Chapter Four
The setting sun was disappearing below a sheen of blue mist that hung along the ridgeline of the mountains. Glorious streams of orange lit the undersides of the higher clouds as if an unseen hand had layered the brilliant colors across a heavenly canvas. The tops of the mountains were slowly darkening, and the thick forest began to blend together along the rocky heights until all was blue and mysterious. Far to the north some errant rain clouds drifted a mist onto the forest below, but directly above, all was clear. There was a bite in the air that presaged another storm to come, but this day was marking its departure with a magnificent display. The rain from yesterday still dripped silently from the branches of the white pine trees, and the ranks of maple trees among the hemlocks and pines set fire to the somber silence of the woods.
Jonas Hershberger walked along the banks of Northkill Creek. Behind him lay the small settlement of the Northkill Amish. The mighty bulk of the mountain ran away to the north and south along the creek. Beyond the mountain was the Indian land, but settlers were already pushing to the west and Jonas had heard his father talking in hushed whispers to his maam about the possibility of trouble with the natives. Jonas followed the creek’s course up toward the gap in the summit of the ridge. He often thought about what lay on the other side, but his daed had forbidden him to go anywhere outside the valley where their new home lay.
He was thinking about the day they had come to the Northkill settlement along with other passengers from the Charming Nancy. A few hours after they arrived, Jonas and his father walked along Northkill creek. Every few steps Mathias would dig at the soft soil with his shoe or look around at the healthy crops that the earlier settlers had put in during the summer. At one point, Mathias picked Jonas up and set him on his big shoulder. He pointed down the valley. “This is a rich land and the fields are white for the harvest. The corn is tall and strong, and the vegetables are healthy and large. Es ist sehr gut.”
Mathias began to explain how they would rotate the crops from year to year to keep the soil fertile. He bent down and scooped up a handful of soil and held it up for Jonas to smell. It was rich and dark and smelled of forest and grass and manure.
“It almost smells sweet, Papa.”
Mathias smiled as he tossed the handful of dirt away. “The land here is full of promise. It will help us continue our old world way of life, but it will also provide stability in our new land. As long as we have the land, we can provide for our families, and our way of life will go on and on. We become one with the land, working hard, pushing our bodies to the limits, and yet, even as we struggle, we rejoice in the power we have as masters of our world; a world given to us by a loving God who shows us the way and walks before us—a cloud by day and a pillar of flame by night.”
Jonas looked up at his father in surprise. It was not often that Mathias waxed eloquent, and the boy began to feel his father’s connection to the land and through his father, his own connection. “Will I be a farmer too, Papa?”
Mathias set his son down and turned back toward the settlement. “That is for unser liebender Gott to decide, mein sohn. You are so young; it is hard to know what your destiny holds. This new country holds great promise, and for now, it seems to be in farming, but we cannot tell what the future holds.”
Jonas had been puzzled by his father’s vague response to his question. Of course I will be a farmer! What else is there to do?
That had been two months ago, but his father’s answer had not left his mind. So today, as he walked along the creek bank, his mind was not fully on his task. Jonas had been looking for Lotte, the Hershberger’s wandering kuh. Somehow the cow had figured out how to get the gate to the simple corral open. This was the third time Lotte had escaped, and Jonas, as the youngest, had been assigned the task of finding her. He had followed the animal’s tracks out of the barnyard and down along the stream, and he knew that she was not far ahead for her leavings were still steaming in the cold air. After their arrival, his family had purchased two hundred acres along the creek from Melchoir Detweiler, and the cow had come with the land. Already, with the help of neighbors, the Hershbergers had erected a one-room cabin where the whole family slept and ate. Maam had hung blankets to give some degree of privacy, and the family had fallen into the never-ceasing cycle of early rising, working on the land, sitting together over a plain but nourishing supper, and going to bed long after dark.
Jonas’ papa had managed to save enough silver from the sale of their gristmill in Lomersheim to purchase supplies for the winter when they arrived, so with that concern out of the way, Mathias and his older sons were concentrating on felling trees and cutting boards to add more rooms to the cabin and frame up a building on the creek. The elder Hershberger planned to grind flour for the settlers, so he had plenty of willing helpers.
