To Capture Her Heart (19 page)

“I've mapped to the Mohawk River, but they said that for me to proceed further east, I needed your services.”

“
Ja
, it would be foolish to journey into this land without a guide. The Narragansett people are fighters. They do not care who they fight—Dutch, English, or other tribes. It is sport to them and they are mean. But I'm looking forward to our journey, so do not think of me as a service, but as a companion.”

Night came and they built their camp next to a small creek. The heavy dark clouds that had hung about them gave way to a brief dusting of snow as Dirk searched for dry firewood. Nicholas surprised him by pitching in and making camp. He snared a rabbit before Dirk had the fire lit.

By firelight, Nicholas unrolled the stiff parchment scrolls. One was completely blank, but the other contained detailed
mapping of Hudson's valley. The detail and richness of his drawings impressed Dirk. The river depicted the fur trade and the abundance of wildlife. Bear, elk, fowl, and fish were all drawn with a keen eye and artist's hand.

Dirk's curiosity was piqued. “Did you ever think of making a living as an artist?”

“Not for a minute. But my sister is both an artist and a poet.”

They discussed their families and leaving Holland as the mapmaker worked on sketching a tiny portion of the territory they'd covered that day onto the page, his notebook open before him. But the night was too dark and the firelight not sufficient and soon he put away his work.

They would travel for a few more days, with frequent stops for Nicholas to fill his notebooks, and then make camp for a few more days while he sketched. Stretched out near the fire on the hard, frozen ground, they joked about the feather beds they left behind at the fort.

Nicholas told him that when he finished the maps he'd been commissioned to draw he would return to Holland. He pulled out a small travel Bible and showed Dirk the illustrations of maps it contained, all drawn by his father.

“So you travel with your Bible.”

“
Ja
. Don't you? I would think if ever a time you need it, it is out here in this wild land.”

“Maybe. I feel closer to God here than anywhere else, though.”

The night was dark with no moon and nary a twinkle in the sky. In the next few days they would be very near Ninigret as the tribe prepared their fields for planting. How he would love the chance to right the wrongs done to Heather Flower. What did God think about that?

April 8, 1654

They had covered quite a bit of territory for as often as they'd stopped. A stand of river birch now hid their presence.

A thin gray layer of clouds obscured the stars, but they were thankful the journey so far had been dry. Still, Nicholas needed a clear sky. “I need better night navigation for accuracy. I can observe and count paces and apply certain mathematics, but without the stars, all of my calculations are incomplete.”

“We can remain here as long as you need to get your bearings set. Do what you need to get your work done.”

But as he spooned the
stampotten
into bowls for supper, his mind wandered to Ninigret. They had to be close to the tribe. He didn't need to stick around the camp all day—he wasn't here to protect the man he was guiding—he might be able to do a little scouting.

He took two sausages and put them on top of the bowls of mashed potatoes, carrots, onions and kale. They ate near the fire and Dirk listened as the mapmaker talked of learning his trade at his father's knee. He enjoyed the companionship and
the myriad stories Nicholas could tell, but if he'd thought the trip would take his mind from Heather Flower, he was wrong. In any given moment, the memory of her walking away from him could materialize and cause a ragged pain to clutch his throat.

The following morning he was up before dawn, packing his knapsack for his scouting expedition. The cloud cover remained, even a little mist in the air, but Nicholas was content to sit under the shelter of thick branches to work. They ate
poffertjes
and dried blueberries to break their fast. “Do you have a weapon, Nicholas?”

“Nee.”

He popped the last
poffertjes
in his mouth, stood up, and brushed crumbs from his leather doublet. He walked to his knapsack and removed a leather pouch with care. He withdrew a wheel-lock holster pistol and laid it down next to Nicholas. “Do you know how to use one of these?”

“If I'm scared enough, I suppose.”

“Good enough.” Dirk tied his knapsack behind the saddle on Miss Button and led her out. He needed to stay close to the ground while tracking.

