19

Jacob’s Cabin
November 16, 1737

On a windy afternoon, Anna was searching for edible plants in the woods. These were the times she especially longed for her grandmother, who could identify any plant by sight and know if it could sustain life . . . or take it away. Some beneficial plants, like wild carrot, looked nearly identical to deadly poisonous hemlock. More than once Anna had berated herself for not paying closer attention to her grandmother’s lessons.

Catrina’s shouts startled her. “Papa wants you to come,” she said, when she reached Anna. “Two men have come on horseback. He needs you to translate.”

Anna followed her out of the woods and up to the cabin. The two men looked quite different from Englishmen, and soon she realized why. They spoke only French, and were insistent that this land, this land, belonged to the French and that the church was trespassing. They finally left, promising to return with the law to evict them.

Henrik came into the cabin with an armload of firewood and saw Christian and Isaac and the other men talking in hushed voices by the fireplace. “What’s happened?”

“Two men were here today. Frenchmen. They said that we are on French land, not land owned by the London Company.” Christian rubbed his forehead. “I don’t know where we will go.”

“We’re not going anywhere.” Henrik dropped the firewood in the box next to the hearth. “Did you show them the warrants?”

An uneasy silence followed, until Christian admitted he had not thought of it.

Fingers drumming on the table, Henrik fixed his eyes on him. “So where are the land warrants?”

Christian looked at Isaac, then at Josef, then Simon. Each man, in turn, shrugged his shoulders.

“Surely Jacob Bauer spoke of getting land warrants.”

“He did, he did,” Christian assured him. “We just don’t know where he put them. Jacob had surveyed the land and set out boundary markers using either boulders or notched trees. But those boundary markers are hidden in a wilderness of ten thousand acres. And where the warrants happened to be, Jacob did not tell me.”

“Christian, they must be found. Without those warrants, we have no legal right to be on this land. These strangers who ride in—there will be more and more like them.” The newcomer slapped his hands on his knees and stood. “I think we should go through Jacob Bauer’s belongings and look for them.”

No one moved. For a while there was no sound in the room but the hiss and sizzle of wood in the fireplace.

The newcomer looked around the room. “From what I can surmise about your bishop, if the situation was reversed, he would have torn apart your trunks to find those warrants.”

Still, no one moved. Anna was the first to speak. “He’s right. Jacob Bauer was a man of action. He would think us foolish to not move forward.” She went to the far corner, where Jacob’s trunk lay, and pulled things off that were resting on top of it. Henrik came to help her, and soon, a few others joined them.

With the trunk lid open, she turned to Henrik. “What do land warrants look like?”

“Papers.” Henrik dropped to his knees to reach into the trunk. “If he is a well-organized type, they would be kept separate and protected from the elements. If not, it might be a collection of scraps of papers.” He stopped riffling through the trunk to turn to Anna. “He could read, couldn’t he?”

“Of course. He’s our bishop.”

“Was.”

A prickle started at the nape of her neck. She couldn’t believe that Jacob Bauer was dead. Not yet.

Henrik turned his attention back to the trunk. Nothing that pertained to land warrants could be found. Maria went through Dorothea’s trunk as well. There was no indication that they had a claim to the land. Nothing at all.

Christian sat on the bench, hands clasped together in his lap. “Wouldn’t the London Company take our word for it?”

“No, Christian.” Henrik leaned his hands on the table. “Without them, there is no proof that Jacob Bauer actually claimed the land. Anyone could take it.”

No one would dispute that. While waiting in the Court House back in Philadelphia, Isaac had heard a story of a German farmer who had built his log home and cleared acreage to farm on the wrong land—an easy mistake to make in the unsurveyed wilderness. When the legal owner arrived, he was pleased to see the improvements made on his land, then had British soldiers arrest the German farmer for squatting.

“Something will have to be done,” Henrik said.

Christian tapped his fingertips together in a meditative rhythm. “It seems you’ve more experience in dealing with legal matters than the rest of us. If you are willing, we would like you to go.”

Henrik dipped his head in a gesture of compliance. “Most likely, I will need to make some kind of payment on the warrants. For the patent deeds.” He winced. “If I had any money to my name, I would offer it, of course. But alas . . .”

Christian went to his trunk and opened it, taking out a purse full of money. “This is all we have left.” He handed the leather purse to Henrik, who took it reverently and put it in his coat pocket. “What if those Frenchmen return to claim the land before we can get this resolved?”

