Though Mountains Fall
© 2013 by Dale Cramer
Published by Bethany House Publishers
11400 Hampshire Avenue South
Bloomington, Minnesota 55438
www.bethanyhouse.com
Bethany House Publishers is a division of
Baker Publishing Group, Grand Rapids, Michigan
Ebook edition created 2013
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—for example, electronic, photocopy, recording—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
ISBN 978-1-4412-6099-4
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, DC.
Scripture quotations are from the King James Version of the Bible.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, incidents, and dialogues are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Cover design by Lookout Design, Inc.
Cover photography by Mike Habermann Photography, LLC
Author is represented by Books & Such Literary Agency
For Ma and Pa
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
The Bender Family
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Books by Dale Cramer
Back Ads
Back Cover
THE FAMILY OF CALEB AND MARTHA BENDER
SPRING, 1925
ADA , 30 Unmarried; mentally challenged
MARY , 27 Husband, Ezra Raber (children: Samuel, 8; Paul, 7; twins Amanda & Amos, 2)
LIZZIE , 26 In Ohio with husband, Andy Shetler (5 children)
AMOS & AARON Twins, deceased
EMMA , 23 Husband, Levi Mullet (children: Mose, 3; Clara, 2; Will, 1)
MIRIAM , 22
HARVEY , 21
RACHEL , 19
LEAH , 17
BARBARA , 15
Chapter 1
Caleb Bender spent the day riding a mule-drawn planter, putting down row after row of seeds, and there was nothing in the world he loved quite the same way. Like any Amish farmer Caleb was deeply attuned to the seasons and found a unique joy in each of them, but springtime was his favorite. It was a time of awakening, a time when he could feel the promise of Gott in the earth and a sense of divine purpose in the sinews of his callused hands. A time of hope. Planting a field was a prayer, an act of purest faith.
Stopping at the end of a row Caleb took off his wide-brimmed hat, wiped his bald head with a shirtsleeve and took a moment to survey his valley, a five-thousand-acre oval of prime pasture high up in the Sierra Madres of northeast Mexico. The valley wasn’t entirely his, but he took a kind of proprietary pride in it because he and his family had been the first to come here three years ago, in the spring of 1922.
It was the kind of spectacular day that only happened a few times each spring, a sky so deep blue it was almost painful, a light breeze blowing, a little chilly in the morning yet warming in the afternoon. The shadow of a hawk passed over him, cruising on the wind, drawing Caleb’s gaze to the western mountains where he’d been standing when he first set eyes on Paradise Valley. He felt it even now, the thrill of hope in that first vision. It really did look like paradise, lush green bottomland bracketed by long, low ridges on the north and south. Caleb and his family were pioneers of sorts—advance scouts for a new settlement. They had dug themselves into the valley, shaping earth and straw into bricks and building houses with their bare hands. Even their barns and buggy sheds were finished by the time the Hershbergers and Shrocks came the following year.
The main group arrived last summer, and a big industrious colony of Amish all pitched in, making adobe, cutting timber, erecting houses and barns. More families arrived, and now there were ten homes scattered along the base of the ridges on both sides of the valley, new tin roofs gleaming in the afternoon sun, smoke trailing peacefully from chimneys as wives and daughters cooked dinner. There were new barns and fences to corral the livestock, and everywhere he looked Caleb saw bearded men in flat-brimmed hats and suspenders working teams of sturdy horses, plowing and planting fields. In the coming weeks the industry of ten Amish families would turn Paradise Valley into a quilt of bright green from one end to the other.
Across his lane, in the field down nearest the main road, his son Harvey and a team of four huge Belgian draft horses pulled a wide harrow, the long row of steel disks shiny from use, smoothing fresh-plowed earth. At nineteen, Harvey was his only son now. There had once been two boys older than Harvey, twins, but Amos fell victim to the flu epidemic of 1918, and Aaron died last August on the road back from Agua Nueva at the hands of the bandit El Pantera. His death was a crippling blow to Caleb, and a pall hung over the entire family still.
Along the far edge of the same field where Harvey was plowing, Domingo Zapara rode behind another corn planter just like the one Caleb was driving. A Mexican native, half mestizo and half Nahua, Domingo was a striking figure, tall and proud. He wore his black hair long and loose, hanging past his shoulders under a wide-brimmed Amish hat that once belonged to Caleb. Even the hat had a heroic story behind it.
More than just a trusted hired hand, Domingo had become almost like a son to him. Reared by his father to be a Nahua warrior, Domingo wouldn’t hesitate to put his own life in danger to protect Caleb’s family from bandits. Late last summer, after the confrontation in which Aaron was killed, it was Domingo who, along with Jake Weaver, tracked El Pantera north to his stronghold at Diablo Canyon and rescued Rachel, Caleb’s nineteen-year-old daughter. It was a debt Caleb knew he could never repay.
