To Capture Her Heart (22 page)

April 22, 1654

Heather Flower lay on her mat near the fire waiting for daybreak. She listened to the rhythmic breathing of her parents and brother and wondered how they could sleep. They'd had smoke signals and runners with much news. The Southold horse troop had gone west and trouble was in the air. The reverend's son might be held captive by the Dutch. It was Momoweta's wish that the English party be treated with respect, and in the event of a skirmish with the Dutch, the tribes were to support the Hortons and their troop.

Had Momoweta forgotten the land belonged to no one? They were all caretakers of Mother Earth. How could they forbid one people over another their right to walk the land?

Tears trickled down her temple to the mat below. She never wept in front of her family and especially not in front of the paleface who showed their emotions so freely. But in the dark, with the earth and those who walked it asleep, she allowed herself to let them flow.

How could her heart be so torn? She feared for Dirk. But she feared for Joseph and Benjamin, and the other men riding with them too. They had gone into enemy territory with their fire sticks. Did they not know how dangerous that would be, for surely Dirk's people would not tolerate them if they did have Johnny. He would not hurt anyone, she knew that. But his countrymen could.

The thought of Dirk brought a wave of emotion and she clenched her eyes shut and tried to squeeze back the tears. Her throat burned like a hot rock lodged in it, and her stomach was sick, though she'd refused to eat food since she heard the news.

Her mother talked of nothing but the young warriors who attempted to woo her and bring her wampum gifts. They came day after day and would sit for hours in the center of their fort, playing their flutes and hoping she would accept their gifts. But she always spurned them, and her mother left no doubt that she was unhappy with her. But what could she do? Every time she imagined a wedding here on these sacred grounds, she wanted to flee. She wanted to climb in her brother's canoe and paddle to Southold.

But to whom would she run? Winnie. It would have to be Winnie because she did not know which of these two blond-haired, blue-eyed men she could give her heart to. But now both were in jeopardy and it frightened her in a way she could not imagine.

She'd approached her father after the smoke signals were received and reminded him Dirk had found her and brought her back. He acknowledged that, but he told her their allegiance to the English was much stronger. It had been her father's friend, Lion Gardiner, who had paid the ransom. The Southold horse troop had been willing to travel to Connecticut to get her, but when Ninigret went back on his word, the Dutchman Van Buren
had volunteered to find her. Yes, he was grateful to the man, but no, his allegiance was to the English.

Heather Flower could not lie still any longer. She rose quietly and softly padded out of their wigwam. She walked until she was at the shore, with only the Peconic Bay between her and Southold. The night was warm for April and the clouds had parted, leaving stars that danced like tiny rush lights in the moonless sky.

She could not stay here while her mind filled with worry over Benjamin and Dirk. She needed to be close when news came so she could learn their fate. When the sun brought the day, she would tell her mother she must go. Wyancombone would take her across. She looked at his canoe, tied to the reeds. How easy it would be to leave in it now, without the words she would have with her mother. Her brother would be angry she took his canoe, but he had friends who would gladly come across the bay to help him retrieve it.

She released the tether and slid her leg over the side. With both hands she balanced the canoe and swung herself in. She picked up the paddle from the blackened bottom and quietly dipped it into the water. She pulled at the water and began to glide. Pull, glide. Pull, glide. She skimmed across the surface like a water bug. She went around Shelter Island—she could not face Grissell. Her friend would beg her stay, and this she could not do.

The canoe finally beached on the agate-strewn beach of Hallock's landing. She took the tether and pulled it as far as she could out of the chilly water, then wound the leather strap around a large piece of log. She started up the road toward the town green. It would be a long walk to the Corchaug fort, but she was determined.

The sky to the east was a faint gray and she wanted to be through the town before it was light enough to be seen. She picked up her pace. As she neared the Horton house, she saw Barnabas with a hoe over his shoulder heading to his fields. She ducked behind a large chestnut tree and waited for him to be gone. It was good most of the men had left with Joseph and Benjamin. Fewer out and about, like Barnabas.

She avoided more homes by taking the trails through Indian Neck. She picked up her pace after Dickerson Creek. She came to the palisade around the fort and rushed through to Winnie's wigwam. This was more of a home to her now than where she grew up. She whispered at the door, “Winnie.”

