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his letters weren’t as frequent as they used to be, every time Friedrich wrote he said he was faithful to his promise to her, that he waited for her. Her heart remained true to him as well. Never once did she even consider marrying one of the other men who remained behind in Ebenezer. For more than a decade, she’d believed that she and Friedrich were meant to be together.
    Still, she had changed over the past three years, and he must have changed as well. And the moment she saw him, she believed she would know if she would become his wife.
    Lifting her skirt, she climbed into the back of the wagon, beside Karoline. The younger woman was sleeping on the comforter, breathing softly. There wasn’t much room among the stacked crates and trunks and barrels, but Amalie tucked her knees close to her chest and leaned her head back against a trunk. Until they left Ebenezer, she hadn’t realized how important the seemingly simplest comforts were to her. A bed. A bathtub. A clean place to wash her clothes.
    Mr. Faust shouted, and the wagon lurched forward.
    Turning, she reached into the chest and pulled out a small, handcarved box Friedrich crafted for her before he left New York. It was made of dark walnut wood and polished until it almost glowed. She opened it slowly and looked at the rose petals inside, from the flowers Friedrich had given to her to remind her of his love for her while they were apart.
    She sniffed the rose petals, hoping for even the slightest scent to remind her of his love, but they’d long since lost their aroma. Closing the lid, she clutched the box in her lap. It was a very small sacrifice to leave the comforts of Ebenezer for their journey west. It would all be worth it when they arrived in Amana.
    Her eyes drooped, and she tried to open them again, but they wouldn’t obey her. The wagon hit a hole, and everything around her and Karoline shook, but the clanging didn’t awaken her friend. Amalie reached behind her, placed her precious box back into the trunk, and rested beside Karoline.
    When the wagon stopped again, Amalie rubbed her eyes and squinted outside at the fading sunlight. A river reflected a brilliant scarlet color from the setting sun, and she pulled herself to her feet to begin supper before the darkness engulfed them. Karoline was still asleep, but maybe Niklas or one of the other men could help her prepare the meal tonight. Even with two of them working hard, it would take a good hour to finish the biscuits and the stew for twenty-five of them, but if they were as hungry as she was, they would complete it as quickly as they could.
    She stood on her toes, trying not to wake Karoline as she lifted a pan off its hook. Then she took a burlap bag filled with potatoes off the heap of supplies. She’d wanted to conserve them, but they were almost to Lisbon now. The boiled potatoes would help fill their bellies tonight along with the stew.
    She started to climb over Karoline, and then she stopped. Karoline was quiet. Too quiet.
    Amalie dropped the potatoes on the floor and knelt down by her friend, dropping her cheek to her chest.
    “Karoline,” she said, quietly at first. Her voice trembled when she said her name again. “Karoline!”
    When she shook her, Karoline didn’t respond.
    “Niklas!” she screamed as she ripped open the canvas. “John!”
    Seconds later both men were at her side.

Watch against thyself, my soul, see thou do not stifle
Grace that should thy thoughts control, nor with mercy trifle.
Johann B. Freistein
Chapter Four

    Friedrich wiped the cloth napkin over his mouth and paused before he took another bite of the tender roast pork and red cabbage. Forks clanged against the ceramic plates as forty men and women ate the roast and vegetables prepared by Henriette Koch and her assistants. No one spoke except to ask for the salt or to pass the basket of rolls. Conversation was reserved for time away from work and meals and their daily services in prayer and worship.
    He