Chapter Six
Johan was not amused. He stole a glance at Christina. She was staring at Wilhelm with big, dreamy eyes. Johan turned back to the stout oak in front of him, sized it up, and tossed the ax onto the ground. He needed to take a break. From everything. Franz shouted from the other side of the handcart. Or was that Fritz? Another boy screeched. Ah, that was Fritz. Johan wiped his brow. A cool drink of water should do the trick. Maybe Christina would be gone by the time he returned from the stream.
Not that she was any of his concern. If she had set her sights on his brother, that was fine with him. He was happy to be footloose and fancy-free. Wilhelm needed a wife, not him. Johan scowled as he stomped to the edge of the clearing and plunged into the forest.
“Going somewhere?” Wilhelm shouted after him.
“Ja.” Johan did not stop to explain. He felt too frustrated and confused for conversation. Hadn’t someone mentioned at the worship service that Georg and Frena Witmer had the fever and ague? That could explain it. Hadn’t he been out in the night air for the past fortnight? Why shouldn’t he have the fever and ague too? Everyone knew bad air was the fastest way to illness. And an ill head might explain his ridiculous preoccupation with a certain young woman. It couldn’t be those sparkling blue eyes, blushing cheeks, or lively wit.
That would be preposterous.
Johan made it halfway to the creek before he realized that he had left the wooden buckets and yoke back at the campsite. Well, if that didn’t beat everything. He shook his head and turned on his heels. At least he’d gotten away from that giggle for a few minutes. He could still hear it ringing in his mind like a bell. It was not a bad giggle—a bit excessive, perhaps. The real problem was that the giggle had been directed at the wrong person. Women didn’t giggle at Wilhelm. It simply wasn’t done.
A twig snapped beneath Johan’s boot, and a startled rabbit burst out of the underbrush. “You’re all right, little fellow. Haven’t got my gun.” The rabbit bounded into a carpet of ferns and disappeared. A crow scolded them both from high above the forest floor. The solitary cry echoed through the trees. As the woods sank back into silence, Johan felt as if he were the only man on the earth. How long could a man walk westward? How long did this forest stretch? No one knew. He might walk forever and never reach the end. As far as he could imagine, a vast emptiness surrounded him.
Johan had never felt alone before that moment.
He exhaled slowly. The sound filled the still air. He heard the ruffle of wings as the crow adjusted its feathers, then silence again. Johan had always enjoyed his own company. So why did he feel so lonely all of a sudden? It must be this remarkable countryside. Who could have imagined such isolation? In Germany’s Rhine River Valley, there was always the clack of hoof beats on cobblestone, the shout of a traveling peddler, the laughter of children running through the fields. He had never known stillness like this before. The emptiness could drive a man to strange thoughts. Such as the desire to have a woman giggle at him instead of his brother.
Johan nodded his head. That was it. The wilderness had driven him to a strange sort of madness. It wasn’t like him to pine after a woman. He just needed to adjust to the backcountry. All would be back to normal soon.
The smell of smoke drifted through the hemlocks and tickled his nose. Ah, the boys must be doing a fine job of burning brush. He had done well to put them to work. Maybe if Wilhelm listened to him a little more, he could keep those wild little ones in line. Johan felt rather smug until he heard a shout.
Was that Hilda? Johan’s body tensed. She was not a woman given to shouting. That much was obvious. Another shout tore through the forest, higher pitched and more urgent than the last. Christina. Johan did not wait for a third shout. He took off for the clearing with his heart pounding in his throat. The acrid scent of smoke strengthened as he plunged through tangled thickets and scrambled over boulders. He pushed his legs to go faster, and the leaves faded into a blur. A branch whipped his forehead, and he flinched but did not slow his pace until he skidded into the clearing.
A plume of black smoke billowed upward, filling the sky. He felt the searing heat and heard the sharp crackle of flames, but could see nothing beyond the swirling smoke. Something had gone terribly wrong. There was too much smoke. The brush fire must have spread. Johan coughed and yanked his shirt over his mouth as he scanned the site for his nephews. He could only see smoke and the orange glow of fire deep within.
Johan charged forward, into the smoke and confusion. His eyes and throat burned. “Is anybody there?” A movement caught his eye as he pushed forward. There! Fritz and Franz stood rooted in place as they stared at the smoke with open mouths and wide, shocked eyes. They had not left their posts. “What happened?” Johan shouted as he scooped up the two boys and dragged them across the clearing.
