A Place in His Heart (21 page)

Mary, Barney, Jeremy, Jay, and Ben tramped through the thick grass, wet with dew. They paused just short of the lower pasture to watch the sky brighten into eggshell blue with pink-tinged clouds puffing over the treetops.

In reverence, Barnabas's deep baritone broke softly through the still morning, “Sing ye loud unto the Lord, all the earth. Serve the Lord with gladness; come before Him with joyfulness. Know ye that even the Lord is God. He hath made us, and not
we ourselves. Amen.” Jeremy's tenor and Mary's sweet soprano blended into the amen of the prayer.

“Now look.” Jeremy pointed to the lowest part of the slope. “Do you see?”

“See what?” Mary's voice rasped as she spoke, her throat tight from crying. She stood on tiptoe, straining to see.

Barney took her hand to pull her forward. “Let's walk down. It isn't far.”

Jeremy nodded and began walking. “I would have told you about this yesterday, Mary, but it seemed you needed time.”

As they came close, Jay and Ben ran ahead, but Mary stopped, her breath gone, her heart pounding. There grazed two sturdy English cows that looked amazingly fat after their long journey. Next to them a beautiful black, stout horse, still trying to find his land legs. Jay whistled and the horse lifted his large head, ears pricked forward. A large white star stood out on his forehead.

Mary drew her breath in sharply. “Why, Jeremy, he's beautiful. He's one of Papa's Old English Blacks.”

“Aye, he's Northstar. The one a bit older than Starlight. Your father bred him several times and he has an outstanding herd at present. He retired him as a stud and had him gelded. He is thoroughly trained. One of the most comfortable rides you will find anywhere and can work like an ox. For now the laws do not permit mares to be exported, but no worries. Someday that will change and you will have Starlight.”

She turned and buried her face in Barney's chest and he held her close, his hand covering her hair. She sobbed as she remembered the day Starlight was born.

Barney rocked her. “Thank you, Jeremy. I cannot tell you how much I appreciate you bringing Northstar to us. We are deeply
grateful.” He hugged Mary tight. “We've had grave news. This is a blessing.”

Jeremy put his hand on his brother's shoulder. “Aye, this is what John wanted. He wanted Mary to have her horses.”

The trio made their way down to join Jay and Ben. As they approached, Northstar nickered gently and Mary threw herself into him, encircling his neck with her arms. He tossed his head and she could just hear Papa.
“Easy now, my girl. Move slowly or you shall
spook him.”
She dropped her hand to his chin and he nuzzled her fingers. “'Tis me, Northstar. Everything shall be all right.”

Later, Barney helped Mary set out platters of cheese, bread, and thick slices of salt pork. “The food is laid out on the table. Jeremy, I'm so sorry I have not cooked a meal for you.”

Jeremy pulled out a chair and pointed to it. “Mary, sit. This is enough. None of us have much appetite. But we should all eat a bite, for our strength.”

“Nay, Jeremy, I'm tired. I'm going to lie down. You eat.”

Barney stood up and kissed her check. She padded out of the room without a glance back.

Barney followed her much later. “Are you awake?”

“Yes, Barney. Are you coming to bed?”

“Aye.” He moved to the bed and sat. “I know this is a question you do not like to hear, but I must ask. Are you with child?” He held his breath as he waited for her answer.

“Oh, Barney—for the hundredth, nay, thousandth time, no. But you will be the first person I shall tell.”

He crawled in and drew her to him. “I'm sorry. I did need to ask. Jeremy said something that made me wonder. Your health
is important to me. You will be in God's time. We must work hard and do His will. God is faithful. He will provide.”

Quietly he waited for her answer, but only heard her shallow breaths. It probably had sounded like a litany. She was either asleep or she chose not to answer. He lay awake for a long time, the guilt from asking about the babe kept him from sleep.

But the guilt from long ago made him want to keep asking.

Mary woke in Barney's arms, her thoughts on the letter from Lizzie, unopened the day before.

He put a finger to her chin and turned her face to his. “Word should come soon about a new settlement, I promise. Do you still desire time alone to read your sister's letter? If you do, I have many things outside that I will occupy Jeremy's time with.”

“Yes, thank you. I need this.”

They dressed in silence. Mary chose to wear a garden frock of blue muslin. She pulled the brush through her hair and twisted it into a simple bun, securing it with a tortoise shell comb. She glanced at the silver looking glass, but could not look into it. Not today.

Once in the small kitchen, she watched him add fresh logs to the embers. Jeremy and the boys joined them for a meal of porridge.

Barney rose from the table. “Boys, come with me and your uncle. We have enough wood to chop and stack to work half the day.”

She sat by the window and watched them file out to the
woodpile. The letter poked out of her pocket and she ran a finger around the rough edges, then over the wax seal.

