Forevermore (13 page)

After propping open the screen door, Jakob went to the barn to check on his gelding. Nicodemus stood still in his stall—a poor sign. He usually greeted Jakob by tossing his head and letting out a whinny. Jakob murmured to him softly, unlatched the gate, and let himself in. After rubbing the horse’s neck and withers, he bent and ran the backs of his fingers down the gelding’s long leg. His father taught him that trick—that callused fingers don’t detect heat well.
If I have a nephew, I’ll teach him the same thing
. Heat registered—nothing extreme, but enough to let Jakob know Nicodemus wasn’t fit for work.

Phineas was mucking out another stall. He called over, “What do you think?”

Jakob straightened up and swallowed his disappointment. “The leg—it’s still hot.”

“I thought so, too. There’ll be plenty of horses here today. We’ll rest Nicodemus and let him heal.”

He went back outside and noticed a few men starting toward the food. Four so far. Two he recognized as hard workers from years past. He saw Hope pouring coffee for another man, then glanced up to see his sister. She halted at the base of the porch steps, her face frozen in terror.

Ten

H
ere you go. There’s plenty more coffee, so don’t be shy.” Hope’s cheery voice sounded a tad too loud. Jakob tore his gaze away from his sister for a split second. Hope grabbed the man’s arm and wheeled him away from the house, toward the barn. “Yoo-hoo! Mr. Stauffer, this here buck says you was neighbors once upon a time! How’s about me goin’ to fetch more eggs whilst you natter a moment or so before all y’all set to work?”

“Leopold Volkner! You’re a long way from home.” Jakob strode over. As long as he kept Volkner’s attention diverted, Hope could sweep Annie into the safety of the house.

Never once had he thought someone from back home would come this far south to help with the harvest. Sending Leopold Volkner off instead of hiring him for the day would only attract scrutiny. Though it would cause some awkwardness for Annie, Hope would smooth that over. She’d immediately comprehended the danger and taken measures to distract Leopold and alert Jakob.

If Hope hadn’t come to me last evening with her suspicions, this would have been a disaster. It still could be
. Disciplining his features so his concerns wouldn’t show, Jakob asked, “What brings you so far from home?”

“Greenbugs.” Leopold grimaced. “They destroyed my sorghum entirely. I put in very little wheat this year.”

“Such a shame. It’s hard to imagine how something so small can do so much damage.”

“Ja. Your brother-in-law’s crops have done better than mine. I’m sure he wrote to you about the greenbugs and his sorghum, but his wheat’s in fine shape. He might not have much of a profit this year, but . . .” Leopold shrugged.

“Any year where a farmer holds even is a success.” Jakob nodded sagely.

“Me? I hope to earn enough, hiring out for the harvest to make up for the loss and keep our heads above water. Where is Annie?” Leopold craned his neck and scanned the barnyard. “My sister wants to know how she is.”

“You know how it is for a woman on harvest day.” Jakob strove to sound casual. “Annie’s going to spend most of her day at the stove or searching for something in the pantry.”

Leopold chuckled ruefully. “And woe to the man who’s foolish enough to interrupt that woman!”

Jakob forced out a laugh.

“Volkner!” Phineas motioned to Leopold.
“Komst!”

“He’s going to want me to help him harness the horses.” Leopold smacked Jakob on the back. “It’s good—seeing you. Working alongside you will be like old times.”

As soon as Leopold headed toward the barn, Jakob strode to the house. With every step, he prayed for wisdom and guidance. The minute he stepped into the kitchen, the sight of Annie tore at him. She braced herself against the cabinet with one arm, and the other hand covered her mouth to choke back her sobs.

“What’s wrong, Aunt Annie?”

Hope knelt down by Emmy-Lou and took her by the shoulders. “I’m fixin’ to do the outside work today, and your auntie’s a-gonna do the inside work. I reckon with all them fellers out there, we’re in sore need of a helper. What about if ’n we give you a special job? Y’all be a big girl and go fetch one of your daddy’s red bandanas. Anytime your auntie needs to tell me something, you stand on the porch and wave it at me.”

“I can do that!”

“Dandy! Now one other thing: Your dolly is very special, and today’s a dreadful busy day. I’m thinkin’ perhaps you ought to take her upstairs and tuck her into bed so’s she don’t get bumped.”

Eyes wide, Emmy-Lou clutched her doll and went upstairs.