It didn't take long to find what he looked for.
Ja
. His instincts were correct. He swung himself up on Miss Button and urged her into a walk. They continued most of the day at a quiet pace, stopping only to eat a few biscuits and give Miss Button some water. When he could see an opening through the trees, he whispered, “Whoa, girl.”

He slid down. “Stay here, missy.” The backs of ten wigwams stood on the other side of the glen. Across from them he could make out additional huts and a longhouse on the far corner. Women and children sat under an open area with a thatched roof. The children played with little toy canoes and dolls. The women were mixing dried ground corn and water into a mash.
A fire pit had two turkeys roasting on sticks. The smell was irresistible, but he reminded himself to keep all senses focused on his mission.

The men would be fishing or hunting, but by the slant of the sun he reckoned they would be back with their catch soon, before dark. He studied a large field to the south. Most likely they would come up the side of it if they were returning from the coast.

Cornstalks grew in the field, surrounded by sprouts of pole beans and squash plants. Several women, clad in plain deerskin tunics that hung loosely on their thin frames, worked the earth on their knees. He hadn't noticed them at first, so close to the ground they dug the dirt with their clam shells. He inched his way to a better vantage site. They had baskets of small fish they buried to fertilize the soil.

Were these women the Montauketts? The Narragansett were known to keep their captives together. It was unusual they had separated Heather Flower out, but then she was the daughter of a Grand Sachem. And the only one they offered for ransom. It would be a long time before these women were assimilated into the tribe.

He waited to see if they would notice him, but not one looked up from her work. Were they afraid? His keen gaze skirted the perimeter of the field. He saw no guards, no means to detain them. But where would they run? They were far from the territory they knew. If they tried to escape certainly they would die, for either their captors would come to look for them or they would not survive the elements.

He pulled out a few dried apple slices as he watched them. Guilt pricked his thoughts as he chewed his meager meal. He'd give them some if he had enough. If he could without alerting their captors. Their young faces held no joy, not even sadness,
but grim exhaustion worn like a mask. It wasn't right that one man could give the order to take women from the people who loved them, never to return, their parents or husbands left to wonder if they were dead or alive.

As he'd anticipated, the returning braves filed in with their nettle-fiber nets dotted with sea bass and reed baskets of clams and oysters. They barely looked at the women who labored late into the afternoon. And the women did not look at them. He decided to wait and see how much longer they would work and in what manner they would be summoned. His most fruitful tracking involved waiting and watching.

The sun was nearly down, and two of the youngest women appeared on the verge of fainting, when three braves returned to herd them back to the common area of the village.

Dirk considered repositioning himself to observe how they were treated and where they were kept at night, but it was best to come back the next day. It wouldn't do to push his luck. He would have time enough as Nicholas sketched to learn more about the plight of the Montaukett women. Hunting grounds for the tribe were north of the camp and they wouldn't be moving anytime soon, so he was pretty certain the mapmaker would be safe. Besides, his orders said to guide him, and that he did. At least that was how he looked at it.

He rode half the night, and when he arrived back in camp the mapmaker sat much like he'd left him.

Nicholas looked up and smiled. “I thought you were lost.”

“I was gone long enough,
ja
? Your maps? They are looking good?”

“
Ja
. I'm able to get much done here. It's difficult to sketch or write in the dark, but the stars are out and I've taken notes by firelight.”

Dirk looked around the camp. “Have you eaten?”

“I was working and didn't think about it.”

The mash from the night before still sat in the pot, a bit dried out, but warm over the fire. Dirk pulled a small slab of bacon from their provisions and fried it in a pan over the hot fire. A whiff of the meat as it crackled in the pan made his stomach growl and his mouth water. He broke up the crisp slices with a wooden spoon and stirred them into the mash, grease and all.

As he scraped the pot into two bowls, he considered telling Nicholas about his discovery of the Narragansett village and the Montaukett women, but he decided to wait until he had more time to observe them and form an opinion of what—if anything—could be done.

