The Saddle Maker's Son Part 3

"I don't know that this is the same." Levi straightened in his rocker as if he felt uncomfortable. "This isn't about local laws. This is a federal concern. We might want to consider if we're harboring fugitives."

"They're little kinner." Susan stood and her basket crashed to the floor. Knitting needles rolled under the couch, socks landed on her bare feet, and a red pincus.h.i.+on shaped like a tomato made its home near Mordecai's dusty work boot. "What do they know about laws? They were told to come, so they came."

All five men turned and stared. Rebekah slapped her hand to her lips to keep the chuckle from escaping. Aenti Susan thought her niece had the opinionated big mouth.

"That may be so." Levi stroked his beard with a heavy hand. "Kinner have been known to break the laws, same as adults."

"These aren't our laws."

"We're Americans, aren't we?"

"Our allegiance is first and foremost to the kingdom of G.o.d." Mordecai picked up the pincus.h.i.+on and tossed it to Susan, who caught it with both hands. His expression remained as somber as Rebekah had ever seen it. "We're all immigrants and sojourners in this world. Our ancestors were persecuted in other countries. It was only when they came to America as immigrants that they were able to establish the communities they believed were Gott's will for them. And for us."

Silence reigned for several seconds.

Rebekah's stomach felt like it did when the van carrying them to the Gulf roared up a hill and then down the other side in what seemed like a free fall to someone who so rarely moved so fast. "Could I say something, I mean, since I found them? I talked them into staying."

From her spot kneeling on the floor trying to gather up errant spools of thread, Susan employed a vigorous head shake to signal her distress. Mordecai moved his cup from one knee to the other. Jeremiah sighed. "Knowing you as I do, Rebekah, I reckon there's no stopping you now."

Heads swiveled again. This time six pairs of eyes stared at her. She cleared her throat. "It's like Mordecai said. If our kinner were alone and lost in a country where they didn't even speak the same language, what would we want for them?"

"We would never send-"

Rebekah held up a hand, willing Tobias to stop. "I know we wouldn't do it, but what would Jesus do? What would the good Samaritan do? Try to help or send them on their way so they could be someone else's problem?"

Mordecai looked as if he might smile. Will nodded but didn't speak. Rebekah breathed through the trembling that started in her legs and worked its way up through her arms. "There's one thing we could do, though."

Jeremiah took off his black-rimmed gla.s.ses and began to polish the lenses on his cobalt-blue s.h.i.+rt. "Go on, finish what you started."

"We could ask Leila and Jesse."

The polis.h.i.+ng stopped. Will slapped his coffee cup onto the spindly oak table that separated his chair from Levi's. "Nee-"

"Why would we do that?" Mordecai interrupted, his expression as stern as Rebekah had ever seen on a man given to practical jokes and long-winded tall tales. "They're no longer a part of our community."

The note stuck in the inside hem of her ap.r.o.n would surely fall to the floor and reveal her sin any second. Rebekah smoothed trembling hands across the soft, much-washed cotton folds. "Jesse works with charity groups. They do food banks and help the poor and such." To her relief her voice didn't quiver. "The Englisch churches combine their small offerings together to help others, especially children."

"Why do you know this?" Will's face had turned the color of beets. "Explain that to me."

Six sets of eyes studied her. How, indeed? "Leila writes me letters." Absolutely true. She hadn't written back, a sure sign she'd failed in her bid to forgive. "That's allowed. Mudder knows about it."

"Who are Leila and Jesse?" Tobias broke in. "Why wouldn't we ask the help of Englischers who are like-minded Christians?"

"They're not Englischers." Rebekah hurried to explain before Will could muddy the waters with his version of history. "Leila is my sister. Jesse is her husband."

"They're Englischers now." Will stood and began to pace, his boots thumping against the wood. "They're not involved in our business, not anymore."

"Neither are they shunned. They were never baptized."

"Not in our church."

He was right. Jesse and Leila had been baptized in their new church and little Gracie had been dedicated only a few weeks after her birth. All this Rebekah could rightfully say she'd learned in letters she'd read with a powerful interest she couldn't deny, as much as she wanted to toss them in the trash and never look back. Still, she looked back and longed to change history.