She feared her aunt would be upset with her, but when she came to the door, Winnie's tears were accompanied with a smile and a hug that swept Heather Flower into the room. The wolf dogs did circles around the two, welcoming her back as well.

“What are you doing here, my child?”

“I—I was with my father when the smoke signals were seen. I heard of the troubles with the Dutch. I didn't know what to do. Have you heard anything more?” She struggled to look calm, serene as befit her station, but her inner voice was crying out.

“No. I think there are troubles, but I don't know anything more. Come sit.” She pulled her down by the fire. “Is it Dirk you worry about?”

“You know me well, my aunt, yes. But I worry for all of the men too. For Benjamin and Joseph, and the troops that go with them.”

Winnie nodded. “We all worry. But you know, if anything happens to the Southold men, Dirk would be arrested the minute he came near you. You must give up on him. You must not think of him.” She stood. “Let me get you food. You must eat something.”

Heather Flower got up. “No, I'm not hungry. I cannot think of food. I'm going down to the river.”

“I'll go with you.”

“No, please, Aunt. I must go by myself. I need to think. I need to mourn the loss of another love.”

Winnie put her arms around her. “You cannot mourn a love you never had.”

She pushed away for fear Winnie would see the tears. She hurried out the door and through the gate, down the path. As she neared the clearing where she last saw Dirk, she hoped he would be there waiting. Had he ever returned to this spot? Had he ever waited for her and she hadn't come? He might have and given up.

She saw the young Corchaug runner who had delivered Dirk's message the day she and Winnie walked back from Mary's house, and a thought struck her. She must warn Dirk of the troops. It was the only way she could be sure he'd be safe. “
Muckachuck
, come here.”

He grinned and walked over.

“Do you remember the man who gave you a message to give to me?”

“Yes, he was nice.”

“Would you take a message to him for me? To meet once again at the tulip tree? I will give you a wampum bead.”

“I can do that. I would do that for you without wampum.” He smiled at her.

“I know, but I can't ask you to do that without payment.” She removed a deep purple shell bead from her belt and pressed it into his hand. “Go now and tell him I will wait on the morrow by the tulip tree when the sun sets.”

He took off with the speed of a wildcat.

Would Dirk meet her? She must warn him—or was she hoping for more?

Why hadn't she been strong and let him love her? The thought struck her as funny now and she turned down the path to the river. Yes, all this time she thought by keeping a distance from Benjamin and Dirk she'd been the strong one. But perhaps to love was to be strong. She'd worried that living in the white man's world she'd lose a part of herself. With love comes sacrifice. But how much could she sacrifice and still be true to herself?

A young brown eaglet sat on a branch above the water and watched her. She'd seen its parents here many times, and they probably weren't far. The eagle was protection, seeing all that happened from above and spreading truth and healing with his wings. Wasn't that like the white man's God? Did God use nature in that way? Was God watching over her like Winnie said? She hoped so.

But she would not tell Winnie of her plan to warn Dirk. Her aunt would be upset and fear for Benjamin's and Joseph's safety. Tensions were high, but Dirk would not hurt them. She was not quite certain that the English troops would go easy on Dirk, especially if he had anything to do with holding Johnny prisoner. Yes, she was doing the right thing.
Nuk?

April 23, 1654

The sun dropped low in the west and Heather Flower slipped out the door. She could not lie to her aunt, so she left without a word. It was terrible to do that, she knew. She thought about how glad Winnie was when she'd opened her door and found her standing there. But this could not be helped.

She would go back to Fort Amsterdam with Dirk if he would still have her and marry him. She would not have to face her father and mother's consternation or the Hortons. That would make her sad, of course, but it could not be both ways. She was certain of that.

The forest was thick, but she enjoyed her freedom as she swiftly covered the ground. She made it to the meadow where the tall tulip tree stood on the edge of the opposite forest just as the sun was igniting the treetops with rays of brilliant orange. She studied the base of the tree line as she closed the distance, straining to see if Dirk had arrived first.

She approached the tulip tree and circled it. A whippoorwill
called, and for a moment she thought it was Dirk, but when she called back, no one answered. She settled next to the tree. The young boy had said he found Dirk and gave him the message, but there was no message back. Likely because it would be too dangerous to tell anyone his plan, even the messenger boy.

