Authors: Rebecca Martin
The Treasure Hunt
HARVEST HOUSE PUBLISHERS
EUGENE, OREGON
Cover by DesignByJulia, Woodland Park, Colorado
All Scripture quotations are from the King James Version of the Bible.
THE TREASURE HUNT
Copyright © 2013 Ridgeway Publishing
Illustrations © 2013 by Laura Yoder
Published by Harvest House Publishers
Eugene, Oregon 97402
www.harvesthousepublishers.com
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Martin, Rebecca.
The treasure hunt / Rebecca Martin.
pages cm.â(The Amish frontier series)
Summary: In the early 1900s, after his family joins other Amish families on the Colorado frontier, young Joe, dreaming of an easier life, tries his hand at gold panning and learns some of life's truly golden lessons from an old prospector.
ISBN 978-0-7369-6369-5 (pbk.)
ISBN 978-0-7369-6370-1 (eBook)
1. AmishâColoradoâJuvenile fiction. [1. AmishâFiction. 2. Christian lifeâFiction. 3. Frontier lifeâColoradoâFiction. 4. Gold mines and miningâFiction. 5. ColoradoâHistoryâ1876-1950âFiction.] I. Title.
PZ7.M3641838Tr 2015
[Fic]âdc23
2014046243
All rights reserved.
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Contents
Other Great Harvest House Books by Rebecca Martin
Although the characters are imaginary, this story is based on actual happenings. A number of the Amish families who moved to North Dakota in 1894 really did move again. In 1910 they moved to Colorado. The drought, fire, hailstorm, Mother's earache, Father's injured hand, Ben's journey to Ordway to find work, and his wife's trip to follow him actually happened as well. The gold rush, of course, is a historical fact, and Pikes Peak, that lofty mountain, is there for all to see.
T
hree o'clock in the morning was certainly a strange time to be awake. In all her ten years of life, Lydia Yoder couldn't recall ever being awake at that time, but she couldn't help it because everybody else in the house was up too!
Nineteen-year-old Jake had started it. Lydia heard him scurrying past her bedroom door to the window at the end of the hall. Soon she heard more hurried footsteps as twelve-year-old Joe followed his brother to the window.
Before Lydia managed to get up, she heard the strange noises that had awakened her brothers.
Clang! Boom!
They were coming from the barnyard.
That must be the metal door of the steam tractor opening and closing as Hal adds more wood to the fire,
Lydia thought.
Seventeen-year-old Lisbet poked Lydia in the ribs. “Let's go to the window and watch!” The girls pattered across the
chilly wooden floor and stared out toward the barn. There in the moonlight stood the steam tractor looking like a fire-breathing monster as clouds of smoke billowed from its stack. Every now and then, its “mouth” opened, and they could see orange flames as Hal, the fireman, fed it more wood.
“Poor fireman,” whispered Lisbet. “He has to be up so early to make sure there's lots of steam when they want to start threshing. I wonder what time it is, anyway.”
Just then they heard the deep-throated chiming of the clock in the kitchen below them.
Bongâ¦bongâ¦bong.
“Three o'clock!” Lydia whispered. She needn't have bothered to be quiet, though, because everyone seemed to be awake. Sounds were coming from the bedroom next door. Apparently even twenty-three-year-old Polly was excited enough about the threshing rig to leave her bed and watch the fireman.
Lisbet said knowingly, “Polly likes threshing time.”
“You mean because Sam Peachy comes west to help with the threshing?” Lydia asked.
“Naturally.”
Sam and Polly had become friends last year at threshing time. During the winter and most of the summer, Sam lived back East in Indiana, but come September he, along with dozens of other young men from the East, arrived to help with the threshing in North Dakota.
“I wonder when Polly and Sam will get married,”
said Lisbet. “Wouldn't that be exciting to have another wedding?”
Lydia nodded. Ben, their oldest brother, got married four years ago, and Lydia could still remember the wedding day, even though she'd been only six years old. Weddings were big events!
“We should get back to bed and sleep some more,” said Lisbet with a shiver. “We have to rise early, you know.”
“But not this early.” Lydia giggled as she climbed back under the warm blanket.
“Probably at five thirty or whenever the whistle blows,” Lisbet replied sleepily.
With so much excitement going on, Lydia found it hard to get back to sleep. Last night at dusk, Mr. Tim Forbes had come chugging in on the steam tractor, sitting high up on the seat like a king on his throne. Behind the tractor rumbled the mammoth separator, its long pipes swaying like a dragon's tail. What deep ruts the great steel lugs of the tractor's wheels made as it maneuvered into position! Precisely between two high stacks of sheaves, the separator was parked and ready to start threshing at the break of dawn.
Suddenly the sound of the steam whistle ripped through the darkness like an unearthly scream. Lydia flipped back the blanket and hopped out of bed in one motion.
I wonder if I slept since three o'clock. Maybe. It does seem like a long time ago since I stood shivering at the window to watch the fireman stoke the engine.
Rustling into her dress and dashing down the stairs, Lydia managed to beat all her brothers and sisters to the kitchen. By the smells wafting from the big cookstove, Lydia guessed that Mother had been up for quite a while already. Bacon sizzled, coffee bubbled, and the eggs and potatoes were frying in the pan.
“How many plates do we need this morning?” Lydia asked Mother on her way to the pine cabinet Father had made to hold the china.
“Well, there's us. That's seven. And I think another seven men slept in the barn.”
In the flickering light from the kerosene lamp, Lydia counted out fourteen plates. Carefully she arranged them around the long pine table that Father had also made. Lydia thought it was a very nice table, but Polly always said it wasn't as nice as the table they'd left behind in Indiana when they moved to North Dakota fifteen years ago. “That table,” Polly would say, “was as smooth as a mirror.”
Polly, Lisbet, and Lydia all helped Mother carry the food to the table. Outside on the porch they could hear the men washing up for breakfast. Lydia hung back shyly as the strangers came in and took their places at the table. Mr. Forbes, Hal the fireman, and the five young Amish men from Indiana sat down. None of them was Sam Peachy. Lydia knew that because she remembered that Sam had red hair like the color of a glowing chestnut, which was very different from Polly's red hair.
Steam rose from the plates of food and nearly hid the shadowy faces arranged around the table. It seemed strange to be eating breakfast so early that a lamp was needed. Usually one of the girls would milk the cow and the boys would feed the cattle before breakfast, but not today. The moment the sun came up, the threshers wanted to be done eating and ready to work.
Hal couldn't stay at the table very long. He wolfed down his food and then dashed out again to tend the fire. Nobody took time to talk. Lydia could almost feel the tension in the air. The men were like coiled springs ready to leap into action.
After breakfast Lydia simply could not stay inside to wash dishes. The sun was coming up, and she wanted to be outside watching the excitement! Mother let her go, providing she would help with the housework later on.
More young men arrived from the neighboring farms where they had spent the night, and soon everyone was in position and ready to start.
“Awww-RIGHT!” yelled Mr. Forbes. That was the signal to begin. The great long belt from the engine to the separator began to turn slowly and then faster and faster. The steam engine puffed harder. The white canvas of the carriers revolved, gathering speed until the separator's
chug-chug
settled into a steady roar.
From high up on the stacks, men threw sheaves of wheat down onto the platform. Here the band cutters worked
frantically to remove the twine from the sheaves and pass them on to the feeders. How fast the feeders worked! Their arms flashed back and forth as their forks fed a steady stream of grain onto the carriers. Finally the fearful looking teeth of the separator gobbled up the sheaves.
