To Follow Her Heart Page 7

  Heather Flower put chunks of stew meat in a bowl and set it on the floor for Mosh, her wolf-dog. She ladled the rest, swimming in gravy with turnips and onions, into bowls, and Dirk helped her set them on the table. She passed a basket of poffertjes to Jeremy, and after the meal they ate koekjes.

  “These are just like Mary’s ginger cakes.” He crunched a couple more, one after the other.

  Dirk chuckled. “You don’t like those, do you?”

  Heather Flower refilled the plate and set it in front of Jeremy. “These cookies have the same spices as Mary’s. My neighbor gave me the recipe.”

  Dirk helped himself to another, then leaned forward. “But I know you did not come for our good company. I do hear rumors of British ships lurking about. Does this have anything to do with your disappearance?”

  “No. I was on a trade run. One of the worst storms I’ve ever faced moved in, with no hope of outrunning it. The Swallow sank, and I was the only one to survive. My crew, God rest their souls—gone.” He covered his eyes as he shook his head. A long moment passed before he could continue. “I was rescued by a British warship, The Providence. They kept me confined. She was bound for Boston, and once we were in port, Governor Winthrop vouched for me. The secrecy aboard ship made sense when the governor briefed me about a planned attack on New Amsterdam. Four ships, including The Providence, are sailing into the harbor now. The militia from Southold is here, in Flushing, to give support for the attack. It is well known to the English, as well as Governor Stuyvesant, that many in Flushing would not support a battle. They don’t want to fight. Simple as that.”

  “So you were rescued and then put into service without your ship.”

  “Aye. I’m sick about the ship. But I have no time to lament, which is a good thing. Barnabas and Mary desire you to take Heather Flower to Southold until the fighting is over.” He looked at Heather Flower. “It won’t be safe here. Most likely it will only be a matter of weeks. Mayhap days, and then you can return.”

  She stood and moved closer to Dirk. “I will do as you wish, my husband.” She looked at Jeremy with fire in her black-opal eyes. “But my wish is to stay by his side.”

  Jeremy ran his hand through his hair and nodded at Dirk. “Barn was thinking you would be a good choice to train the reserve militia in Southold. He said Mary would love to have you stay with them, but Patience tells me she would like to have you stay with her. She always feels that big house her father built is too big for her.”

  “I don’t know. My loyalty is not with the Dutch anymore. You know that. But I rather thought I’d fight with the horse troop when the time came. Sending me to watch over the left-behind militia seems like a retirement or quarantine. I want to be in the tussle.”

  Heather Flower stiffened and raised her chin. “My husband, if Barnabas requires you in Southold, I would like us to go there. He has always been very kind to us, and to return his favor would be my greatest desire.” She exchanged a look with Jeremy, and though her eyes still held the fire, he could see the pleading in them, too. She did not want her husband to fight. She’d lost one husband to a violent death years ago. Jeremy understood she could not lose another. He studied Dirk, willing him to acknowledge her fears.

  “I understand. We will go to Southold.” Dirk kissed her hand and leaned across the table toward Jeremy, creases deepening around his eyes. “You should apprise me, and I you, before we leave.”

  Heather Flower pulled away. “I will be gathering what we will need to take with us. We will take the cart, yes, Dirk?”

  “Ja. We won’t need much. But we’ll take the cart and a team of two horses.”

  “I will take my shells to make beads. It will be a time of working with Patience and Lizzie. It would be good to spend time with them and help with the hats.”

  Jeremy spoke up. “The ladies will welcome that.” He watched as Heather Flower disappeared behind a bearskin curtain, Mosh close to her heels. “She is rather brave, is she not?”

  “She is. She’s been through too much not to be. I fear she would have perished had she not been so resolute and courageous. I admire her because of those qualities. The day I found her abandoned in the forest, I knew she was a woman I could love. But she is sachem of her tribe, what little of it is left, and I must protect her for her people.”

  “She has led with elegance and grace, and that says much about her. We want her out of the line of fire if we attack New Amsterdam. And I know she won’t go out to Southold without you. Thank you for agreeing to go. I know it is a hard decision for you—one you’re not completely happy with. But the right one.”

