A Mother's Sacrifice (39 page)

‘How will you get their horses back?’

‘I’ll be paid for these fleeces by dinnertime. Any one of the lads you see running around will get them back to her for a tanner.’

‘Will you keep her money?’

‘Only what’s due for my wages. And I’ve saved three guineas from selling my own ewes so I’ll have enough to pay the five guineas I owe her for you.’

Quinta’s eyes rounded. ‘But I don’t owe her anything! I’ve worked for nothing since Lady Day!’

‘I’m not a thief and I pay my way. She bought the two of you and I’ve taken the baby from her as well.’

Quinta was shocked into silence. Amos considered her and little Patrick as chattels to be bought and sold, just as Noah and Miss Banks did. Eventually she asked, ‘What will you do with her money?’

‘I’ll leave it with the innkeeper.’

‘Can you trust him?’

‘I reckon so. He didn’t like what Noah did to you. He’ll be glad to get somebody to take back her horses and her dues. And tell her that you’ve gone.’ Little Patrick roused from his deep slumber.‘He’s hungry again.You still got plenty of milk for him?’

She supposed it was because he was a shepherd, practised with ewes and lambing, that he seemed to understand her and her baby’s needs. He was robust man, toughened by his harsh life on the moors.Yet he had a gentle side to him, too, and she was grateful that he was travelling with her. But he wanted her as his wife. He had bought her from Miss Banks, just as Miss Banks had bought her from Noah, for the same reason. She did not know him well and she wondered how much she could trust him.

‘I can get work to pay you back,’ she volunteered.

‘You’ll have to wait ’til he’s older,’ he answered, gesturing towards her infant.

She had to agree.

‘I’ll take care of you both.’ Amos smiled. ‘A man with a family is generally judged to be hard-working and steady. I’ll have a better chance of securing work with you and the babe in tow.’

‘Is that why you want me?’

‘It’ll be easier all round if we say we are wed.’

She knew that and bit on her lip. ‘But you might meet a nice girl,’ she suggested hopefully, ‘one that you can love.’

‘I am satisfied with the one I’ve got.’

He meant for them to stay together. She closed her eyes and acknowledged that she and little Patrick were safer travelling with a man.Then a vision of her first sight of him at the hiring fair and his crook hooking the edge of her skirt swam under her eyelids.

Chapter 25

They breakfasted on mutton patties from a pie-seller near the spring at Crosswell. Quinta and little Patrick rested on sacking while Amos took the horses and their burdens to the wool exchange. He left his dog to watch them. Jess, she was called, and she sat guarding them while Quinta dozed in the sun’s warmth.When she roused she lay quietly watching her sleeping son. How she loved him! She loved him more than anything in the world, more than her mother and father; even more, she realised with a shock, than she loved her baby’s own father. She loved him so much that she ached. She would do anything for her son. Anything.

Amos returned without the horses, looking pleased with himself. He had removed his shepherd’s smock and replaced it with a tweedy country jacket. He rolled up the sacking and secured it with twine to a bulky leather satchel slung across his back and announced, ‘We’re walking from here.’

Quinta had expected this and asked, ‘By which road?’

‘South Riding in the next county. The innkeeper has told me to head for Tinsley where the navigation starts.’ He patted his jacket and Quinta heard the grating of coins. ‘A barge’ll take us into the heart of the Riding.’

‘My husband’s farm is there.’

‘The waterway goes by the furnaces and manufactories. Besides, he wanted rid of you, didn’t he? He sold you and I have bought you.You belong to me now. Though I’ll keep you out of sight, just to be sure.’

There was no point in arguing with Amos. His mind was made up. But Noah’s treatment of her still rankled with Quinta. Until recently, her thoughts had been taken up by ensuring her baby’s safety. Now that little Patrick was thriving, her anger with Noah was growing. It was as well she would not see him on her travels through the Riding! Yet she was his wife. He had lied in court, she had deceived him and he had taken his revenge, but she was still his lawful wife. He couldn’t just sell her like that and get away with it!

Amos bent to pick up a hide harness with a roomy pouch. ‘I’ve got this for you, to carry the little lad on your back.’ He helped her transfer her protesting, squirming child into this new cocoon and strap it in place. ‘All set,’ he said.

