To Capture Her Heart (8 page)

September 4, 1653

Heather Flower rose early to prepare for the church service and put on a regal deerskin dress, adorned with shell beads of deep purple and fringed on the sleeves and hem. She tied her purple-and-white wampum belt around her waist and slipped the leather pouch from her mother over her head, along with her necklace of multi-stranded jingle shells and polished stones. She undid her braid and pulled the ivory comb Dirk had given her through her glossy black hair. She sat while Winnie redid the braid for her, working witch hazel blossoms in here and there.

Little Sarah's baptism was today. She was curious about the ceremony. She'd never seen a baptism or church service, most likely it would be like a
pau-wau
.

Her aunt was dressed in deerskin too, though not as elaborate, with shell beads of blue and white. Heather Flower helped her tuck stems of the yellow witch hazel and tiny pink bleeding heart flowers into the stitching of her dress, securing them with more thread.

She picked up the comb and began working it through Winnie's long black hair, salted with white strands. “You have seen a baptism, Aunt?”

“I've been baptized, child. Many years ago. Before the Hortons and Terrys came here to live, there were explorers from across the ocean. They took my mother when she was little and kept her. She learned English from them and they baptized her and taught her of Jesus. My mother had much faith and she passed that on to me.”

“That is terrible they took her. Like the mean Narragansett.”

“No, her parents had died. White men killed them, it is true. But not the ones who took her. They were kind, and they saved her. And many years later, they helped her come back to her people, to the Corchaug.”

“You still feel sorrow for Winheytem. Does your God not give you release from your pain?”

“Oh my dear, yes, I miss him. But without God my heart would have been pulled from my chest. I would die too. God is my strength.”

Heather Flower closed her eyes and imagined her heart pulled from her chest. Yes, it seemed it was, with just a hollow place where it should be. “Come, Aunt. Let's go to the church. I want to see a baptism.” She took Winnie's hand and they walked the path into town.

The clapboard edifice was the tallest in town, with two stories and a bell tower on top. It was the first structure the men built when they arrived in Southold, called Yennicott by the natives. On this Sunday morning, the men hung their weapons on the wall as they took their pew. Four men stood guard at the entrance and kept long wax-coated reeds lit to fire off their muskets if need be. The Southold militia had been in place from
the start, and the recent attack on Heather Flower's family reinforced the need to be ever ready.

The bell pealed as they approached. Heather Flower led Winnie to a place on the women's side, toward the back. She watched as Abigail entered with baby Sarah. Lizzie followed with Hannah on her hip, and Caleb, Joshua, and Jonathan behind her. Barnabas already sat in his front pew, with Joseph and Benjamin beside him. Mary, still in her confinement, remained at home.

The baptism was held first. Abigail unwrapped the blanket, and Sarah looked so tiny and pink in her little linen dress with thread-lace hem and delicate embroidery. She squirmed and Abigail lifted her and patted her back. “There, there. Nothing to fear, sweet babe.”

Reverend Youngs summoned Abigail and Barnabas to come forward, and she laid the baby in her father's arms. She stepped back as Lizzie and Zeke, Patience, and Winnie came forward as sponsors. Reverend Youngs asked Barnabas the name of the child and proceeded to dribble drops of cold water down Sarah's wrinkled forehead. She squeezed her eyes shut, waved her little arms, and began a furious wail of protest. Laughter rippled through the congregation as Abigail came forward quickly to claim the infant. She wrapped her in the blanket, and whisked her away home.

Heather Flower leaned in to Winnie as her aunt took her seat. She laid her hand on her arm. “Is that it? The baptism?”

“Shhh. Yes, that was it.”

They rose to sing a hymn, but she could not take her mind off the baptism. It left more questions than answers. She glanced at the pew across from them and noticed for the first time Grissell and Nathaniel Sylvester. Grissell nodded toward her with a smile. The two young women had become friends on Shelter
Island, the island between the two forks, but Heather Flower was surprised to see her at the Southold First Church.

Benjamin listened to Reverend Youngs, but thoughts of Heather Flower popped into the pauses no matter how he concentrated on the reverend's words. As the sermon ended, he was glad to stand with the congregation for the final hymn.

His tenor blended with his father's rich baritone, as they sang from the Psalms, “Teach me Thy way, O Lord.” At the “amen,” he could not help but turn to catch a glimpse of her at the back.

The reverend moved to the door of the church and shook hands as Heather Flower and her aunt departed. Duty prevented Benjamin from chasing after her, and he remained at his father's side. The more he prayed about her, the more he knew he needed to give her time.

He followed his father as they filed out. Someone tapped his shoulder. The younger John Youngs—Captain Youngs, or Johnny as they called him—fell in beside him, his betrothed, Margaret, on his arm. “I hear Winnie is feeling better. I think it helps to have Heather Flower with her, don't you think?”

“I do. Winnie has a strong faith. She'd heal regardless, but I think having Heather Flower's company is a blessing to her.”

“And to you, Ben?”

Benjamin grinned and nodded. “Well, yes. You know me too well. I like having her here. But I have to say, nothing has changed between her and me. I still feel like a lost puppy and she still gives me a pat and sends me on my way.”

“She's been through a lot. She can't even face going home is what I hear.”

They picked up their muskets and headed for the door.

Reverend Youngs stretched out a hand to Benjamin. “Good morrow, Ben, good to see you.”