  Dirk rubbed the stubble on his jaw. “It isn’t difficult when it comes to Heather Flower. I will do what’s right for her. Now, tell me what the plans are for this attack. I want to know what I’m training the relief troop for.”

  Jeremy pulled the plate of koekjes closer and broke one in half, popping a piece in his mouth. “I will tell you the details, which of course must be kept to ourselves. It is believed that there won’t be a fight, though.”

  “There have been rumors of war around here, of course, and I can tell you Governor Stuyvesant has declared he will fight until the end if it breaks out.”

  “Do you think his military is prepared to do that?”

  “I am not on the front line for information anymore, but personally, no, I don’t believe they are. Too many are disenchanted with him and his notions. He has built a strong trade with the natives to the north, but he has pitted tribe against tribe in his effort to turn them against the English. I could not be married to Heather Flower and still support his policies. That is why I left the army.”

  Heather Flower entered the room, and both men stood. She smiled. “When do we leave?”

  Dirk looked to Jeremy, who raised one brow. “I think you should leave even tonight. Tomorrow the ships will show their force, but you know how it is. One cannon pops off early, and that is all it takes. War breaks out.”

  “Ja, I agree.” He turned to Heather Flower. “We will leave tonight.”

  Jeremy hauled trunks as quickly as Heather Flower could fill them. He rolled casks to the cart filled with food that would perish if left behind. Dirk gathered his ledgers and secured the livestock. Mosh, of course, would come with them, but Dirk made a quick visit to their nearest neighbor and arranged care for the livestock. Dirk’s buckskin, Miss Button, stood hitched to the cart.

  The three bid one another a hasty goodbye, and Jeremy watched until the cart rounded a corner, with Mosh hanging his head over the back rail, and then they were out of view. He pulled his hat down on his brow and mounted Ink, the solid-black horse that Barnabas had lent him. Ink was the first descendent of Starnight—a Great Black owned by Mary’s father—born without a star or blaze. He was of sturdy stock and had a comfortable gait.

  He urged Ink up the long lane and onto the well-traveled highway toward New Amsterdam. He’d camp out on the outskirts of the city, and before first light, he’d be down at the harbor to view the situation firsthand before gathering his troops. The horse troop, reinforced with Dutch soldiers from Flushing—who long favored British rule—would be at the ready.

  10

  September 1, 1664

  Southold

  Shadows crept across the room as the sun lowered in the sky, and Patience’s fingers shook as she struck the flint to light a tallow candle on the hearth.

  Lizzie hovered close to her as Mary brought the family Bible to a chair in front of the window. Mary thumbed the worn pages. “I’ll read some Scripture while we wait for Barney and Zeke.”

  Patience burnt her thumb, and as she fanned her hand, she leaned over Mary’s shoulder. “Something to calm our nerves. I can’t bear to wait for Barnabas and Zeke. What takes them so long?” She straightened to look out the window into the growing darkness.

  Lizzie paced. “Do you think the war has begun? How shall we know?”

  Mary peered above the top of the page she’d turned to. “They will sen
d someone. A runner, perhaps. Barney will know we are worried.” She pulled the Bible close to her nose and squinted at the verse. “‘He maketh wars to cease unto the ends of the world, he breaketh the bow, and cutteth the spear, and burneth the chariots with fire.’”

  The corners of Patience’s mouth turned upward. “‘Be still and know I am God.’ That’s the next verse. Psalm 46, verses 9 and 10.” She took a deep breath. “Quite right. We should remember that.”

  But still she jumped when the door swung open and Barnabas and Zeke came in.

  Mary jumped, too. “Barney, is there word? Do we know what is happening?”

  “Dirk and Heather Flower have returned with some news. They will stay here during the attack on New Amsterdam. Dirk is assigned to train the reserve troop.” He looked at Patience. “They wanted me to inquire of you if they may be your guests.”

  “Certainly. I shan’t allow them to stay anywhere else. Where are they now?”