“We only looked away for a moment.”
“A moment is all it takes!” Johan dropped them on the ground without stopping. “Where’s Felix?”
The boys coughed and shook their heads.
Panic surged up Johan’s spine. “Stay away from the smoke. Go get help.” Johan did not take the time to watch them go. He whispered a prayer to der Herr and plunged into the smoke. He had to find Felix. And Christina. Where were they? Smoke billowed in waves and blackened the sky. His eyes stung and watered. He gasped for a clean breath and stumbled deeper into the heated air.
“Christina!” No answer. “Felix! Wilhelm!” He forced his way through the smoke until the air cleared and he found himself on the far side of the campsite. He could feel the heat behind him and hear the roar of fire in his ears. Wood popped and sparks exploded upward. He turned and forced himself back into the smoke and heat. Tears sprang to his eyes as he blinked and pressed his shirt against his nose and mouth. Where were they?
A hand reached through the smoke and grabbed his waistcoat. He spun around and clasped a pale, slender arm. He knew that arm. Christina. Johan pulled her close and wrapped his arm around her. She felt small and fragile. He held her so tightly that he had to tell himself to ease his grip. “Are you all right?” he shouted. His voice sounded so ragged and hoarse that he didn’t recognize it.
“Ja. But the boys. Where are the boys?”
“I’ve got Franz and Fritz. They’ve gone for help.”
Christina’s body relaxed beneath his arms. “And we’ve got Felix.” She pressed her face into Johan’s chest. “I couldn’t find them.”
“It’s all right now.”
She nodded, then coughed.
“Come.” Johan picked her up so that her feet dangled above the ground as he held her against his chest. “I’ve got you.”
“What’s happened?” she asked. “I can’t see anything for the smoke.”
Johan did not know. “You don’t worry about that. You just get yourself somewhere safe.” He kept his arms wrapped firmly around her as he carried her away from the smoke. “I’ll take care of it.” He had a job to do, and he would do it. He couldn’t let the fire burn out of control. What if it spread to neighboring cabins and crops?
But, for that one precious moment, the fire and the smoke and the fear disappeared. All Johan knew was the feel of Christina against his chest and shoulder. Her breath rose and fell and warmed his bare neck. Her prayer kappe had fallen loose and a mass of golden curls tickled his face. Her hands tightened around his shoulders. Nothing had ever felt so right as having this woman in his arms, knowing that she was safe—that he had made sure she was safe.
They emerged from the smoke, and Johan looked down to see Christina staring up at him with wide, adoring eyes. Women had looked at him like that before. But he had never felt anything in return. This time, he felt something. Something strange and indescribable.
Something that struck him with a greater fear than the fire had.
Johan inhaled the soft clean scent of Christina’s hair one last time and set her on her feet. He swallowed and backed away. He had to regain his senses.
“Are you all right?” Christina blinked, but kept staring up at him in that disarming, adoring way. Soot blackened her chin, and he resisted the urge to pull her close and wipe her face with his handkerchief.
“You don’t worry about me. Are you all right?”
She nodded. He turned to look for Wilhelm and Hilda, or to try to put out the flames. But, first, he had to find the flames. He couldn’t see the fire through all that confounded smoke. He didn’t have a plan. He just knew he had to act. But when he tried to leave, Christina’s hands held fast to his waistcoat. He smiled. “You can let go now.”
She gasped and looked down at her hands. “Oh.” Her fingers opened. “I didn’t realize. . . .” Her face reddened from something more than the heat of the fire. She pulled her hands back, but kept staring up at him.
It was quite unnerving. So unnerving that Johan almost forgot his duty. He cleared his throat. “I’ve got to help the others.”
Christina nodded but didn’t speak. Her face looked as flushed and innocent as a fawn caught by surprise. Johan felt her eyes on his back long after he hurried away.
* * *
A fire was not the time for a celebration. Christina was not that foolish. And yet . . . even as the smoke swirled higher and forced her back, Christina felt a thrill of joy shoot through her heart. He had found her! He had saved her! Oh, what a hero he was! True, she had already been on her way out of the smoke. And she had seen him first and grabbed his waistcoat. An impartial observer might even say that she had saved him, rather than the other way around.
