To Capture Her Heart (20 page)

“
Yeowdi
. Here.” He stretched out his hand. “
Meech
. Eat it.”

Her eyes were on the food, but she didn't move. Instead she called softly to the other women, something he did not understand. His hand shook a bit as he considered what could happen next.

The women crowded around him, and he said “
Meech
” again, holding his humble offering of food. They began to take the
poffertje
and eat, and tears gathered in the corners of the younger women's eyes. He wanted to tell them they needed to leave this place, but he didn't know how he could help them. Instead he put his finger to his lips and he left.

As he entered the cover of the woods he turned and watched them at work again, no trace of his contact with them left behind. He tied his pack to the saddle and swung up on Miss Button with a heavy heart. He knew the whereabouts of the women. He knew how they were being treated. He just did not know how to fix it and he hated that helpless feeling.
Lord, if You want me to follow You, I
'm ready. Show me the way,
he prayed.

April 10, 1654

Benjamin's boots crunched on the jingle shells as he reached Hallock's Landing, the name the founders had given the beach they'd landed on in 1638. He pulled his hat down over his eyes and his doublet a little closer as ice-cold raindrops pelted his face. The squall had not abated since the night before. Letting the hard earth soak up the rain was to their advantage before they began to plow, and his father had given him a rare day off. He was accustomed to working hard during planting season because once summer came his construction season went into full swing with no time to spare.

James showed up shortly, ready to row with him across the bay to Montauk. He preferred rowing and walking to taking Star on the ferry and across to Shelter Island, then another ferry over to the south fork. And it beat riding all the way around like he'd done last time he went to see Heather Flower.

He was bringing gifts of food from the bakeshop, but most likely they wouldn't survive the trip in this downpour. At least
it wasn't windy and travel would be safe if not dry. His mind had been on Heather Flower ever since he'd left her. Mary knew that without asking and encouraged him to make the trip.

He placed the leather pouch in the bottom of the canoe and James handed him a paddle. They pushed off and worked their way swiftly across the water. When they reached the shore, they pulled the canoe up on the beach. Benjamin retrieved the bag and helped James turn the canoe over on the sand.

The two discussed everything from Johnny's latest adventure to how many sheep were in the town green as they trudged the wet sand path to Montauk. The downpour eased into a sprinkle, but Benjamin didn't notice. As they neared the shore, his thoughts were all on Heather Flower while he tried to keep up with the conversation with James.

The little boys playing at the edge of the village sprang from their hiding spots as they approached and pretended to take them prisoner, leading them to the center where the ladies sat scraping hides. Heather Flower sat off to the side stitching wampum a distance from them, and she jumped and ran to Benjamin with wide eyes.

“Everything is all right, we've come to visit.” He shook his head and lowered his voice. “I couldn't stay away.”

He held out the leather pouch and she took it and peeked inside. Her pouty smile showed her delight as she brought out the inner wrappings and carefully unfolded the crumbled but miraculously dry ginger cakes. “We must take these to Keme's mother. She has many children and it will make them much happy.”

“There are crocks of honey too, for your mother. Take some to Keme's mother too.”

He and James followed her to Keme's wigwam and were
greeted by his mother with warm arms. Her face was wreathed in a smile as she accepted the gifts. She settled them near the fire pit, and they told her stories of Southold. Her sons gathered and listened too, and nibbled on the sweet treats.

Later James went to seek out Keme's father, and Benjamin and Heather Flower took the honey to her mother. She donned a warm blanket, and they went for a walk up to the bluff of sand on the very tip of the south fork. They sat and stared at the gray ocean; Benjamin occasionally picked up a clam shell and tossed it as far as he could, its splash lost to the crash of waves.

“I can't wait for you to come back to Southold. Everyone asks about you.”

“I miss them, my friend.”

“How are you now? Is it helping to be home?”

“I think it helps, but I have moments when the memories haunt me. My brother brought me across the water to visit Grissell on Shelter Island and that was good to be with her for a time.”

His arm stopped midair, shell in hand. “You are friends with Grissell?”

“Yes, you know Pogaticut, my uncle, lives there. When Grissell came to the island we met. She is very friendly to me.”

A cold, wet wind sprung up and stung their cheeks with sand, and they turned their backs to it and scooted closer. She pulled her soft doeskin tunic over her leggings. He settled the blanket around her and took her hand. “You know they are friendly with a lot of people, and not always those we would want to have living near us.”

“What do you mean, Benjamin?”

“They are friendly to Quakers. Some even suspect the Sylvesters are Quakers themselves.”

“And what is a Quaker? What is bad about them?”