Domingo’s planter stopped halfway down a row and he craned his neck. He appeared to be watching something in the road behind Caleb, and when he climbed off the seat of the planter and started trotting across the field toward the driveway Caleb looked over his shoulder to see what was happening.
A solitary rider approached from the west on a painted pony, cantering along in no particular hurry and not looking like much of a threat. His sombrero hung behind his neck and there was a bandolier of bullets bouncing against his chest. A bandit.
As the rider slowed and turned in, Caleb climbed off his planter and met Domingo at the lane. The two of them stood shoulder to shoulder, watching, waiting.
“I know this one,” Domingo said. “Alvarez. He rides with El Pantera, but my father trusted him.”
“I know him, too,” Caleb said. “He has been here before.”
The bandit stopped his horse in front of them and dismounted. He was a dark, leather-faced man with a huge
mustache and a thick head of coal black hair. The butts of two cross-draw pistols peeked out the front of his jacket.
“Hola, Domingo!” he said, thumping Domingo’s chest like an old friend. “You have become a man since I saw you last! It has been a long time, my young friend.”
“Sí, Alvarez.” Domingo nodded. “The last time we met was before my father fell at Zacatecas.” His hand drew the sign of the cross on his chest as he said this, and Caleb made a mental note of it. It was the first time he had ever seen his young friend use any kind of Christian gesture.
“A good man,” the bandit said solemnly. He then looked at Caleb and added, “Perhaps you do not remember, señor, but I have been here before.”
“Sí, I thought you looked familiar. You are welcome to water your horse, and if you’re hungry—”
“Gracias, but no. I will let the horse drink, and then I must be on my way.”
As the three of them walked up toward the trough by the windmill the bandit said, “It is no accident that I stopped here today. I bring news, and it concerns both of you.”
Domingo eyed him cautiously. “News of El Pantera?” It seemed to Caleb that Domingo always knew what was coming.
Alvarez nodded. “Two days ago I stopped for the night in Diablo Canyon. The men in the bunkhouse were full of talk about a young whelp who turned back El Pantera and five of his best men in the pass at El Ojo.” He grinned at Domingo, and his fingers curled into a fist as he added, “It seems the blood of Ehekatl flows strong in his son’s veins.”
Domingo shrugged. “It was a narrow pass. A child could have held it.”
“But a child would not have broken half the bones in El Pantera’s body, would he?”
“So El Pantera is still alive?” Locked in a fight to the death, Domingo and the bandit leader had fallen together from a cliff. The fall had nearly killed Domingo, but the fate of El Pantera remained a mystery. Until now.
“Sí, he lives,” the bandit said, “but he is not the same man. His left arm was so badly shattered he has lost the use of the hand, and he has only recently begun to ride a horse again. They say he is half crazy with rage, and he swears revenge.”
“Against me?”
Alvarez glanced at Caleb. “Sí. And against your friends, too. There are already twenty men in his camp, and more are coming. He wanted me to stay, but I told him I had to go to San Luis Potosi for my brother’s wedding.” A casual shrug. “I don’t have a brother. I only came here to warn you.”
Caleb couldn’t resist asking. “Why?”
The bandit’s eyes smiled, though his mouth was completely hidden behind his mustache. “Because Domingo’s father was my friend, and because you treated me and my men with respect, señor. You gave us bread, watered our horses and talked to us like men, so I wanted to warn you of the storm that is brewing. If I were you I would flee. And say nothing of this meeting. . . . If El Pantera learns I was here, he will kill my whole family.”
“This is bad news indeed,” Caleb said. “When do you think he will come?”
“I’m not sure. It will be a little while before he is strong enough to ride so far, but he will come. Three weeks, maybe four—that would be my guess.”
“Well, there’s not much left for him to steal. With all the newcomers, our winter stores are almost gone.”
The bandit shook his head grimly. “You misunderstand me, Señor Bender. El Pantera is not coming here to steal. He is coming to burn and to kill.”
Before sundown Miriam went to the barn to do her chores. With her dark complexion and raven hair, Caleb’s daughter could have passed for a Mexican if it weren’t for the Amish dress and prayer kapp. As she dipped a bucket into the feed bin she saw the shadow of someone behind her and spun around, surprised.
Domingo drew her against him and kissed her. Miriam let herself melt into him and kissed him back.
Holding her in his strong arms, he brushed aside a wisp of hair that had escaped her starched white prayer kapp and gazed into her eyes.
“Your mother is doing much better these days,” he said softly.
To anyone else it might have seemed an odd thing to say under the circumstances, but Miriam knew what he meant. Mamm had been thrown into a state of mental confusion and despair by Aaron’s murder last summer, along with the kidnapping of Rachel and a diphtheria outbreak that claimed the lives of four children in the Paradise Valley colony. And then Miriam disappeared for ten days while she and Kyra tended Domingo’s wounds at the abandoned silver mine in Parrot Pass. It was there, alone in a veritable Eden, that Domingo asked Miriam to be his wife. After long deliberation she accepted, on two conditions: he would have to wait, and their betrothal would have to remain secret, for it would have broken her mother. For the last six months Mamm’s fragile mental state was the only thing preventing them from being married.