She shifted in her seat and stared at the little apple tree. Once they had a home, she would plant it in Papa's memory. Finally, unable to stall any longer, she turned back to the letter, fingers trembling as she drew it from her pocket and loosened the seal.

My dearest sister,

'Tis with much sadness and a heavy heart that I write to you today. I think of you reading this and I cry at the thought that I am not there to comfort you, to protect you, to hold you. I only pray Barnabas is home and by your side. By now Jeremy has told you our father has joined our mother in Heaven. My hand shakes to even write the words.

He expressed such joy at knowing you survived the voyage well and that you found contentment in setting up a household with so few resources.

Mary, please know that whilst Father was so deeply saddened at your leaving, he did rejoice in knowing you were following your heart. He was so proud of you for being the good mother you are to Joseph and Benjamin. He particularly was pleased to hear of the women's group you have formed and commented that was so like you to want to find a way to nurture.

The little pippin tree is from his orchard. He dug it himself and potted it for its journey to you. The last time I saw him was when he brought it to my house to give to Jeremy. He looked so happy to be able to do that for you. He wanted you to know 'tis hardy stock and will bear much fruit. I know you will treasure it.

I pray thee forgiveness for the brevity of this. 'Tis the most difficult letter to write. Please know that I think of you every day. Ezekiel and the children send their love, as do I.

Your loving sister forever,
Elizabeth

Mary slumped forward until her forehead touched the letter, arms limp in her lap. She shut her eyes as she pictured her father the day they sailed from London, standing there wordless, eyes red. She banished the scene from her mind. She desired to remember Papa from a happier time. A time when they rode in the country, both astride the Great Blacks that were his passion. How he loved the outdoors and taught her to love it too.

The door opened and Jay's head peeked in. “Are you all right?”

“I shall be, Jay. Perhaps not at the moment, but God shall heal the hurt. In time.” She looked toward the apple seedling again.

He followed her gaze. “Would you like me to water the tree?”

“I should like that very much. Do you think I could put it in your care until we are ready to plant it?”

“Yes, ma'am. I'll take very good care of it.”

“Thank you.” She rubbed her eyes and pressed her cheeks. “And Jay, thank you for coming to check on me. 'Twas kind of you.”

“I worried a bit. Father said you might like to take a ride with him on Northstar. He's finished with the wood and would take you now if you'd like.”

“Yes, that would be good. I have not done anything to prepare our dinner, but perhaps today we could eat some cold meats and cheese once again.”

“It's too warm for a hot meal. Cold meats will be fine, I am sure.”

She picked up her muslin cap. “Thank you again, Jay.” She moved slowly to the door and slipped out.

Mary stood, holding tight to Jay's and Ben's hands as
The Swallow
glided east out of the bay, smaller and smaller until it was a dark blur on the hazy line between sky and ocean. Memories of leaving the London port washed over her, but today she, Barney, and their boys were the ones left on the dock. She waved one last time in the hope Jeremy could see her.

A messenger brought word to expect Reverend Youngs to visit within a fortnight. Peter Hallock returned to Quinnipiac with encouraging news regarding Long Island and the reception he'd received there.

Mary worked hard preparing for the visit. From the garden she harvested turnips, onions, carrots, squash, and melons. The blackberries would be ripe soon, but she picked the strawberries already bursting with sweetness. She cooked the berries with sugar to preserve them, milked the cows, and churned butter.

She checked the supply of cheese, pork, and mutton in the larder. A large, salted pork shoulder and a nice mutton leg would make a fine feast for the reverend. Breads of all kinds were baked. She begged Barney to make the ginger cakes, and he was pleased to oblige.

On the morning the reverend was to arrive, she readied the house, swept the hard-packed earth floor, and spread fresh rush reeds, mixing in some dried mint and sage. She set out the beeswax candles from Lizzie on the oak table and dreamt about having a beautiful, large house with white oak floors and a magnificent hearth like the one in Mowsley. Oh, the cooking and baking she would do, and surely Barney would pass her
the tongs. And if Lizzie came, they could cook together with plenty of room for all.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a loud knock on the door. She wiped her hands on a kitchen rag and tucked the errant wisps of hair into the twist at the nape of her neck before opening the door.

“Good morrow, Reverend Youngs.” She bowed slightly. He was taller than she remembered him. Perhaps because he was thinner, his shoulders square.

He removed his black felt hat, his sandy blond hair matted from the brim. “A good morrow to you, Mistress Horton.”

“If you please, come in. Barnabas should be on his way from the field. I am certain he shall have heard you arrive.” She stood away from the door to allow him to pass. “You have come a long way. May I offer you a chair and something to drink?” She pulled a chair toward him. “You must be hungry after such a long ride. We shall have dinner soon, but may I get you a bite to eat? A piece of cheese?”

