To Capture Her Heart Page 7

  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?”

  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?

  10

  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.