He tucked his Bible under his arm and shook the reverend's hand. “Good morn, sir. Enjoyed your sermon.”

“Thank you. Good morrow, dear.” He bowed to Margaret.

She curtsied back with a smile. “Good morrow to you, Reverend Youngs. Mother has been ill, and I mustn't tarry. She did tell me to give you her regards.”

“Why, sorry to hear that, dear. Tell your mother I will call on her this evening after services.” He turned to his son. “You boys will be back this afternoon for more, of course.” Reverend Youngs grasped his hands in front.

Johnny towered over his father. “We always are, Father.”

“Aye, you are—when you are home.” A smile swept his face. “You know I'm not happy with you out scouting around in Connecticut trying to stir up trouble with the Dutch.”

“There's trouble with the Dutch anyway, Father, and Cromwell would well like it if we chased them out of New Amsterdam.”

He sought agreement from Benjamin, who was happy to oblige, as they were like-minded on this. “True. New Haven may set the policies, but we've always been isolated enough from them to handle things our own way. They are behind the times in seeking peace with the Dutch. England's at war with Holland and we won't have peace here with the Dutch living on half the island.”

Reverend Youngs shook his head. “We keep with New Haven's policies. And son, if you keep going up to Connecticut and rousing around with Captain Scott, you will cause trouble for yourself and us.” He held Johnny's shoulder with his hand and gave him a light pat before he turned to the next parishioner.

Barnabas clapped both young men on the shoulders as they stepped into the bright sunlight. “Winnie and Heather Flower are coming to our house for dinner between services. Then they will continue home. Johnny, would you care to join us?”

Johnny pummeled his flat stomach with his fist. “I would never turn down a meal at your house, Mr. Horton.”

Benjamin chuckled. “With Mother in confinement, he's been baking every spare minute. Patience and Lizzie have helped with most of the cooking, though, so we've been eating well.”

“Aye, and I heard Winnie will put together her samp. It gets better every year.” The smell of bacon fat wafted in the air and Barnabas inhaled deeply. “She's already fixing it.”

The three ambled toward the Horton home and bakeshop across the road.

Inside the house they stacked their muskets against the chimney. Barnabas trotted up the narrow stairs to Mary's bedchamber. Johnny settled into the parlor on the right, but Benjamin could not resist wandering back to the kitchen. He stopped at the doorway. Heather Flower jabbed at thick slices of bacon that sizzled in a heavy skillet over the fire. Winnie chopped wild onions and corn from the cob. Lizzie, with the help of Patience, had prepared much of the meal the day before to preserve the Sabbath. Now she stirred the pudding she'd made, as it warmed in a pot. Only Heather Flower looked up and caught his eye. A rosy copper flooded her cheeks and she gave him a warm smile.

“We could smell that bacon clear across to the church. How long until it's ready?”

Winnie looked up. “Soon, my friend. And if you cannot wait, take a few ginger cakes and go out to the parlor. We've no room in here for hungry men.”

Benjamin grinned and snuck one last look at Heather Flower,
who nodded at the crisp little cakes and turned back to her frying.

He entered the front parlor, a large, well-appointed room with a fireplace in the middle that connected to the central chimney. Johnny stood by the library shelves on the far wall, perusing navigation books. He handed him a crisp cake.

Johnny popped the little cake into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. He swallowed the tasty morsel and brushed a crumb from the book's leather cover. “I am always amazed at your father's books. And I like these old volumes on celestial navigation. Quite the collection.”

“Those were Uncle Jeremy's. At one time Joseph was very much intrigued with learning to sail. You both were. My uncle gave him those books. But millwork is as much in our blood as sailing.” He walked over to the casement window and pushed open the diamond-paned sash. “I think the air is fresher out there than in here.”

“It's a beautiful day, though no wind for sailing.” Johnny set the book back on the shelf and glanced out the window. “Is that Joseph and Jane I see coming up the road?”

Benjamin spread his hands on the sill and leaned out with a grin. “Well, good morrow to you, brother! Come to see the new sister?” He hurried to the door.

Joseph stood back and allowed Jane to enter first. Benjamin kissed her cheek. “The women are split between the kitchen and Mother upstairs, so take your pick.” He turned to his brother and they clapped each other's back. “Good to see you. Father's upstairs too. And Captain Youngs is in the parlor, if you'd like to join us.”

Joseph looked at Jane with a raised eyebrow. “What say you? Shall I come up with you?”

“Nay, stay here. Join us when you're ready.”

Her skirts swished as she climbed the stairs. He watched her go before he joined the men in the parlor.

Benjamin turned a hand toward a chair and nodded to Johnny. He pulled up a third chair. “Sit awhile, Joseph.”

“I will. So what do you gather from your friends in New Amsterdam, Johnny? Are we at peace with the Dutch or not? To listen to Underhill, they claim one thing but plan another.”

“Cromwell wants the Dutch out of there, and I think he's right.”

Benjamin scooted forward on his chair, his hands on his knees. “But New Haven and Stuyvesant both have worked toward peace. The Hartford Treaty is alive and well, is it not?”

“Don't think for a minute that guarantees a whit. Given the chance, Stuyvesant's army would advance on us. He gives guns to the Indians as fast as we take them away. He does not understand that after the attack on Montauk, the Indians here know we will defend them against the Narragansett, and they have no need for weapons. Montauk will not happen again.” Johnny turned to Joseph. “What say you?”