Where Grace Abides (12 page)

He stood there now, his chin lifted slightly, his jaw hard. “Asa's right, Captain,” he said. “You ought not even to think of going.” He looked at Asa. “I'll go.”

Asa turned back to Gant with a questioning look.

“Impossible,” Gant snapped.

“Why?” Gideon's expression held steady.

“You don't know anything about this. You have no idea of the risk involved.”

“I probably know more than you think. And as for the risk—I know you still think of me as a boy, Captain. But I'm not. I'm a man, and I can handle myself just fine.”

Gant studied him, knowing that at least in part he was right. The boy had become a man—a strapping, stalwart, clearly self-assured man.

A thought struck him. “Your mother and your sister,” he said, “would have my head if I let you get involved in this.”

The lad's mouth curved ever so slightly. “No, I don't suppose they
would
be too happy about it. But it would be
my
doing, not yours. I can settle Rachel and Mamm down well enough.”

Gant went on sizing him up, admitting, albeit reluctantly, that the boy—the young man—standing just inside his kitchen might indeed be the answer to their problem. But if anything should happen to him, Rachel and her mother would never forgive him. Nor would he ever forgive
himself.

“This is no game, lad,” he said quietly. “There's no fun in it, and if it's an adventure you're looking for, you'd do just as well to take your chances with half a dozen water moccasins as with a gaggle of slave catchers. You don't know what you'd be letting yourself in for.”

Gideon's gaze traveled from Asa to Gant. “Is it worth the risk?”

Gant frowned. “What?”

“You've been doing this for a long time—the two of you—haven't you, Captain?”

Gant said nothing.

Gideon pressed. “You must think it's important.”

Gant drew a long breath. “It's different for me, son. The Irish understand all too well about the need for freedom. I come from a place where there's precious little to be had. I know what it's like to be under another man's boot.”

A grim smile spread over Gideon's face, and Gant suddenly saw a glint in the lad's eyes that he hadn't seen before tonight.

“The Amish know something about oppression and the lack of freedom too, Captain. And you may be right about my looking for an adventure. But that's not
all
I'm looking for.” He stopped, plainly searching for the right words. “For months now I've felt—useless. I haven't been able to find out
anything
about who's making trouble for the People, not even a hint. I don't know where to start. This, at least, is something I could do to make a difference for some folks who know what it's like to be ill-treated.”

Again he paused before saying, “Asa? I believe in what you're doing. I want to help. And I
can
help
.
”

“How am I supposed to get along without you in the shop?” Gant said, still not convinced.

Gideon hesitated, frowning, but it took only a few seconds before his features cleared. “What about Sawyer? Terry Sawyer. Didn't you say the man is looking for a job?”

“I need a woodworker, boy, not a farmer!”

“He's bright enough to learn,” Gideon insisted. “Besides, you need someone to make deliveries and clean up and help with odd jobs more than you need another carpenter.” His mouth quirked as he stopped for a breath. “No one can please you when it comes to the woodworking itself, anyway. And Sawyer needs a job. I expect he'd jump at the chance to work for you.”

Gant leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms over his chest, and regarded the boy with no small measure of annoyance. “Well now, and don't you have an answer for everything, Gideon Kanagy?”

The lad's guileless expression didn't come off as altogether sincere when he replied. “No, sir. Not for everything. But I do think I'm the answer you need to help Asa get those runaways out of your barn.”

It was entirely possible he was making a mistake that he would woefully regret later, but something at the fringes of Gant's mind urged him to take the boy up on his offer. “Asa? What do you think?”

Asa answered Gant, while watching Gideon Kanagy with a slight smile. “Why, I'd look forward to young Gideon's company,” he said.

Gant feigned a sound of disgust.

“All right,” he finally said. “If it's all right with Asa, I suppose it will have to be all right with me. But—” he raised a hand to ward off the boy's attempt to speak—“you'll be the one to tell your mother and sister. I'm not about to bring down their wrath on me when they find out what you're up to.”

He didn't like himself for agreeing to this. Even if the lad got back safe and sound, Gant figured Rachel and her mother quite possibly would never forgive him for letting him go. But there was no way he was going to send Asa off alone with the responsibility
for fifteen runaways. That would be inviting disaster. And if they stayed here in the barn even a day too long—well, that could also bring trouble to them all.

