The Sound of Distant Thunder Page 2

  “I’ll be back before dark.” Katie jumped down the step and started running along the lane to the road, until she remembered that she was a grown woman. Only little girls ran everywhere.

  The road followed Weaver’s Creek, winding through the Weavers’ land toward the town of Berlin, then beyond to the bigger city of Millersburg twelve miles away. Papa had purchased a quarter section from Jonas’s grandfather when the family had arrived from Europe and, in the process, had ensured they had good neighbors. The Weavers owned more land than Papa could have imagined back in Germany, he often said. But Katie didn’t care. She only cared that Jonas would always live close by. This quarter section, across the road from Papa’s land, would belong to Jonas one day. His father had already set it aside as part of Jonas’s inheritance, and he would receive it next year when he turned twenty-one.

  Mama was right about her favorite fishing spot, but for the wrong reason. Katie turned off the road to follow the worn trail to the creek’s edge. Ja, she could see up the road from here, to the bend where it turned away from the creek and went up the hill at Samuel Weaver’s place, across the road from Jonas’s parents. But this spot was her favorite because it was across the creek from where Jonas had chosen to build his own house someday. Their house.

  Baiting her hook, Katie threw it into the slow-moving water, then settled down on the log to wait. And dream. Fishing was an excuse to gaze into the forest in front of her. She had built countless houses in her head, planted hundreds of gardens, hung a thousand shirts on the imaginary clothesline. Someday, she would live here. Someday, Jonas would say it was time for them to get married. Someday, her life would begin.

  Then came the sound she had been waiting for, the rumble of a loaded wagon and the jingle of the harness as the horses came down the hill and around the curve a few hundred yards away. She leaned her fishing pole against a tree and gathered her skirts, peering around the tree closest to the road. If Samuel spied her, Jonas would have to endure all manner of teasing, but at this distance, only Jonas knew where to look for her. As the wagon turned into the Weaver farm lane and across the short bridge over the creek, Jonas looked in her direction. Even from this far away, his smile melted her heart. She went back to her fishing, satisfied that he would come to find her as soon as he could.

  On the ride home from Millersburg, Samuel had driven in stoic silence for the entire twelve miles. Silence was normal for Samuel, but this one was punctuated by sighs and growls every time Jonas shifted his newspaper.

  The war news was unbelievable, with reporters’ eyewitness accounts of the two-day battle that had taken place at the little spot called Pittsburg Landing along the Tennessee River. Some of the reporters were calling it the Battle of Shiloh. Jonas read of the first attack of the rebels on the Union forces at two o’clock in the morning, and the resulting slaughter. According to the article, one hundred thousand men had been engaged in the battle, a number Jonas couldn’t begin to imagine. But with every account, a longing in his breast to be part of something bigger than working a farm along a creek in Ohio was fanned by the images the words produced. There must be something he could do to help abolish slavery.

  He glanced at Samuel’s profile. With the set jaw and his beard jutting forward, Jonas knew his brother was in no mood to discuss the news with him. Samuel was rarely in a mood to discuss anything with him, considering him too young to have an opinion that warranted attention.

  Turning the paper to page 3 resulted in a heavy sigh from his brother. Jonas ignored him and focused again on the notice Mr. Cabot had mentioned. The headline of the notice pulled him in. “The Hour! The Peril! The Duty!” Jonas shifted in his seat and glanced at his brother again. If Samuel had read the newspaper, he would understand the peril their country faced. Didn’t they have a duty to help their country in this crisis, even if they were Amish? He wished Samuel would discuss the issue with him rather than bury himself in the traditions of their faith.

  Jonas turned back to the notice. A meeting was being held in Brownsville, a little town near Millersburg, next Tuesday for the recruitment of volunteers. Someone, identified only as “A Volunteer,” was urging all true men to turn out in support of the president and the Constitution of the country. His fists gripped the paper so tightly it tore at the edges. He lowered it with shaking hands, folding it with careful motions and tucking it into the back waistband of his trousers.