But as the sun sank lower, hunger pangs attacked her for the first time since she'd left home. She still had on the same clothes she'd laid down in the day she found out about Benjamin and Joseph entering Dutch territory. She stood and foraged for berries, and when she'd had her fill, she lay down next to the tree in the sodden grass. Even her shivers could not keep her awake. She was exhausted from the past two days, and her last thought as she drifted off was of Dirk's blue eyes, the color of the bay on a summer day.

She woke stiff, cold, and wet as the spring rain gently pattered on the tree leaves and over her body. She pushed herself up and looked around, her arms clutched at her sides. Slowly she remembered why she was there. She'd asked Dirk to meet her at the tulip tree. He hadn't come. She'd waited all night and Dirk had not come. Her breath was shaky as she drew it in, and her eyes stung, but she willed herself not to cry. No, it was her fault. She must face the cruel reality.

She'd put a wall between her heart and the man Dirk. She could not have expected him to wait when she gave him no hope.

She began walking back. But she was not the free, happy person who had almost run to get here. Her feet dragged, and she could not bring herself to think of what her aunt would say. She did not want to face the shame, to face the words Winnie would have for her.

As she came to the Corchaug fort, she kept walking without a plan. Her body was racked with pain and her mouth was as dry as her clothes and hair were wet. She cut through Calves Neck and stood before the Horton house. She swayed as she tried to think of what she might do. Then everything went dark.

When she awoke, she lay in a bed and someone looked down at her. Slowly Mary's soft face came into focus, her hazel eyes first, and then the reassuring smile on her lips. The quilts tucked around Heather Flower were warm, and a fire crackled in the fireplace.

“You gave us a fright. But you shall be all right now. Abbey is going to bring you a nice broth. And James has gone to fetch Winnie.”

“Oh, no. I wish he wouldn't.” She raised her head quickly as she said it, then just as quickly her head dropped back to the bolster, black spots blotting her vision.

“Careful now. Stay down and rest until Abbey brings the broth. You've been through quite a shock, to be sure.” Mary ran her hand over her hair to smooth it, then rested it on her forehead. “You don't have fever, but you are at the least exhausted. That is not good.”

The fire popped and sputtered and Mary stood up to add another log and nudged it into place with her boot.

“Mary, I don't want to go back to my aunt's.”

“Why not, dear? She loves you. What has happened?” Her brow raised and she swiped at the curly lock that always was a problem as she settled on the edge of the bed.

“I—I left home without telling my parents. She let me stay, but then I left her too. I'm afraid I've been terrible. I think Winnie will make me go back to Montauk now and I do not want to
do that. Please, Mary, don't let her send me home.” She tried to sit up again, but Mary put her hands gently on her shoulders and made her lay back down.

“Hush. You are not in any condition to travel anyway, even if 'tis only across the bay. You shall stay here, of course. Now rest.” Mary patted her shoulder and stood.

She huddled under the cover and closed her eyes. It did feel good to lie in the bed. She wasn't used to such softness. And she was tired. She drifted off once more, though this time she did not fight it.

How long she slept she did not know, but it was dark again when she woke and Mary told her Winnie had come and gone. Abigail had gone home too, but Mary brought her the warm broth she'd promised and Barnabas came in to sit and read his Bible to her. Before he and Mary went to their chamber upstairs, he said a prayer for her and the men on the west end of the island. It gave her a peace she hadn't known for a long time.

With the Horton children in bed, and now Mary and Barnabas, Heather Flower lay awake for a long time, reflecting on the last few days. She'd been foolish to think she and Dirk might marry. He had certainly run at the first chance. She thought she knew him, but perhaps she did not.

She should not think of him anymore. She would let go of her dreams. Let go of Dirk. And if Benjamin came back, she would tell him she was glad and never leave his side. At least he had always been there for her.

Her thoughts drifted to Barnabas's prayer. He'd prayed for them all, not just his sons, and not just the English troop. He'd prayed for the Dutch troops too. If he could do that, then she could forgive Dirk for not coming to her when she
needed him. But it didn't have to mean they would be friends. That was over.