But he had scooped her up and carried her to safety. True, she did not need to be carried. She had made it on her own up to then. But what joy to be saved! It was like the old German fairy tales, when the handsome prince rushes in to rescue the distraught princess. So what if she didn’t actually need saving? He had saved her nonetheless!
Now, she needed to see what she could do to help. He had saved her once. If need be, he could save her again. She remembered the strength of his arms, the solid warmth of his chest as he held her close, the rasp of his breath above her ear, the heat of his neck against her cheek. Christina released a dreamy sigh.
Oh, yes, he could save her again.
Christina circled the smoke until she reached Johan and Wilhelm’s handcart. She scanned the belongings spread across the small campsite: an iron spider, a stack of quilts, a handsaw, hammers, axes, a bag of nails, and two burlap sacks. The seed crop! Christina gasped and grabbed the burlap sacks. Everything else could burn if it must. She would save the most important thing first.
Christina took off with her heart pounding in her throat. Every step jolted her body as her leather shoes slammed the earth. She ran until her lungs burned with effort, until the air was clear, and she could no longer feel the smoke sting her eyes. She skidded to a stop, threw down the burlap sacks, and raced back toward the campsite.
She would save as much as she could. Christina knew how precious every item was in the backcountry. A settler couldn’t replace something as simple as a needle or a nail. How she had taken those things for granted back in Germany! She longed to wander down a bustling cobblestone street to fetch a lamb shank from the butcher or a pair of shoes from the cobbler.
Smoke rose to meet her as she stumbled out of the forest and back into the campsite. Her eyes flew to a patch of weeds beside the handcart that had caught fire. The flames crackled and danced with orange delight. A spark must have blown from the main fire and landed in the dry grass. If she didn’t act fast, those flames would devour the handcart and all the brothers owned.
Christina pulled her white linen neck cloth over her mouth and nose and raced toward the burning weeds. She had returned in the nick of time, for the fire was still small enough to smother. She raised her skirts above her knees to protect the linsey-woolsey fabric from the flames, then stomped with all her strength. She thanked der Herr that the screen of smoke protected her from prying eyes, for she must look like a wild creature of the forest with her legs bared and her feet flying in a most undignified dance.
Christina slammed her feet into the earth until she was sure the flames had died completely. Then she kicked a mound of dirt over the blackened weeds for good measure. She stepped back and wiped her forehead. That was a good day’s work if she did say so herself. Her knees felt quite weak, which was odd, for she had not noticed feeling the least bit of fear in the moment. She had not even considered the danger of her skirts going up in flames and could not remember hiking them above her knees.
Above her knees! Oh! She realized her legs were exposed in a most scandalous fashion and she dropped her skirts. She glanced around to confirm that no one had seen her legs. She would leave that detail out in the retelling of the tale. Sure, she wore woolen hosen so no skin showed—but still. She smoothed down her skirts and apron. It would not do for Johan to think she took liberties with her reputation. Why, just last year she had heard tell of a shipwreck in which the women chose to drown rather than discard the layers of wet fabric that weighed them down in the water. She had thought it an excessive exercise in modesty—God rest their souls—but she could not fault their devotion to reputation.
A hot, dry wind whipped past Christina’s face and blew her golden hair into a tangled halo. She looked into the sky and saw a dim yellow ball behind the haze of smoke. The sun looked so fragile and far away. How could this have happened? How had the smoke overpowered the clearing so fast?
Christina remembered Franz’s and Fritz’s happy laughter, peppered by the occasional shout from Felix. She remembered when Johan dropped his ax and disappeared into the forest. Then Wilhelm had said something to Hilda that made her smile. Everything had seemed normal. Christina had been so busy listening to Hilda’s and Wilhelm’s conversation that she hadn’t noticed anything untoward.
Christina had leaned back into her hands and tilted her chin upward to watch a fat white cloud drift across the sky. It had reminded her of a rabbit. She had been thinking of rabbits and basking in the glow of spring sunshine when everything had gone suddenly wrong. The boys had shouted in voices tinged with panic as smoke billowed into her face, and she had jumped up with wide, surprised eyes. Hilda had already been on her feet, yelling at the boys to run from the fire.
Christina now heard a cheer from across the hazy clearing. The smoke shifted, and the sky brightened. She could sense a change. The fire was out. It was over. Now, she just needed to find Johan and fall into his arms again. That would be a most satisfactory end to a difficult afternoon.