  A volunteer militia. They would join with the other volunteers from across the North who had marched toward Charleston, or toward the Southern capital of Richmond all through the spring and summer last year. They had tried to stop the rebellion before it turned into a full-scale war. But they weren’t successful. Every schoolboy knew that a fight never stopped with one blow. The South had thrown the first punch a year ago, and the North had returned the attack. The South had defended itself and the war was on. A bitter taste rose in Jonas’s throat. Samuel was right. At the end, there would be no clear winner, only loss and devastation on both sides. But still, that pull to action called to him.

  As the wagon crested the hill before descending into the little valley of Weaver’s Creek, Jonas’s mood lifted. There may be rumors of war in the distant east, but here, in this valley, peace reigned. They rumbled past their brother-in-law Reuben’s place, then down the gentle slope as the road ran alongside Samuel’s farm, meeting up with the creek at the bottom of the broad valley. Samuel turned off the road here and went over the stone bridge to the home farm. Jonas looked down the road toward the land Datt had set aside for him and caught the glimpse of Katie he had been hoping for. She had heard them coming and was waiting for him.

  Stacking the sacks of corn on the barn floor only took a few minutes, and Jonas was soon on his way down the road. Supper could wait.

  The sun touched the top branches of the western trees by the time he reached the path leading to their favorite spot, away from the road and curious eyes. Katie was sitting on the log by the creek with her fishing pole idle beside her, but she sprang up when she saw Jonas.

  “I thought you’d never come.”

  Her smile struck at that place deep inside him, like a spark hitting tinder, setting off a glow that pulsed and grew until it became a burning flame. Katie’s smile was all light and brightness, and the promise of their future together.

  “It’s a long trip to Millersburg and back. You knew we wouldn’t be home until evening.”

  She stepped closer and he reached out for her, bringing her into his embrace. He leaned his nose next to her kapp, breathing in the scent that was all Katie, and the day’s events melted away like snow in a spring rain. The world might be falling apart in this war, but here, with Katie in his arms, his foundation was secure.

  He released her and took her hand, walking with her back to the log and sat beside her. “Have you caught any fish?”

  “Enough to have for breakfast in the morning.” Her brown eyes were nearly black in the fading light. “Did you get the seed for planting?”

  “Enough for both farms.” Samuel, Datt, and Jonas worked together on the cleared acres on either side of Weaver’s Creek. “We start planting tomorrow.”

  Katie leaned against his shoulder. “I’ve been thinking about your house.”

  Jonas smiled to himself. This was Katie’s favorite subject.

  She went on. “I think it should have glass windows, right from the start. It’s easier to put them in that way, rather than adding them later.”

  “Where did you get that idea?”

  She shrugged, snuggling closer to him. “I thought of it myself. And the kitchen should face east, so the morning sun can shine in.”

  His future took on form and substance as Katie talked. “And the fireplace?” he asked, knowing her answer.

  “The kitchen will have a stove, not a fireplace. If you want a fire in the front room, that will be all right. But I think it should have stoves. They’re cleaner and easier to care for. They provide better heat too.”

  “
You’ve put a lot of thought into this house of mine.”

  She slipped her arm around his back. “For sure and certain I have. You’re only going to build one house, and it should be perfect.”

  As she tightened her hug, the newspaper in his waistband crinkled. She pulled it out and unfolded it. “What is this?”

  Jonas took it from her. The smell of the ink brought the woes of the world back with a cold chill as he turned to page 2, where the war news was emblazoned with headlines on every column. “There was a big battle in Tennessee last week.”

  “Why did you bring this paper home? It has nothing to do with us.”

  “But maybe it should.”

  Katie laced her fingers around one knee, a puzzled frown on her face. “I don’t know why. We live here, not wherever Tennessee is.”

  “Our country is at war, Katie. A war that could change everything. This could be the end of the United States.”

  She shook her head. “It still doesn’t have anything to do with us. We aren’t involved, and we won’t be.”