At first little Patrick wailed his annoyance at being separated from his mother’s arms, but as they set off he quietened and not long afterwards he began gurgling in her ear. He liked his new mode of travel, though before long his gurgles turned into grizzles. ‘He’s hungry again, Amos,’ she said. ‘I’ll have to stop and feed him.’

‘We’ll eat, too. I’ve got food in my pack.’

‘Look for a spring or stream. I’m thirsty.’

They had climbed steadily out of Crosswell to higher, harsher moorland where the breeze was fresh even in summer. But the sun was warm and Quinta’s spirits were as high as the fluffy white clouds scudding across a blue sky. She had escaped from Miss Banks and her Davey. She wasn’t exactly free, but her situation was better now. At least she could talk to Amos and, with any luck, reason with him. She did not want to stay with him and she hoped he would understand.

The sun’s rays were welcome as she sat on a bank of springy heather and changed little Patrick’s wet linen. She rinsed it in the stream and spread it to dry on a warm rock. Jess fussed around, sniffing at first, and then drank from the stream before settling quietly with her head on her paws. Quinta unbuttoned her bodice and loosened the front of her corset. Feeding Patrick absorbed all of her attention so easily that she was unaware of Amos watching her until she looked up with a smile. His face was serious. He handed her bread and cheese and placed a tin mug of cold, crystal-clear spring water in reach of her hand.

‘Why don’t you take a nap?’ she suggested, but he shook his head. She ate and drank herself as little Patrick satisfied his hunger.When he slowed, she lifted him to her shoulder to raise his wind.

‘He takes long enough,’ Amos commented.

She thought he sounded bored and responded,‘Did you bring oatmeal in your bag? I’ll light a fire and make porridge for him tonight.’ Patrick burped and she lowered him gently to her lap, wrapped him tightly and laid him in a sheltered dip to sleep. She wished she had some salve to smooth on her nipples and ease the threatening soreness, but she hadn’t so she ignored the tingling and stretched herself out in the sun. She was tired. Feeding her hungry son sapped her energy and she closed her eyes.

She heard Amos settle beside her and thought he might sleep as well. She could smell sheep on his clothes and tensed, wondering why he was so near to her. She rolled away from him on to her side. Her corset was still loose and she pulled at the fastening tapes.

‘Are you in fear of me?’ he asked.

‘You frightened me at the hiring fair,’ she answered. ‘You lifted my skirt with your crook.’

‘But it was not me who showed your leg for all to see. It was that shameful husband of yours.’

She didn’t argue with that and said, ‘Well, you were not my husband and you lifted my skirt.’

‘I wanted to look at your boots. Boots are dear to buy. I could not afford a wife who was not well shod.’

‘Oh!’ Quinta turned her head towards him. ‘Truly?’

‘You looked strong enough to me without closer inspection. That Noah didn’t deserve you, I thought.’

‘No,’ she agreed. She had made a dreadful mistake in her haste to provide shelter for her and her mother last year. But she had had no other choice apart from the workhouse and even now did not know what else she could have done to avoid that fate. Was she about to make another mistake in judging Amos? He had not demanded much from her and she would not be here without his help. She was beholden to him for that if nothing else so, she reasoned, she ought to at least behave as a friend towards him.

But only as a friend, for, no matter what these Peak dwellers believed about buying and selling their wives, Quinta was not and could never be Amos’s wife. She knew now, without any doubt, that the only man she could ever be a true wife to was little Patrick’s father. She relaxed and rolled on her back to stare at the sky. It really was the most beautiful hue. Her eyes closed against the glare. Somewhere, she dreamed, little Patrick’s father might be looking at the same sky. If he was still alive. She could not countenance that he might not be and wondered, instead, where he was.

‘Well, I am your husband now and I shall treat you better.’ Amos’s words came out suddenly and with a determination that startled her. His lips were by her ear and his roughened fingers already on her exposed breast, stroking and delving to squeeze and massage her flesh.

‘No, Amos.’ She put her hands on his to still them, but he drew them aside and bent his head to kiss her.

