The Captive Heart Read Online Free Page A

snow a couple times yet. I’m thinking I’ll start planting this week.”
    â€œWell I guess we’ll find out then, won’t we?” Ira said. Eyeing a hummock a quarter mile to the west, he mused, “I like the look of that rise yonder. Good spot for a house and a banked barn, if it only had a tree or two on it. What do you think, neighbor?”
    John Hershberger squinted at the place and nodded. “I think we should go and take a look, Ira. The good thing about being first is we get to choose, and we got plenty here to choose from. No need to be hasty.”
    The sound of hoofbeats turned the three men around. A Mexican cantered across the open field toward them on a tall, heavy-boned black horse with a long mane and untrimmed hair obscuring large hooves.
    Ira Shrock tensed, his brow furrowed. “Would that be a bandit, Caleb?”
    â€œ Neh ,” Caleb said, a trace of a grin on his face. “Bandits don’t dress so good. I know this man. His name is Diego Fuentes, the overseer from Hacienda El Prado. A decent man—or at least he has been kind to us.”
    Fuentes was dressed in corduroy pants, a hunting jacket with a leather shooting patch on the shoulder, riding boots and a narrow-brimmed city hat. He tipped his hat to the three Amishmen as he dismounted and walked over to them, leading his horse by the reins.
    â€œBuenos días, Señor Bender! I see your new friends have arrived.” Fuentes’s English was quite good.
    Caleb introduced Hershberger and Shrock, and they gave Diego Fuentes a strong, one-pump Amish handshake.
    â€œThat’s about as stout a horse as I ever seen,” Hershberger said. “Friesian?”
    â€œSí,” Fuentes answered, reaching up to rub the jaw of his black stallion affectionately. “They are rare in Mexico. He was a gift from the hacendado —smart and docile, and strong as a plow horse.”
    The four of them walked over the land a little ways, Shrock and Hershberger checking out potential home sites and talking to Fuentes.
    â€œA question is in my mind yet,” Hershberger said. “We’re gonna need a lot of timber, and I wondered if mebbe we could take some from the ridge. I know the ridge doesn’t belong to us, but Caleb told us you let him cut a little for his roof last year.”
    Fuentes winced. “That would not be such a good idea now. Two more farms and more to come soon—I am sorry, but I think perhaps it would be too much, señor. The trees on the ridges are not very big anyway, and they are a little sparse.”
    â€œIt is Señor Fuentes’s duty to keep watch over the timber here,” Caleb explained. “The local villagers would strip the ridges and use it all for cooking fires if he let them, so he has to set rules. They can take deadfall, but everyone knows the standing timber belongs to the hacienda.”
    â€œSí,” Fuentes said. “It is all I can do to keep the hacienda blacksmith supplied. If the local people see gringos cutting timber they’ll want to know why they can’t do it as well.”
    Ira Shrock’s red face clouded over with concern. “What will we do, then? We can’t build houses and barns and fences without timber, and it would cost a lot of money to get it by train from Ohio.”
    The Mexican’s face lit up with an idea. “The hacendado owns a big parcel of land twelve miles from here, up in the mountains to the west. It is very difficult to get to, and none of the local people have the horses to haul heavy loads over those roads, but your draft horses could do it. There is plenty of big timber there, señor. You can take what you need, only you must agree to pay one third of your logs to the hacienda.”
    Ira and John considered this briefly, then nodded and shook hands with Fuentes.
    â€œThat’s a fair deal,” John said.

Chapter 4
    C aleb’s boys were busy that week, plowing