  His mossy green eyes crinkled as he smiled. “They are at the church, still briefing Reverend Youngs. They are tired, so I imagine they won’t be much longer. It is good to have them back.”

  “I wish they would stay.” Lizzie pulled on Zeke’s arm. “Did they say if the war has begun?”

  He nodded. “They left in the night. Jeremy told them that on the next morn he would be down at the harbor, with the ground troop ready. They believe the attack has begun by now.”

  Barnabas took Mary in his arms as he addressed the ladies. “Pray there is no bloodshed, nor life lost. The last few years have been quiet ones on the island, and I believe the Dutch would just as soon live side by side with us in peace. But it has been the intent of the Crown to claim New Amsterdam from the time we settled the east end of Long Island. And the time has come.”

  “And Jeremy? He put himself in the thick of it by going down to the harbor in New Amsterdam?” Patience’s voice trembled as she spoke, and she put a hand to her lips.

  Mary pulled back and looked into her husband’s eyes. “I cannot bear this, Barney. He just came back to us.”

  “Jeremy knows how to manage in danger. He’s proved that over and over.”

  Zeke chuckled. “He’s got the cat’s nine lives.”

  Lizzie’s gray curls bounced as she shook her head at him. “You know that is not true. ’Tis God who has spared him, and only God knows when He will call him home.”

  “Reverend Youngs will have a dedicated service on the morrow for prayers for our troops and the war.” Barnabas let go of Mary and stepped toward Patience. “We all will be praying for Jeremy. With Thomas and my parents gone, he’s all I have.”

  His words pierced her heart like tiny arrows. “I know—we all grieved so very much when we thought him dead. It was too much for me, I fear. I cannot take much more, but I know this must be so very hard for you. I do not mean to sound as if I’m the only one who matters. I only want him back home with us. By my side.”

  “He shall be, Patience.” Lizzie took her arm. “Now come. Let’s go to your house and ready a room for Heather Flower and Dirk. We have much to keep us busy as we wait, do we not?”

  Patience took Mary and Barnabas in her arms as one and kissed each of their cheeks. “Please do bring me any word, good or bad. I shall worry constantly.”

  Barnabas nodded. “I—or Zeke—will bring you whatever snippets of news we receive. Beyond what Heather Flower and Dirk will be able to share with you, I don’t believe we’ll get much information until the fighting is over.”

  “Thank you.” Her eyes misted as she and Lizzie walked up the lane. The pretty house in front of them, a tall two-story with a center chimney, stood out from the other homes. The neat flagstone walk was lined with colorful flowers. Built by her father and Barnabas when they first arrived on Long Island, the home was a place she loved sharing with her friends. But she longed to share it with Jeremy. They’d lived for years with the Dutch on the west end without major problems. Oh, why did the King decide to attack now? Why now?

  “It will be over before we know it, Patience.” Lizzie’s chin tilted up as she looked at the house. “We’ll have the wedding, and you will have Jeremy here with you, by your side, as you said.”

  “You’ve read my mind.”

  “’Tis not hard to do. I shall make you some tea, and then we must fluff the mattress and set out a pitcher of fresh water and some towels. Can you think of anything else they shall need?”

  “Some candles and something to light them with. I would bring in another chair, but perhaps I should wait and see how many trunks they’ve brought. Oh, a rug for Mosh. He will surely sleep in the room with them.” They hurried inside as her list grew, eager to have everything ready before the guests arrived.

  An hour later, with the room prepared, they greeted Heather Flower and Dirk. Patience was beside herself with questions. “When did you last see Jeremy? What was he doing? Where was he when you left?”

  Dirk smiled. “Why don’t we sit for a while, and we will tell you everything we know. It won’t take long, and then we should all get some sleep. It will be a full day tomorrow.”

  “Yes, shall we go sit outside? It will be cool there.” She took Heather Flower’s arm as they wandered along the path to her English garden. The prickly-headed purple echinacea were still in bloom, and the sweet-scented butterfly bush with its arms loaded with lilac-like flowers formed an arch over their heads. Two oak benches, flanked by blue aster and spotted bee balm, faced each other at the end of the path, and the four sat down to talk.

