal. Why had he chosen this moment, when they were writing such an important letter, to sound uncertain?

  He was in one of his funks, she decided as she copied in a firm hand the words they had chosen carefully. One of his moods. It would pass. She would have to get used to them and learn to respond with patient words—or patient silence.

  When she finished writing, she handed Rudy the pen. “I think the husband’s signature should come first.”

  He scratched his name onto the paper and returned the pen. “Do you still plan to mail the letter yourself?”

  “When I go to work I’ll be halfway to the post office in Limon,” she said. “But if you would rather take it—”

  “No. Your suggestion is sensible. You take it.”

  Abbie gave Fin Wood a stern look. “You heard your mother. It’s time for your rest.”

  “All I do is rest.” Fin slumped in his chair and crossed his arms. “We didn’t do anything.”

  “We played four games of checkers, cleaned the bottom of the bird cage, and read thirty-six pages in The Wonderful Wizard of Oz. I’d hardly say that’s nothing.” Abbie wondered what Levi was finding to complain about these days. “If you don’t rest in the afternoons, the doctor might send you back to bed.”

  “I can’t make myself be tired when I’m not.” Fin scowled.

  “You might find you are tired if you just close your eyes for a while.”

  “I want to feed the new calf.”

  She wagged a finger at him. “You know your parents don’t want you to leave the house yet.”

  “When?”

  Abbie softened. “As soon as your parents give permission, I promise our first outing will be to the barn.”

  “When are you coming back?”

  “Tomorrow, first thing.”

  “Promise?”

  “Promise.” Abbie stood up and gathered her things. The letter to the Ordway minister lay in the folds of her shawl. She had not been willing to leave it in the buggy out of her sight. “I’ll tuck you in before I go.”

  Despite his protests, a few minutes later Fin dropped off, and Abbie padded out of his room. She stopped in the kitchen to let Louise know she was leaving and then went out the front door.

  The stallion tied up outside the barn caused her to look twice. Yes, the ears were right, and the spot on the left flank. It was Willem’s horse. Abbie did not know what his business was on the Wood ranch, but she scanned the open area around the house and hoped to get her buggy turned around before stallion and rider were paired again. She whistled for her horse in a nearby pen—and then slammed a hand over her mouth in regret.

  Abbie dashed to the mare and tried to urge it through the gate.

  Too late.

  Willem came around the corner of an outbuilding. “I thought I recognized that whistle.”

  “Hello, Willem.” Abbie slowed her pace. It would seem rude to hurry now. “I’m surprised to see you here.”

  “I’m working for Mr. Wood today.”

  “I thought you finished digging his lignite long ago.” Abbie patted her horse’s neck to keep her hands busy.

  “I did. I’m going to fix fences for a while, and then we’ll see what else needs to be done.”

  “I see.” He was after money, no doubt so he could buy the Weaver farm.

  “I was hoping I would run into you,” Willem said.

  “Willem, I’m going to marry Rudy. There’s nothing to talk about.” She picked at the harness.

  “Abbie, listen. I have something to tell you.”

  She said nothing and did not look at him.

  “The Yutzys have decided to leave,” he said.

  Her eyes shot up at him. “What?”

  “I only heard about it on Saturday. The bank is about to repossess their land. They have no hope of catching up on their loan.”

  Pain sliced through Abbie’s middle like a blacksmith’s fired chisel. Willem caught her elbow.

  “I knew how you would feel,” he said. “I wanted you to hear it from me before the rumors start flying.”

  “I suppose you’re going to try to buy their farm, too.” She shook off his touch. “Don’t think I can’t figure out why you want to work here.”

  His face fell.

  “I’m sorry.” Abbie composed herself. “That was an awful thing to say, especially after you found this position for me when I needed it. Please forgive me.”

  “Of course I forgive you. I’m sure the news about the Yutzys is upsetting.”

  “It’s no excuse. Let me make amends. Do you need anything from Limon? Since I’m halfway there I’m going in to mail a letter.” And then she would be up half the night baking the bread she would deliver to Willem, Rudy, and Martin Samuels on Wednesday as usual. She could not give a whole day to baking now. Two evenings would have to suffice.

  “Thank you, no,” Willem said. “If you’re writing your parents, perhaps it is not too late to send my greetings along with yours.”

  “Rudy and I wrote to Ordway,” she said, looking away again. “To the bishop.”

  While the loaves were rising and the oven warmed, Abbie spread out the quilt on the floor of the front room. Her father had not left much furniture, so she had plenty of space. With a pair of scissors in one hand and a lamp in another, Abbie crawled around the edges of the quilt to be sure the binding was securely stitched and to trim off excess threads that caught her eye. When she had been around the entire perimeter, she sat back on her heels. Considering that she had made the entire quilt without benefit of a frame, she was pleased with the result.