“Jah, it has been more than half a year,” Miriam answered, meeting his eyes. “Christmas was hard for her with Aaron gone, but since then she has grown stronger, more like her old self. Just this morning she was helping me gather eggs when she slipped and fell. Now, you know what the floor of the chicken coop is like. She soiled her dress, her hands, her kapp, but, Domingo, she was laughing. While I was helping her up she laughed like a schoolgirl. It did my heart good.” Laying her head against his chest, hearing his strong heartbeat, she said softly, “Perhaps it is time for us to be married.”
He nodded. “I must talk to your father first. I have too much respect for Señor Bender to do this behind his back. Everything will change for you now, Cualnezqui. Are you sure you want to go ahead?”
Tightening her arms about his waist, she said, “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. I am yours, Domingo. I am forever yours.”
There was a faint crunching of straw behind Domingo and the shadows deepened. Miriam stepped back hastily and looked around him.
Her sister Rachel stood in the big barn door, the westering sun slanting through, backlighting the red hair along her neck, at the base of her kapp. Rachel’s hands covered her mouth and tears welled in her eyes.
“How long have you been standing there?” Miriam asked.
“Long enough.” Rachel’s eyes flitted back and forth between them. “Miriam . . . you and Domingo are going to marry?”
Miriam nodded slowly, moving toward her younger sister, reaching to her.
But Rachel stepped back, keeping her distance.
“How could you not tell me this, Miriam? How could you keep a secret like this? From me!”
Miriam shrugged an apology, shaking her head. “Rachel, among the Amish, wedding plans are always secret.”
“But this is not an Amish wedding!” Rachel cried, glancing at Domingo. “If you marry an outsider it will break our mother’s heart! You will be banned, an outcast in your own family. I know how you feel about Domingo, but Miriam, have you considered the consequences?”
“Of course I have—carefully, and with great sorrow,” Miriam answered softly. “I know what lies before me if I take this path, but I am twenty-two years old and I know my own heart, my own mind.” She put a palm against Domingo’s chest and smiled confidently into his eyes. “Gott has brought us together, and though I know our path will be filled with trials, it is our path, and together we can face anything.”
Rachel was silent for a second. The words that spilled out of her next came quietly but with an unmistakable undercurrent of threat.
“What would Dat say if he knew?”
Miriam was stunned into silence. Before she could find her tongue, Domingo said, “Your father will not know until I choose to tell him.” He didn’t return Miriam’s puzzled glance. His black eyes were locked on Rachel. “Everyone has secrets. Now that you know ours, I think you would do well to keep it.”
Rachel stared at him a moment longer, then nodded meekly as her eyes dropped away from him. Without another word, she turned and walked softly out of the barn.
Baffled, Miriam asked, “What was that abo
ut?”
Domingo shook his head, still staring after Rachel. “You will have to ask your sister. I cannot say.”
She knew that tone of voice. There was a point of honor here, somewhere. “Cannot? Or will not?”
He shrugged. “For me, one is the same as the other.”
———
Domingo saddled his horse and went home for the day, and a few minutes later Rachel came back into the barn. No matter what else happened, the cows still had to be milked.
Sitting on a three-legged stool Miriam glanced around at her younger sister, wondering what was going through Rachel’s mind. She refused to speak, wouldn’t even look at Miriam, and yet her eyes betrayed more sorrow than anger. It was puzzling. They were completely alone; why didn’t Rachel just speak her mind? They had always been so close, slept in the same bed together all their lives and shared secrets. Now it seemed an impenetrable barrier stood between them, and it broke Miriam’s heart.
“Rachel.”
No answer. Not even a look.
“Rachel, I’m sorry.”
Still no answer, just the steady rip rip rip of milk in the pail.
“Rachel, I’m so sorry about keeping this a secret from you. It was just . . . this was a decision I had to make alone, out of my own heart and no one else’s. I found a pearl of great price, and I had to decide whether to sacrifice everything for it. The burden was mine alone. There was nothing you could do, and I didn’t want to be swayed. Can you understand that?”
Rachel was silent for a long time, but then she took a deep breath and said, “Jah. I know what it is to carry a burden you can’t share.”
She still wouldn’t look at Miriam, but the lines of pain and sorrow etched themselves even deeper in her face and the anger left her entirely. Could it be that something else was bothering her? Was it possible Rachel bore a secret of her own—something as earth-shattering as Miriam’s secret? Domingo’s words came back to her now.
“You will have to ask your sister.”
“Rachel, if you have something you want to tell me, you know it is safe with me. You can tell me anything. It couldn’t possibly be any worse than—”