Love’s Betrayal (8 page)

He nodded. “Children need those times before they spend their lives working.” He recalled well the day when whimsical inspirations were put aside to help provide for his brothers and sisters.

Once Remember returned with a Bible and an additional pamphlet, the sisters left him alone to read. Bear curled up next to his side and laid his mammoth head on Henry's lap. He breathed in the wondrous earth. Always given to the spaciousness of God's creation and a driving need to be outside, the three weeks of recuperation had deprived his natural instincts. Even when weaving in Ireland, he had the loom beyond the confines of four walls, surrendering only when night fell or the elements of weather prohibited his craft. That is why he enjoyed the rigorous training of the army while others complained.

Henry grasped the pamphlet Remember had brought to him. He curiously read the title:
Common Sense
by Thomas Paine. How peculiar, he hadn't heard of this title before. Perhaps the reading would spin away his hours. Completely immersed in the curious topic, he read for the next hour. One portion in particular, in which the writer addressed the purpose of kings, resonated with him.

Paine wrote, “
Government by kings was first introduced into the world by the Heathens, from whom the children of Israel copied the custom. It was the most prosperous invention the Devil ever set on foot for the promotion of idolatry. The Heathens paid divine honors to their deceased kings, and the Christian world hath improved on the plan by doing the same to their living ones. How impious is the title of sacred majesty applied to a worm, who in the midst of his splendor is crumbling into dust.
”

Had Mr. Paine written the truth or merely twisted it to suit his own purpose? Henry felt the conviction of the man's words sear his heart. God be his judge, every word of
Common Sense
spoke to the core of his being.

Near dusk on the third day of their travels, a few miles inside New York, a man on horseback approached Delight and her father.

“Are you a stranger to this fair country?” The rider reined his stallion in close to the wagon. The horse was a fine one indeed, its coat a silky black. It pawed at the ground, indicating a desire to run with the wind. The animal's master offered an incredible smile, sinking deep dimples into the corners of his cheeks.

“A sojourner, my friend.” Papa brought the horses to a halt.

An odd reply for Papa unless …

“Ah, we are all but travelers on this earth for as long as the Lord blesses us,” the young man said. “Pray tell, where are you bound?”

“Where the soil breathes of liberty.”

The young man smiled. “I'm honored to meet you, sir. I've heard courageous tales about your endeavors.”

I was correct in my assumption.
Pride soared through Delight at Papa's valiant stand for the patriots.

Her father reached out to shake the man's hand, then nodded at Delight. “This is my daughter.”

The young man extended his hand to her. “A pleasure to meet you, miss. I shall be near your home two weeks hence, the Lord providing.”

“Do honor us with your presence,” Papa said.

“Thank you. I shall most certainly do so.” He tipped his tricorn hat.

“We look forward to seeing you again,” Delight added. She felt a glimmer of warmth spread over her cheeks at his engaging smile. She must ask Papa his name, since they had not been properly introduced.

“Pardon my hasty departure, but I must be on my way,” the young man said.

“Of course.” Papa turned to her. “Your shoe.”

She hurriedly removed it and produced the document for her father. In the next instant, the young man turned his steed and disappeared into the brush. A strange sensation flashed through her body.

“And who might that be?” Delight's cheeks grew hot at the realization of her interest in the dark-haired young man with the dimpled smile, and she hid her confusion by bending down to put on her shoe.

“James Daniels, the son of an influential patriot. Both have worked closely with Sam Adams and the Sons of Liberty,” Papa said, picking up the reins. “He's not married.”

Delight caught her breath. “I simply wondered what his name was.”
First Papa mentioned the most absurd possibility with Henry, and now he indicates Mr. Daniels is not married. Is he anxious to marry me off?

“I merely mention his marital status because he works diligently for the patriots, often transporting information through enemy lines. He's been beaten by loyalists, wounded by British soldiers, has witnessed his father's death at Bunker Hill, and watched while his home burned to the ground, yet still he refuses to settle for anything less than liberty.”

Delight's heart pounded hard against her chest. Such valor! Such heroism! That was the sort of man she wanted to share a home with one day, not the likes of a redcoat named Henry O'Neill with his carrot-top hair and unbridled loyalty to the British.

The matter of Henry had better be laid to rest. She had given Papa her word to treat him as a friend and a guest in order for his Tory heart to soften, but nothing else. And what did Papa mean by referring to Henry:
“I see the way the man looks at you and is thoroughly confused”?
No mind, she didn't intend to explore it another minute. The thought repulsed her.

That night, Papa and Delight slept under the wagon. They were anxious to return home and had traversed long into the evening until exhaustion prevailed against them. Even then, Delight's mind reeled with the happenings of this cherished time with Papa. She'd witnessed a side of him that brought tears to her eyes—a true patriot. One day, she would draw her children to her side and tell them about their grandfather. Sooner than those days, she'd reveal her own small part in the war, although she still desired to do more than make musket shells.

James Daniels existed as another matter: quite handsome, that man. His smile could charm the bark off a tree. In short, she wouldn't mind his visit at all.

Two days later they finally made it back to Chesterfield. The small village had become home, but Delight sorely missed the excitement of Boston. Mercy and Hope met them with enthusiastic affection as though they had been gone for months. Mama and the rest of Delight's sisters filed out one by one to offer their hearty welcome and share in Papa's and Delight's embraces.

“Did you have a pleasant journey?” Mama eyed him suspiciously. She knew Papa's designs.

