To Capture Her Heart (16 page)

Heather Flower rode in front of Dirk, her braid flying back over his shoulder as Miss Button cantered in an easy lope. One hand clutched Button's mane, but the other rested on top of Dirk's. They'd already ridden through the woods and across the salt marsh and entered the endless forest between the Corchaug's principal place and the invisible line that marked the Dutch west side of the island.

His guidance of Miss Button through the thick trees was expert as he reined her down a narrow deer path. Silence, but for the fall of hooves, had enveloped them like a mist, and she did not want to break through it any more than he appeared to.

The day grew long and he brought his horse first to a walk, and then to a stop. Miss Button shook her head and he gave her rein to nibble at grass before they began a slower ride back. Heather Flower leaned back against him and her head rested in the space between his shoulder and neck. Would he ask her to come with him to New Amsterdam, or return her to her aunt?

She pictured herself as his wife, living among the Dutch in their bustling establishment and busy trade center. Would they accept her there? But when she imagined the townspeople all staring at her, Benjamin's smiling face kept appearing and the love the people of Southold had shown to her and her aunt. Benjamin had told her the stories of Pocahontas and John Rolfe many times. Did he think they could marry and bring a stronger alliance between the English and the natives?

But then Keme's face drifted in among the others, just as she remembered him from the last moments of his life. His face filled with courage as the Narragansett held him, spears at his neck and sides, and she was forced to watch in horror as the ruthless warriors buried the spearheads into his side. Keme dying without a cry, a strong brave.

She'd wept, but she had not let those despicable warriors see that. She'd been strong and true to her people and Keme. It was most likely why they agreed to free her in exchange for the wampum, but at the last minute Ninigret had gone back on his word and left her in the forest to die.

Was that why she was attracted to this man? Was it gratitude that he'd found her? Saved her? Most likely, and now it was time to go home.

“You are quiet, my friend, but I feel you are at peace with my leaving?”

He picked up the reins again and gave a little pressure to Miss Button's sides. She started back, plodding along this time, in no hurry at all.

“
Ja
. I don't like it, but I think this is good for you.”

She could feel his breath close. “Do you find love for me, Dirk?” She felt him straighten and she twisted around to face him.

“I—I cannot talk of that. I know what we must do. If I let you go now, perhaps someday I will be able to tell you what I find in my heart for you. Here, I have a present for you.” He pulled a small metal drill from his knapsack. “This is for you. For your wampum beads. It will be easier than using the flint to drill the holes.”

She held it close and ran her fingers over the point. She looked up into his bay-blue eyes and wondered how he could give her something so wonderful while he talked of going away.

He bent forward and his lips lowered to hers. It was a funny custom of both the Dutch and the English, this kissing, but she found it warm and to her liking. It was a light, but lingering kiss and she could tell he was conflicted in giving it. That was okay. She was too.

March 17, 1654

The bay was as smooth as glass and reflected the cloudless blue sky. Heather Flower watched the canoe glide across, paddled by Wyancombone. He gave one last strong sweep of the paddle and landed on the beach with force. Benjamin stood beside her, and once her brother secured the boat, the three walked up to Winnie's wigwam. The Hortons and Fannings had gathered, along with Abigail's family and Patience. Her heart thumped in her chest and felt heavy. As hard as it was to leave these people, it was even harder to go home and face her sorrows.

With the sugaring done and her aunt's health returning, there was little reason to stay. Certainly Dirk had not given her a reason to remain—in truth he'd pushed her away. Now Benjamin could not bring himself to smile.

Wyancombone did not let that go. He folded his arms. “
Aquai
, friend. Why the dark look?”

“You know the answer to that. You're glad your sister is coming home, but you forget that we will miss her here.”

“Some more than others?” He pushed lightly against his friend's arm with a fist.

Heather Flower could see the redness in Benjamin's neck as it crept upward. “Brother, you must leave our friend alone. This is not easy for any of us, except for you and our mother and father.”

The three walked the rest of the path in silence. All eyes turned to them as they entered the fort. The soft-gray wolf pups chased around the trio, yipping and licking any fingers they could.

