To Capture Her Heart (5 page)

Immediately he wished he'd not asked. She hid her eyes, but he knew the pain they held. Still, she continued.

“There was fresh deer meat on spears over the fires. Corn, still in their husks, under the burning logs. Fish and clams and mussels baked in the earth under hot rocks. Winnie's family came and the Hortons. They brought more food and gifts.”

“You don't have to go on.”

“There was much dancing and singing. Everyone celebrated.
We were about to eat the food prepared. We heard war cries, but it was too late. The Narragansett swarmed in, surrounding us. I saw my Keme fall, his blood spilling, and I knew he would not live. He looked at me. But I could not run to him. Two warriors carried me to their canoe, hidden in the reeds.” Her voice shook, but she remained very still, sitting straight and tall.

He ached to hold her, to comfort her, but he sat as still as she. “Why didn't the Hortons do something?”

“What could they do? The Narragansett had me, and my father feared I would be killed. He was tied up, but he gave an order that no one was to fight.

“It was many weeks they held me captive. I tried to count the days in different ways, but they always discovered what I was doing and destroyed my markings. Ninigret taunted me with what they had done to Keme. With what my father must feel to know that he, Ninigret, had me. He told me of plans to kill my father, my mother, and brother. Anything he could tell me to wound my heart, he did.

“And when my father paid with wampum, sent by Captain Gardiner, Ninigret took me and promised me he would return me to my people. The wampum belt was given as a sacred trust that I would come back. Ninigret laughed when he left me in the woods. He left me to die.”

Dirk tried to speak but it sounded more like a croak. He cleared his throat and began again. “His men took thirteen other women that night. We still do not know what became of them. Did you see them when you were in captivity?”

The silence was long and the wind in the willows picked up. She ran her hands along her arms as if she were chilled. Finally, she answered. “I was kept in a wigwam, away from everyone except the warriors who guarded me. But I heard them talk.
The other women were given to men to be their wives. There was one who would not cooperate. They killed her. Her name was Nashan, my close friend, like a sister. Strong and beautiful.” Her eyes closed.

“There was nothing you could do, you know that,
ja
?” His finger drew her chin toward him. He searched her black opal eyes for understanding. He saw fire.

“I would have. I would have traded my place for hers.”

He thought of the day he found her. Of holding her close while they rode toward safety. He hoped the day would come when he could hold her again. But it would not be this day. He stood and offered his hand. “May I walk you back?”

“My friend, Dirk. I hear many things from Mary and my aunt. You are well beyond the truce boundary.”

“There is no truce. Our countries are at war, for over a year. Your father trusts me, Heather Flower.”

“He does, I think, but my people's loyalties are to the English.”

“That may be changing. In the meantime, I will heed your thoughts. Let me walk you to the trailhead and I'll be gone.”

The path opened to a small vale and he left her, the hardest thing he'd done in eons. Before he urged Miss Button on, he turned one last time to see her standing with just the hint of a smile as she waved. He'd hold that image in his thoughts until they could meet again.

Later that day Heather Flower joined her family and friends as they surrounded Winnie and moved out of the fort, up to the burying grounds in a long procession. Winheytem already sat upright in the deep grave the braves dug for him that morning, a black wampum belt draped across one shoulder. The ceremonial goodbyes were said and Wyandanch stepped forward to set a bow and quiver full of arrows beside Winheytem.

Winnie lowered her husband's bearskin into the grave as a final farewell. She left before the young warriors filled the dirt around her beloved. Her mourning, in many ways, was just beginning. Now she could cry the tears of a widow.

Followed by Wuchi, Abigail, Patience, and Lizzie, Heather Flower led her aunt to the riverbank and the wailing commenced. Every woman had tears to cry, but her own wails mingled with Winnie's—not only for her dear uncle, but for the young warrior who should be by her side. He was too young to die.

And for what? Because her father was friend to the
wonnux
, the white man? That he refused to aid in ambush against his white brothers? More likely it was the wampum the Nar
ragansett had been able to extract from the Long Island tribes in the form of annual tributes. When the English had come, Wyandanch had stopped the payments. She admired her father for his convictions, but at what price?