If only it were possible.

"So we cut off our noses to spite our faces?" Susan smacked her basket onto the couch and marched across the room to stand by Rebekah. "Maybe women feel these things more deeply, as mudders. I don't know, but we can't send kinner off to who knows where with who knows whom like they're criminals."

"But you don't have kinner, either of you." Levi looked puzzled. He shook his head. "We have to think of the impact on the district if we're accused of harboring children without papers."

"We have to think of the impact on our eternal souls if we don't help our brethren in need," Susan shot back. Her cheeks were scarlet. She ducked her head. "That's all I'm saying. I'm sure you men will make the proper decision."

"But-"

Susan tucked an arm around Rebekah and propelled her toward the kitchen. "We should get more kaffi and cookies for the men."

"Nee." Jeremiah waved a hand covered on the back side with wiry gray hair. "I think it's best we sleep on it, pray on it for a day or two. Don't you, Mordecai?"

Mordecai nodded, his salt-and-pepper beard bobbing. Will plopped in his chair, arms crossed over his chest.

Rebekah plowed to a stop despite the pressure of Susan's arm on her back. "Then Lupe and Diego can come to school in the morning? They could teach us some Spanish."

Jeremiah stood. "I don't see why not. Levi, you can bring them in with your kinner."

"That's no problem." Levi rose as well. "It's late. Time for ch.o.r.es and bed."

None of the men seemed to be aware of Rebekah's gleeful little two-step as she dutifully followed Susan into the kitchen. She still had time to try to convince them to talk to Jesse and Leila. Or talk to Leila about it herself on Friday. Something good could still come from their decision to leave the community. Good from the hurt. It wouldn't change Rebekah's situation, but if it helped Lupe and Diego, she would learn to live with it.

As much as it hurt to think of facing Leila, Rebekah would talk to her. Just talk. Talking wasn't prohibited by the Ordnung.

FIVE.

Tobias leaped and smacked the ball over the net. Caleb and the others groaned when the ball slammed to the ground and careened across the yard toward the barn. Spiking the ball wasn't hard. The ragged net hung almost to the ground in the middle. The ancient gray ball didn't have much bounce left in it-which didn't stop Diego from kicking it. The boy seemed much more interested in kickball than volleyball. He and his sister had declined the offer of clean clothes, despite the dirt and stench of their own jeans and T-s.h.i.+rts. Lupe had, in fact, looked horrified at the offer to cut down one of Martha's dresses for her. Maybe they could find some Goodwill Englisch clothes for them.

"No fair. Weren't you headed home?" Jacob called, forcing Tobias from his thoughts. "Livestock needs watering. This game is more than over."

Indeed, the sun was settling on the horizon. Tobias hadn't intended to stop after the tense meeting in Mordecai's front room, but Liam's determined tug on his hand had changed his mind. That and the fact that Rebekah stood at the back door, watching. Not that it mattered. That she mattered. She had a way of going on about things. The way she'd thrown herself into the men's conversation about Lupe and Diego. She and Susan both. They were two peas in a pod even if they weren't really related and one was rather round and the other more than a little thin. For schoolteachers, they were downright lippy.

Not that he was much different when it came to expressing opinions out of turn.

"We were just leaving." Levi strode across the yard and scooped up Liam, then deposited the six-year-old under one arm like a sack of potatoes. "Let's go. Everyone in the wagon. Ch.o.r.es to do, prayers to say, beds waiting."

Another groan sounded, but Martha, Nyla, and Ida led the charge to the wagon, jockeying for seats on the thick layer of hay laid down for that purpose. David took off on the horse he'd chosen to ride rather than squeeze his lanky frame into the back of the wagon with a bunch of squirmy kinner. Lupe and Diego held back. Tobias motioned with one hand in the universal let's go signal. Lupe hopped in unaided, careful to give wide berth to his hand, then turned to tug Diego up and in.

Tobias boosted him from behind. The boy's bony frame weighed nothing. "There you go." He pushed up the wagon's back panel and hooked clasps on both side. "Settle down, all of you. Next stop, your beds."

"We're dirty." Liam held up two very dirty hands. "See?"

"So you are. A quick wipe with a rag might be in order."