After a meal in the longhouse, they crowded Winnie's wigwam, and it reminded Heather Flower of the day they'd all shared when they buried her uncle. Benjamin had sat opposite her that day around the fire, and she remembered the sweetness of his glances her way. She did not know what to do with this Benjamin, so glum and so unhappy.

She watched her aunt with Mary, Patience, and Elizabeth. They were sisters in every sense, one minute teasing each other, the next heads together sharing secrets or gossip. They pulled her into their circle. She could be a sister to them, she knew. They welcomed her with open arms already.

With Sarah long ago lost to the arms of Rachel, and Ruth waiting her turn to hold her, Mary sat in a chair, two of Smoke's offshoots curled at her feet. Winnie and Lizzie sat on each side of her. Patience lowered herself next to Heather Flower and Abigail.

Mary leaned down and fluffed the fur of one of the wolf pups. “My, don't you look just like our Smokey? Yes, you do.” The pup squirmed with delight. She looked at Heather Flower. “Prithee, come visit us with your brother often. There is always a place for you here.”

Heather Flower looked up at her as Lizzie and Patience leaned in to hear her reply.

Patience nudged her. “You will want to come back, yes?”

“I will. I will want to come back the moment I step out of my brother's canoe. But I don't know if I will return.” She sensed rather than saw Benjamin's look.

Mary was persistent. “But you could come back for a day. Bring your mother with you. It is always so nice to see her. Is it not, Winnie?”

Winnie looked from Mary to Heather Flower and back at Mary. “It is.”

Heather Flower looked down at the fire, but the burning in her cheeks was not from the flame.

Winnie took up her cause. “It is too difficult for my niece to live between the two worlds of her family and her friends for now. Let her spend time in Montauk before we have her back.”

Benjamin sat down next to her. “I will miss you, but I think that is good. Mayhap I could come see you there.”

She looked sideways at him. His face was soft again, understanding. He reached for her hand and she let him take it in his. “I will miss you too, my friend.”

Patience's giggle sounded like hundreds of little jingle shells. She hugged Heather Flower. “If anyone can get you back here, 'tis Ben, is it not?” Her blue eyes danced.

“Now, Patience.” Lizzie shook her head, curls bouncing. “We all know how you like to see a good romance blossom, but give them time.” She glanced at her sister with a grin.

Crinkles deepened around Mary's hazel eyes. “Time and warmth, Patience. Like our dough. She needs time and warmth.”

Heather Flower raised her chin. “I am more like the eaglet
fallen from her nest than dough. My strong brother comes to scoop me and carry me back, but I will survive.”

“That's because you are a survivor, Heather Flower.” Benjamin squeezed her hand. “It is all right. I can wait. You will be back, I know. But I will not be happy until you are.” The last he said with a reassuring smile, which was his way. “Would you take a walk with me?”

She stood and tugged at his hand in answer and didn't even hear her friends make a peep as she and Benjamin started down a shaded trail.

As they rounded a bend, Benjamin stopped and pulled her close. His warm breath tickled her ear. “May I come visit you?”

She nestled her face into his shoulder. “Yes, my friend. I would be sad if you didn't come. And my father and mother would be upset if you didn't.” It would be so easy to love him as a wife. The Hortons and her parents had been friends from the time she could remember. Benjamin had always been so kind and caring. Her loyalty was with him, but where was her heart?

“Well, they will be so relieved to have you back home.” He held her back and his baby-blue eyes sought hers. “Would you make me a promise?”

She'd thought he was about to kiss her. “What promise, Benjamin?”

“That you will wait for me? That you won't go home and find someone else?”

“Why do you ask for a promise? Do you think I am so simple that I would fall for the next man who would woo me? I have told you I am not ready to love, but don't you think you will be the first I tell when I am?” Her cheeks burned and she took a breath to steady her voice.

“Whoa. I didn't it mean it that way at all. I am just glad you
want me to come visit. And you don't have to promise. You just gave me your word that at least you'll let me know who the lucky man is.”

“That is right, Benjamin. We should go back now.” She studied the path for a minute and then turned into him, her chin raised. “Could you kiss me first? I want to remember your kiss.”

