To Capture Her Heart (9 page)

He eyed his father's musket, the old quart pot, hanging above the fireplace. “Agreed we won't let an attack like we had on Montauk happen again. In England, Parliament has been talking of peace as far as we know, but we continue to get news of battles. We were very successful in the Battle of Portland. But attacking New Amsterdam would be in direct violation of New Haven.”

Johnny ran his hand down the back of his hair. “We don't follow New Haven in everything and you know it. They know it. They pretty much leave us be, with only an occasional cranky comment about how late our youth stay out.” He chuckled.

Patience entered from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. “Lizzie says we are all to gather at the long table in the bakeshop to eat. Abbey's preparing a tray to take up to Mary and will send everyone down. After we eat, she'll bring down the babe Sarah.”

The men stood and Benjamin looked past her in hopes of a glimpse of Heather Flower.

Joseph noticed, he could tell by the gleam in his eyes, but his brother turned to John without comment. “We could talk all day about the Dutch and not solve a thing.”

“No, it's action we need. That's why Captain Scott and I will be sailing up to Connecticut to see who we can convince to take steps against New Amsterdam.”

Benjamin's thoughts turned to Dirk. He'd like to kick him off the island, but was that right? Probably not. “Whoa. Those are strong words. And I think whether we like it or not, we are bound by the laws of New Haven.”

Patience smiled, but fixed her hands on her hips. “Are you coming?”

They followed her to the kitchen where the table was laden with platters of turkey, ham, and rabbit, surrounded by steaming bowls of vegetables, and apples from the orchard, baked whole with cinnamon. Loaves of fresh bread and crocks of butter were laid out on the sideboard along with pots of fruit preserves. Stacks of crisp little ginger cakes and apple tartlets sat behind them.

Barnabas was the last to join them, and they all clasped hands as he gave thanks for Sarah, Mary, family, good food, and good companions. Winnie set a heaped trencher in front of him.

He savored a bite of Winnie's samp. “Why is a meal always better when someone else cooks it?”

The women all looked at him, smiling their appreciation. Heather Flower passed the samp to Benjamin and nodded toward Winnie. “My aunt tells me that Lizzie's and Mary's cooking is only surpassed by yours, Mr. Horton.”

Lizzie giggled and smoothed her curls. “If that be true, 'tis only because we have been cooking longer than anyone else here.” She glanced at Winnie and she nodded in agreement.

Joseph ran his fingers through his thick brown hair, ruffing it a bit. “Seems to me, Father, you finally conceded to Mother that she was your equal in the bakeshop, did you not?”

Everyone stopped mid-fork to listen to his reply. “Aye, that would be true. But I would have to admit that since then I do believe she's got the best of me. Eh, Elizabeth?”

She smiled, the purple of her silk dress accenting the hint of violet in her eyes. “Our Mary is a fine cook, Barnabas. I never would have thought I could say that when I remember all the days of explaining to her the difference between a simmer and a boil.”

Barnabas chortled and pushed his chair back. “I've fond memories as well of teaching your sister to cook.”

Abigail entered with the sweet bundle of Sarah in her arms, and everyone rose to take a peek at the sleeping baby. She carefully pulled the blanket back, and Sarah scrunched her face without opening an eye.

“She looks like you, Benjamin, poor little poppet.” Joseph looked pleased with himself.

“Only because of her hair. Really, she looks like you, Hannah.” He scooped up his sister and let her peer into the babe's face. He took her hand and helped her feel the auburn fuzz on her sister's head.

Hannah smiled. “I love her.”

Barnabas moved close. “Aye. You finally have a sister. You will be close to her, Hannah, just like your aunt Lizzie and your mother.” He kissed the top of Hannah's head.

The meal was finished and the women wiped the plates and utensils, and set the pots of leftovers at the back of the fire to keep warm for a light supper at the end of the day. Heather Flower offered her help to the ladies and Benjamin wandered out to the apple orchard with the men to finish their earlier discussion and to talk of family, both present and far away.

He put his hand on his father's arm. “Times like this, I miss Grandmother and Grandfather Horton.”

“Aye, Benjamin. They loved being with you and Joseph when you were little. I think it tore your grandmother's heart when we left. She would have liked to hold all of her grandchildren.”

Joseph moved toward the corner apple tree, the oldest and tallest of the lot, its branches reaching up to a large dome, filled with ruby-red fruit. “And Mary's father. He would have liked to see her poppets. Hard to believe he and Grandfather are gone.”

Barnabas reached up and plucked an apple. “They must be singing hallelujahs right now along with your mother. And sending their light down through God's little windows.”

“Windows?”

“Aye, Caleb. You know how your mother calls the stars ‘God's little windows.'”

