Excerpted: The Faithful

Before he reached the yard, Jacob Waldner heard the clanging of metal on metal and knew his brother was having a problem with a combine. Approaching the huge green machine, Jacob nodded to his cousin Johannes, who was watching Amos working deep inside the rig.

“What’s going on?” Jacob asked.

“A stuck bearing.”

Hammer in hand, Amos stepped away from the combine and cursed under his breath. He glared at Jacob and shook his head. Amos wore a handmade shirt, black pants, and suspenders, just like the ones they all wore. From the dust on Amos’s pants, grime on his hands, and ill temper, Jacob could tell the repair job wasn’t going well.

They’d been running the combines hard late into the night over the thousands of acres belonging to the colony. The machines cut, threshed, separated, and stored the grain in a hopper until it could be offloaded onto a dump truck. It wasn’t surprising for a combine to break down. Still, this dirty, annoying job would pull men away from harvesting on this sunny late August day, ideal weather for getting the wheat crop off.

“You’re on your way then?” Amos said, wiping his filthy hands on a cloth, his voice sour.

“I’ll be back in the early evening. Sorry for the trouble. Do you need anything from the city?”

Amos shook his head and was about to say something when a chime sounded in his brother’s pocket. A WhatsApp message.

“Hold on,” Jacob said. He pulled out the phone and glanced at the screen. A two-word message: call me. Slipping the phone back into his pocket, he felt his face grow warm as adrenaline hit his system. Looking up, he realized Amos was watching him and said apologetically, “I need to make a call.”

Amos gave him a dark look before turning back to his work. Jacob walked over to the other side of the gravel yard and scanned the area. When he was sure he had privacy, he tapped an icon on the screen and brought the phone to his ear. There was no need for preliminaries.

“When will you be here?” The words were spoken in the same German dialect Jacob had used to speak to Amos and Johannes.

Jacob felt a surge of excitement. He struggled to calm himself. “I’m leaving at nine.”

“It’s the same place. Call me when you get there.” The line went dead.

Judging there was nothing more to say to his brother, Jacob made the short walk to the house where he lived with his wife and three children. He sensed the light had become softer and the morning air cooler, a prelude to the early prairie autumn. Their home was the middle unit of five identical, two-storey, connected houses built by colony men, and, like everything else on the property, was owned by the community. He picked up the case containing his laptop and slipped on a backpack where he’d stored a change of clothes and some toiletries for the day ahead.

With everything ready, he glanced in the mirror. He wore a trimmed beard, as most men in the community did. He was only thirty-three years old, but he’d noticed the beginnings of a paunch from the hours spent in his sedentary job, keeping the colony’s books and presiding over the shopping for supplies. The elders had sent him to community college to learn bookkeeping. He’d hated it at the time, but the training had proven useful in managing the colony’s accounts and investments, and the shopping took him to the city. Those trips gave him perfect cover for a rendezvous like today’s. This time, he also had two urgent meetings to attend, hoping—and fearing—he’d find answers to the suspicions tormenting him.

It would be tight, making it back to the colony on time. Of course, he could return immediately after the meetings, but his heart had decided otherwise. He’d once again prayed for the strength to resist temptation and even considered seeking advice from the minister. But the persistent strum of desire deep within him was too powerful. He was again about to defy the will of God.

Before leaving, Jacob found his wife mopping the dining hall floor, where the colony’s adults took their meals together, men on one side of the room, and women on the other. Children under fifteen ate in a separate dining room. It was Rachel’s turn that week to work with the other women cooking for the community. It meant rising early, joining them to prepare breakfast, then working through the day on the rest of the meals.

“Do you want to take some sandwiches?” she asked.

“I’ll get something in the city.” Jacob took his wife’s hands in his and squeezed them.

“Are you feeling any better?” From his moody silences, she knew something was bothering him, but he’d refused to tell her what it was.

“I’m fine. I’ll be home in time to kiss the children goodnight.”

Heading to the large parking lot, he checked his watch. He’d reach the city around 10:30.

Jacob drove northeast past small farming villages, examining the grain fields on either side of the black pickup. The golden wheat was stunted and sparse. The weather was constantly on his mind and that of every other member of the colony at this time of year. The drought had persisted through the summer, but it was too late for rain to make any difference this close to harvest. It would only interfere with getting the crops off the fields.

He’d been wondering how bad the drought might be for the colony’s income, but he let that worry go for now. He had bigger things on his mind, and nothing would be sure anyway until the grain was in the bin. Even then, they would face difficult choices about when and how much to sell. It was in God’s hands, like everything else. A Chris Stapleton song came on the radio, and he felt the tension in his neck and across his shoulders release for the first time in days.

Traffic was heavier near the outskirts of Winnipeg. He glanced at his watch. His meeting with the lawyer was set for 11:30 a.m. He’d given himself an hour to navigate the city traffic and leave his stuff at the Airbnb on the northern edge of the Saint Boniface neighbourhood. The expensively renovated house wasn’t his choice, but he’d been fascinated on his first visit there by the luxurious touches. Besides the high-end furnishings and linens, there were thick terry towel dressing gowns in the master bedroom and expensive toiletries in the bathrooms.

Jacob found a parking spot half a block from the house. Before exiting the truck, he pulled on a windbreaker to cover his suspenders and avoid sparking the neighbours’ curiosity. Walking to the rental, he surveyed the park across the street, and, in the distance, a patch of forest along the banks of the Seine River. They’d taken a walk in those woods once, and it had felt like entering a secret, hidden world in the middle of the city. Being outdoors together had brought back childhood memories and the freedom they’d had then to roam the countryside. Now they tried not to be seen together, though there was little danger of word getting back to the colony.

He punched four numbers into the keypad, pushed the door open, kicked off his shoes, then made a quick tour of the place. He felt his feet sink into the thick beige carpet in the living room, where the furniture was upholstered in leather. In the adjoining dining room, an oak dinner table was surrounded by high-backed chairs, and the kitchen had a massive island, granite countertops and stainless-steel appliances. The place had the same enticing aroma he’d smelled on his other visits. He’d been told it was sandalwood.

Upstairs, in the bedroom, he took his backpack into the en-suite bathroom. He washed his face and hands and returned to the main floor, ready to leave, when he was surprised by a knock at the back door. He glanced at his watch. It was hours before they’d agreed to meet, and Jacob had appointments to keep.

He glanced in the mirror over the mantle before hustling to the kitchen, anticipation growing in his chest. It had been weeks since they’d been able to see each other. He didn’t bother to glance through the peephole before opening the door.

It was a mistake.

Excerpted from The Faithful by Don Macdonald © 2026. Used with permission of Linda Leith Publishing.

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