He bent and their lips met. His kiss was light at first, and gentle. As she returned his kiss, he drew her closer.

“I am learning your English ways,
nuk
?”

The time came for Heather Flower to carry her small cloth bag filled with her few possessions down to the bay. After many goodbyes, and a long hug from her dear aunt, she climbed into the long canoe and waited for her brother to follow. She had not thought about how she might feel about sitting in a blackened birchbark again, after her last ride of terror. Even the crossing on the ferry over the East River did not cause her to panic like this did. She clung to the side, her large dark eyes pinned on Benjamin.

They pushed off and she watched as he stood waving. As he grew smaller in the distance, she at last let go of the side and raised her hand in a small farewell. He could not see it, she knew. But maybe that was best. She belonged with her people. Not the English or the Dutch. She turned in the canoe and spotted Fort Pond Bay, the entrance to Montauk, in the distance. But stepping back into the life she'd been dragged from seemed almost impossible.

Thankfully, her mother left her alone with her thoughts much of the time, and she watched the labors of her tribe from a distance.

The women were busy with gathering wood. They had a large store of seasoned wood—buried in the sandy ground all winter—but this was the time to gather new wood. Many others worked in the fields, breaking up the ground and getting ready to plant their corn, beans, and squash.

By summer they would be wading in the shore, looking for the quahog, or clam shells, and the swirly whelk shells that the men would craft into wampum beads.

As the daughter of the sachem, Heather Flower did not have to labor in the fields or search for shells, but she was allowed to make beads and wampum. She enjoyed grinding and drilling the beads and stitching them onto her tunics and headdresses. She made wampum belts too, and hers were highly prized.

Today she worked on a star, cut from a soft piece of deerskin with her knife. She concentrated as she stabbed the bone needle into the hide, filling in the surface with tiny, dark purple beads. They glinted in the sunlight and she smiled at the pleasure her work gave her.

She had told her mother about the story Benjamin's mother liked to share. About how stars were little windows in heaven for the angels to peer down to earth and send their love and light. Aunt Winnie said it was just a story, and not from the white man's Bible. But she and her mother liked it just the same.

She'd also talked about Dirk and Benjamin with her mother, and as she listened to her counsel, her throat ached as if she'd swallowed splinters, and she'd held back tears. Her mother's concerns were much more about their race being obliterated by intermarriage than about her heart and love. But if she married Dirk, or Benjamin, or any white man for that matter, wouldn't there always be pieces of her in her children and their children? Could a race ever really be lost as long as the Great Spirit was over all?

The laughter of young boys caught her attention and she looked up to see two young braves tussling with each other like young bear cubs. One looked so much like Keme when he was younger. She stared at him, and he glanced up and shot her a wide grin, then plowed into the stomach of his playmate and the two rolled in laughter to the ground. Recognition registered. It was Keme's brother. He had six, and this one was the youngest.

She looked at the star she'd made and gathered her tools and beads and stood to leave. She saw Keme's mother bent over a piece of hide that she scraped with a shell. She walked over to the woman who mourned for him as much as she. She was plump with long braids to her waist, and she looked up with sad eyes as Heather Flower pressed the star into her hand. Turning it over and running her thick fingers over the shiny beads, she smiled, and it gave Heather Flower much pleasure to see her happy. Perhaps they both could heal, both be strong.

“I am glad you are home, my child,” the older woman said. “You are what I have left of Keme.”

“Yes. I know you are as sad as I am. You have been strong, and at times I feel I have been weak. I miss him very much.”

“He hunts in the eternal forest and thinks of us as he runs. I will place this star on the pallet that holds his tomahawk and wampum belt.”

“That would please me.” She patted the woman's hand, then wandered down the path toward the bay. She came to the place she'd last seen Keme and turned to look at the exact spot where he was held before they killed him. She put her fists to her heart and beat rapidly several times and then held them up to the sky, her cheeks glistening with tears.

She continued to the water's edge and listened to the gentle lap of the water. A little red crab ran sideways between the yel
low and orange shells. She'd felt like running when she'd first come home, like the crab, but confusion held her here. It should be good to be home. She wanted it to be good.