confident her sister would do that. She hoped Rebecca would find nothing more troublesome to do in Apple Grove than wearing hats during her rumspringa. No doubt that was why Papa insisted that Rebecca return with him while Emma and Maummi stayed in Troyer. The opportunities to get into trouble during her time of running around before she was baptized would be far fewer in Apple Grove than in a larger community.
Emma made a practical suggestion. “Cover your head with a light-colored cloth, like your apron.”
A playful dimple creased Rebecca’s cheek. “You mean like this?” She picked up the skirt of her apron and pulled it up over her face and head.
Emma laughed. “You look like you did when you were little and Maummi hung your favorite blanket out to dry. You’d pull a stool beneath the laundry line and sit with your face and head covered in wet blanket.”
A muffled chuckle came from beneath the white fabric. “A fine fool I’ll look riding into Troyer this way. But at least the sun can’t find me here.”
The sound of horse hooves reached Emma almost at the same moment she saw eight mounted men top a ridge to their left. Alarm zinged along her nerve endings. They looked road weary, and she didn’t spot a single smile among them. Papa saw them too, and he put a hand out to stop the oxen. The wagon rolled to a halt, and Emma stepped closer, her back against the wooden side rails. Maummi’s hand gripped her shoulder, while Rebecca uncovered her head and scrambled over the back of the bench to crouch in the space at Maummi’s feet.
The horses galloped toward them without hesitation. When they arrived, four of the men crossed to the other side of the wagon, and then they all spread out until they formed a menacing circle of horseflesh around them. The expressions of the men were not kindly as they inspected the women and the wagon. Fastened to the sides of their saddles were rifles, and Emma caught a glimpse of a pistol at the belt of the man closest to her. She shrank backward, and Rebecca let out a whimper.
The man in the lead halted his horse near Papa. “Where you headed, mister?”
“My family and I are going to Troyer.”
Admiration for Papa’s calm voice filled Emma. Wasn’t he afraid of these rough men? She couldn’t have forced a single word through her teeth, much less spoken in such an even tone.
The cowboy pushed his hat back off his forehead. “Folks there are some kind of religious sect or something, ain’t they?”
Papa’s straw hat moved up and down with his nod. “We are Plain people. Amish. Troyer is the home of our kin.”
“Is that why you dress in them weird clothes and shave your mustache while your beard grows wild?”
Papa merely nodded again.
The horse in front of Emma skittered sideways, the man on its back staring into the wagon behind her head. “What have you got under that cover?”
Maummi’s grip tightened on her shoulder. Emma raised a hand and covered her fingers.
Papa answered in the same even tone as before. “Household belongings.”
The man jerked a glare back at him. “Any weapons?”
“None. We are a peaceful people.”
“Hey, I’ve heard of the likes of them,” one of the men behind the wagon shouted. “They don’t believe in fighting, even if someone steals from them.”
The leader stared at Papa for a long moment. Then he pulled a revolver from the holster at his side. Emma’s breath caught in her chest and blood pounded in her ears. Please protect Papa, Lord!
The man’s voice held an insult. “Do you mean if I point this here gun at you and tell you I’m meaning to take your wagon, you wouldn’t try to stop me?”
For a moment Papa didn’t answer. Would he defy them? Though part of Emma, an unrighteous part hidden way down inside, wished he would do that, she knew he would not. The Plain people were peaceful. If struck, Papa would turn the other cheek, as was right.
After a long moment during which the cowboy’s eyes narrowed, Papa held himself a little straighter. “We believe and confess that the Lord Jesus has forbidden His disciples and followers all revenge and resistance, and has thereby commanded them not to return evil for evil, nor railing for railing.”
The words came straight from the Amish Confession of Faith. A proud smile curved Emma’s lips.
Papa’s voice then took on a less formal tone. “I will not