A Place in His Heart (23 page)

“We will take only the essentials with us. Once we have a temporary hut and a place to store things, we will send for the rest of our belongings. It will take time, though. Are you feeling better? You still shake.”

“I have never been so frightened. If it were not for Northstar, I don't know what might have happened.” She shuddered at the thought of the snake. “I feared I would pray and pray, but God might not listen to me.”

“Hush. He listens. You are safe, are you not? It is by God's hand we are safe in this wilderness.”

“I pray, Barney, but I become impatient, I suppose. It was God that guided Northstar and that I do not doubt.”

“Aye. He keeps us in the hollow of His hand because this is where He desires us to be, my sweet.” His hand fell to her stomach and he caressed it tenderly. “We are taking a step closer to doing what He has set us out to accomplish. To build His church. I believe He will bless us with the child we desire. Our child will be the first Horton born in the wilderness they call Long Island, and 'twill be the link between the old world and the new.”

He brought her into his arms and Mary rested there, but not at peace. An old, familiar turmoil began to build within her as she reflected on the years she spent praying and hoping for a babe. In the first years of marriage, she drank a cordial, as instructed by Lizzie, in hopes of conceiving. But the times she believed she carried Barney's child were always followed by such a sorrowful depression, she soon did not like to even consider the possibility.

“I pray so, Barney. I pray that God has protected us for His divine purpose.”

Barney picked up his Bible. “In Proverbs it says, ‘The hope that is deferred, is the fainting of the heart, but when the desire cometh, it is as a tree of life.' I know how you are saddened when you think of how many years we are without our child. Your eyes still give you away.”

She looked away, shaking her head. “'Tis your constant questioning, Barney.”

He fingered the frayed blue ribbon as he closed the Bible. “I know that bothers you. But our joy will be so much greater, because we have endured and depended on our Lord.”

“You believe God will answer our prayer. But when, Barney?”

“God knows the desires of our hearts. If we are diligent to do His work, He will take care of us. He knows what we require. He will answer in His own time. That is all I need to know.”

She finally melted into his arms. A moment of desire for his love flitted across her mind, but she quickly turned to more practical issues. “Very well, then. 'Tis all I need as well. Let me rouse the fire and tend to our supper. Perhaps after we eat, you and the boys might help me sort through some of these things. I must decide what to take first and what to send for later.”

She moved to the table where the letters were strewn. After she stacked them and retied the ribbon, she put them in the cask with the linens, next to her handkerchiefs. She put together some cold meat and cheese and set them on the table, along with cornbread. As she took the crock of butter from the pantry shelf, her eyes fell on the honey pot, so precious to them in this land of no honeybees. Honey was first on the list she had given to Jeremy when he'd visited. She took the pot down and set it on the table. Tonight she would mix Lizzie's remedy.

Perhaps God would bless her twice today.

Long Island, October 1638

Close to shore, they anchored the whaling ship. The forty-mile journey across the sound from Connecticut, around the upper point of the Long Island northeast fork, and into the bay seemed uncomplicated and almost pleasant compared to their voyage across the ocean. The men lowered the shallop, and each man, woman, and child climbed over the side into the boat. Only a few of their provisions were lowered down to them.

“Barney, what about Northstar?”

“Once I have you and the boys safely ashore, I will come back to bring him in. But there's time enough to bring everything else.”

The shallop rocked as everyone settled and the women and children huddled to protect each other from the blast of an early winter's wind.

After a prayer of thanksgiving and praise, the thirteen men sat backward in the shallop and slowly rowed toward land. The distance between them and the shore seemed small, but the water was icy, the wind cold.

Miss Terry sat with her mother. She would be in Yennicott with them. Had Barney and Miss Terry ever met each other in Boston? She shuddered at the thought. She glanced at Miss Terry and found the young woman looking back, her eyes bleak. Mary turned away. Surely she did not think she would exchange pleasantries with her? But her idea of forming another women's group on Long Island would be complicated if she avoided the Terrys. Compunction nipped at her like the icy wind.

She pulled Ben closer. He seemed so small, though he was growing up. He never seemed to mind when she hovered. Jay surpassed her in height, but she could not refrain from protecting either boy.

Boys. They were practically men. Jay remained awkward with his feelings toward her, but he did show respect and his manners were impeccable. She smiled at him standing there, the apple tree protected in his arms. He went out of his way to be helpful these days. So much like his father.

