Slowly, the large German-born man trudged back to his wagon without so much as a glance toward Elnora and or his wife.
Without expression, Lucas rummaged only a moment before he pulled the hand-hewn spade from the wagon bed and started back toward Samuel and the others.
Careful not to snag her handmade purple dress on the rough wood, Elnora climbed out of the wagon and made her way to the crash. She didn’t speak until she reached her husband, who took the spade from Lucas as he passed.
Not a word was shared between the two men, but it was as though they were of a single mind. Samuel dug the sharp end of the spade into the earth, oblivious to his wife’s presence. Spadeful by spadeful, the grave dirt he turned became a small mound at his feet.
He swiped at the trails of sweat that leaked from under his broad-brimmed hat and down his neck. Beneath his arms, circles of moisture had long since stained his favorite blue shirt.
Elnora folded her arms as the memory of their first anniversary, when she’d given him the shirt she’d made for him that matched his eyes, filled her mind. He had pretended not to notice that one sleeve was a little shorter than the other. Two years have passed since that day, and we’re still without a child...
Finally, she spoke. Her voice was but a meek whisper. “May I tidy them before their burials?”
Samuel turned and revealed the scene of death they’d encountered more fully.
Elnora’s stomach twisted in knots at the sight of the mangled, crimson-streaked arm as it reached lifelessly from behind the overturned wagon. The blackness of death was already visible on the fingertips.
A crumpled bag, obviously store-bought, lay near the bloodied arm that pointed eerily at a rainbow of quilting squares that trailed the barren earth. Elnora dipped and retrieved a bright blue square that would never become a quilt to warm a babe. She rubbed the fabric between her fingers and looked at her husband with watery eyes.
Samuel rested Lucas’ spade against his leg and offered a downcast smile to his wife.
Before he could speak, a shrill cry broke the solemn silence.
As out of place as the cry was among the sea of death, Elnora recognized the sound in an instant. “An infant’s cry.”
She searched the terrain until another wail pierced the air. At once, her gaze fixed on a lone, scrubby bush. Elnora tucked the English quilting square deep into her dress pocket and ran. Her chest heaving, she reached the bush in a moment. Without bothering with her dress or her covering, she dropped to her knees. Instinctively, her hands clawed and searched through the summer leaf litter. The angry wail came again. Finally, something warm brushed her fingertips.
Elnora rose to face the throng of women who had gathered to witness the unfolding miracle. When she turned, the English baby whimpered in her arms.
“It’s a girl,” Elnora proclaimed.
Sarah Wagler’s mouth hung agape as she bounced Elijah absently on her hip, and the other Amish wives and mothers from the wagon train allowed tiny smiles to creep onto their solemn lips. Even the menfolk paused.
Elnora’s voice was uncharacteristically robust. “Not a scratch on her! Not a bruise, not a drop of blood.”
Heloise, toting wide-eyed Joseph in her arms, stepped forward to get a better look.
Elnora’s voice took on the soft shushing of a new mother as she rocked the squirming infant. “Hush now, sweet one. You’re safe now.”
“You’re a natural,” Heloise observed. Her eyes twinkled. “Look how she’s already calming. She feels safe.”
She is safe, Elnora thought as she gazed at the tiny girl. Safe with me. Safe with us.
“Come,” Heloise whispered. “Get her to the wagon and out of this sun.”
Sarah fell into step beside her friend, her blue eyes also transfixed on the English baby. “It’s a miracle she wasn’t injured...or worse.”
“I boiled goat’s milk for Katie and Annie,” Katherine Knepp cooed as she and the other women joined them. “I have extra. This little one must eat.”
Esther Odon nodded. “I have some girl clothes she can have.”
Dinah Yoder placed her arm around Esther’s shoulders. The memory of Esther’s hard labor on the trail which resulted in a stillborn baby girl was a raw one in all the women’s minds.
Tears pricked Elnora’s eyes. “Danke. Thank you, all.”
Day turned quickly to night as the Amish women fawned over the tiny infant who seemed to have dropped straight from heaven, leaving the men to finish the burials by moonlight.
***
“I understand your wanting to keep her, Elnora.” Samuel’s patient voice was gentle when he finally returned to the wagon. Gentle and firm. “Especially since the Lord has yet to bless us with children of our own.”
Elnora fixed her eyes on the baby who lay asleep in the nest of pillowy quilts in the wagon bed. Usually, Elnora was unable to tear her gaze from the stars in the night sky. They seemed to wink at each other in the blackness, making her think they were simply bright young children, playing gotcha-games in Heaven. Tonight though, Elnora couldn’t force herself to look away from the tiny miracle of a girl.
“Gelassenheit,” she whispered. “We must trust His divine reasons and timing.”
“We simply can’t keep her. She is not one of us.” Samuel exhaled and swiped his gritty hands on his britches. Exhaustion weighted his words.
“Ja, Samuel, but those she belonged to are now with Our Lord.” Elnora sucked in a breath. “Aren’t we all children of God?”
Her gentle voice wafted with the night breezes.
Samuel rubbed the bridge of his nose. The other men had returned to their families and were already fast asleep in their wagons, evident by several different tones of snoring. He stifled a yawn. “Ah, Elnora. I love you and your compassionate heart. I want so to make you a happy wife.”
“You do, Samuel.”
The baby stirred and began to squeak. Elnora’s voice was tender as she plucked the rooting babe from the nest of blankets. “Come here, Rebekah.”
“Oh mein! You’ve given her a name?”
