Wonderful Lonesome (16 page)

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Authors: Olivia Newport

Tags: #Christian Books & Bibles, #Literature & Fiction, #Amish & Mennonite, #Historical, #Romance, #Amish, #United States, #Religious & Inspirational Fiction, #Religion & Spirituality, #Christian Fiction, #Inspirational

BOOK: Wonderful Lonesome
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Soft brown coal was in plentiful supply. All the Amish farmers lived within a few miles of a ravine where lignite coal was free for the digging. In places it was only a few feet below the surface, rather than thousands of feet down. Still, digging it out and transporting it to a useful location was tedious, backbreaking work, and because lignite burned quickly the homes required considerable supplies. A year ago Willem had discovered that many of the
English
around Limon were willing to pay someone else for this labor even if they had a vein on their own land. This year Willem had already made inquiries and committed to dig lignite for three families in addition to what he would need for himself. They would pay him either in cash or supplies. He preferred cash, a scarce resource among the Amish, but Willem had already parlayed his friendliness into a network of information about who possessed particular kinds of goods and who sought them. He was confident he could trade to get what he needed not only to survive the winter but also to make improvements on his farm that would last long into the future.

Willem hated to see anyone so discouraged that they would give up on their farms, but even if all the rest packed their belongings and traveled eastward, Willem would remain.

Was that not a commitment strong enough even for Abigail Weaver?

Ruthanna could hardly believe the difference the last three weeks had made in her girth. After months of feeling sick to her stomach most of the time, the sensation settled at last. She made one batch of biscuits after another and fed her ravenous appetite with them while the baby kicked to make his presence known almost incessantly. When the motions stilled, alarm flashed through her, but she reminded herself that even a babe yet in the womb would sleep at some point. Her gait reminded her of a waddling duck, but she reveled in the movement, perhaps even exaggerating it. Well past the halfway point of her pregnancy, she had begun to realize she would miss the wonder of a child growing within her. So many weeks were consumed with worry for Eber rather than rejoicing together in this mysterious fruit of their love. She wished she had savored more.

Eber was better. He was. But he was not well. He learned to pace himself so that he did not fall into exhaustion and have to return to bed for days at a time, but his energy was not what it had been. When he sat across the table from her, his shoulders stooped. His hand went to his stomach in moments of pain. In his workshop in the barn he sat on a stool rather than stand. After supper, when he read aloud from the German Bible, sometimes she could barely hear him. Then he went to bed earlier than Ruthanna had ever known him to do.

The baby would help. Ruthanna rubbed her firm, expanding middle. Eber would hold their child in his arms and dream beyond the future he could see now. This would spur him to new strength. They would warm themselves at the stove and pass the baby back and forth while one or the other of them tended to chores and they waited for the winter to pass. At Christmas they would remember the birth of God’s Son by cradling their own child in love. Spring would come and they would find the money to buy new seed, even if they had to borrow it. They would plant. They would harvest. They would build. Day after day Ruthanna focused her energy on believing this.

Still, in the night as she listened to Eber’s erratic breathing, Ruthanna’s heart clenched.
Gottes wille
. Why would it be God’s will for Eber to be ill? She knew she ought to rest in God’s will, and she did not confess even to Abbie that this troubled her. A minister might be able to answer her question, but whom could she ask? Jake Heatwole was a warm, generous man, but he was a Mennonite. Ruthanna lacked confidence that she should open her soul to anyone outside the Amish church.

And who would dig their coal for them? Eber would want to do it, and Ruthanna would worry what the effort would cost them both.

Willem did not rush the team of horses. They would be working hard enough in a few hours when the wagon was full of coal. He calculated where along the ravine he should begin. All the men had their favorite spots. It was not a question of whether they would find coal. Geology reports assured them their farms were on the eastern edge of the great Denver Basin and lignite was abundant. They had all found this to be true in previous years. The worst of the work was clearing away earth and rocks to expose the vein. Even though the depth to reach coal was only a few feet, the labor of making a hole large enough to work in meant that most of the men brought their sons or relatives to guard an exposed hole while they carried a load home and then returned to dig more.

Willem slowed along the side of the ravine, wondering if he should have partnered with Rudy as he did last year. They could have looked out for each other. But he was here now and might as well do what he could. He took the team down the slope of the ravine and looked for a spot to claim for his day’s labor. There was nothing to tie the horses to, but unless they were frightened Willem doubted they would drift too far.