A horse stomped and snorted, bringing all eyes to the side of the house. Benjamin's heart thudded an extra beat, and he glanced toward the back of the house as he stepped forward. “Van Buren. What would you be doing out here? Did no one tell you there's a war going on?”

Dirk swung from the back of Miss Button, dropping the reins
and pulling off a glove. “I'm here on orders of Director-General Stuyvesant.” He extended his ungloved hand.

Benjamin grasped it with a rough shake. “That has no meaning to us. What's your business?” Wrinkles crossed his brow and his blue-eyed glare matched Dirk's, whose bay blues flicked to the house and back to Benjamin.

Barnabas, Joseph, and Captain John Youngs stepped in to back up Benjamin. The four faced the Dutchman. Dirk nodded without a flinch and fixed his gaze on Barnabas. “Hallo. We've numerous reports that your countrymen, despite the fact they've been granted considerable territory to the east of Oyster Bay, continue to encroach. If they continue to inhabit the town, they fall under the Dutch provincial rule. And if they do not pay the taxes or submit to the laws, they will be arrested.”

Barnabas shook his head with a grin. “No, they purchased that land straight out and fair from Sachem Mohannes. You'd best be on your way. We have laws here too, and you are in violation of the treaty.”

“Mohannes has no authority to sell the land. It is Wyandanch who is the Grand Sachem, and it is he who sold the tract to deVries.
Ja
. It is Dutch. Pure and simple.”

Joseph took a quick step forward, but all eyes shot to the house as Heather Flower stepped out and gasped. Benjamin hurried over as she stood still, holding a large pot of dirty wash water on her hip.

“You'd best go inside, I would not want you to listen to the words being exchanged.”

“Words, Benjamin? Or are you and your brother about to fight Dirk? Do you forget he saved my life?”

Dirk strode over and Benjamin stepped in front of him. “You'll leave now.”

“The lady can decide that.” He looked to Heather Flower and her dark opal eyes grew wide.

“I do not wish harm, Dirk. You should leave. I am well. Now go.”

Every tense muscle in Benjamin relaxed and he nodded to Dirk. “She is fine with us, now do as she requests.”

Dirk gave a long look at Heather Flower as she dumped the dirty water to the side of the porch and stomped back into the house. He turned and in a few quick steps was at Miss Button's side, swinging up into the saddle. He reined her to the west, gave a quick salute, and urged her to a full gallop.

The men traipsed inside. Benjamin exchanged a look with his father and brother before facing Heather Flower. He'd protected her from that no-good. But why did looking at her now make him feel so low?

September 19, 1653

The morning broke glorious and Benjamin's plans were to forget Heather Flower for a day and take his younger brothers out trapping. September, greeted by cooler weather, now gave way to a warm Indian summer. The haze from the fires the natives built to flush out game gave a lazy effect to the long afternoons.

School lessons would soon begin. But the lessons of the wild were taught during September more than any other month. Armed with only his musket, a sling and a bag of agates for each boy, some flint, and rope, Benjamin led Caleb, Joshua, and Jonathan deep into the forest. They found a stream to camp by, and he demonstrated to the boys with a rare white hair from Star's tail how to loop it through the drilled hole in a hook made from fish bone and fish with it.

They worked throughout the day. They built snares with bent trees and nooses, identified berries to eat, and caught fish. Before the sun set, they'd built a fire to roast the squirrels and fish they'd caught day. As they sat fireside, Joseph hiked in to join them for the night, and the younger boys were entertained
by their brothers' stories of coming over from England on the ship called
The Swallow
with Uncle Jeremy.

Jonathan's hazel eyes grew big and he glanced at the trees that surrounded them. “Were you afraid when you got off the ship and there were just dark woods, nothing else?”

Benjamin chuckled. “No, we were glad to see land. We were sick of the ship by then and wanted some good food to eat and soil beneath our feet. Right, Joseph?”

Joseph sat with his knife, carving on a thick stick he found along the way. “That's right. And Father was brave so we thought we should be too.” He wiggled his eyebrows at Jonathan. “You are a brave lad, are you not?”

Joshua laughed and pushed at Jonathan's shoulder. “You're a lily-liver, aren't you?”

“Am not!”

Joseph's look was stern, just like his father's. “There will be none of that, especially out here in the wilderness.” He held up his stick that had grown legs and a head. “Can you guess what I'm carving?”

Caleb answered a split second before Joshua. “A horse—it's Star I bet.”

Benjamin leaned close to the fire, the flames flickering on his dimpled cheeks. “Grandfather Horton used to carve horses for me and Joseph. We used to watch him sit by the hearth after supper and whittle. It was fun to see a block of wood become a beautiful horse. Sometimes he would make a cat, but the horses he always made for us.”

Joseph nodded.

The flames died down and finally they brought out their blankets and settled under the starry sky. Benjamin and Joseph kept their muskets close by their sides with the boys between them.