Such thoughts fueled her determination to rise above the grief the fierce nation to the north had inflicted. But where was the Great Spirit? Had He abandoned her? Was He the God of her people or the white man's God? Maybe if she knew, she would know how to speak to Him.

Her wails calmed to sniffles and she looked about the small gathering of women. Wuchi sat on the other side of Winnie, rocking and moaning a soft chant. Abigail, Patience, and Lizzie sat with their hands clasped firm and prayed with their eyes clamped closed and reddened cheeks damp with tears.

Heather Flower rested her chin on her knees as she encircled them with her arms. She remembered the stories about how Mary came to Yennicott, and she and Aunt Winnie had become friends, but Mary and Patience had not.

After a time a tranquility settled over the women, and Patience looked up and met her gaze with a smile. “You are like sisters,” Heather Flower said as she nodded toward Winnie.

“Yes, we are. I am rich in family here in Southold, am I not?” She looked around the small group of women. “God has taught me many things since I came here.”

“He taught?”

“To be thankful for what you do have instead of longing for what you don't.” She grinned at Lizzie.

Lizzie knew the story of Mary and Patience. “Had it not been for Winnie, Mary would have missed one of God's biggest lessons in her life.”

“What was that?” Heather Flower asked.

“That we should look for the good instead of expecting the bad in someone we do not know. Mary thought Patience's admiration of Barnabas was a threat to her marriage, and she kept her as far away as she could. But Winnie pointed out that Mary didn't even know her, and that perhaps Patience needed a friend.”

Winnie's sad mouth spread into a smile. “Mary kept talking about a women's group that supported each other. And she missed Lizzie so much. Patience didn't have a sister and she seemed to need a women's group as much as Mary needed to arrange one. They needed each other.”

Lizzie looked at Winnie. “She learned to put her trust in God, and not in herself. 'Tis something we all must learn. Burdens are lifted when you learn to depend on His strength.”

Heather Flower listened to the music of the crickets and bullfrogs. The chill of night air, hurried along by a breeze, made her shiver. “You tell me that too, Aunt.”

Patience stood. “If the trust is not there, you must set it in motion, Heather Flower. Listen for God's prompt. He will teach you to trust. Come now, shall we go in and see how the little ones are doing?” She looked toward Lizzie. “Your daughters have had their hands full, have they not?”

Lizzie, gently rounded by the years and as beautiful as ever, got up and offered Winnie her hand. “Jane stayed to help Rachel and Ruth with the young ones.”

The small band of women moved up the path toward the wigwam. They would put the wailing behind and bear their sorrow in silence.

Inside the smoky hut, a hodgepodge of the earlier feast bubbled over the fire. The families crammed together until everyone could sit and eat their fill. Afterward, Wyandanch stood and regaled them with stories of the quiet Winheytem
in their younger days. The tales brought smiles, not tears, as they celebrated the man they loved.

Benjamin sat across the room and the firelight played across his dimpled cheeks when he smiled at Heather Flower, kindness in his eyes. She smiled back, a small reassurance, she hoped, that all was well between them.

Winnie sat next to her and leaned in. “Benjamin looks at you. His heart has always been full for you.”

“I see, but I do not have anything to give to him. I am lost and empty. What do I tell him?”

“You do not need to say anything, my child. He understands your heart. It doesn't change his.”

Heather Flower looked back. His eyes were now on the fire, watching it dance while her father talked on. “I am happy my father says I may stay with you. When everyone leaves to go to their wigwams, you will be alone for the first time in hundreds of moons. It will be good to have me near, to comfort you. It will be good for me, for I will find my comfort with you.”

Winnie lowered her head to rest on Heather Flower's shoulder, and she put an arm around her aunt. Eventually the light of the fire died down to embers, and the Hortons and Fannings prepared to leave. Patience helped Abigail get the children into the wagon and Caleb offered to escort her home.

Benjamin left with Joseph and Jane. He gave his condolences all around but saved her for last and pulled her into a brief hug. His closeness yielded a longing, but for her Keme, not for Benjamin.

With only her family left, Heather Flower settled on her pallet. She closed her eyes and saw him. Her handsome Keme.