“Oh, they are good enough people, but they persist in coming into our communities to preach their own beliefs, and they don't always agree with ours. There's plenty of space for them to go and establish their own communities with their own beliefs.” He gently squeezed her hand. “Grissell and Nathaniel are good people. They attend our church in Southold and they don't stir up trouble. But we know they allow Quakers who are threatened with imprisonment up north to come and stay until they can figure out where they are going next. I don't think it is a good idea for you to be staying with her.”

She drew back, her eyes huge, fiery black opals. “I do not see what is wrong for her to give shelter to people who are in need. And I do not see what is wrong for her to be my friend. I am surprised by you.”

He smoothed her hair as wisps escaped her braids in the wind, and ran his fingers down to her chin. “I'm sorry. I don't mean it to sound like I'm forbidding you to see her.”

“But it does sound like that.
Nenertah
, that is mine to decide. Does it surprise you if I say that I'd already decided not to go back to stay with her? It makes me sad, but when I stayed with her, I knew we walked different paths. Her world is not my world. She is my friend and always will be, but I will not stay in her world.”

A sigh escaped him. “Well, that's good and I guess that takes care of that. I regret I made it a concern when it is not.” He pulled her close, the blanket rough to his touch.

They sat for a long time, huddled together until the biting sand was too much. They stood without a word and silently walked back, against the wind, to Montauk. The savory scent of turkey greeted them as they entered the village. Women
tended the fires, protecting the flames from the weather as the meal cooked. Small packets of corn were nestled in the coals and pots of rabbit and squirrel stew sat on the rocks near the many fire pits.

“You and James must eat with us and stay the night. It is dangerous for you to cross the bay in this storm.”

He didn't need much urging. He felt a strain between them and welcomed the chance to make amends for his thoughtless comments. James was distressed to not make it home to Abigail and Misha, but agreed his wife would rather have him safe.

Wyandanch and Wuchi were happy to share their wigwam, but Heather Flower remained aloof and let her parents entertain their guests with conversation. Benjamin lay awake on his pallet, listening to the cadence of rain and whoosh of wind throughout the long night. With dawn the storm broke and he and James prepared to return home.

But the firestorm in her eyes did not diminish and he took her by the hand and led her to the place where she worked with her beads. They stood apart. “You have something on your mind and I think you should tell me before I leave, Heather Flower.”

“My thoughts are mixed, my friend. I am troubled by the words you spoke yesterday. It is the white man's way to rule the woman. But it is not my way. I came to my home to heal, and I think to do that I must ask you to go. I need a time to think about us.”

Her words cut like sharp-edged obsidian. His throat clenched as he answered. “Are you saying you don't want me, Heather Flower?” He didn't want to hear the answer.

“I will always be grateful that you saved my brother. But I do not think we should plan marriage. Now go. I do not like to cry when someone sees me.” She turned away from him.

He wanted to take her in his arms. If he left now, would he ever see her again? Would she cut her world, her Montauk world, off from his? “I will do as you ask, but I pray it is not the last time we speak. That would tear me apart.”

He said his goodbyes to her family, grateful no one spoke of the tension between him and Heather Flower. With James well on his way to the canoe, Benjamin's stride was swift as he left the village, the possibility that he would not see her again piercing his heart with every step.

It was his father's generation who held a strong belief that they must keep those who professed a different faith out of Southold. They had suffered much in their homeland and wanted the peace of worshiping in their own way, without interference. But were they not on the verge of treating others in the same manner that they had been? It was something he and Joseph and Johnny had discussed from time to time, and they agreed it might be time for change.

But was that the issue between him and Heather Flower? Or did she hide deeper fears? She didn't like it when he cautioned her about Grissell, and he wasn't certain if she'd been more upset because he'd said the Sylvesters were sympathetic to the Quakers, or if it sounded like he was telling her what to do. Was that her fear? That if she married him, she would lose her voice? Her fierce independence?

April 15, 1654

Benjamin stood in the field. It was manuring season, not a pleasant task. But with the whole clan, it would go quickly. Even Mary was out today, Abigail left in charge of Hannah and little Sarah.

Winnie had come to help them, as she did most years, and she would take some of the bounty home with her, come harvest. She was not herself though, and Mary worried she was declining since Heather Flower left.

Patience and Lizzie worked in the bakeshop and planned a hearty dinner for the planters when they came in at noon.

He paused behind the manure sled and ran his fingers through his hair as he scanned the field. Carrots and onions would go in this field, and he figured it would take about ten cords of manure to do the planting properly.

His mother worked side by side with Jane. They gathered stones into their aprons from the broken earth, then hauled them over to the edge and the already tall pile. Joseph had
married well. Jane's father was well respected and Jane was not afraid of physical work. Not that any of the women around here had a choice.