  Heather Flower pulled her thick, dark braid forward over her shoulder to cool her neck. “Where is Zeke?”

  “He’s still with Barnabas. There is so much happening so quickly, they must have a lot to discuss. I wanted to walk Patience home and see you.” Lizzie leaned forward to pat her hand.

  Patience watched a tiny hummingbird hover before flitting after a smaller one that threatened its territory. It swooped after the little one, chasing it away, then returned to the top of a small willow to keep guard over the flowers. Apparently he would rather starve than share the nectar.

  She turned to Dirk. “Why can we not keep everything simple? Why do our men have to go off to war? Jeremy just returned to us. To me. Why can’t the English and the Dutch just live side by side?” Her eyes grew round as she spoke.

  He straightened on the bench before he answered. “The fact is, many—if not all—of the people living under Dutch control dislike Stuyvesant and his policies. They welcome change. They will not support a war.”

  Lizzie’s brows shot up above her wide violet eyes. “Do you mean to say they will not fight for the Dutch? That the English will take over without a struggle?”

  “Ja. I have no doubt that the English ships will not retreat. But I do not think Stuyvesant will find too many to risk their lives for him.”

  “Does that mean that Jeremy and the rest of the horse troop are risking their lives by putting themselves in the midst of it all? Wouldn’t their presence be taken as aggressive?” Patience fingered the handkerchief tucked into her sleeve. “I mean, isn’t that why you’ve brought Heather Flower to Southold? ’Tis too dangerous for her to remain in Flushing?”

  “I don’t believe they are terribly at risk, Patience. But yes, Heather Flower is principal sachem for her people. We must do everything possible to secure her safety. In the event there is gunfire or bloodshed, she needed to be far from that.”

  Heather Flower took her friend’s hand. “And Jeremy requested Dirk keep the reserve troop at the ready.”

  Patience squeezed her hand as she stood. “That is not at all the encouragement you mean it to be. But come, let me show you your room. I know you are tired, and Lizzie, you must get home. Zeke shall wonder whatever happened to you.” She led the way into the house as dusk settled over the yard and fireflies flew before them, lighting their path. Would that God would light Jeremy’s path back to her the same way. With little fireflies of light. Please, Lord.

  11

/>   September 10, 1664

  New Amsterdam

  Jeremy rode out first, before the rest of the troop. Two days earlier, the Dutch governor Peter Stuyvesant had surrendered to the British. Jeremy stopped Ink near a pond for a deep drink of water. He removed his water pouch from the saddle and took a swig of water. Warm water was better than pond water, to be sure. He splashed some at the sweat on his temples and ran a hand through his hair, curly from the damp. Sweat and water trickled into his eyes, and he pinched the bridge of his nose as he blinked to see clearly again.

  A runner had been sent out, so he could ride directly to Patience. He’d done his duty, now he only wanted to hold her in his arms. It was time to put her first in his life, was it not?

  He camped for the night at Wading Creek, and the next morning, he rode hard, pushing Ink as fast as he dared. He rode past the Corchaug Fort in a blur and continued on at a gallop until he reached Southold’s town green. He pulled in the reins and walked his horse down the lane to Patience’s home—and her arms.

  In the early evening light, she looked pretty in her yellow garden frock. She wore a white linen apron and pulled weeds from her rosebushes with a vengeance. If she heard him coming, she didn’t give a clue. He eased himself from the saddle and came up behind to touch her shoulder. She turned, her eyes a question, and tears sprang into their blueness as she cried out. “Jeremy! How could this be? You were needed in the war.” She looked him up and down, as if expecting an injured arm or leg. “Are you all right?”

  His joy at seeing her spilled into his eyes, and his grin could not be contained. “Yes, yes I am. The war is over, Patience. In fact—there was no war. The people would not have it. Governor Stuyvesant locked himself in his office and did not want to come out until they agreed to fight. But they would not and forced him out to raise the white flag. The Dutch surrendered without one shot from the English cannons. We have claimed New Amsterdam for the Crown.”