He expelled a long breath. This was one of those times when it seemed a man could do nothing right, no matter which way he turned. All things considered, he supposed he could only take what appeared to be the right way and hope God was in the decision.

 
14
 
A
N
U
NEASY
N
IGHT

For the dark places of the earth are full
of the habitations of cruelty.

P
SALM
74:20

I
can't believe you're defending the man!”

Until recently David Sebastian had never seen his intended in such a dither. Susan was generally of a calm, even temperament. But ever since she'd learned that Gideon had gone off to places unknown with Gant's somewhat enigmatic partner, Asa, she'd been quick to fuss at David.

As if he could have stopped Gideon from leaving Riverhaven. Susan's son had had a will of his own—and a strong will at that—ever since he was a boy. But Susan seemed fixated on the idea that David was simply taking up for Gant—“who no doubt was the one who'd sent Gideon off with that Asa fellow in the first place.”

“I'm
not
defending Gant, Susan,” he insisted again. “Indeed, I don't know of any reason I
should.
So far as I can tell, he's done nothing that
requires
defending.”

David had coaxed her into a buggy ride, hoping that an outing would be good for both of them. The day's light was quickly fading. It was a nice, quiet evening with a mild breeze, and he had hoped that at least for a short time they could avoid the subject of Gideon and Gant or anything else of an upsetting nature. There had been
so little time for them to be alone together lately that the prospect of an hour or so in each other's company felt absolutely golden to him.

It wasn't to be. They had no more than reached the crossroads just down the road from Susan's house when she started in again. “You can't tell me Captain Gant didn't have a hand in Gideon's leaving, David. No more does his friend Asa come back to Riverhaven than he takes off again, this time with my son in tow. Why would he do such a thing? And where did they
go?
Where are they?”

“I don't know, Susan. But at least the boy came to tell you he was going. He didn't simply leave without saying goodbye.”

Exasperation—with
him
rather than with Gideon, David suspected—flushed her features and simmered in her eyes. “Oh,
ja
! Came to tell me he was going out of town on
business
With that fellow, Asa. Of course, he didn't mention
where
he was going or what kind of business was taking him away.”

David gave a feeble shrug. Susan almost never employed sarcasm, so he was surprised to hear it creep into her tone of voice now. “Perhaps he didn't know exactly where they were going—”

“Oh, don't you tell me that, David Sebastian! And don't try to tell me
you
don't know where they went! You and Gant, the two of you are thick like thieves. They're on one of those trips to take runaway slaves to the North, aren't they? Tell me the truth now!”

So she did know. Or at least suspected. He'd been afraid of that. After all, Susan had helped Rachel care for Gant the night he first arrived at the farm, injured so badly from a gunshot wound he'd nearly died. She had spent a great deal of time, she and Rachel, nursing him back to health. There was no telling how much she might have learned about Gant's work with the fugitive slaves during that time.

She wouldn't reveal anything she'd heard, of course, not even to him. She'd be afraid of somehow implicating Rachel. When it came to her children, Susan could be a mother bear. He did wonder,
though, if she knew that there were actually rumors that some of the Amish had also been involved in helping with the Underground Railroad, as it had come to be called. If there was any truth to the tales, he wouldn't be at all surprised to learn that Susan's closest friends, Phoebe and Malachi Esch, were among them.

“David? That
is
where they've gone, isn't it?”

“Susan—”

“Ach, don't say something just to make me feel better! I've been pondering this ever since the day they left. Oh, why would Gideon do such a foolish thing?
Unsinnich!
It's senseless! And dangerous as well. Don't try to tell me it's not. He knows he's needed here. He has a job. He helps with the farm. He's a man now—he should behave like one!”

David took her hand. “But don't you see, dear—that's just it. Gideon
is
a man. And as such, he needs to be free to do what he believes is right for him. If this wasn't important to him, he wouldn't have gone. There's a good reason behind his actions, you'll see.”

To his dismay she began to weep. This had never happened before. Oh, when Amos, her husband, had died, of course she'd been distressed. But even then she had mourned in private, never breaking down in front of him. The Amish weren't ones to let their feelings show. It was only now, because they were to be married, that she apparently felt close enough to him to weep in his presence.

As soon as he could, he pulled the buggy off the road and stopped well into a half-hidden glen surrounded by aging maples and oaks. He turned to her and took her into his arms. “Here now, dear, don't fret yourself so,” he said gently. “Gideon's smart and strong. He can take care of himself. And Asa—there's a good man for you, I'm convinced. He'll look after Gideon should he
need
any looking after. They'll be fine wherever they're going. And as for the farm, you know I'll help.”