Heather Flower was another story. She was raised as a princess. Not expected to lift a finger. That was one reason he fell in love with her. She didn't have to do a thing, and yet she was always the first one to lend a hand, to brighten someone's day if she could, like she did for Winnie.

He needed to stop thinking of her. He watched Joseph make his way through the rough dirt with shovels and hoes and walked up to meet him halfway. Barnabas had Starlight in a harness and the old horse plodded behind him. They waited for their father to catch up.

Caleb and Joshua grabbed shovels and the four started flinging the smelly compost over the ruts. They'd worked their way down one row behind Mary and Jane, and Barnabas led Starlight as she pulled the sled to the next row. Rachel and Ruth followed behind with hoes to spread the manure.

They were halfway through the field when a bolt of lightning zigzagged through the sky and hit a large maple tree with a loud clap. The bark from the trunk flew off in huge chunks and a thin line of smoke snaked from the center, scenting the air with a burning wood smell that was odd and not at all like the smoke that filled a room from the hearth.

The rocks tumbled from the women's aprons as they flung their arms over their heads with screams that rivaled the rumbles. With a hearty chortle, the Horton men grabbed the women and pushed them toward the house as the rain battered down and more lightning danced between thunderheads.

Barnabas raised his face to the rain as it began to pelt the earth and everything in between. “An early thunderstorm brings
a fine growing season.” And his rich baritone sang out a “Hallelujah!”

They charged through the back door to the bakeshop and stood dripping puddles like yesterday's wash. Rachel and Ruth began shivering as Lizzie and Patience stood, mouths agape before they ran to find rags and blankets.

Barnabas went straight for the kitchen rags and began mopping Mary's face, hair, and arms. She laughed and pushed back on the cloth, but let him tend to her.

After they had dried off, they warmed themselves in front of the fire and Lizzie gave them mugs of hot broth to sip. Mary set hers aside to help her sister and Patience bring the meal to the long tables. She carried steaming bowls of stewed rabbit seasoned with wild onion and dried sage, while Patience tucked early lettuce around slabs of cold venison. Lizzie pulled crusty loaves of bread from the oven and placed them on the sideboard, along with chunks of cheese and fresh churned butter.

Abigail and the younger Horton children, along with little Misha, joined the family near the fire. Barnabas picked up the old family Bible to read a Scripture and led a prayer of thanksgiving for the food prepared, the family and friends gathered, the good earth, and the mighty rain.

Benjamin picked up Hannah and swung her into her spot at the worn oak table, hauled over so long ago from England. She squirmed and he stepped back and folded his arms. Joseph led Jonathan to the place next to her and she grinned at the chance to sit near her big brother.

Joseph straightened and drummed his finger on the corner where a
B
was scratched, encircled with a heart.

Benjamin nudged him with his shoulder. “Takes you back, doesn't it?”

His brother's face was serious, but his words gave way to myriad emotions. “We had a mother who loved us, didn't we? Sometimes when we're all gathered it can bother me that there are only three people here who even knew her. But then, I look around and think how wonderful this family is, how we've grown, and how much we've been given, and I know how blessed we are to have had it all. Mother, Mary, the whole Horton tribe.” He rolled his eyes. “But I'm not the sentimental one, now am I?”

The Horton chortle erupted between the two brothers and everyone turned.

Joseph cleared the space between him and Mary in three long strides. “In the spring when we are planting, I always feel a gratefulness to you.” His eyes sought hers and his arm slipped about her shoulders. “I look at the apple blossoms and think back to how you entrusted me with your little pippin tree at a time I was so angry with everyone, especially you. Planting that little twig and caring for it as I watched it grow somehow gave me a connection to you that I cannot explain. I only know that I've grown right along with the pippin in my love for you.”

Mary's hazel eyes pooled until they looked blue. She smiled and kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Jay. It's so good to hear you say that.”

The room was silent except for Hannah's chatter to Jonathan and the insistent patter of rain on the steep roof.

Benjamin heaved in a big breath. “Very well, then. I say we eat. Talk about planting, there's much to do, and as long as there is no more lightning, we'll be back out there after dinner rain or no.”

They would work up a sweat before they caught their death
of cold. Indeed, the rain would feel good by the time their work was done.

Though his muscles ached, the hard work took his mind from Heather Flower, and Benjamin worked late in the fields with his father and brothers to accomplish as much as they could before the Sabbath. The muddy smell of their labors clung to their clothes and skin, and they retired to their respective homes and rooms to shed sodden clothes, damp-mop their skin with rags, and put on dry shirts and breeches.

Mary stayed in to prepare food that would take them through the evening on the morrow, with Patience, Winnie, and Jane joining in to help her.

