The Captive Heart by Dale Cramer Page B

shrug. “This does not surprise me. Did you offer him money?”
    Caleb’s eyebrows went up and he flinched, surprised by the open talk of a bribe. Was he the only one who thought it unethical?
    â€œWe don’t have the kind of money it would take to buy troops.”
    Hidalgo and Fuentes both huffed at this, almost laughing, but not quite. Hidalgo stared at Caleb for a long moment.
    â€œSeñor Bender, if you will not defend yourself, and you cannot pay people to do it for you, then may God help you.”
    Caleb stared back and nodded slowly. “Gott has brought us this far.”

Chapter 13
    T here was very little discussion at the Bender farm about whether or not they would have another community feast on the day after Christmas. It was a foregone conclusion. The first one, the year before, had been such a resounding success that in most of their minds it already seemed an established tradition. This year’s gathering would be twice as big. The Shrocks and Hershbergers were all there, plus the German farmer Ernst Schulman and his wife, Domingo and his sister Kyra, and all the kids from Miriam’s school plus their families. Even the weather cooperated, with a light breeze and temperatures in the sixties. Men and boys who had lived in Paradise Valley for less than a year kept taking their hats off and grinning up at the bluebird sky in utter disbelief, marveling at a place where a Christmas feast could be held outdoors in shirtsleeves.
    Before the feast, a kind of segregation existed. The Amish boys stood shoulder to shoulder with their backs against the wall of the barn while the older men talked in the open bays of the buggy shed, gazing out over fields and pastures, stroking their beards and gesturing with work-roughened hands. The women rushed around getting food to all the tables lined up in the yard, and the Mexican families mostly stood off to themselves whispering to each other, gaping at the sheer volume of food.
    During the meal another kind of segregation existed; there were tables for men and tables for women. Babies and toddlers sat on their mothers’ laps, with one notable exception—Aaron hijacked Little Amos from his mother, and kept him.
    It was a rare thing to see an Amishman holding a baby at mealtime, but no one seemed to mind—least of all Mary, who was busy enough with Little Amos’s twin sister. The twins were able to walk now and growing like weeds.
    Miriam was helping clear away the tables after everyone had eaten, and amid the hustle and bustle Micah and Levi Mullet, Miriam’s brother-in-law, wandered over to her.
    â€œLook at that,” he said. “Levi and me were just talking about Aaron and that nephew of his.”
    She could see Aaron walking alone down into the stubbled remains of the cornfield, carrying Little Amos in the crook of one arm.
    â€œJah,” she said, smiling. “Does the heart good to see Aaron’s spirits lifted like that. I didn’t think he’d ever get over his brother.”
    â€œWell,” Levi said, “that wasn’t what we were talking about exactly. It’s about that thing in his hand.”
    Then she saw it. Aaron was holding the harmonica, and as he walked he leaned his head down close to Little Amos and blew softly into it.
    â€œI can’t believe your dat allows that,” Micah muttered. “We don’t hold with musical instruments, and your dat knows it.”
    His eyes were hard, his face drawn.
    â€œMaybe so,” she said, “but every time I see Aaron with it, I’m reminded of Amos, and how much we loved him. I think that child—and that harmonica—mean more to my brother than any of us can imagine. I can’t help feeling it would be a sin to take that away from him.”
    â€œBut it’s just not right,” Levi hissed. “It was wrong when Amos did it, and it’s wrong now. It’s against the ordnung .”
    Miriam turned around