Hope rose and oh-so-casually swiped a speck of something off the bib of her apron. “Annie, since you know all the ladies hereabouts, it only makes sense you stay indoors. I’ll handle the outside half of things. That’d be good organizing.” She looked at him. “Don’t you think so, Mr. Stauffer?”

“Absolutely.”

Annie whispered in a raw tone, “What am I to do? What is to become of me?”

“Stay in the house. That is best.” Jakob glanced at Hope, then tilted his sister’s face up to his. “I have prayed much, asking God to protect you. Just as He sent Jonathan to be David’s friend, He has sent Hope here to help me safeguard you.”

“That’s right. We ain’t got time to pussyfoot round, so I’m gonna be plainspoken.” Hope crowded close beside Annie and slipped her arms about Annie’s bulging middle.

Annie slumped against her, almost as if seeking shelter from her fears.

“Annie, I got me an uneasy feelin’ bout things yesterday. ’Member on how I went out to talk to your brother? Well, ’twas because the Lord revealed to me that you had a special burden.”

A small sound curled in Annie’s throat.

Hope continued to hold her with one arm and cupped Annie’s head to her shoulder with her other hand. “Shhhh,” she murmured. When Hope looked at Jakob, the liquid gold centers of her warm hazel eyes transmitted a promise to help him shield and care for his fragile sister.

Hope dipped her head and half whispered, “That knowledge our heavenly Father placed in my heart, Annie—’twas timely. God was makin’ shore that you’d be protected. Ain’t nothin’ to be done but for us to love one another and lean on the Lord. I reckon that’s why He brung me here—just like your brother said, a friend to safeguard you.”

“But what can you do?”

Jakob didn’t wait for Hope to answer. “Just as Jonathan hid David from Saul, Hope is hiding you.” As he spoke the words, Jakob strove to draw reassurance from them for himself, too. “Hope’s plan is sound.”

“Speakin’ of plans . . .” Hope jerked her chin up ever so slightly—a subtle gesture, to be sure, but it told him to take courage. Her tone went brisk. “I usually use my cart to haul water and food out to the hands about midmorning.”

Jakob understood at once. Hope changed the topic so Annie would focus on tasks to be done. “Hattie’s a fine mule, but I won’t need her today. Plenty of my neighbors will ride here. There’ll be more than enough draft horses. I’ll hitch Hattie to your cart.”

“Nah. You got plenty to do, and Hattie—she cooperates just fine for me.” Hope gave Annie a reassuring smile. “I reckon we’d best better put on another pot of coffee and get some corn bread in the oven. If ’n y’all do that, Annie, I’ll go out to the springhouse and fetch them chickens we cut up last night.”

Emmy-Lou came back down the stairs. “Dolly’s taking a nap, and I got a danbana.” A red bandana fluttered from her hand.

Hope’s hazel eyes sparkled, and she whispered, “I ain’t got the heart to tell her she says that wrong. Fact is, them words she gets tangled make her all the more dear to me.”

Men streamed in. Harvest always carried with it this sense of energy and excitement. The low hum of men talking, the full-throated laughs, a gathering of well-worn overalls and jeans represented a brotherhood where each man knew he’d receive the best work of all who came, just as he would give in return.

Vim—that’s what his grandmother called it. The robust energy of men with an important task ahead of them. Some came from barely started farms, most had places about the same size as Jakob’s, and two owned spreads twice the size of his. It didn’t matter. Every last man would labor until the work was done. Mornings like this, Jakob felt this was a little foretaste of heaven—of everyone being of one mind and hearts raised in praise for God’s goodness.

Though most had eaten at home, that didn’t stop them from grabbing something more. The work ahead would demand much of them. Hope raced in and out of the house, bringing out more coffee, another bucket of hard-boiled eggs, and calling greetings to the newcomers. She’d been to church only once, yet she recalled the names of many of the men. How she managed that flummoxed him—and from the surprised look many of the men wore, they couldn’t imagine how she knew who they were, either.

“Mr. Smith!” Hope waved at him. “Lookit them fine sons you brung. You young’uns—I got milk and buttermilk in the springhouse.”

Smith brought his oldest sons—schoolboys who were of a size that they could ride the lead horse in the team of three that pulled the older model of the McCormick thresher the community owned. The elder of the boys had proven himself capable a few years back; the younger was eager to show he’d grown old enough to have a turn at the job. Even though the newer thresher didn’t require a third horse or a small rider, traditions were important. A boy who rode this year would walk behind and make windrows with the men in another few years. It was a rite of passage.

