Emma
Judah assured George he’d help him search. “Go back to your house,” Judah said. “I’ll meet you there as soon as I take Emma home. She needs to rest.”
George didn’t answer Judah, but he rode away toward his farm.
Before George was out of hearing distance, Emma snarled, “Why would you offer to help him?”
“Because I don’t want him to find her,” Judah whispered. “And I certainly don’t want him to be alone with her if he does.”
Emma wasn’t sure whether to believe him or not.
By the time they reached Phillip’s cabin, Emma was shaking again, but this time from the cold. Judah helped her down and then to the door.
It swung open, and Isaac stood before them. “When you didn’t come to the service, Mamm sent me to get you,” he said.
“I can’t go.” She fell into another coughing fit.
“She’s ill,” Judah said.
Emma headed for her bed, pulled off her boots, and climbed under her remaining blankets, still in her cloak.
In the background, Judah told Isaac what had happened. “I’m going to go meet George at his place. I’ll check back later. Take care of your sister. . . .”
After Judah left, Isaac said he’d brought a letter from Abel.
“Would you read it to me?”
Again, it was only a few lines. He was happy to receive her letter. He was doing well. He’d expect her return in the spring.
It seemed such an odd way to phrase it. Did he look forward to seeing her? Or just to her return? He’d written absolutely nothing of any importance. The long letter she’d sent hadn’t inspired him to reciprocate in kind. What sort of life did he envison for them?
As Isaac folded Abel’s letter, Emma fell asleep and didn’t awake until several hours later, coughing again. Isaac bent over the fire, stirring something in the big pot, while Phillip, back from Jackson Township, sat at the table, eating a piece of bread. She lifted her head.
“Are you awake?” Phillip asked.
She nodded as she coughed some more. Once she stopped, with a raspy voice, she asked, “Has Judah returned?”
Isaac shook his head.
“No word about Mathilde?”
“That’s right,” Isaac answered.
Phillip shook his head. “You shouldn’t be involved in any of that.”
Emma fell into another coughing fit. When she recovered, she said, “Mathilde’s a widow. We’re told that pure religion is to care for widows and orphans.”
“You’re a widow,” Phillip said. “Look after yourself.”
“I am,” Emma answered. “And so are all of you. Mathilde has no one but herself.”
Phillip just shook his head. “She has George.” He pushed back his chair and walked to the door. “I’m going out to do the chores. I expect supper to be ready when I return.”
IT WAS AFTER dark by the time Isaac, Emma, and Phillip sat down at the table. Emma had rallied enough to fix the meal. When a knock fell on the door, Phillip opened it to reveal Judah.
As he walked into the cabin, Emma said, “I’ll get another bowl of soup.”
“Denki,” Judah said. “I’m famished.”
“We’re having three sister soup, with a little ham added.”
“What?” Phillip asked.
As she stood, Emma felt light-headed and steadied herself with a hand to the back of the chair. “That’s what Mathilde calls it. Corn, squash, and beans.”
Phillip frowned. “You’ve been influenced too much by that woman.”
Emma ignored her brother and filled a bowl of soup for Judah. After Phillip led all of them in a silent prayer, Judah said, “We looked everywhere but didn’t find Mathilde. We tracked her horse through the snow to the creek, but then we had no idea if she went northwest or southeast. We rode both ways but never saw where she came out. Of course she could have backtracked anywhere along the way and brushed over her tracks.” He shrugged. “As long as she’s all right, I hope she’s far away from the Burton place.”
“Why?” Phillip asked. “She had a place to sleep and a job.”
“It appears that George Burton beat her.” Emma passed the bread to Judah, fearing George might do worse, in time, with Harriet gone. If only George would move to Chicago too.
“I’m going to ride to South Bend tomorrow.” Judah passed the bread on to Isaac. “And talk with the priest there, the one who buried Jean-Paul. Perhaps Mathilde spoke with him about leaving this area.”
Phillip’s irritation seemed to be growing as he said, “You seem awfully interested in the woman. Do you have some ulterior motive?”
“Of course not.” Judah dipped his bread in the soup. “Her husband was a good friend to me. I know he’d do the same if our roles were reversed.”
Phillip chortled. “But you’re not even married.”
“True.”
“Why aren’t you?”
Judah put down his spoon and sighed. “I don’t have much to offer a wife. The farm is in Walter’s name. We’d hoped to have saved enough to buy another property by now, but with the price of land going up, it doesn’t seem likely.” He shrugged. “The farm we have isn’t enough to support two families.”
“Other men figure it out,” Phillip said. “I’m sure you could too.”
Emma cleared her throat.
Phillip turned toward her. “What?”
Had Phillip forgotten that his land was paid for by their grandfather? Not everyone had help. Was he that unaware of his blessings?