“That is very gracious of you, but no, I shall wait for dinner. A drink would be most appreciated.” He glanced around their cottage as she poured. “A most comfortable home. Did Barnabas build this?”

“Yes, with the help of our sons.”

“Most impressive, indeed.”

She was about to tell him of the house he'd built in Mowsley, but before she could begin, the door opened and Barney entered with Jay and Ben close behind. Reverend Youngs rose to his feet and offered his hand.

“John, how now?” Barney clasped his hand. “How was the journey?”

“Long, but that is expected, eh? So good to see you.” He
turned to Jay. “You did not tell me there was another Barnabas ready to conquer New England.”

“Aye, he is that, tall as me and eager to be taller. This is my eldest son, Joseph, and this is Benjamin. And he is eager to be smarter. What is a father to do? And you have met my wife.” He crossed the room to where Mary stood and slipped his arm around her shoulders.

“Indeed. She was just telling me about the house. I like what you have done here.”

Mary smiled. “Gentlemen, pray pardon, but I need to attend to the fire and our dinner. It shall be ready soon. Reverend Youngs, I trust you have a hearty appetite?”

“Aye, Mistress Horton, that I do.”

Barney cleared his throat. “Mary came to our marriage not knowing a whit in the kitchen. She was determined to learn, and much fun to teach. I do believe she now surpasses me in preparing a meal and makes enough to feed the king's army.”

As both men shared a laugh, Mary curtseyed and made her way to her hearth.

The roasts of pork and mutton sputtered in the fire and proffered a tantalizing aroma. She opened the lid on the pot to check her made dish and sniffed the delicate scent of the artichokes, almond cream, and rosewater—a recipe her sister had given her. Lizzie said it was French. A stew of root vegetables bubbled over the hot embers.

To ready the table, she brought out her best linens and summoned Jay and Ben to help her set out utensils needed for the meal. As a finishing touch, she picked up Lizzie's candles and touched them to a flame in the hearth. These she placed at the center of the table.

After prayers led by Reverend Youngs, the meal was served.
Stories over dinner revolved around the victories and tribulations of coming to New England, each telling a little more magnificent as the afternoon progressed.

A smile played on Mary's lips as she listened to Barney retell the story of the day he went ashore in Massachusetts as if it happened yesterday, and she knew it was most likely not the last time the reverend would hear this tale.

She recounted the day the house was ready and the excitement of unpacking beloved possessions they'd not seen since they left England. It was like Christmastide that day.

Reverend Youngs described the difficulties encountered when he originally tried to leave England with his wife and children. Charged with nonconformity, he was denied permission to leave, but eventually they boarded
The Mary Ann
and arrived in Salem in the summer of 1637.

When Jay spoke of his desire to learn more about astronomy from his uncle and his interest in farming, his words fell over her like dew from the heavens, so encouraged she was to hear him reveal his inner longings.

Ben, not to be overlooked, inquired if the reverend would like to browse his book collection, including a treasured volume his uncle had given him,
The First Folio
.

“Speaking of books, Benjamin, is it not time for you and Joseph to excuse yourselves and settle down to studies?” Barney nodded toward the hearth.

Both boys rose as they were excused.

“Fine lads, Barnabas.”

“Thank you, John. Now tell me, what does Hallock have to say? He finds Long Island desirable?”

“That he does, I should say. The Indians call it Matouwac. That is Island of Periwinkle, far as we can tell. But the Dutch
call it Long Island and that is far easier. Hallock purchased a tract of land from the Indians whilst he was there. His wife and children are still in England and would not come with him. He is hoping to return to them with news of his purchase and bring them back.”

Mary checked the fire and returned with a tray of sweets. She offered her husband and their guest a tart before handing the boys a platter of ginger cakes.

Her husband smiled at her as she sat back down beside him. “Mary is most anxious to be settled. I have promised her once we have the facts, and the decision is made, I will move quickly to establish our home. Tell me of the bay. Would it be amenable to trade? Would a 300- or 400-ton ship be accommodated?”

“Indeed. Peter sailed around the northeastern tip and into a bay that would serve well for all size of vessels. There is a beautiful inlet from the bay and the land to the west of it is well protected from the winter wind by a bluff to the north. It receives warm breezes off the bay in summer. 'Tis there we would place the center of our township. On the east side of the bay, blueberries and cranberries grow wild. Bayberry grows in abundance as well. There are salt meadows to the north.”

Mary leaned forward. “He found it acceptable then for your purposes? The Indians were welcoming?”

“Mistress Horton, the Indians are most friendly and ready to help us. They call themselves Corchaug and have several dwellings in the area. There is a fort with a palisade two and three logs thick that they built to defend themselves against the Narragansett tribe. They are logs as thick as Barnabas's thigh and twenty feet tall. They dug trenches and put the logs upright, leaning them crosswise to form a V.