Benjamin and Barnabas trudged across the road to the church. Tonight would be a town meeting, with all men in attendance. They entered and sat in their box pew at the front of the hall. Reverend Youngs sat at the clerk's desk next to the pulpit, and Joseph sat on his left, ready to write the notes of the meeting.

John Budd and his two eldest sons sat in their pew across from the Hortons. Benjamin craned his neck and watched as the Wells brothers settled in their pew box.

When the townsmen were assembled, the reverend cleared his throat. The change in Reverend Youngs the last month saddened Benjamin. Johnny hadn't been heard of in over two months, and the possibility that he'd been murdered by one of the Connecticut tribes couldn't be ruled out.

Reverend Youngs stood and went to the podium. He put his hands on either side and leaned into it. “We've some information that leads us to believe my son is held prisoner in New Amsterdam. While I am grateful to know he most likely is alive,
there is no way to know he is well. Or what they might do to him before they are done.”

Silence fell among the men. Benjamin glanced at his father's grim face. He looked older than when they walked in. He was certain his first thought was thanks be to God it was not one of his own sons.

Barnabas stood up. His arms crossed as he looked down at Benjamin, then swung around to look at his good friend. “John, when something like this happens to any of our children, it's like it has happened to my own. I know you'd feel the same if it were Joseph or Benjamin. I say we send the horse troop out to get some information. You know how it is out in Hempstead. They don't think much of Stuyvesant. They tell us more than we need to hear, they're so anxious to complain.”

“I warned Johnny there was only trouble to be had if he kept going out there.” His tone was soft, but his voice shook.

Joseph stood now. “Have you told Margaret?” Jane and Margaret were close friends.

“Aye. I told her right before I came over. She's taking it hard. Her parents are just sick. I'd told Johnny he needed to settle down for Margaret's sake, if not for his mother's.”

“If there's anything we can do, tell us. Don't be afraid to ask.” Barnabas paced.

“Father, we cannot sit and wait for him to be released. I'll get the word out tonight that we leave for Hempstead in the morning.” Benjamin looked at his brother. “You agree?”

“I'll be there.”

After the meeting the two brothers left Barnabas deep in conversation with the reverend and crossed the road toward the Horton house. They paused outside to finalize their plans for the morning.

Joseph stood with his fists at his sides and looked down at his boots. “You know, we should just keep on pushing through to New Amsterdam. Run them out of there.”

Benjamin scanned the dark sky. The air was thick like it would pour any moment. What about Dirk? And why should he care? He cared because Heather Flower would be devastated if something happened to him. She'd care about Johnny too, if she knew he was missing. “I don't know. I agree we will never be at peace with the Dutch. But I'm not sure now would be the time to attack. Not while they have Johnny. And we don't even know for sure they do. We're just going on a field expedition.”

Joseph studied his brother's face and rolled his eyes. “You are sounding like Father. But I think there is more to it than what you are saying. You don't care what happens to the lieutenant, do you? I mean, you'd just as soon have him out of the picture, true?”

Benjamin just stood there.

“You can't let a woman get to you like that. Not when you are making decisions about the safety of everyone else. You are in the militia.”

He started up the flagstone toward the door. “You don't have to tell me that. I'm quite aware. I just don't think we have to react with our guns just yet. That should never be our first course of action.”

“Very well, we'll ride out in the morning for Hempstead. But if we find they've got Johnny, I say we go after him.”

He watched his big brother walk up the road to the Budd house before he pushed open the door. The young ones would be asleep. Mary sat in the little mahogany rocker Elizabeth had brought over from England, and worked on a piece of embroidery. She looked up and smiled.

“That was a short meeting. Where is your father?”

“He's talking to Reverend Youngs. Word is Johnny might be held by the Dutch in New Amsterdam.”

She stopped rocking and her eyes flew open. “Why would they do that?”

“He's been up in Connecticut with Captain Scott trying to raise trouble with the Indians, keep them from getting between us and the Dutch.” He picked up the iron rod and sparks flew up from the logs he poked at in the fireplace. Small flames began to lick around the logs casting a warm glow.

She gazed at the fire and shook her head. “What does that mean?”

He sat in the chair opposite her with his hands on his knees. “You know the Dutch have been giving the Indians firearms. Johnny just wants to be sure our interests are not compromised and the natives don't interfere.”

“Ben, are we at war with the Dutch or not? I cannot keep up.” A smile played on her lips, but her eyes gave her away. She was serious.

“You've a right to be confused, Mother. Word travels slowly, even to New Haven. Father has been elected to be deputy to the court, and I think he will be well suited to help them get things sorted out, eh? But I think the latest rumors are that we are at peace, though most of us do not accept that.”