‘That child has too much of you,’ he muttered as his bearded face descended to her lips. His mouth explored hers hungrily and his probing tongue startled her. Then he moved his search to her breasts, nuzzling and pushing to ease them further out of her corset and expose their fullness.

She struggled to release her hands but he had a strong grip on her. ‘Stop it, Amos. Leave me alone.’

‘I won’t,’ he mumbled into her flesh as he placed a heavy leg across her body.

His open mouth wandered over her flesh. She could feel his teeth sliding across her skin, and then his tongue, licking and sucking the plumpness as though he would devour her.

‘No!’ She jerked and yelled as his hands reached down to grapple with her skirts, bunching them up to stroke her legs, delving between them with anxious fingers. She writhed and wriggled but he held her still. She cried out with shock at his actions and then screamed loudly. Little Patrick woke and began to whine. Where she found the strength she did not know, but she pushed at Amos with all her might. He lifted his head in surprise and she rolled free, scrambled to her feet, snatched her baby from his resting place and ran.

But where was there to run? Over the springy hummocks of heather towards the track? Yes, the track. The track that led down into the valley and away from these tainted moorland peaks. Jess had given chase and was prancing and barking in circles around her as she staggered.

How could a babe in arms weigh so much? She stumbled, almost lost her balance but recovered and clutched him closer to her body. He was wailing loudly now, as frightened as she was, and she realised that she was crying, too. Hot tears trickled down her cheeks. Her jumbled thoughts distressed her. How could she upset her child so? He needed her love and protection. Her love for him was endless but how could she shield him from this harsh and cruel world without someone to care for her?

She had no money, no home and no prospect of gaining either. There was only Amos, demanding that she pay for his help by becoming his wife. She could not do it.Yet he was her only chance of survival and if she did not thrive what would happen to her darling child? She could not move fast enough, of course, and Amos was close behind her with his heavy spade of a hand on her shoulder and his voice in her ear.

‘Do not run from me. I mean you no harm!’

She froze to the spot, clutching little Patrick tightly to her body.‘Don’t touch me!’ she cried, stepping backwards. Her boot twisted in a dip and she tripped, losing her balance. She felt herself falling and lifted little Patrick away, holding him high as she fell to the ground. Her grip on him was loosening. ‘No!’ But her cry was futile and she tumbled awkwardly, sideways on to the springy grass. Jess jumped and barked as she fell. But Amos was there and had snatched little Patrick from her grasp in the same way as he had rescued him from Davey. He gave a short piercing whistle and Jess became still and quiet immediately.

Quinta struggled to sit up, rubbing the upper arm that had broken her fall. She wasn’t hurt; bruised, maybe, but nothing serious. She had felt so tired when she had run from Amos that she realised she had had no hope of escape from him with little Patrick in her arms. And she was not so sure she wished to for he was steady and strong and both of them needed his protection. He was, on balance, a good man. He was honest and kind, albeit with some old-fashioned country ways, and she was truly grateful for his help. But whatever he expected of her she was not his wife. Or, she reflected fearfully, ever wanted to be.

‘Give me my baby,’ she demanded, stretching out her arms.

‘I said I mean you no harm, neither of you. You are my family now, my wife and child.’

‘No, Amos.’ Desperately, she tried to think of an argument that he would accept. ‘I am married to another.’

‘He has turned you out. He does not want you. I do.’

‘My child wants me, too. Give him to me. He needs me.’

‘I need you! I want you as my wife. You tempt me as Eve tempted Adam in the Garden of Eden. What is a man to do?’

Quinta could not answer him. She frowned and bit her lip.

He went on, ‘He takes her as his wife, that’s what he does.’

Quinta closed her eyes in despair. He meant her to be his wife in every way. ‘I have to care for my baby, Amos,’ she pleaded.

‘Aye and a grand little lad he is, too.’ He looked kindly at little Patrick who had quietened in his arms. ‘But he will not be a babe plucking at your teat for ever. I will have him as my son, my own son.’Then he looked directly at her, a stern expression that she had not seen before. ‘And you as my wife.’

Quinta pressed her lips together and bit back her arguments. He would not hear them anyway as his mind was made up. All she could do was play for more time and hope. But she did not even know what she was hoping for.