“We have God on our side,” Anna said.

Christian dropped his hands to look straight at her. “Those men do not know our God.”

Henrik had a three-word answer. “Then, they will.”

Shawl in hand, Anna scurried out of the cabin toward the horse pen, where Henrik was brushing down the mare, brush in hand. “So, it’s settled, then? You’re leaving for Philadelphia in the morning?”

“Yes. I’ll see if I can get copies of the land warrants. If not a copy, then some kind of confirmation.”

She came around to the mare’s right side and petted her velvet nose. “Henrik,” she said slowly, “you don’t speak English. How will you—”

“Don’t worry, Anna.” His gaze met hers over the horse’s head. “If there’s any problem, I’ll find someone who can translate for me. I’ve had some experience with legal matters. Don’t you worry yourself over it. I’ll be back with those land warrants. For this land.” He gave her a broad wink.

She smiled, relieved. She looked up at the cabin, at the curl of smoke coming out of the chimney. “I’ve been meaning to thank you,” she said. “I don’t know how we would be managing without you.”

She watched his hands move the brush over the glossy chestnut hide of the mare.

Their eyes met. “Anna, do you believe in dreams?”

“How so?”

“Do you think God speaks to us in our dreams?”

“I don’t know that I do. But I don’t know that I don’t, either. I guess I just haven’t had that kind of experience with God.”

“I left the Old World because of a dream. God called me out.”

“He called you?”

“Yes. He told me to leave my country, my people, my father’s household.”

“God told you all that.”

“Yes. In a dream. It was very vivid. When I woke, I had this white patch.” He pointed to his head.

She’d often wondered about that unusual shock of white hair. When she first met him, she’d thought it odd. Such a young man to have white hair. Yet the more she knew of Henrik, the more it seemed to suit him.

“God called me out of a corrupt land, filled with idolatry, and told me to separate from loved ones, to forgo my old habits of sin, of living in darkness.”

“But I thought you said your grandfather was a disciple of Jacob Ammann.”

Henrik looked blank, for just a split second, then he gave her a soft smile. “Even so, the tentacles of the world creep in. It was important to take stronger steps of separation.”

So that was why he had come to the New World alone.

“When God gives a command, even in a dream, we must not refuse.” He looked at her earnestly. “Don’t you agree?”

“I think . . . that we will only be blessed if we are obedient to the Word of God.”

“Yes, yes, of course. But doesn’t God speak to us in many ways?” He looked out toward the setting sun. “Through nature’s glory, for example. As for dreams, He spoke to many Old Testament prophets through dreams. Why should we limit God’s ways?”

Anna stared at him in wonder. Imagine having such a clear word from God, like an Old Testament prophet. Her shoulders came up and she rocked forward on the balls of her feet. What a wondrous thing! She sucked in a deep breath, feeling almost dizzy.

“You believe me.” He whispered it like a prayer.

“Shouldn’t I?”

Those dazzling blue eyes sparkled as he leaned in toward Anna. “What if you were given a similar word from God? What if someone was given a command by God for you?”

Looking into those intense eyes of his reminded Anna of how she felt during summer thunderstorms while tending her grandfather’s sheep in the steep hills of Ixheim. It was like that first instant after lightning strikes and the air is dancing, and you wait with prickles on your arms for the explosion of thunder that was soon to come, and then the pouring rain. They were mesmerizing, those blue eyes.

“Anna, I have no doubt,” his voice was breathy, but insistent, “no doubt at all—that God has a special plan for you—”

Before he could finish, Peter Mast arrived with an armful of hay for the horses. “Maria is looking for you, Anna. She wants to know where you’ve hidden her skillet.”

And the intimate moment between Henrik and Anna was broken.

As she walked up the path toward the cabin, Henrik’s comment kept rolling around in her mind. What plan would God possibly have for her? It was an odd thought. Odd and pleasing, both.

Anna was halfway up the path when Peter caught up with her, brushing bits of hay off his shirt. “So what are your plans?”

“My plans?”

“After the newcomer returns and land gets parceled out, where will you go?”

She looked up the path toward Jacob’s cabin. “I’ll stay right there. I’ll stay waiting for Dorothea and Jacob to return.” And Felix. And Bairn.

He shook his head. “There’s no chance that they’re still alive.”

She stopped, annoyed. “Peter, your babe is with them. Lizzie’s son.”