Ben's breath billowed out onto the air in frozen droplets and Mary pulled his neck cloth up to cover his mouth and nose. Barney remained watchful that the boys were kept from the elements as much as possible and she was vigilant too. “We don't want you sick, Ben. Stay warm. Jay, look at the shore. 'Tis beautiful, is it not?” She longed to find his sweet spot, to know how to reach him.

“It looks like Massachusetts to me, ma'am.”

“Yes, I suppose it does. But once we're ashore—look, I see people on the shore. It looks like the Indians that—”

“Oh Mama, it looks like a party.” Ben cupped his hands and called, “Father, we have a welcoming party.”

“I am certain we do,” Barney said. “They promised Mr. Hallock a feast when we returned.”

Peter Hallock grunted as he raised the oar. “That they did.”

As they neared the shore, Barney and the twelve other men strained to anchor the shallop. Jay quickly stepped up to help and they brought the vessel to rest only a rod from the beach.

Barney clapped his son's shoulder. “Thank you, Joseph. There will be much work to do here—good to have another man around. The water will be cold, and it will be best to roll up your pants. Take off your boots. Benjamin, you too. Mary, I will carry you ashore. Your skirts will get wet if I do not.”

She smiled at him. He stood there so tall and brave, and she was proud to be with him. He might not love her, but he made his promise to her father good—he took care of her above all else.

Once again they were on the brink of a new beginning. She closed her eyes. Another chance to win his love.

She clung to Barney's neck, his strong arms wrapped around her, as he slogged through the water. Icy waves whipped about them and she kept her eyes on Ben and Jay as they made their way out front.

“Is that bonfire for us? Are the Indians truly pleased we are coming?”

“Aye, my sweet. The people you see on the shore call themselves Corchaugs or some such thing. They are the ones Reverend Youngs told us about. Do not fear them. They have worked hard and prepared for us quite a bit of land for crops. They've harvested corn and stored much of it for the winter. Corn. It's like our oats, wheat, silver, and gold all in one, is it not?”

He sloshed through the waves receding from the beach. “We shall need to dry out and warm ourselves. Once we've eaten, we can make our way inland.” He set her down.

“Look, Ben, Jay—look at the pretty orange and yellow shells.”
She bent down and scooped a handful. The delicate shells jingled as she let them fall through her fingers, back to the sand. “What beautiful music.”

Ben combed his fingers through the jingle shells and sand. “There's hundreds of them. Look, there's pebbles too.”

The beach glittered in the slanting sun with agates, shiny from the water and beautiful in gray, pink, white, and gold. Oyster, clam, and crab shells lay amongst charred wood. Yesterday's supper?

A tall man with a long face approached Peter Hallock. He was dressed in colorful bird feathers with bear grease, tinted black, smeared on his face and arms. His appearance would have been frightening had it not been for his large, friendly black eyes. His skin was a burnished brown and his long hair black as a raven's. He welcomed Mr. Hallock, glad to see him once again, and held out a cup.

Mary was not aware she held her breath until it escaped with a gasp. This was the sachem, the Corchaug chief. The cup was the one they said Mr. Hallock had presented to him during the scouting party.

Mr. Hallock held up the peace pipe the sachem had presented to him on his previous visit. Reverend Youngs approached and the three men exchanged greetings, a mixture of the Corchaugs' native language and English, as they prepared to share the pipe. All fell quiet.

Out of the silence rose Barnabas's beautiful baritone as he quietly led the group in song. “Ye people all with one accord, clap hands and eke rejoice. Be glad and sing unto the Lord with sweet and pleasant voice.”

Mary moved closer to him to clap and sing praises. His presence always drew a crowd to him and this day was no exception.
He was a pious man who loved his Lord. And people could not help but love him.

A fire, built by the natives, roared on the beach and all moved closer to warm and dry themselves. Clams, oysters, and parched corn wrapped in husks were half buried in the ashes. An elk roasted on a wooden spit alongside rabbits and turkey. Mary remembered their first feast in Massachusetts, and how the men hunted all day and labored to make clearings and build fires before the women and children could come ashore. They had learned from the earlier settlers that the Indians had been helpful to them at one time, but that had changed up north.

To be welcomed on the shore by the Corchaug people, so friendly, so eager to help, gave her hope. She prayed it would always be so. She sat near their fire, hugging her knees. Barney and the boys settled beside her. Contentment draped her like a warm, thick quilt. This truly felt like home.

