River of Mercy (8 page)

“That's what I thought too. At least that's what I'd like to think. But who knows?”

“Yes, who knows?” Doc sighed. “Anything else happen?”

Gant thought for a moment. “Nothing like that. I had an interesting visitor last night though.”

“Oh?”

“Bobcat. On the hill behind the house. Got a pretty good look at him.”

“That's a bit unusual, isn't it? Don't they typically stay out of sight?”

“That's been my experience. But this fella didn't seem too shy about checking me out.”

“Best stay your distance. They're strictly meat eaters, you know,” Doc said, his tone light.

Gant pulled a face. “But not human meat.”

“So far as you know.”

“Aye, so far as I know.”

“Well, I'd best be on my way,” Doc said. “Oh…Susan said she'll expect you for supper one evening soon.”

“Just say when. Can't be too soon to please me.”

“I told her you'd be hard to convince. So how does Friday sound?”

“Hadn't you better ask her first?”

“I can't think why. She cooks enough for a barn raising with every meal.”

Gant grinned in anticipation. “Friday it is then.”

After Doc left, he fell into wondering if Rachel might be at Friday night's supper. She was Susan's daughter, after all. It wouldn't be all that unusual for her to join them, would it?

On the other hand, Rachel seemed set on avoiding him most of the time. He was beginning to wonder if it was altogether because she was attempting to obey the bishop's stipulation that they not spend any time in each other's company, or if she was deliberately trying to cut herself out of his life because of the seeming hopelessness of their situation.

He hoped that wasn't the case. If Rachel truly felt that a future together was hopeless entirely, it would only make it that much more difficult for him to believe otherwise, and it was hard enough already to keep a remnant of hope alive.

Still, he wasn't about to give up. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

6

I know myself a man,
Which is a proud, and yet a wretched thing.

J
OHN
D
AVIES

S
amuel Beiler knew he shouldn't want to be bishop.

Most men would lament the idea, groaning at the very thought. The responsibility was overwhelming—a burden to dread, not to covet. But in his secret heart of hearts, Samuel admitted that he did want the office. Badly.

He stood in front of the barn, studying his white two-story house and surrounding field. It was that quiet time of evening when the daylight was almost gone but darkness not quite settled. Somewhere in the distance a dog barked. The tree branches, November bare, cracked and whispered as the light wind lifted them.

Was it really so wrong, this wanting, this wish to be leader of the community in which God had placed him? After all, any Amish man baptized in the faith had to be willing to become a minister or even a bishop, should the lot one day fall on him. Still, it was a heart-heavy, serious responsibility and a lifetime commitment. No doubt if others knew he actually wanted the position, they would look on him with doubt or, more likely, disapproval or distrust.

That was for them to deal with. Truth was, few men among them were strong enough to be a good bishop. He could count on one hand the number fit for leadership.

A man must possess strength of character and discernment, and he must follow faithfully after the Lord God. As it was, only two other men besides himself were eligible to participate in the lot: Abe Gingerich and Malachi Esch. Both were good men, but Abe was slow and plodding, not a man to make insightful or even wise decisions. And Malachi, while an intelligent and physically strong man, was, in Samuel's estimation, too lenient with the People and sometimes negligent of tradition.

He suspected some would say that he was too young—and the fact of the matter was that he would be a young bishop. Others might point out that he was a widower and not presently a married man, but that would change soon enough once Rachel came to her senses.

And if she did not…well, he would make it his business to put an end to her dithering once and for all. When he took over as bishop, he would insist that she bend to his will and his judgment. She would be under his authority and subject to his decisions.

The next bishop would need to make many changes, not the least of which involved the foolish leniency some men allowed their wives and children. Amos Kanagy, for example, before his death, had been far too easy on Susan and Rachel. Indulged them to a fault, Amos had.

And just see the result. Rachel especially, with her willful ways setting a poor example for the other young women in the community. Headstrong and independent, she had developed her own business, selling her handmade birdhouses to
Englischers.
Worse still—outrageous, really—was her befriending of the
auslander,
that Gant fellow.

Everyone knew the sort of lives those river people led, lives of immorality and debauchery. Bad enough that she'd given him and his slave shelter, but to think she apparently hadn't discouraged his lust, which led him to seek conversion in order that they might marry.

Fortunately, Bishop Graber had refused the man's request.

Not that the bishop was without fault for some of the lapses in conduct and good judgment on the part of the People. Here again the dangerous sin of indulgence could be blamed for a number of their young people straying to the
Englisch
world and even leaving the community altogether.

There had also been whispered rumors for some time now that a few among the People were actually helping runaway slaves to escape their owners for the freedom of the North. Outright breaking the law, they were. If Bishop Graber knew of such things, he apparently was inclined to turn a blind eye. Some made allowances for the bishop though. He was old and getting soft in the head.

All the more reason the new bishop must be a man of great strength, a man who would not compromise under any circumstances. To stop any further lapses in the faith and quell any rumbles of division within the community, the new bishop must be a man continually involved with the People and willing to deal promptly and severely with any form of misconduct.

Samuel knew himself to be such a man. For proof, anyone could look to the sons he had raised. True, Aaron had seemed bent on sowing seeds of rebellion with his
Englisch
friends on occasion. That was of course due to this
rumspringa
tradition—a foolish and dangerous practice that Samuel would put a stop to once he became bishop.
Ja,
his eldest son did try his patience, but more often than not the boy recognized his father's authority and that of the church. So far he had done nothing to get himself in any real trouble. As for Noah, his middle son, and Joe, the youngest, Samuel had all he could do not to be prideful. No man could ask for more obedient
kinner
than those two.

Of course, he had worked hard and disciplined conscientiously to develop their obedience and submission to authority. All in all, his sons were living proof that it was unwise to spare the rod when raising one's children.

As for Aaron, Samuel never doubted the boy would come around in time. He would make certain he did. He must be broken of his sour-tempered moods and stubborn ways if he were ever to become a righteous man and a leader in the community.

Rachel becoming a part of their family would be a good thing. In addition to being a fine helpmate and mother to his sons, she would naturally assume many of the chores for which the boys were now responsible. This would leave him more time to train them up while teaching Rachel the ways of their household, and it would free up the boys' time considerably so they could be of more help on the farm.

Of course with Rachel's farm and property added to his own, there would be even more work to do, but they would manage. Everything would work out. Rachel was young enough that he should have no great difficulty molding her to fit into their family and teaching her the way he liked things done. She would make a difference in all their lives.

He found himself eagerly looking forward to that difference. Any necessary discipline to rid her of her faults and gentle her character should be well worth the effort.

So much depended on his becoming bishop. Sometimes he wished the community wasn't so dependent on the draw of the lot for these decisions. Wouldn't simply appointing a bishop be a more efficient way to make certain the best man for the position were chosen?

Immediately he dismissed the thought. To desire any change in God's ways would be sinful. After all, the Lord God would recognize and select the man most fitted to carry out His will for the People's good and for His glory. Samuel's part was simply to trust and wait with patience.

Admittedly, it was the patience that presented him with the greatest challenge.

7

He who hears music, feels his solitude peopled at once.

R
OBERT
B
ROWNING

A
t first Gant thought he must be imagining it. But this was the fourth straight night it had happened, so it could hardly be his imagination or coincidence, could it?