He lifted baby Elijah from her arms and held him close. “Tremendous success, my sweet Elizabeth. I will share it all with you after dinner tonight.” He sniffed the air. “Do I smell venison stew? All the while we were gone, I pondered your fine cooking. Nothing compares to it.”

Mama shook her finger at him. Her large, brown eyes twinkled, giving away her feigned irritation. “Elijah Abraham Butler, you most assuredly have done something of which I shall disapprove. Is that where your compliments lie?”

Papa graced her cheek with a kiss. “And how is Henry faring?”

She released a sigh, then laughed before throwing her arms around his neck. “He is doing quite well.” She pointed to the maple tree where Henry waved. “He has set up a loom and is weaving all sorts of marvelous things.”

So now he captivates the heart of my mother?
Delight could scarce believe her ears.

Charity nearly bubbled with excitement. “Come see, Papa. He has begun weaving diapers for Elijah.”

“And he is able to weave black-gauze aprons, damask cloths, and a host of other wonderful things,” Patience said.

“Wonderful!” Papa strode toward the maple tree, carrying Elijah, while Mercy and Hope nestled close to their father's sides. “Greetings, Henry.”

“Aye, Elijah. We missed ye.” Henry grinned. “And ye, too, Delight.”

I fail to believe you missed me.
She released a heavy sigh. His comment irritated her, since they rarely enjoyed each other's company.

“I have taken to repay ye for your kindness,” Henry continued. “Mistress Butler states some of my goods are not available here.”

“True,” Papa said. “We have need of your fine services.” He examined Henry's work and complimented his craftsmanship. “I'd like to keep you employed. The entire town could use your services.”

“The British army would not agree with you, sir.” Henry's blue eyes fairly danced, and a smile twisted at the corners of his mouth. Never had he talked so freely and acted so lively.

“We might be able to arrange something.”

Papa, this daring invites trouble. You cannot trust the enemy.

Henry chuckled. “I do long for this war to be abated, for I miss my trade.” He peered around Papa to where Delight stood. “See, your generous care has given me strength to spend me days outside.”

“I see that,” Delight said. The smile he offered made her uncomfortable. A vision of the helpless, wounded soldier who relied on her assistance strolled through her mind. Why did she suddenly prefer the hurting man to the one on his way to wholeness? Confusion needled at her. She disliked the man immensely, and once his leg healed, he would be gone. That thought should give her tremendous pleasure. But it didn't, and an inkling of validity in her father's words made her furious.

“Soon I will be running like a strapping lad,” Henry said. “Already I'm leaning less and less on the crutch.”

“In your haste, are you causing more harm to your leg?” Delight instantly regretted her question. She wished Papa had never indicated his observations about Henry.

Henry's gaze met hers, causing another flush of warmth to her cheeks. “Methinks the use makes me stronger, but I thank ye for the concern.”

She felt the stares of her sisters like a sharp sword. No doubt, they would have thought little if she had returned his comments with a sharp retort. “I … I hope you understand your healing is of utmost importance to all of us.”

“Come along.” Papa's voice rang out above the silence. “I am famished, and I'm sure Delight is as well.”

“Shall we call you when the meal is ready?” Mama said to Henry. “Or do you wish to join us now?”

“This is your family's time together,” Henry said, already scrutinizing his weaving. “There is still more than an hour of daylight left, and I am eager to complete this piece. In fact, I should most enjoy eating here.”

“Very well.” Mama linked her arm into Papa's. “I will have one of the girls bring you a generous portion of venison stew.”

“Please, ma'am, could Miss Delight bring it to me?”

I
f Delight had set her mind to behave like a heathen, she'd been given the opportunity. Her first evening at home, and Henry wanted her to deliver his meal? If he could hobble about on his crutch, he could make his way to the kitchen when he finished his weaving.

As they strode toward the house, Papa stepped to her side and whispered, “Remember our conversation? This is an opportunity for you to extend Christian love and further instruct him in the way of patriots.”

She obediently nodded but inwardly cringed. “Yes, Papa.”

“When darkness settles, I'll invite him to a game of checkers and afterward chess. I feel merriment in my bones.”

Delight knew the details of Papa's evening plans skirted around the war. He merely wished to postpone telling Mama he had enlisted in the Continental army. He had money stored away if times got lean before his return, and Uncle Matthew and Aunt Anne had already shared an abundance of vegetables and apples. All of the girls had been busy helping Mama preserve food for winter, from dried beans and squash to fruit preserves. Soon they would be cooking thick, dark apple butter flavored with sugar and cinnamon and pouring it into jars. Aunt Anne had given them rhubarb sauce from the spring and jelly from wild berries. Before Papa planned to leave, he'd help Uncle Matthew butcher pigs, sheep, and cows for the long winter ahead. Already, hams hung in the smokehouse.

Enduring cold weather without Papa sounded more dismal than the inches of snow that would drift against the sides of their house. At least they had the companionship of Uncle Matthew and Aunt Anne—and there were other dear folk in Chesterfield, too—but how she longed to return to Boston. Delight shook her head. Dwelling on her gloomy situation would not change the current circumstances.

Casting aside her contemplations, Delight took a pottery plate of the thick stew, a chunk of bread, and a pewter mug of milk to Henry. His request still irked her. Since when did she become his keeper?

Remember your word to Papa. He sees a patriot's spirit in the man, whether you do or not.

Henry obviously didn't see her approaching, for he stirred not a muscle while he attended the loom. His breeches had been mended in her absence, albeit the stitching looked a little less than even, but it did bind the tear sufficiently. He had definitely been busy, and in light of his weaving, she admired his industrious nature. Delight studied him, tilting her head slightly.