Three hours later, full from their meal, the party tramped up the narrow path. All carried the few belongings they'd brought with them.

They passed the inlet on the left, with the forest to their right. Tall white oaks stood guard alongside chestnut groves, and the forest was silent, save for the crunch of boots on brittle ground. Tall shrubs with leathery leaves and berries covered in a whitish wax filled in the dense woods.

Relieved the Terrys were far behind, Mary looked around in awe. An early snow had fallen the night before and the mosaic of snow on brown trees and gray rock looked breathtaking, like an art form just waiting to be discovered. “Look, boys. See the pattern in the snow and tree roots? It looks like a fawn.”

Ben quickly picked up on the game. “I see rabbits—over there, where the snow is draped over the rocks.”

As the sun continued downward, the long shadows cast over the trees, rocks, and snow created myriad animals. Each took a turn pointing in delight. Jay saw a fox, and Barney, his musket in hand, pretended to aim at an elk.

Mary hugged her belongings closer to her. “Do not shoot that pretty picture. I want it to stay just like that in my memory forever.”

“Forever is a long time, my sweet. Nothing lasts forever.”

“Oh, Barney, you do not mean that.” But as soon as the words were out of her mouth, she regretted them. He was thinking of Ann, of course. “I mean, we are fragile beings, of course, but in our hearts and minds memories are for a lifetime. They are a gift from God, I believe. Surely, you would agree?”

“Nay, I don't think they are a gift from God. We have painful ones to deal with as well, and I don't believe God would inflict that upon us. I prefer to forget. That is easier.”

Jay regarded his father with a long look. “Well, my memories of Mother make me sad, but I should never want to forget her. She wouldn't want to be forgotten, Father, would she?”

Ben looked from Jay to his father and waited for the answer.

“Forgive me, boys, please. I shouldn't have said it. Sad, sweet—no difference—memories follow us, that I've seen. Does not matter whether they be happy or not. I suppose you have to pick and choose. For me, they all haunt me. I'd prefer to forget.”

Jay glanced at Mary first, and then returned his father's look. “He's not an easy man to live with, is he?”

“Nay, he is not, Jay, I shall give you that.”

Barney stopped in front of Jay, his face serious except for a tug of his lips and a wink of his eye. “Heigh-ho, now, son. Are you so grown-up you are now testing me?”

Mary and the boys could not suppress their laughter. He doubled over as well, and she could see he loved the fact his little family was joining in the fun together, even if it was at his own expense.

“Yes, Father, and it will be an arm wrestle tonight.”

“You are on, my son. You showed your strength well today and worked like a man. Just remember, I have done this for years.” He nodded at Ben and grinned broadly at Mary.

Mary stopped. “Look—the clearing.”

The rest of the founders were far behind, many with small children. Some of the Indians had forged ahead to show them the way. As they entered the clearing, the Corchaug men had already stacked the wood for a large fire. Pits had been dug into a small slope, and tree poles, branches, and bark gathered.

Mary eyed a grassy spot and hurried to it. “Here, Barney, may we claim this? 'Tis where we shall call home until you build us our new house.”

“Mayhap we should wait until the others are here. We will draw straws, I am sure. I do like that spot, though. It would be perfect.”

She put her belongings on the ground where she hoped they could stay. “Of course, that would be fair.”

Barney requested the boys help the Indians build the fire. It would be dark soon and would only get colder. With one large central fire continually burning, the family groups would feed their fires off of the main one.

Both the immigrants and the native people worked side by side. The Indians had dug cavelike pits and showed the Englishmen how to cover the opening with sticks, bark, and moss. Sailcloth finished the huts and would help protect throughout Long Island's long, harsh winter. Additional pits, dug deep and
lined with branches and reeds, would store and protect their provisions.

All of the women tended the blazing bonfire. The Corchaug women put together corn, squash, and beans into a stew, while the English women speared rabbits and turkeys onto long sticks and arranged them over the flames.

The celebration began, and after sharing the meal, the Corchaugs presented Reverend Youngs and Peter Hallock with deerskins on which they had drawn out a map of the area. They would have lots eighty rods to the west from where they now camped, to build their permanent homes.

Mary savored the meal. “This is one of the most delicious feasts I have ever had, I think.” It was beans in what the natives called
samp
, but it tasted like a delicious vegetable stew.

Barney put his arm about her shoulders and drew her close. “What now? And our wedding feast was not? Have you forgotten so quickly?”