River of Mercy (18 page)

Then there was the dress code, which, at least for women, was more rigid than it had ever been, allowing for no colors to be used in dress material—not even brown, but only black. Nor could the length of dresses reveal anything more than the tips of their shoes.

There was also a rumor circulating about a new rule being discussed that would dictate the conduct of a man and wife in their own home—that would, in fact, regulate the frequency of their most intimate relations. Such a rule was sure to be highly controversial in an Amish community.

The Plain People valued children as gifts from God, true blessings to be welcomed with joy and thankfulness. Any practice that would seem to limit the number of children a family might have would almost certainly be looked upon with indignation and resentment if not outright defiance.

It was only a rumor, to be sure, but David worried that if an issue that sensitive had indeed been raised, the church leadership was close to crossing the boundary of guidance and influence over the People's private lives and venturing into an area that was nothing short of invasion.

He knew he wasn't the only one questioning these new conventions. A few of the men he'd recently seen as patients—men he'd known for years—had guardedly broached their concerns, but David knew no more than anyone else about who or what was behind the recent changes.

His suspicions were just that—suspicions. He had no right to discuss his thoughts about such matters with anyone other than Susan, and even with her he had to tread cautiously—not because he didn't trust her to keep his confidence, but because he didn't want to cause even the slightest tear at the hem of her trust in the church and its leadership. Susan had been devout all her life. He wouldn't be comfortable foisting his own doubts or suspicions onto her and had tried for the most part to keep his silence.

In spite of his caution, however, she was too sensitive by far not to know that something was bothering him. For a time he had been deliberately vague in his replies to her questions. Still, he should have known that she would eventually have her own concerns, and to be sure, only last night she had raised those concerns and her uneasiness.

It had been something of a relief to learn that she not only shared his concern about the changes taking place but also suspected that Beiler was the likely instigator of those changes. David had learned to trust his wife's judgment. Where his own imagination tended to take flight all too easily, Susan was more practical and levelheaded. Before she formed an opinion or drew any conclusions, she had a way of gathering her instincts and examining them in light of any other evidence. Only then would she share her thoughts with him.

Last night she'd surprised him by raising the subject of the recent happenings in the community and admitting that, like David, she thought Samuel Beiler might be involved, at least to some extent. Hearing Susan echo his concerns in her usual direct way, David had realized with a new twist of dread that the trouble he had only sensed to be creeping in among the People was more than likely all too real.

Now, watching the storm hammer the usually serene landscape he so dearly loved, a chill gripped his spine. He knew that evil didn't always entrench itself from the outside and that it could just as easily take an entire community captive from within.

Please, Lord God, don't let that happen here. Place a wall of Your protection around these people, around all of us, that no evil can penetrate…

He was still praying when Susan quietly walked into the kitchen and took his hand.

17

The hounds are baying on my track, my Master's just behind,
Resolv'd that he will bring me back and fast his fetters bind.

G
EORGE
N. A
LLEN
,
FROM
The Underground Railcar

G
ant was unprepared entirely for the message delivered to his door in the middle of the night.

Word came down the line from Keller's station well after midnight, delivered by one of Tom Keller's sons. So rushed was the warning that apparently no thought had been given to sending a note. Instead, young Merle Keller gasped it out in a harsh whisper. The boy quickly agreed to take the same message to Turner's station, and then he bolted back to his horse and rode off.

Gant's mind raced as he watched him ride away. So the runaways would not be leaving as planned. At least three teams of slave catchers had been spotted in Washington and Noble counties over the past few days. No fugitives or conductors would be safe on the roads regardless of how well traveled they might be.

Gant wasn't a worrier by nature. He had long ago learned that prayer was the underground operation's most dependable defense. Over the years he had taken to heart the apostle Paul's advice to pray without ceasing, so he often prayed for the refugees' protection while they were sheltered in his barn and during a move. But this sudden and wholly unexpected change of plans spooked him a little.

He simply had too many people on the premises to hide safely. Concealing two or three runaways was risky enough, but eleven men, women, and children were currently counting on his protection. How in the world was he to shelter so many indefinitely?

He bolted the door and decided against going back to bed. Sleep was the furthest thing from his mind now. Too much to think about, too much to figure out. And some of that unceasing prayer would seem to be in order as well.

From his place by the stove, Mac growled. Gant looked at him, but an instant later a low rumble made him turn toward the window. Again, Mac gave a chuff, but he too had grown accustomed to the sound the bobcat made when he was close by and paid the animal little heed these days. The cat would remain well hidden. That halfhearted snarl he'd just offered was simply his way of making his presence known.

As if Gant needed a reminder. He was beginning to feel as though the creature had taken to tracking his every move.

Finally he went to the window and looked out, but as he'd expected, he could see nothing but darkness. But the cat was out there all right, slinking around in the trees and behind the bushes, watching the house and waiting.

Waiting for what? Gant wasn't sure he wanted to know.

Asa was just as reluctant as Gant to break the news to the people the next morning.

They went to the barn early, before dawn, to get it over with before taking them their morning meal. Just as they expected, when the refugees heard about the delay, the weight of disappointment was heavy. Gant's attempts to brighten the situation fell flat for the most part, although he could sense some of the folks making an effort to stay positive.

“It may not be all that long,” he said, watching their faces after he explained the problem. He couldn't blame them for feeling discouraged and apprehensive. Even to him, his words sounded unconvincing.

The boy Silas made no attempt to hide his frustration. “How long will we have to wait?”

“There will be people keeping watch day and night, passing the word down the line,” Gant said. “As soon as the slave catchers are out of the area, we'll know.”

“Are you talking about hours or days or what?”

Gant shrugged. “There's no telling. All we can do is stay put until word comes that it's safe to move.”

“So in the meantime we just sit here and wait to get caught,” the boy shot back.

Asa was clearly growing impatient. “There won't be any getting caught so long as you do as Captain Gant says. You just have to stay out of sight and keep quiet.”

“That's easier said than done,” Silas muttered. “Folks are already getting restless. They want to be on their way.”

Gant knew the boy was right, and impatience bred carelessness. But with everyone around them looking on and hearing their exchange, he held his own concerns in check. “No doubt. And I'm not saying it will be easy, but we don't have a choice. We just have to wait it out.”

The boy's mouth pulled down. “Oh, there's a choice. I've outsmarted slave catchers before. I can do it again.”

“Boy, don't go talkin' foolishness!” Asa shot back. “Just because you're willing to risk your own neck doesn't give you the right to put other folks in harm's way. You need to settle down and use whatever common sense the good Lord gave you.”

Asa's outburst surprised Gant. He'd never known a man with a cooler head or one slower to rile. Something about the boy seemed to set Asa's teeth to grinding.

Silas stood glaring at Asa but said nothing more.

The youth's reckless air and apparent hotheadedness troubled Gant too. Before leaving the barn, he took the boy's arm and led him aside. “Take care you don't get your people stirred up. They're counting on you. There's always danger when you're on the move, but there's no need to go looking for more trouble. You'll be safe here for now, so don't get in a hurry and do anything foolish.”

“I don't need you to tell me that,” the boy said, yanking his arm away from Gant's grip. “I've done this enough times to know what's safe and what's not.”

Gant studied him for a moment. “Then you're smart enough to know not to light out when there's a gaggle of riffraff prowling about just waiting to turn a profit off someone's lack of caution.”

For an instant, the youth's eyes flashed defiance and a hint of deep-seated anger. But the fire banked as quickly as it flared. “I'm not stupid,” he said. “Don't concern yourself about me.”

“See that I don't need to,” Gant grumbled, following Asa out the barn door.