"I'll give him a sponge bath." Martha tickled the boy from behind. "Head to toe."

"Nee, nee, not that." Liam threw himself in the hay and did a small somersault to escape his big schweschder.

Tobias climbed in front next to Daed, who shook the reins without any sign of impatience. "Everyone in?"

"Yep." He settled back on the hard seat with a sigh. It had been a long day. "So what's your take on the discussion tonight?"

Daed glanced back at the kinner. "Little pitchers have big ears."

Tobias took his own gander. Martha was braiding Lupe's hair, and Diego looked half asleep.

"They're not listening."

"It's a dilemma."

That was Daed. Short on words, long on meaning.

"If it were up to you?"

No answer. Tobias had learned to let Daed find his own way to a conversation. Sometimes it took days.

Giggles filled the air. He looked back a second time. The girls were rolling around in the hay laughing like little girls did. "Daed, did you know the Spanish word for 'man' is hombre?" Nyla hollered. "The Spanish word for 'hunger' is hambre."

"So you don't want to get them mixed up, I reckon?"

That observation set off another gale of laughter from the girls. The boys didn't seem to get it. Or they didn't care to be seen laughing like a bunch of hyenas. Daed's smile was worth listening to their silliness.

"You ever think of marrying again?"

Daed's smile faded. "Nee."

"It's been six years."

"I'm well aware."

"Susan seems like she'd make a st.u.r.dy fraa."

"St.u.r.dy doesn't have much to do with it."

"What then?"

Daed slapped the reins. Rosie stepped up her pace. "I reckon you got that one figured out."

A not-so-oblique reference to events of the past year. "It doesn't seem that way."

"You hiked off the path, but you righted yourself. That's what's important."

"Seems like these folks have had some hard times with folks who strayed off the path."

"And it's still causing dissension." Daed glanced toward Tobias. "It's good that you figured out where you belong."

Most times he felt the same way. But sometimes Serena's face appeared in his mind's eye-especially late at night-and it was all he could do to bear it. "It's good."

"New beginning here." Daed cleared his throat. "There's that Rebekah. She's a firecracker."

"Does a man want a firecracker for a fraa?"

"Depends on the man."

"Was that why you married Mudder? She had a mind of her own." And no problem expressing it. Not something every Plain man appreciated. She definitely qualified as a firecracker. "She always had a word or two to say."

"Or three or four."

A smile flitted across Daed's face and disappeared. Memories of Mudder and Daed talking, their heads bent and nearly touching in the glow of the lamp's light, their words a soft, quick murmur like the sound of water gurgling in a stream, filled Tobias's mind, warming him. "She had a way about her, didn't she?"

Daed's silence was broken by more giggles in the back of the wagon. "Daed, we fixed Diego's hair."

Tobias hazarded a glance back. The girls had braided the boy's hair while he slept and secured the braids with a rubber band apparently produced by Lupe. Time to give that boy a haircut.

Thinking of haircuts as if Diego would be around for a while. Tobias blew out air. Sometimes decisions were knotty and p.r.i.c.kly like the nopales. Like Rebekah Lantz.

"Jah, she did . . . have a way about her." Daed's voice was so soft Tobias had to strain to hear the words. "That's where her daughters get it."

SIX.

Bath time didn't usually happen on a weeknight. Nor did it involve so much shouting and carrying on. Tobias wiggled in the hickory rocking chair and tried to focus on the newspaper in his lap. He inhaled the familiar scent of newsprint. The same everywhere. He'd done this hundreds of times in their old house on their old farm back in Ohio. Got his hands black with ink reading about what Plain folks were doing all across the country, how they planted, how they grieved their dead, and how they welcomed their newborn. School picnics and birthdays and loads of folks headed out for visits.

He should be headed to bed himself, but he wanted to see what was going on in his old neighborhood. Edith Byler, a distant cousin, was a faithful scribe. A wave of homesickness flooded him. Serena's face floated in his mind's eye. Stop it.

"Get back here!"

Martha's screech filled the room, followed by a streak that turned out to be Diego hurling himself across the front room, his skinny legs and arms pumping. He wore only the dirty pants he'd arrived in and the scruffy Mickey Mouse backpack that never seemed to leave his side.