Crossing Read Online Free PDF Page A

“One day when you’re a man, you’ll see I’ve made the right decision.”
    “When I’m grown up, I will come back to the Cheyenne!”
    Daniel almost smiled, for the rebellion in his son was very familiar to him. It was exactly the way he had been when he was a young man. “That may very well be. But until then, you and I will be together. No matter what happens, you are my son, and I’m very proud of you. I will always love you, and I will never forsake you.
    So we’ll see what comes—and even if we find no other people, we’ll be a family always.”

    It took almost three months for Daniel and Yancy to travel from the Oklahoma plains to the Shenandoah Valley in Virginia. Even though Lake Essee had been like an oasis in the desert, in no way could it compare to the valley. To the west were the Allegheny Mountains, gentle and eternal, old mountains with tops rounded from the ages. To the east were the Blue Ridge Mountains, smoky, quiet, mysterious. Fertile, green, serene, even in the blazing heat of August, the Shenandoah Valley lay like a priceless emerald that stretched from southern Virginia to Maryland. Every view was scenic. Every scene was green. All the green was rich.
    Daniel and Yancy stopped on a small rise overlooking a large farm. The farmhouse was substantial, three stories, with gables in the attic and a wide veranda surrounding the house. There were several outbuildings—an enormous barn, stables, a housing for a huge windmill, two sheds for farm equipment, and a carriage house. Behind and to the west was a great pasture filled with fat cows, and to the east were horses feeding contentedly. Beyond were fields, rich with harvest; cornfields; hay; wheat; tobacco; barley; and soybeans. It all gave the impression of a great richness, though it was a richness that had nothing to do with money.
    “This is my home,” Daniel said softly. “This is where I grew up.”
    Throughout the entire journey, Yancy had grown more and more sullen. Now all he said was, “It’s a big farm. Must be lots of hard work.”
    “It is,” Daniel agreed. “But I think it might be worth it. And it’s not just the farming. The valley is good hunting and good fishing, even in wintertime. I think you’ll like it, Yancy.”
    “I dunno,” he muttered. “I already miss home.”
    “But this is our home now,” Daniel said. “We’ll be fine.” Daniel hoped this was true. He had sent a telegram to his parents from Oklahoma City, saying that he was coming home and was bringing their grandson. He hoped they had received it. He knew they would never answer it, for the Amish wouldn’t contemplate using something as modern and complicated as a telegraph.
    As they rode toward the farmhouse, Daniel said rather uncertainly, “You’ll find my parents are very religious. They are what’s called Amish people.”
    “What does that mean? Amish?”
    “They are people that sort of set themselves apart from others. They believe that they should live very simply and quietly. They are good Christian people, but their rules are much stricter than some others.”
    “Why didn’t you tell me anything about this before?” Yancy demanded. “You’ve never said anything about God, or even about the Cheyenne gods!”
    “I know,” Daniel said with some discomfort. “It’s because I’m still not sure where I am with the Lord, even now. But I do know that we need to come home.” Daniel stopped in front of the house and slipped off his horse.
    A woman came through the screened door and stood on the porch, watching him. She was a small woman but held herself so straight she seemed taller than she actually was. At the age of sixty-three, her hair was still black, but with one silver wing from her left temple back to the bun she wore. Her hair was thick and healthy. Since the Amish women never cut their hair, it reached below her waist when it was down. She had sharp features—a straight nose and a strong jaw, but her blue eyes were kind.