Benjamin led Star into the barn and brushed the Great Black. He gave her some hay, patted her flank, then crept into the still, dark house. A week and a day had passed since he and Joseph had left with the horse troop. He was tired, but he went to the fireplace in the back kitchen and stirred the embers. As they sparked, he put three small logs in a triangle fashion on top and stuffed a bit of dried moss to get it going good.

He settled in his mother's chair and picked up the Bible.

Barnabas appeared, tucking his long white linen shirt beneath a leather belt. He ran his fingers through his dark hair, streaked with silver strands. “I thought I heard you. Did you ride all night?”

“Yes, and half of yesterday. We went out to Flushing.”

His father picked up the bucket of water brought in the night before and poured it into the iron pot hanging from the trammel. He swung it over the flames and sat opposite his son. “Let's start our day in the Word. Then you tell me everything while I get the fire in the oven started. I want to know it all.”

Benjamin handed him the Bible and they studied a passage, ending with prayer. He watched his father as he prepared for the baking day. It had been the routine for many years now. Barnabas would come down early for his time with God and then get the bakeshop ready for the day while Mary tended to the younger children. Once Abigail arrived, Mary would spend the day baking, and Barnabas could take care of the farming chores early in the day and the affairs of the town in the afternoon.

It was an arrangement that worked well. In England, Barn
abas had been the baker in the hamlet at a time few households had their own oven. Here in Southold, the homes the founders built all had an oven of some sort. But the townspeople still loved the Hortons' treats, and the Horton hearth was the largest in the village. Mary still couldn't bake pippin pies fast enough for the town, and Barney baked the family recipe for crisp little ginger cakes almost every evening.

“I thought you'd gone further when you didn't return. What did you find out?”

Benjamin stood and walked to the north-facing window. It was still dark but for a tinge of orange-pink sky to the east. He folded his arms and leaned against the casement. “They have Johnny. They are keeping him on a ship in the harbor, the
King Solomon
. The charge is that he was privateering.”

Barnabas held his armful of logs midair. “Privateering? How can they claim that? Wasn't Johnny up in Connecticut?”

“He spent most of last year doing that, trying to rally some volunteers to attack New Amsterdam. But apparently, of late he sailed straight into the harbor at New Amsterdam, I suppose under the guise of trading. Who knows what he was planning. He has quite a few friends in Flushing and Hempstead. Mayhap they thought they could overthrow Stuyvesant by themselves.”

Barnabas stuffed the logs into the oven and added moss. He picked up the flint box from the shelf above the hearth and struck a spark. He left the door open as the wood started to burn and watched it, bellows in hand, ready to get air to the fledgling fire. “The reverend's son has always been a bit rash, has he not?”

“Father, he believes passionately that we will not have peace as long as the Dutch are on the west side. I agree and I rather
admire him for taking a stand. People in this town criticize him, but I believe one day they will thank him for his efforts.”

Barnabas chortled. “Very well, but the news we have is that Cromwell has declared peace with Holland. A messenger from Cromwell's army notified New Haven that he is now the First Lord Protectorate of the Commonwealth, and has instructed New Haven to set our policies in alignment with that treaty. We've had a boundary now on Long Island with which we need to abide. Johnny should have known if he entered their harbor, they'd take him prisoner. Mayhap he wanted that, though who could begin to imagine why.”

He closed the oven door. “But no matter how he got himself in the predicament, we must find a way to get him home.”

Benjamin fell silent. He wasn't sure if he should share the plan he and Joseph had talked about just yet. He wasn't even sure if he agreed with Joseph, or at least his heart didn't. He had not successfully put a wall between it and Heather Flower yet. But right now he should be thinking of Johnny.

“Father, perhaps our troop should ride into New Amsterdam on the attack. Perhaps that is what Johnny was thinking—that if he couldn't convince anyone to attack with him, he'd risk himself to bring on the troops. He's got many friends out there that would ride beside us to overthrow the government and free him, all in one swoop.”

Barnabas sat there, his mouth open, moss-green eyes penetrating. “Surely he would not do that?”

“Joseph and I think we should go back, this time prepared to fight and free Johnny.”

“If you take our militia and our horses again and engage in battle out west, the Narragansett will no doubt attack the east end. We have known for a long time they wait for the
opportunity. We are under orders from New Haven to train every week, and indeed it has been difficult without Captain Youngs here to supervise that. But we cannot send what we do have off on a war with the Dutch.”