“It’s all right,” Judah said. “I know God will take care of me. Perhaps I’ll continue to work for Walter. Or come across another situation.”
“Shouldn’t you and Walter split his farm? Or sell it and go farther west and buy something cheaper?” Isaac asked.
“Walter has a family,” Judah said. “All I have is myself. I’d rather he have the farm.”
Was Judah really so generous? Or was he simply trying to make himself look good?
He thanked Emma for the meal and then said, “I’m hoping the priest can tell me places Mathilde’s family used to frequent. Perhaps if she’s not heading to the mission, she’s gone to one of them.”
Emma pursed her lips together as a memory of gathering rocks with Mathilde and Batiste by the creek came to mind. But she wouldn’t say anything out loud, not now. Not when Phillip might overhear her, not when she wasn’t sure if she could trust Judah. Sarah had said he wasn’t trustworthy. Emma couldn’t take a chance, not with Mathilde and the children’s lives.
After Judah left, Phillip said, “He seems humble enough, but maybe it’s all for show. What if George offered to pay him to find Mathilde, to force her to return to the Burton farm and keep working there?” He shook his head. “Emma, you don’t have any proof that Judah’s concern is for Mathilde. It’s most likely only for himself.”
Phillip was right. She didn’t have any proof. All she had were her own doubts about Judah too.
THE NEXT MORNING, once Phillip and Isaac went to check on the cattle, Emma bundled up and hurried down to the creek, stopping to weather a coughing spell just as she reached it.
Although it would run high once the snow melted, the creek wasn’t much higher than it had been in the fall, when she and Mathilde had sat along the banks with Baptiste and Agnes. Emma looked for the natural bridge, for the stones Mathilde had mentioned. She grabbed a small branch that had fallen from a willow tree and stripped the switches from it. Then she poked it into the water a few times, finally finding a stone close to the bank. Lifting her skirts with her free hand, she stepped onto it. Then she found the next one. And the next. Quickly, she made her way across. Her boots were wet but not soaked.
On the other side, a coughing spasm slowed her again, but then she continued on to the bushes. The outline of a fire pit showed through the snow, but she didn’t see any recent signs of people. She made her way through the bushes and then looked to the right and to the left. There was a thicket big enough for someone to hide in. But there was no sign of a horse.
Emma walked around the thicket until she came to the far side. Both footprints and hoofprints led into the thicket, which towered over Emma’s head. After walking a few more feet, she realized the inside had been hollowed out. Ahead was Mathilde’s horse, and behind it a wigwam. Emma stepped closer and whispered hoarsely, “Mathilde!”
No one answered.
But then she heard Baptiste’s voice. “Maman. Maman.”
“It’s me, Emma.” She bent down at the entrance of the wigwam and pulled back the hide. Inside, Mathilde was flat on the ground, with several hides on top of her. She had a fresh bruise on the side of her face. Agnes was at her side, and Baptiste sat up, rubbing his eyes as he said, “Maman” again.
“Mathilde,” Emma said. “Are you all right?”
Her friend opened her eyes and then whispered, “I prayed you would come.”
“You didn’t tell me there was a wigwam back here.”
“Jean-Paul and I made it last summer. We wanted a place to hide if we ever needed to. We left furs and dried food. Some hay for the horse.”
“Why did you plan ahead like that?”
“Jean-Paul didn’t trust George. He felt he might turn on us.”
“Why didn’t you leave then?”
“We had nowhere to go. . . .” She paused, as if looking for the right word. “Permanently. Nowhere that George wouldn’t find us.”
Heartbroken that George had caused the family so much trouble, Emma asked what Mathilde planned to do next.
She shook her head as tears filled her eyes.
“What do you want to do?” Emma asked.
“Find my family. But how can I go a thousand miles with two little ones? I’ll never make it.”
“What about your land?”
“George owns the deed now.”
Tears stung Emma’s eyes. George had taken her land, and yet he still wanted Mathilde’s servitude too. Still expected it. She placed her hand on Mathilde’s arm. “Being with your family would be best, but I agree that going on your own is too risky.” She pointed toward the fire, which had gone cold. “I’ll get it going.”
Mathilde shook her head. “I don’t want any smoke to show. I only burn it at night.”
Emma nodded. That made sense.
“How did you get here so quickly?”
“I’d been planning to come for a few days, since Harriet left. I was ready to go when Judah came and said you needed help. When I returned the next morning, George was angry I’d been gone and hit me again. When he passed out, I grabbed a few things from the shack and then we rode down the creek so he couldn’t track us.” Mathilde raised herself to one elbow. “Don’t tell your brother.”
“I won’t,” Emma said. George hadn’t mentioned he’d seen Mathilde that morning Judah and Emma saw him. The man couldn’t be trusted about anything. “Should I tell Judah you’re here? He’s been looking for you.”
