ground against each other. Was he doing this on purpose?
“A rest we are due, I think. This place is good.”
Emma came to a halt so quickly a cloud of dust swirled around her feet. “A rest? Rebecca has been resting for the past hour, and I’m not walking fast enough to need a rest.”
His tone held the tiniest touch of reprimand. “I need a rest, daughter.”
Her lips snapped together. He was slowing them down on purpose. A strong man like Papa would not need to rest after the leisurely stroll they had taken since Luke returned Mama’s quilt. She glanced over her shoulder at the quickly dwindling herd. Papa was trying to put distance between Luke and them. Between Luke and her.
Still perched in the back of the wagon, Maummi stopped work on the shirt she was mending and folded the garment. “A light meal we’ll have to keep up our strength.”
Emma worked hard to keep her frustration in check. They had no need for strength if they were going to inch across the Kansas prairie like turtles.
When Papa stopped the oxen in the shade of a cluster of trees, Rebecca stirred awake and sat up on the wagon bench. She stretched her arms high in the air and arched her back. “Are we there yet?”
“We have barely gone twenty yards all afternoon,” Emma shot back too quickly.
She ducked her head away from Papa’s look and went to the back of the wagon to help Maummi down to the ground.
“Reach that crate for me, Emma.”
Maummi pointed to indicate the one she meant, and Emma climbed up into the wagon to retrieve it. When she’d slid it over to the edge so her grandmother could rummage inside, she spoke in a low voice that could not be overheard.
“Why is Papa going so slowly, Maummi?”
The elderly woman didn’t bother to look up. “Why ask a question when you already know the answer?”
With a grim nod, Emma acknowledged her suspicions. “He is trying to put a distance between Luke and me.”
“‘Höret, meine Kinder, die Zucht eures Vaters; market auf, daß ihr lernt und klug Werd!’” The biblical proverb was one Maummi had often repeated when Emma was younger. Hear, ye children, the instruction of a father, and attend to know understanding.
She didn’t bother to hide an audible sigh as Maummi selected four plump apples from the crate. “I know Papa is wise and I must learn from him. It’s just that…”
That what? That she wanted to moon after Luke even though she knew there was no possibility for a future between them?
She picked up one of the apples and returned it to the crate before she slid the box back to its storage position. She couldn’t force a bite down her throat. When she turned, she caught Maummi’s sympathetic eyes fixed on her.
“‘Young birds must learn the paths of the sky from older ones. Else they lose themselves in the joy of soaring.’”
Emma made no response to the proverb as she hopped down from the wagon and trudged a little distance away. She knew Maummi meant the lesson kindly, but she was not a brainless young bird. Had she not always been obedient to Papa, as was proper? Did he think her incapable of making wise choices on her own?
While her family gathered in the cooling shade of the sparse trees, Emma climbed a short swell in the land where she could watch the cattle dwindle in the distance. When the last cow disappeared over the hill where Luke had vanished earlier, her frustration turned to heavy sorrow that dragged at her heart. She truly had seen the last of Luke Carson.
Well, and what of it? If she was as level-headed as she professed to be, why was she acting as if she’d lost a beau? He was not her beau and never would be. Too much separated them, not the least of which was their faith. She did not want a husband who stayed gone for months at a time on the cattle trail. When she found the man she wanted to spend her life with, he would attend Sunday meetings with her, and singings, and drive her to town in a proper buggy. He would raise barns with the other men in Apple Grove while she cooked noodle casseroles to serve him when his work was done. He would read Die Bibel in German, and train their children using proverbs. He would…
She blinked back the traitorous tears that threatened, suddenly impatient