Asa Bunce arrived with his sons, too. The hopeful looks on their fresh-scrubbed faces made it clear they wanted to become “men” today instead of “helper boys.” Helper boys ran errands and brought water—but most telling, they arrived later in the morning, alongside their mamas.

Phineas frowned. “We’ve got too many boys.”

“They can take turns.” Asa hooked his thumbs into the bib of his overalls. “Smith’s boys can take one thresher. Mine will do the other.”

Moments like this were bittersweet. Jakob knew he ought to feel blessed to have a fine crop and neighbors to help, but deep inside a void yawned. He had no sons. Whenever that thought troubled him, he tried to reassure himself that Annie just might give him a nephew. That would be a fine thing—having a boy to rear to respect and tend the land.

“What is that?” One of the men shaded his eyes, then let out a whoop.

Mr. Richardson made a grand appearance. The last man to arrive, he’d taken his time—but for good cause. His horse trotted at a dignified pace, and behind him a team of three horses dragged another reaper!

“A man with daughters needs help.” He dismounted as everyone chuckled. Mr. Richardson was well-known for making jokes about the fact that he had several daughters. He loved every last one of them, but a farmer still hoped for strapping sons. “I have a . . . sort of a cousin . . . who has sons. He sent two to help, and they brought their reaper. No use in it sitting unused.”

“I’m obliged.” Jakob couldn’t imagine this blessing. He’d planted more wheat this year than ever before. He’d not been sure they’d bring the harvest in by Saturday night.

“Not that we aren’t glad for the help,” someone shouted, “but how do you come by a cousin?”

Richardson shrugged. “He was a good friend on the orphan train. He got adopted three stops back, but we kept in touch. He sent his older boys.”

“Three,” one of Asa Bunce’s boys said in wonder. “You’ll be running three teams.”

Jakob turned and gave Smith’s eldest son, Lloyd, a restrained slap on the back. “You’ve grown big this year. Huge.” He made a point of looking the boy up and down, then nodded somberly. “Perhaps it is time for you keep your feet on the ground and let the young boys ride the leads.”

Manly grunts of approval and agreement filled the air. Every one of those men recalled the day they’d been promoted—it was never a father’s place to do. Someone else in the community always made the gesture. It meant more that way.

Lloyd stood so straight, Jakob marveled his spine didn’t crack. “I’ll work hard.”

The three other boys stood awestruck for a moment, then one yelled, “Then we all getta have our own rig the whole day!”

Jakob rested his hands on his hips. “Psalm one-forty-five, verse fifteen, says, ‘The eyes of all look to you, and you give them their food at the proper time. You open your hand and satisfy the desires of every living thing.’ The Lord has been generous, not only with my crops, but also with my friends and neighbors. I give Him—and each of you—my thanks.” He then said a prayer, and they all went to the fields.

Work had a rhythm to it. Soon the reaper went through the field, whirring and cutting. Tiny particles flew up, filling the air with a distinct aroma and giving a golden-tan shimmer to the world. Looking like bank robbers, men wore bandanas over the lower half of their faces to keep from choking. The more they accomplished in the early morning, the better off they’d be. Texas midday heat was rough on man and beast. All of them knew it, and they pushed hard.

Out of the corner of his eye, Jakob saw a dishcloth wave in the air. He turned, smiled, and waved back to Hope. Inserting two fingers into his mouth, he let out a piercing whistle. It took a few repetitions, but the work ceased.

The men flocked to the edge of the field. Hope stood by her two-wheeled cart. Each of the four corners of her cart held a bucket of cool well water and dippers. She’d remembered his request to bring out peaches—a bushel of them rested in the center of the cart—but in addition to that, two trays heaped with cookies invited the men to help themselves.

“Stauffer—next year, you should plant more so we have to come help for more time!”

“Hope—do you hear them?” Phineas grabbed a peach. “You will come back next year, won’t you?”

Hope hitched a shoulder. “I can’t rightly say. I go where God sends me. I don’t plan or promise; I obey. But I can’t take credit for them cookies. Annie’s the one what baked ’em. Mr. Toomel, you’d best not wave that cookie—” She halted and burst out laughing.

Mr. Toomel looked sheepish, wiggling his empty fingers. “Serves me right for holding a sweet by a mule. I didn’t think she could see it, with her wearing that hat.” He accepted another cookie.