  Ja, he knew that. The Amish only concerned themselves with the things of God, not worldly affairs. At least most didn’t. Some men kept up with worldly things that would affect the Amish communities, and he was glad they did. They needed to be prepared to meet whatever the world sent their way, including wars.

  Jonas glanced up at the violet sky above them and folded the newspaper again. “The sun has set and it’s getting dark. You should be getting home.”

  “Not until you give me a good-night kiss.” She stood, pulling his hands until he stood with her, facing her.

  Jonas captured her cheeks between his hands and ducked his head to give her a quick, gentle kiss. He knew from experience that if he let the kiss linger, his thoughts would drift toward a deeper kiss, a closer embrace. But that time would come. He and Katie had their whole future to look forward to sweet kisses.

  MAY 2

  Two weeks had passed, but Katie still smiled when she remembered that sweet kiss by the creek. Jonas’s kisses were always gentle, without asking for more than was appropriate. When she was with Jonas, she could forget about the past and look forward to a wonderful future with him.

  She finished tying her apron and picked up her comb, walking over to the window as she unbraided her hair. The early morning sun shone on the leaves that covered the maple trees in the sugar bush, making the light green turn to bright gold.

  “Katie!”

  Mama’s call charged up the stairway before Katie had run the comb through her hair even once.

  “Ja, Mama, I’m coming.”

  “Hurry up, then. I need you to go to Lena’s to see when she wants to plant the gardens, and then to ask Esther and Mary the same. May is upon us already, and we only have the lettuce and peas in.”

  “Ja, Mama.” Katie gathered her long hair in one hand, then twisted it in a bun, securing it with a few hairpins before setting her kapp over the whole thing. It felt lumpy this morning, and anyone who looked closely would be able to tell she had done it in a hurry. But she wouldn’t be seeing anyone except her brothers’ families, and her sisters-in-law were too busy to notice a little thing like messy hair.

  Lena was her first stop. She and Hans had seven children, three boys and four girls. The girls were a blessing, for sure, especially thirteen-year-old Margaret. Katie suspected another baby was on the way, and she sent a quick prayer to the Lord that this one would be another girl. Three boys were enough for any family.

  As Katie approached their kitchen door, she saw one-year-old Ruth sitting in a dishpan of water, with three-year-old Gus on one side of her, and five-year-old Marta on the other side. All three children were soaked from head to toe. They watched her come toward them, Gus with a grin on his face.

  Katie stopped when she reached them. Ruth’s clothes were strewn in the muddy grass between the house and the dishpan.

  “Are you supposed to be giving the baby a bath?” Katie tried not to laugh at Marta’s red face.

  “She was dirty as a pig,” Marta said. “She can’t go in the house like that.”

  “Pigs are dirty, for sure and certain.” Katie smiled at Ruth, who was happily chewing on a rock.

  “I’m dirty too.” Gus lifted his hands to show Katie. “But Marta won’t let me take a bath.”

  “Not yet,” Marta said, her voice sounding just like Lena’s. “Your bath will come after the baby is done.”

  Gus tried to grab Katie’s apron, but she moved away from his muddy hand just in time. “You can take a bath too, Katie. You can go after me.”

  “I’ll take my baths at home, Gus.” Katie shook her head as she picked her way around the muddy spots in the yard and continued to the house. Lena certainly had her hands full. All three of those children would need a real bath before dinnertime.

  “Come in, Katie!” Lena called when she saw her through the open door. “Come and sit down. We’re just ready to rest for a few minutes.”

  “Those cookies smell delicious.” Katie smiled at Margaret, who was taking a pan out of the oven. “Did you make them?”

  Her niece, only a few years younger than Katie, blushed as Lena sat at the table with a sigh. “Ja, for sure. Margaret does all the baking now, and I’m so glad. She bakes softer bread than I do.” Lena shook her head as she laughed at herself. “I never could make bread as well as your mother.”

  Katie sat at the table as Margaret brought a plate of cookies over and sat next to her mother. Margaret had always been shy, even as a baby. But Lena talked enough for both of them. Katie had been like Margaret as a girl, but now she wanted to be more like Lena. Always happy, smiling, taking life as it came. Her joy was infectious.