He looked away so that she couldn’t see his eyes. “When my Lizzie died on the ship, I stopped thinking of the child as mine. Dorothea saved the baby. He is her son now.” He took a deep breath. “Was. He was her son. I can’t imagine how any of them would still be alive. Haven’t you heard the howl of those wolves in the night?”

She had heard. Just yesterday, in broad daylight, a fox slipped up close to the cabin and flushed out a laying hen pecking in the grass—not ten feet from Maria, standing at the fire pit.

He took his hat off and scratched his head. “Well, my offer is still good.”

“Your offer?”

“On the ship, I told you I wouldn’t object if we were to be married, you and I.”

She had to bite her lip not to burst out with a laugh. “Thank you, Peter, for that heartfelt proposal, but I’m much older than you.” Only three years separated them, but with Peter’s acute immaturity, it felt like a dozen.

“Lizzie was a month older than me.”

“Peter, you must know how I feel about Bairn. About all the Bauers.”

He gave her a pitying look. “I can guarantee the ship’s carpenter is never going to return.”

Anna felt as if she’d been slapped. “What makes you say such a thing?”

“Every day in Philadelphia, Bairn walked the docks. I saw him with my own eyes. He isn’t one of us. He belongs on a ship. He’s not coming back.” His gaze shifted to the newcomer, down by the horses. “Anna, the way I figure things, you’ve got three chances to marry before you’re an old maid. Me, but you think I’m too young for you. My father, who’s definitely too old for you. Or the newcomer. And personally, I think you’d be crazy to miss your chance with Henrik Newman. He’s worth two of that ship’s carpenter.”

He waited for a moment to see how she would take it.

She straightened, looked directly at Peter, and declared with defiance, “I’ll thank you to keep your opinions about my future to yourself.”

He shrugged and started on the path.

But as she watched Peter lope up toward the cabin, her eyes grew teary.

The firelight wavered over Henrik’s features. “Are they asleep, Anna?”

“Shhh.” She pointed to the small sleeping figures next to her. She had promised a bedtime story to the Gerber twins tonight, and they had fallen asleep in her arms before she finished.

“We didn’t get to finish our conversation down by the horse pen this afternoon. I wanted to say that I believe God has a vision for the church of Ixheim.”

“Our church?”

“Yes. God has called the church to a new, radical faith.” He looked at her intently. “A holy experiment.”

“Our church?” she repeated dumbly. She looked behind him to see Maria scolding Barbara for laying clothes too close to the fire. Christian was propped up against a wooden chest, nodding off. Catrina was teaching Peter Mast to play checkers and slapped his hands whenever he made a mistake. Isaac was arguing with Josef and Simon about which tree wood to use for his cabin. “You think God wants to make our church a holy experiment.” A holy experiment of what?

“I do. But it’s lacking leadership.”

“Jacob Bauer provides strong—”

“He’s gone, Anna,” he said sharply, decisively.

He met her gaze, and in his eyes she saw something that looked like nervousness. Here and then gone.

“This church needs to face that fact. Jacob is gone. Someone needs to stand in the void.”

Anna looked again at Christian, yawning and scratching his round belly that hung over the waistband of his black breeches.

“Anna, God has revealed what my purpose here is.” The words came from his lips in a ragged whisper, and traces of wonder glimmered in his vibrant blue eyes. He was staring at her hard, his face fierce and intent. In a subdued voice brimming with wonder and awe, “He wants me to be a minister, to lead the church of Ixheim.”

“But you would need to be marri—” Oh wait. She saw where this was going.

“Yes, yes, I would.” A silence gathered between them; his breath was ragged.

She stared at him, momentarily tongue-tied. Light from the fire glimmered over his strong face and his eyes glittered with determination.

“God has given us work to do. Together.” Reaching across the space between them, he put his hand over hers. “Did you hear me? God has given us work to do.”

With an effort, and without waking the twins, she pulled her hand out of his grasp.

“I know you love another,” he said, startling her with his intuition, “but this ship’s carpenter—he is never going to return. He’s enraptured by the sea. That’s where he belongs. His first love will always be the sea. Always.” He crouched down beside her. “He had his chance, did he not? If he truly loved you, why would he have left you?”

Anna lowered her eyes. He spoke the words that were already on her heart.

“How could a man ever leave a woman as lovely as you?” He lifted his hand to her cheek. “Anna,” he whispered. “I am here. He is not. Trust me. Have I ever given you reason not to believe me?”

Anna lifted her eyes, but before she could answer him, she realized Maria had been watching them, an appraising expression on her face.