Jonas loved their new home. The forest was filled with wild animals, and often at night he heard the mournful scream of a mountain lion on the hunt. The settlers often found deer and elk grazing right in their fields, which meant fresh meat on the table. Jonas’ father was a crack shot with the rifle, and he was already teaching his youngest son the way of the hunter. Jonas’ brother Amos had already bagged an elk and the hide was being stretched and dried on the side of the cabin. On Sundays, all the settlers met at the Detweiler cabin since it was the only one large enough to accommodate all the families. One of the brethren would bring out the Ausbund and the congregation would sing das loblied, the ancient hymn of praise. Jonas loved the sound of the slow unaccompanied singing of the hymns. His father had told him that their songbook was over two hundred years old and was a symbol of God’s grace in protecting their order down through the years. The music and the history of his people stirred Jonas deeply, and as he walked along, he began to sing the hymn of praise.
O Lord Father, we bless thy name,
Thy love and thy goodness praise…
Jonas was so intent on watching for signs of Lotte that he did not notice how far he had gone along the trail. A sense of heading downhill broke into his reverie, and the words of the hymn faded on his lips. The trail dropped away below him. He had crossed over the forbidden line of the ridge top and was now on Indian lands. Then, just ahead, he heard the clang of Lotte’s bell. He hurried around a corner in the trail and lurched to a halt. The cow stood docilely under a stand of larch trees. Beside her stood a young Indian boy. The boy had looped a braided leather thong around the cow’s neck and was pulling the resistant animal toward the woods. A hot flush rushed over Jonas’ face. He yelled at the top of his voice.
“Hey, that’s my cow.”
The boy jumped in surprise and slowly turned to Jonas. He stood silently and then shrugged his shoulders. Then he said something in his own tongue and continued to lead the cow up the path. Jonas ran up, grabbed the thong, and jerked it.
“You can’t just steal someone else’s property. That’s a sin.”
The boy’s eyes narrowed and he pointed back down the trail. “Kta! Kta!”
Jonas didn’t know what do to. He was about the same size as the Indian lad, but the boy did not appear ready to release the cow, and Jonas did not know if he could make him. He felt anger slowly filling his heart like the tide coming in. He raised his fists and advanced toward the boy. “I don’t know what you are saying, but that is our cow and I’m taking her back.”
The boy reached into his waistband and then a dangerous looking knife was in his hand. He beckoned to Jonas with the other hand. “Mahtake!” The meaning was perfectly clear.
Jonas glanced around and saw a stout looking branch lying on the ground. He grabbed it up and then the two boys were facing each other with their weapons in their hands, breathing heavily. They slowly began circling each other, looking for an opening. Suddenly, they heard a twig snap in the woods. The Indian boy glanced away and Jonas took advantage. He rushed in and swung a hard blow at the boy’s head. Just in time, the Indian boy leaped away, but as he did, Jonas’ club caught him on the shoulder and tumbled him onto his back. Jonas rushed forward, planted his feet, and raised the club above his head.
“Jonas, stop!”
His father’s voice cut like a knife and Jonas froze.
“What are you doing to that boy?”
Jonas slowly lowered his club and turned to his papa. “He was stealing Lotte, Papa.”
Mathias took the branch from Jonas’ hand and threw it down. He took Jonas by the shoulder and the grip of his strong hand hurt. “And you were going to resort to violence to solve the problem? That is against everything we know. You must not fight with anyone; it is forbidden by the ordnung.”
The Indian boy had jumped up and there was hatred in his eyes. He pointed to the cow. “Ni yuni.” He held the knife up.
Jonas looked around for his club, but his father’s foot held it to the ground. Mathias held out a hand in a gesture of peace. “What is your name, boy?”
The boy shook his head.
Mathias pointed to himself. “Mathias, Mathias.” Then he pointed to Jonas. “Jonas, Jonas.” Then he pointed back to the boy.
The Indian lad drew himself up. “Wingenund.” He brandished the knife.
Jonas twisted in his father’s grasp, but he could not break free. “Papa, that is Lotte, our kuh. He has no right to steal her. You must take her back.”
Mathias looked down and Jonas could read great disappointment on his papa’s face. His father looked at Wingenund. “You will not give us the cow?” He held out his hand.
Wingenund shook his head. “Ntayalëmska!” He turned and walked out of the clearing and back down the trail that led into the heart of the Indian territory. Lotte followed docilely along.
“Papa!!”
Mathias watched the cow disappear into the forest. He sighed and then turned back toward the settlement. “No matter what, mein sohn, you must never use violence to get what you want. The Lord commands us so, and if you want to follow our ways, you must obey. Now come.”
Jonas looked after the Indian once more, but the lad and the cow had disappeared. A great anger came over him, but then shame followed. He was being unfaithful to Jesus and his commandments. He took a deep breath. “I am sorry, Papa. You are right. Violence is not the way.”
Together the two Hershbergers walked down the hill into the darkness.