They lay watching the stars as more of the twinkling lights filled the dark. “I miss our grandparents,” said Benjamin.

“I do too. I miss our mother too.”

Jonathan's small voice could barely be heard. “We'll see Mother tomorrow, won't we?”

Benjamin chuckled. “Of course we will. Joseph and I have another mother too. She died, Jonathan, when I was too young to remember her much—but Joseph does.”

Joseph propped himself on his elbow. “I do remember her. And Mary says that's a good thing. She said she never wants me to forget.”

Benjamin's eyes were closing. “That's good, because by you remembering I won't forget either.” He tried to picture his mother in his mind. He liked Mary's story about the stars and wondered if every generation that passed there were more and more new stars. Then sleep engulfed him.

They woke up with a start to movement in the bayberry bushes.

“Who goes there?” Joseph called as he and Benjamin grabbed their muskets.

Nothing but quiet for a moment, and then a man stepped into the clearing. “It's me, Lieutenant Van Buren. I'm on official business so put down your weapons.”

Benjamin stood, barrel trained on Dirk. “What kind of official business? We just got rid of you and you're back? You know, you're mighty near the Indian fort right now. Who is your business with?”

“I have an official complaint against Captain John Youngs for illegal trade in our port. If he continues his activities, he's
subject to arrest. I'll be delivering my documents to your father and Mr. Wells tomorrow.”

Joseph gestured with his musket toward the fire, which was but low embers now. “Put your weapon down and sit. You'll come in with us as our prisoner actually. And explain yourself once again at our town meeting.”

“What's your authority?”

“As a member of our town militia, I have all the authority I need, right, Benjamin?”

Benjamin glanced at his three younger brothers huddled together, eyes wide. “That's true, Van Buren. You'll be treated well as our prisoner, but it's time you Dutch learn that the treaty we have with you does not include riding into our territory whenever you like. There's a war going on at home.”

With their prisoner's hands behind his back, and the sun up, a hasty breakfast was served, with the three younger complaining that cold meat was not that appetizing at the break of dawn. Dirk nodded his head toward his knapsack. “There's biscuits in there.”

Benjamin smiled at the sad faces when he said no to the offer. “It would not be much of a lesson of survival in the wilderness if we ate what was packed in, now would it?” He nodded at Dirk. “But I will fetch you one. We don't starve our prisoners.”

After their meal, they made Dirk walk with them and led his horse back into town. In the meetinghouse Benjamin found it hard to concentrate while the men convened to discuss the lieutenant.

He watched out the window as Caleb, Joshua, and Jonathan joined the other town boys for a game of hoop war. The three, with their hoops in hand, charged the other boys, with each fallen hoop a casualty. He glanced out after a time and noticed
they had tired of the hoops, and settled for a game of marbles. He grinned as he watched the young Hortons hit marble after marble—as well they should, growing up with two big brothers to practice with. Caleb could almost beat him and Joseph, but Uncle Jeremy remained the champion. When it came to arm wrestling, no one yet had whipped their father.

He closed his eyes and imagined how Heather Flower might react to him and Joseph taking Dirk prisoner. So he welcomed the decision, when it came, to release him and send him on his way. No use in starting a small war here. And no use in distancing himself from Heather Flower any more than he already was. But would Van Buren go home? Or was his intention to find her?

Dirk was escorted to the livery and Miss Button was brought out, saddled and well brushed. At least they'd treated her well. He didn't like that Biggs and a couple of his men from the militia were escorting him out of English territory. He'd have no chance to stop and talk with Heather Flower. But he'd had some satisfaction in delivering the papers in regard to the activities of Captain Youngs, though he admired the captain's gumption. Mission of the Cavalry accomplished, mission of the heart not even close.

They cut through Indian Neck, and he searched the face of every woman he saw for her to no avail. Soon they were once again in deep woods and he turned his attention to matters at home. Nicholas Visscher would arrive from New Amsterdam sometime in the future, and his orders were to accompany him through the wilds of Connecticut as the famous mapmaker took notes and studied the land.

It was a good assignment. The job boiled down to scouting,
which he liked doing. And it would be good to get his mind off of Heather Flower and the English for a while. It would take him a couple of months of planning and he looked forward to that as much as the trek back into Narragansett territory.

The day he had rescued Heather Flower was not luck. He knew that land like his own back lot. But a strategy to avoid contact with the likes of Ninigret and his men would take some thought. The tribe moved with the seasons, but he could almost predict where they would be on a given week.

Biggs turned him loose just past Wading River, and he urged Miss Button on toward Flushing. He'd stop there for the night and gather his thoughts before riding into Fort Amsterdam. There was one last thing he could do for Heather Flower, whether the Hortons liked it or not—and he loved her enough to give it a try.