When he got out of the wagon, he took his axe with him. Spreading his feet and bracing himself, he swung the sharpened edge in rhythmic, circular strokes until he began to feel the surface give way. He pounded and loosened and shifted dirt until he spied the promise of lignite. In his mind, he pictured his wagon full and overflowing and then the pile he would have behind his house. Once he exposed the lignite it would be soft enough to break in his hands. At that point he could shovel for as long as his back would tolerate.

Willem heard the approaching horse before he saw it. Determined not to give way to distraction, he tossed another shovel of coal into his wagon without lifting his head and listened for the sound of the rider passing by.

The sound stopped. Willem shoveled.

“Willem!”

At the sound of Abbie’s voice, he looked up. They had not spoken since the day of the picnic. His last view of her had been a face wrenched in disappointment, shoulders slumped in dismay. Now she sat erect and controlled on her horse.

“You look well,” he said. The sun magnified the light in her wide brown eyes.

“As do you.” She looked around. “Are you working alone?”

“For today.” He took advantage of the interruption to wipe his dripping face.

“Reuben could help you.”

“Your brother must have a list of chores taller than he is.” Willem jabbed the point of his shovel, and lignite tumbled out of the wound he made in the earth.

“My father has three sons,” Abbie said. “I’m sure he can spare one of them for a few hours.”

“I’ll keep that in mind the next time I come out to dig.”

“I’m on my way home now. I’ll tell Reuben you’re here. I’m sure he will come.”

Willem nodded. Reuben was good company, even if he was easily distracted.

Willem waved up at Reuben. Abbie must have gone straight home and urged her brother to hurry to the ravine.

Reuben slid off his horse and peered down.

“Did you bring any tools?” Willem asked.

“A shovel. Abbie didn’t say to bring anything else.”

Willem tossed another shovelful of coal into the wagon. “That will be fine. I have an axe.”

“Should I bring my horse down?”

“Maybe later. Right now it would make things crowded.”

“Be right down.”

Willem jabbed at the vein of coal with the point of his shovel, testing the resistance of the next section. Behind him he heard Reuben controlling his slide down the slope of the ravine, his shovel sometimes thudding against the wall of dirt.

“Did you help your
daed
last year?” Willem looked at the boy out of the side of his eye as he raised his shovel once again.

“Once.”

“So you know what to do?”

Reuben nodded. “You already have the hole exposed. That’s the hard part, right?”

“It’s all hard.” Willem reached for his axe. “You dig out the coal you can see. I’m going to try to widen the hole so we both have room to work.”

“Your wagon is more than half full already.” Reuben probed the vein with his fingers.

“I’ve been here quite a while.” Willem paused to run the rag over his face again. He could not go more than five minutes without sweat dripping into his eyes and blurring his sight.

“Maybe you should have some water.”

“Later.” Willem laid his shovel down and picked up the axe, bracing again to swing it at the side of the ravine.

They fell into a pattern, swinging in opposite rhythms and keeping their hands out of the way of descending implements. Widening the hole seemed to be less intense than starting it had been, and Willem allowed himself to feel the relief that Reuben’s help would bring to the task.

His axe head stuck in stubborn earth, as if it knew Willem was feeling encouraged. He yanked on it and pushed the handle back and forth trying to loosen the tool. When it did not yield, he leaned into it—and immediately regretted the movement.

Reuben froze with his full shovel in midair. “Did it crack?”

Willem sighed. “Yes.” With one more twist, the split axe handle came free in two pieces.

“We can still dig what’s exposed.” Reuben emptied his shovel into the wagon.

“I should have brought two.”

“How could you know the axe handle would break? No one expects that.”

“This is going to slow us down.”

“I’ll come back and help you another day.”

Willem shook his head and glanced up at the sun. “We still have several hours of good light before your mother will expect you home for supper. Can you stay while I ride home for another axe?”

Reuben nodded. “I’ll keep digging what I can get to.”

“Thank you. I don’t want to leave the wagon unattended or have someone else find the hole waiting after I’ve done all this work.”

Willem removed the harness that strapped his team to the wagon and pulled out an old saddle he stored under the bench. Unencumbered and on his stallion, he could avoid the roundabout roads and gallop across open country.

Rudy knew Jake Heatwole had left the Gingerich farm. He also knew, from Abbie, that Ruthanna still was nervous about Eber’s vitality. What harm could it do for a neighbor to drop by and see if he could help with something? Rudy threw down a fresh layer of straw from the barn’s loft and spread it around the empty stalls his animals would occupy in a few hours. Then he went outside and whistled for his horse.

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