She eased away just far enough to look at him. “Oh, David—you're not a farmer! You're a doctor! I know you'll do all you can,
but you've so little time. Gideon was just such a help. And I
miss
him! Even though he still came around two or three times a week to help out, it hasn't been the same since he started living
Englisch.
And now—now I won't be seeing him at all!”

Feeling more awkward than ever, he patted her back and uttered small sounds of reassurance. It had been a long time since he'd tried to comfort a woman, and he'd never thought himself very good at it. Even during his wife, Lydia's, illness, though he'd trusted his medical skills, he'd always felt somewhat at a loss when he tried to soothe her.

Still, Susan had quieted, her weeping gradually diminishing to small sobs.

David pulled her a little closer, hating the sadness weighing her down but, at the same time, loving her nearness.

“If you're right, dear,” he said, “if Gideon
has
gone with Asa on a trip to the North, then I'm confident you can feel secure in his safety. Gant has told me a great deal about his friend Asa. I've come to believe he's a courageous, intelligent, and dependable man. He'll be a good influence on Gideon—and he'll keep him safe. Why, they'll most likely be back before you know it.”

She made no move to free herself from his embrace. “The last time this Asa was gone, it was months before he came back,” she pointed out.

“But I don't believe that's typical. As I understand it, the same people don't always take them the entire way. At some point they usually meet up with someone else who takes over and completes the trip.”

She studied him. “You seem to know an awful lot about how this is done, David Sebastian.”

Truth was he
did
know more than he let on, and definitely more than he wanted her to know. “I've read about this Underground Railroad business at some length,” he said.

“Oh, I'm sure you have,” she said, her tone wry.

He made no reply. She seemed content to let him hold her for a few moments more before she finally stirred. “David, we should go now. We still need to stop at Rachel's and pick up Fannie.”

He nodded, albeit reluctantly, first seeking her lips for a kiss.

“We shouldn't, David…” But she clung to him for another moment, and his heart went spinning as if caught in a whirlwind.

“David…”

He sighed, wishing they could stay here exactly as they were. But the night air was growing cool, and he didn't want her to take a chill. There wasn't much danger that he would be getting cold. At least not at the moment.

Gently he released her and took up the reins, thinking not for the first time that November could not come soon enough.

In her kitchen Rachel tried to convince her friend, Phoebe, not to leave yet. “It's already dark. You mustn't walk home alone. I'm sure Mamma and Dr. Sebastian will be here any minute to get Fannie, and they'll be happy to take you home.”

“
Danki,
Rachel, but that'd be silly! Don't I always walk home?”

Rachel stopped her at the door. “
Ja,
Phoebe. You always
used
to walk home. But things are different now. Please wait for Mamma and Dr. Sebastian.”

Phoebe reached to pat her hand. “You're a dear to worry, but I'll be fine. I don't want to put Susan and the doctor out of their way.” She tied her bonnet. “Tell your mamma I'll be by her place sometime in the morning with that gingerbread I promised.”

Fannie came charging into the kitchen just then, hot on the heels of her puppy, who skidded up to the door and stopped right in front of Phoebe.

“Fannie, I told you to quit chasing Thunder in the house,” Rachel warned. “You can run all you want outside but not in my kitchen!”

“Sorry, Rachel,” her little sister said. “I forgot.” Clearly, though, her mind wasn't on Rachel's rebuke. She was too busy watching the puppy's antics as he whirled in a circle around Phoebe's feet.

“Ach, I'm sorry, Phoebe,” said Rachel. “Fannie, you settle him down or else! And settle yourself down while you're at it.”

Phoebe laughed. “Tall order, that is. Must be something blowing in the wind. Both our dogs, Jasper and Tiny, have been wild today too.”

Rachel shot a look at Fannie as she scooped up the puppy and carried him out of the kitchen. “I'm not sure who's worse, Fannie or the dog.”

With reluctance she opened the door for Phoebe and stood on the porch, watching as she made her way down through the yard. “You be careful.”

Phoebe waved a hand and started her brisk walk home.

Rachel waited until she was out of sight, then stepped back inside.

She hesitated only a moment before going in search of Fannie and the puppy, knowing their foolish play would help take her mind off the dull weight of worry pressing in on her.