  Other than its physical appearance, the quilt was nothing Abbie had expected it to be. It had twelve blocks because the settlement had begun with twelve households. With the imminent departure of the Yutzys, and including Willem’s departure to the Mennonites, five of the twelve would be gone. Every household had contributed at least a few patches of fabric to this quilt, and as she stitched the triangles together she prayed for God’s clear blessing. She had chosen a tree of life pattern because she wanted each family to blossom and grow in faith and prosperity. Instead, one by one, the families felt the weight of discouragement that reshaped their vision. Branches bent and broke.

  This quilt was supposed to cover the bed she would share with Willem. Though Abbie had been forced to abandon that expectation weeks ago, she had not reoriented to the image of this quilt covering Rudy’s bed. But what else did she have?

  The quilt could still carry meaning. It could still represent a fresh start, a growing faith. In addition to praying for the families that left, Abbie could pray for the unknown families who would come. She could pray for a marriage she had not expected but nevertheless welcomed. She could pray for the safety and security of God’s will.

  Smelling the yeasty fragrance of the burgeoning bread dough, Abbie got up to put the first batch in the oven.

  The sleepless night persuaded Rudy.

  Perhaps it was the bed and knowing, when he let himself reach down inside himself, that he could not ask Abbie to sleep on it. But her father had sold the family’s beds, and Abbie was sleeping on a narrow cot. Between them they did not even have a decent bed.

  Or perhaps it was the news that the Yutzys were giving up. Rudy had spoken to Isaiah himself, and he had not even tried to say that since his farm had failed it must be God’s will for them to move somewhere else. He just s
aid he was giving up. Too discouraged to keep trying. Another square of Abbie’s quilt would wilt before it blossomed.

  Or it might have been the approaching Sunday, the second Sabbath in November, and so many weeks without a worship service that Rudy had lost count. He had been right, those months ago, when he sat in the barn with all the other men and prodded the council to speak forthrightly about why the settlement still had no minister of its own. If he had been successful, instead of letting himself be silenced or influenced by Willem’s unflustered demeanor, the Amish households might have found the spiritual unity that seemed beyond their grasp. Noah Chupp might have stayed. Rudy and Abbie might have taken a buggy down the road to their own minister to speak in person, rather than labor over words that might still be misunderstood. They could have heard their banns read in their own congregation. Now even if a minister came from Ordway, would the banns would be read at all? Who was there to hear them?

  He lay in bed, awake, with his eyes closed and picturing the fullness of his home congregation shoulder to shoulder on the benches, the mothers with babies on their laps and small boys beaming their delight at being old enough to sit with the men. He heard the robust harmonies of the hymns, smelled the hams baking in the kitchen, watched for a glimpse out the window of the horses gathered in their own circles in the pasture with tails swishing.

  Rudy missed going to church.

  He did not have to open his eyes to know that dawn was no imminent promise, but he rolled over and lit the lamp. If he did not put his thoughts on paper before the morning milking, they would torment him all day.

  Abbie was grateful for Saturday. Louise Wood did not expect her on Saturdays, and Abbie was certain Mary Miller would welcome a leisurely visit. While it was still warm, Abbie wrapped up a small cake she had baked as a treat for Little Abe. Louise had given her a basket of apples, and Abbie put half in a sack to take to Mary, who made the best schnitzboi of anyone Abbie knew. They might even work on baking together while they talked about Abbie’s wedding plans. Abbie planned to cut out the pieces of her blue wedding dress that evening and begin spending her evenings stitching them together.

  Abbie put the cake and apples in the buggy and slid her arms into the sleeves of a thick sweater. If it were not for the devastation the incinerating summer had wreaked on crops, the blistering days would have seemed a distant memory, a harmless turning of the seasons. She shook off the thought, determined not to let even the departure of the Yutzys dampen her wedding preparations. With her mother and Ruthanna gone, Mary was Abbie’s closest friend in the settlement.

  The horse established a steady trot, and Abbie’s work at the reins was easy. The distance between the farms closed while she daydreamed, and Abbie nearly missed the turnoff. A last-minute tug turned the horse toward the Miller home.

  Abbie tied the reins loosely over around a post and fished out the cake and apples from under the bench. She knocked on the door, listening for Mary’s cheery “Come in” or Little Abe’s giggle.

  Instead, Mary came to the door and stood in its frame.

  “Good morning.” Abbie started to step up into the house, but Mary did not back away from the door in welcome.

  “Hello, Abbie.”

  Abbie lifted the cake in one hand and the apples in the other. “A treat for Little Abe and something for your schnitzboi.”

  “You shouldn’t have bothered.”

  Mary’s voice sounded distracted.

  “It’s no bother,” Abbie said. “Is everything all right?”

  “Abraham is not feeling well,” Mary said.

  “Nothing serious, I hope.” Still holding her gifts, Abbie tried to look past Mary into the house.

  “I’m sure it is not.” Mary took the food into her own arms. “You know how little children are. He is too excitable. I think he just needs a quiet day.”

  Abbie nodded. “I promise not to play rough with him.”

  “Forgive me, Abbie, but I think it is better if we don’t have company today.”

  Abbie blinked. She had not thought of herself as company at Mary’s house, but easy friends who looked forward to breaking up their own isolation. “Can I help you with anything?”