They sat next to the fire with their bowls and ate with only the rushing stream and noisy geese to break the silence. Eventually Nicholas looked at him. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

“Looking for?”

“
Ja
. Scouting. You were looking for something, weren't you?”

“Oh.” His forehead wrinkled as he tried to measure what he would say. He liked this chap and didn't mind talking with him. Just how much he should say, he wasn't sure. “I'm trying to put behind, rather than trying to find, I suppose.”

Nicholas looked at him like he was a bit daft. “What would you be putting behind?”

“A woman, of course. Isn't that always the case?” Dirk's wry grin spread.

His eyes lit up and he nodded. “Ah. And is she the pretty maid who packed the
poffertjes
for us before we left?”

“No, not the one.” He raised his eyebrows, and a warm flush crept up his neck. “You would not know the lady. She is Heather Flower, the princess of Montauk.”

It was the mapmaker's turn to raise his brow. “A princess?”

“
Ja
. Daughter of Wyandanch, Grand Sachem of Montauk. I was sent to find her when she was kidnapped and left for dead in these woods. When I did, I could not believe my eyes. She is beautiful, and regal, but much more than a princess. She is strong and tall like the reeds by the river, but her heart is tender and soft as the dandelion puff, though she tries not to show it. I fell in love with her, and I thought she might love me too.”

Nicholas put his bowl down on a flat stone next to the fire. “How do you know she does not?”

“I could see how torn she was between her people, her friends, and me. It was not an easy choice for her, and indeed she could not make a choice. So I did. I let her go, and she walked away without looking back. I thought coming on this journey would take my mind away from her, but it doesn't. In fact, she is in my thoughts all the more.”

“Well, then. Don't run from her. Go back. When we finish here, go find her.”

Dirk stood and walked to the edge of the camp facing the deep woods. “No. I cannot do that. But there is something I can do for her. It will not win her heart, but it will bring her peace and joy. Just to see her smile will be sufficient. It is all my heart needs.”

Nicholas fell quiet, and though that suited Dirk, their talk made him feel restored in some way. He wasn't sure exactly how, but it was good.
Ja
?

He was up early again the next morning. The abundance of little puff pancakes made Dirk shake his head as he put together their meal. He glanced at the mapmaker, studying the stars and
taking notes. As he packed his dried apples, he looked back again at the many
poffertjes
and stuffed as many as he could in his knapsack. He slipped on some leather moccasins and saluted his goodbye. He was glad to set out from camp on Miss Button and knew exactly where he was going. He wanted to watch the Narragansett village from the time they started their day to the time they brought those women back for the night.

He left Miss Button a safe distance away. He walked in slow motion, his moccasins silent on the path. He inched his way toward the viewpoint he'd selected the day before. The wind picked up, whistling through limbs, and he was thankful it would keep all trace of his scent from the village below. He appreciated the cover noise too.

He squatted next to a large hickory and began his watch. It didn't take long before he saw the women leave the huts of their husbands and gather near the central fire. They cooked what looked like a samp, and the men and women did a dance of thanksgiving for the sun as it rose in the east. The captive women watched.

They served the village and only when the people finished eating were the women allowed to eat what was left. He strained to see how much that might be, but with just a bite or two, the women were done. After the area was cleaned, they were led out to the field. They fed their wolf dogs better than they were feeding those women.

He crept back to check on Miss Button. She could sleep standing anywhere. He gave her an appreciative pat and slid his knapsack off. He continued back to watch the fields where the women worked. He watched the men march down the path in the direction of their canoes with spears and nets in hand.

The women began again on a different section of the large
field. How would they react if he walked into the field? Terrified, most likely. Still, he had to try. He had to make contact. These women were starving. He couldn't just leave them. But he couldn't take them with him either. They'd be found and he and Nicholas strung up like pigs for a roasting before the end of the day.

He brought out a few
poffertjes
and started toward them one quiet step at a time. He guessed his hope was they'd see the food first. Lord help them to see the food he offered. As he closed in, a woman raised her eyes and froze. Her mouth was open but no sound came out.