Benjamin rode alongside Joseph's wagon, vaguely aware of the chatter between his brother and sister-in-law.

At length Joseph turned to him. “You're very quiet. Any chance Heather Flower is on your mind?”

“You read me like a book, but what's new? Aye, that she is.”

Joseph rolled his eyes. “You set yourself up for a wagonload of hurt, brother. You did the same with Anna. You knew she would marry Charles Tucker. You ought not to let yourself go there.”

Benjamin looked at Jane, a half smile twitched on his lips. “Anna couldn't help herself, falling in love with old Charlie, could she, Jane?” Joseph's words were true, but the truth hurt. Anna was Jane's younger sister and grew up right next door. She'd always been there. He loved her then, and he loved her now. He wasn't sure why she'd married Tucker. But she had. It was one part of his heart he didn't like to open up, and Heather Flower helped him forget it. And it was different with her, was it not? She might not be ready to love again, but she'd been his friend since they were children. When she was ready, he'd be there.

“Anna has always had a soft spot for you, dear Benjamin. I know how sad you were when she married Charles, but she admires you and cares for you so very much. Do not listen to your brother. And don't give up on Heather Flower. Just give her time. You are a good man and any woman would be blessed to be your wife.”

He touched his hat like a salute and nodded at her. But his throat tightened and he looked away so she could not see his pain.

They rode up Town Street, crossing a shallow spot at Dickerson's Creek and passing the tanner's house on the right. His
brother's house came up first on the left and Joseph pulled in the reins. “Friends, brother?”

“Aye. Nothing changes that. And for what it's worth, you might be right. But I will remember what you said, Jane.” He said his goodbyes. A few feet up the road, he glanced toward Charles and Anna's house and spurred Star on past Tucker's Lane to the Horton homestead.

He'd built the house with his father and Joseph when they first came to Southold. He was twelve years old and his father let him work like a man. He loved it. And he loved the home they'd created. It was the first timber-framed house completed on eastern Long Island, and then they worked to help the Terrys and the Budds finish their homes.

The light still glowed from the diamond-paned glass windows as he put his horse away and walked up the flagstone path. Inside he found his father sitting with the old family Bible, reading silently while Caleb and Joshua were climbing up to the loft.

Mother was putting little Jonathan and Hannah to bed in the room they shared with him. Two good reasons to be looking to build his own home. He sat down in the chair next to his father.

Barnabas looked up and set the Bible aside. “It was a difficult day.”

“Yes, sir. I'm glad it's over. I'm sure Winnie is too.”

“Certes. It will be good for her to have Heather Flower with her for a time. I was pleased to see her parents agreed.”

Benjamin shifted at her name and leaned to study the fire, mute.

“Joseph seems to think you may be too preoccupied with her.” His father raised an eyebrow.

“Well, Joseph should be talking to me about it then, not you—sir.” The last was added quickly.

“I see. I just would like to say be careful, son. She's been through much and I imagine feeling very tender.”

“I know, Father, I'm keeping that in mind. It doesn't make it easier for me, though. I do love her.”

His father paused before he spoke. “Be patient, son. You know not what the Lord has in store for you.”

Mary came in, her face gently lined with the years, still pretty with crinkles around her wide, hazel eyes and a smile that lent encouragement. Her auburn hair, now mostly gray, was in a thick braid down her back.

Benjamin stood and gave her a hug as she eased into the chair. “Are the poppets asleep yet?”

“You've spoilt them, Ben. They wait for your bedtime stories.” She settled back and closed her eyes with a smile.

“Ah, at least there is someone I enchant. Well, good night then.” He bowed and retreated to the bedroom he used to share with Joseph.

But when he entered the darkened room, his siblings were tucked beneath the worn quilt, sleeping like two little bear cubs in winter. He climbed into his own bed and let his thoughts drift.

He could wait for Heather Flower as Jane suggested. But he could see that he must take care and not let her—or anyone else, for that matter—know that he waited for her. He would frighten her away, and Joseph would not pass up a chance to make him the object of his jests. He was a Horton, after all.

He got up and took his Bible to the glow of the hearth. The one thing he'd learned growing up from his parents was to bring your troubles to the Lord first, and He would answer you in His time.