Mathilde shook her head. “He might be following George’s instructions. He seemed strangely friendly with George when he was working with him.”
Emma’s heart sunk. She remembered Judah saying he hardly saw Mathilde when he was working for George. If Mathilde didn’t trust Judah, she shouldn’t either. “What do you need?” she asked. “Food?”
Mathilde nodded. “Anything you can bring.”
“I need to go check on Betha and her baby and take them some food,” Emma said. “I’ll come here afterward and bring you some too.”
“But you’re ill,” Mathilde said. “You shouldn’t be out in the cold.”
“I’m all right.” At least Emma hoped she was. “I’ll see you this afternoon.”
NEAL WAS OUT hunting, and Betha was frying corn cakes for her children when Emma arrived with venison, more apples and potatoes, and a loaf of bread. Emma woke up the baby. He was alert and seemed to be doing well.
She took over the cooking so Betha could nurse the little one. After the children ate, Emma told them to rest so their mother could rest too. Then she left and rode her horse to the creek and forded it quickly.
She dismounted, grabbed the full saddlebag, and slipped into the thicket. “Mathilde,” she said. “I’m back.”
When she opened the hide across the doorway, Baptiste smiled at her. Mathilde slipped Agnes, wrapped in furs, back into her cradleboard. Emma took the food out of the saddlebag and placed it next to Mathilde.
“Merci,” Mathilde said, locking eyes with Emma. “Mon amie.”
Tears stung Emma’s eyes. “You are welcome, my friend.”
As Emma left the thicket, another coughing fit stopped her. By the time she reached Phillip’s cabin and dismounted, she felt feverish and was coughing harder. Isaac took the mare to brush her down and unsaddle her while Emma headed straight to her bed.
When Isaac woke her up at dusk, she couldn’t manage to leave the bed, not even when Phillip came in for supper. During the night, she coughed and coughed, eventually leaving her bed to stir the fire and heat water. She took the kettle off the fire, put it on the table on a stone, then put a scarf over her head and breathed in the steam.
She planned to make an onion poultice in the morning, but she couldn’t drag herself from her bed. Phillip ordered Isaac to help him pull more stumps out of the field, but Isaac said he needed to stay inside and care for Emma. Phillip wasn’t happy, but Isaac stood his ground.
Emma thanked the Lord for her little brother, for his sympathy and care. He was growing into a good, reliable man.
Isaac made the poultice and then later boiled water for peppermint tea. He also fixed some broth for her and sliced some bread, but she could hardly eat any of it. She slept in fits and dreamed of Mathilde and the children in the thicket. She had to get better so she could take them more food. And check on Betha and her family too. She couldn’t abandon the two women.
Isaac brought Emma water to drink, and then she slept again, this time dreaming of Asher and Hansi and her daughter. But the baby girl was alive. And they were all with her, in Indiana.
She woke as her fever broke to find Isaac sitting on the edge of her bed. “You were speaking of Mathilde,” he said quietly. “Of helping her. Do you know where she is?”
Emma drifted off again. She burned with fever for the next two days.
On the third day, Judah arrived and sat beside her bed. “Please tell me where Mathilde is.”
“She doesn’t want George to know.”
“I won’t tell him.”
She searched his eyes. Was he telling the truth? Emma drifted back to sleep.
When she awoke again, Isaac said more snow had fallen. “Judah’s frantic about Mathilde and her children. There’s a storm coming.”
Emma threw back her covers. “I’ll go.”
“No,” Isaac said. “You’re too weak. I’ll go with Judah. I promise you he won’t tell George.”
Emma fell back in bed, exhausted. Should she trust Judah? Did she have a choice? What if Mathilde and the children were freezing? Or starving? She didn’t know how much dried food they had.
No matter what, she could trust Isaac.
She exhaled, trying to trust the Lord too. Finally, she said, “They’re across the creek, in a wigwam in a thicket.”
“Which creek?”
“Phillip’s creek.”
“Where?”
“The creek where I got the rocks for the fireplace.”
“They’re that close?”
Emma nodded. “There’s a natural bridge there to cross the water.”
Isaac whistled. “We’ll take them food. If the storm is too bad, we’ll bring them here.”
“Phillip won’t like it.”
“He’s not here. I sent him to get Mamm to come look after you.”
“I’m fine.”
Isaac shook his head. “I hope you’re getting better, but you aren’t fine.”
She closed her eyes. “Go check on Betha too, please. Judah knows where they live. But don’t bring Mathilde here. I’m afraid Phillip will tell George.”
“All right,” Isaac said. “Judah will be back soon, and then we’ll leave. We won’t be gone long.”
A while later, Emma heard Judah’s and Isaac’s voices, and then Isaac telling her good-bye. She nodded, too tired to open her eyes.
“Thank you,” Judah said before he slipped out the door. “I won’t betray Mathilde. Nor you.”