  “Thank you, but no. I’m just going to keep Little Abe in and quiet today. Thank you for the food.”

  “Of course.”

  Mary closed the door.

  A moment later, Abbie was back in her buggy hating the thought that she had offended Mary and did not know what she had done. There seemed to be nothing to do but go home—or to Rudy’s. Surely he would be happy to see her.

  Willem walked along the tracks behind the depot in Limon, wondering why he had not seen the obvious before this. Most of the people who lived within the city limits of Limon had some connection to the Union Pacific or the Rock Island Railroad. The rail companies had tracks that crossed in Limon, and freight cars and passengers cars had to be coupled and uncoupled day and night. Baggage handlers loaded and unloaded trunks and crates. Willem was as strong as any man. If he started on the Wood ranch early in the morning, he could still offer a few hours a day to one of the railroads and get home to his animals before the milk cows got desperate. He could save enough for his down payment even more quickly. It was worth an inquiry as soon as his work at the ranch settled into a routine.

  He turned up the collar of his jacket. The early November Saturday harbored a threat of winter Willem had not detected before now. A graying sky, a temperature reluctant to warm appreciably since sunrise, and a wind hopping from one ridge to another across the plain carried reminders of the change in seasons. Willem did not see how winter could be more harsh than summer had been this year.

  He walked the blocks toward Main Street, where he had left his wagon to be loaded with several rolls of barbed-wire fencing. He would take advantage of the opportunity to check for mail. If he could predict his mother’s rhythm accurately, he was due for a letter.

  The postmaster looked at him as soon as Willem entered the building. “I’ve got two for you this week.”

  “I’ll be glad to have them.”

  The postmaster rummaged through a cubbyhole and handed the contents to Willem. “Are you still collecting mail for the Weaver farm? I have you on file as authorized, but my understanding is they’ve left town.”

  “Their daughter stayed behind.”

  “Ah. Then I suppose there is no harm in giving you the mail addressed to them. It’s just one letter, actually, and it’s addressed to the daughter.”

  The return address flashed through Willem’s mind before he saw it, but it was too late to withdraw his open hand.

  Ordway.

  Abbie would be anxious for this letter. And he was heading back to the Wood ranch where she was working with Fin today.

  Louise Wood glided into the sitting room, where Fin was teaching Abbie to play chess. Relieved to have a reason to interrupt the puzzle of the boy’s explanations for how players were permitted to move the various pieces, Abbie looked up and smiled at Louise.

  “Mr. Peters just came from town,” Louise said. “He asked me to give you this letter.”

  Abbie’s eyes widened when she saw the return address in block letters. “The bishop!”

  “The bishop can only move on the diagonal,” Fin said.

  “I don’t think that’s the bishop Abbie means.” Louise’s eyes sparkled when she turned up the corners of her mouth.

  Abbie turned the envelope at a right angle and back again. “Thank you. I’ll just put it with my bag.” She stood up.

  “Fin,” Louise said, “why don’t you come in the kitchen and help me fix some tea?” She winked at Abbie as she reached to take Fin’s hand.

  “But it’s almost lunchtime,” Fin said.

  “Then we’ll see what we can find for lunch.”

  “When can I eat with the ranch hands again?”

  “Not yet.”

  Louise and Fin turned the corner into the hall. Abbie immediately slid a fingernail under the f
lap to break the seal. If the news were bad, she might regret opening the letter while she was supposed to be working. But she hoped the news was good, and she did not want to waste a minute wondering about it and not knowing.

  Abbie unfolded the plain white paper and held it along the sides. Scanning just the first few lines allowed her to let out her breath. He was willing to marry them.

  She started again and read more carefully. He was happy to consecrate their marriage, but he preferred a date in the middle of December rather than the end of November because of previous commitments. He was mindful of the added risk of inclement weather that might impede his travel, but he was confident God’s will would of course be plain in the events that transpired. The wedding of Abigail Weaver and Rudy Stutzman would take place as quickly as possible.

  He said yes.

  The bishop was coming.

  With Fin leading the way with a bowl between his hands, Louise carried in a tray of cheese, ham, and bread. As she set it down on the table beside the chess set, she raised an eyebrow.

  Abbie grinned.

  “Let’s eat lunch, Fin,” Louise said. “Then I believe Abbie has a matter she needs to take care of this afternoon.”

  Abbie’s buggy clattered into Rudy’s barnyard. She did not wait for a full stop before leaping down in two steps and leaving the reins lax. Chickens in the pen pecked at the ground outside the coop just as they always did, some of them clacking at the disturbance Abbie’s arrival brought. Eight cows—no, nine, counting the calf—grazed in the pasture as they always did. The new calf, fully weaned, was with the others. The horses—all but one—meandered on the other side of the field. The trough outside the barn was full of water.

  “Rudy!” Abbie clutched the bishop’s letter and spun in a circle looking for some indication of Rudy’s whereabouts. “Rudy!”

  She looked first in the barn, where it was obvious Rudy had mucked and laid down clean straw. With no animals in the barn, he had even left the door open. Fresh air gusted in behind Abbie as she looked in every stall.