  “Tell me all the news.” Lena brushed some crumbs off the table and leaned toward Katie. “Have you been to Esther’s and Mary’s yet?”

  “You’re the first.”

  “Good. Now I can find out all about what you and Jonas are up to.”

  Katie felt her face heat up, but tried to keep her voice even. “What do you mean?”

  “Ach, Katie, everyone knows you two will be getting married someday. Has he mentioned it? Have you talked about it?”

  “Not yet.” Unless one counted planning a house together.

  A cry sounded from the yard outside, and Lena glanced out the door. Satisfied that the children weren’t hurt, she turned her attention back to Katie. “He might be waiting until you’re a bit older, although some girls get married as young as sixteen.”

  “That didn’t work out so well for Jonas’s sister, Elizabeth,” Margaret said, sounding like her mother.

  Lena nodded her agreement. Elizabeth had married Reuben Kaufman when she was sixteen, without even joining the church first. And if she had been a church member, she never could have married Reuben. He was an outsider who had bought the farm north of the Weavers when he was newly arrived from Germany. According to the gossip Katie had heard, he had taken one look at Elizabeth and hauled her off to the Lutheran church to be married. The whole event had seemed terribly romantic when Katie was a young girl, but now the thought was a bit frightening. After eight years there were no children, and whenever Katie saw Elizabeth, she seemed quiet and sad. Katie wasn’t surprised. Reuben reminded her too much of another man she had known.

  Lena broke the silence with a sigh as she took another cookie. “At least she still lives close to her family.”

  The little children’s voices grew louder in the front yard, reminding Katie that she was on an errand.

  “Mama sent me to see when you wanted to plant the garden. Wilhelm is planning to plow it tomorrow, so we can do it any time after that.”

  “The next day, Saturday, will be a good day for me. Margaret can care for the little ones, and I’ll bring Naomi and the older boys to help.”

  “I’ll tell Mama and let the others know.” Katie brushed crumbs off her fingers and stood up. “Do you want me to help you clean up the little ones before I go?”

  Lena’s
laugh rippled. “They’ll only get dirty again. Let them play and have fun. They’re only little once.”

  Katie waved to Margaret and left, taking the worn path through the woodlot to Wilhelm and Esther’s house, where they lived with their four boys.

  By the time she had made the rounds to the other two homes, the family’s garden plans had been made. It was the same every year, so Katie wasn’t sure why they had to discuss it, anyway. Wilhelm would plow the big garden near Mama and Papa’s house tomorrow, and then on Saturday the other women would come over, bringing the seeds they had saved from last year’s garden. Meanwhile, Mama would plan where to plant the cucumbers, beans, potatoes, carrots, turnips, and cabbages. Every family had their own kitchen garden for salad greens and herbs, but this big garden was to grow the vegetables they would store for the coming winter. Even though the plans never varied from one year to the next, Katie still made these visits every spring so that Mama could be sure everyone knew what to expect.

  Katie turned her face to the midmorning sun as she walked home. It was too early in the spring to be thinking of storing vegetables for the winter. From the pasture on Karl’s farm, the lane led through the woodlot. Pine trees grew along either side of the lane, shading the way and blocking out sights and sounds from the farms. On windy days, the pines whispered above her, but today was still. She couldn’t even hear her footsteps on the carpet of pine needles.

  As she brushed by a stand of small trees that crowded the lane, a hand reached out to grasp her arm and Katie shrieked, but her voice was swallowed by the pines. Ned Hamlin held her arm in an easy grip that tightened when she tried to pull away.

  “Don’t be scared.”

  Sweat beaded on Katie’s lip. Ned’s face was friendly enough, but her insides quivered. “What are you doing here? Let me go.”

  “Been out hunting this morning and taking a shortcut home. Didn’t expect to find such a pretty thing in the woods, though.” He smiled. “I’ve seen you with Jonas Weaver, by the fishing hole.” His dark eyes narrowed. “I’ve seen him kiss you.”