To Capture Her Heart (12 page)

“Yes, I do know what you mean. But I think Ben waits in hope that someday you will feel strong and ready for promises. 'Tis how it seems to me.”

Mary and Heather Flower went out to the front parlor to join the rest of the ladies, but it was clear that Winnie was tired and needed to go home. They gathered capes and food baskets and bid everyone goodbye.

Mary thought of Ben, sweet as sugar and thinking of everyone else but himself. She ached for him. She prayed for a change in Heather Flower's heart, that she could be tender to her dear boy. Or if not Heather Flower, some sweet girl to take care of him. Someone to adore him in the manner he deserved. She
reminded herself to not be impatient, that God would answer. But she could let God know this was urgent, could she not?

Heather Flower and Aunt Winnie made their way along the Indian Neck trail. The day was crisp in the sunshine and cold in the shade of the wooded section they walked through. Tall chestnut and hickory trees blocked the warmth autumn rays might have delivered. They stopped to readjust their capes when, with whoops and pounding feet, a young boy came racing from the direction of Fort Corchaug.

“Whoa,
muckachuck
. Where do you go like that?” Heather Flower threw out her arm to prevent him from colliding with her aunt.

“To find you. A man gave me a message to tell you.” He panted and looked at Winnie, then back at her. “He said alone.”

Winnie stepped closer to Heather Flower.

“He was one of the Dutch. He said you would know.”

“You must tell me then. No mind to my aunt. She may hear what he has to say.”

The little boy's brow wrinkled like an old man's, but he continued. “He said you are to meet him by the tulip tree tomorrow as the sun goes down. He said you would know the tree.”

Winnie gasped. “You can't meet him. Your father would be upset if I let you.”

“It is all right. He means well. Nothing will happen to me.” She touched the boy's sleeve. “Go and tell him, yes, I will be there.”

Winnie shook her head. “But he is Dutch. This is disloyal to our friends. They consider us family. Heather Flower, don't do this.”

The boy hesitated, looking from one woman to the other.

“This man I owe my life to. Even Captain Gardiner trusted him. I will meet with him and see what he has to say.” She looked at the young messenger. “Go, boy.” She flicked her hands toward him and he ran back along the trail.

“Aunt, this man does not care for the English, just as they do not care for him. But he does not come to spy. He comes to see me. He has been a friend to me. I will see him, but you should not tell anyone. It would only cause trouble for him.”

That night she climbed onto her pallet as Winnie brushed sooty ash back into the fire. Her aunt had enjoyed the afternoon and tonight she tended to small chores she'd forgotten of late. The outing had been good.

Her eyelids were heavy and through half-closed eyes she watched the embers glow from blackened wood. Her aunt agreed in the end that she could meet the Dutchman with the sincere, bay-blue eyes. But trouble played on her heart and mind. His presence would rile not only their friends but her people as well. And put him in danger. So why did she agree to meet with him?

October 21, 1653

The tulip tree towered, clad in yellow, its leaves luminous in the slanting sun. Hidden within the edge of the forest of hickory and oak, Dirk kept watch for her. He'd waited most of the afternoon, with the hope Heather Flower might find her way there early. Now he listened as the katydids began their nightly rendition and the evening grew dusky. He strained to listen for footfalls as he pulled the food he'd packed for them from his knapsack.

Maybe she wouldn't chance a meeting. Or she simply decided she did not want to see him again. He could be sad if thoughts of Benjamin Horton didn't clench his stomach at the moment. He tried to imagine if Horton won her heart, how would he feel? How would he cope? Not good thoughts.

He bit into the crisp little
koekje
without tasting, stared at the man-hand-sized leaves of the tulip tree as they drifted to the ground, one by one. She came so silently—one moment he was alone, the next she was there beside him, her large, dark eyes even more fiery than he remembered them, the hint of a tiny smile played on her pouty lips.

He stood. “I thought you wouldn't come.”

“
Aquai
, Dirk.”

“
Ja
, hallo. How goes it with you? Your aunt, she is well?”

“Yes, she does not forget her husband, but she is learning to be with the living.”

“And you? You are ready to be with the living?” He stepped closer. She stood tall and proud, but sadness draped her like a veil. How he'd like to take her in his arms, to soothe her hurt.

“My tears are kept in a tiny place now. I only bid them when I want them.”

He took her hand and placed a
koekje
in it. “I suspect that is often. Here, I brought you this. It's like the ginger cakes you eat, but with almonds.” Should he ask about her family? The Hortons?

“
Nuk
. Thank you.” She walked to the tulip tree and lowered herself against the dark gray furrowed trunk. Its roughness caught at her buckskin dress, and Dirk retrieved a blanket from his pack and tucked it behind her. He sat next to her.

“So tell me about you, Heather Flower. You grew up a princess,
ja
?”

She chewed the sweet morsel and swallowed before she answered. “Princess is the white man's word. But yes, my father is a leader of men, our sachem. Our king, in the white man's way. So yes, I am a princess, daughter of the king.” The little smile played on her lips.

“Was your life happy? I mean—”

She gave him no chance to say what he meant. “I treasure my memories of growing up. I was allowed to run and play with my brother and our friend Keme. We chased through the forests without care, we played in the waves of the ocean on the beach. I helped our mother gather berries and shells and learned
to dry the venison my father and brother brought home from the great hunts.” She took the bone needles from her pouch. “Mother taught me to sew. We made beautiful clothing with beads and quills and the feathers of eagles.”

He stretched his fingers toward the pointed needles and she playfully poked at him. “Do you miss your mother, then?”

The meadow grew dark and a pond far across the meadow was suddenly astir with a large flock of geese taking flight. They watched them form a V as they continued on a southerly migration. Heather Flower shivered and Dirk helped her wrap the blanket about her shoulders.

“I do. But I am happy to be with my aunt. I think she has needed me there and I have needed to be there. She grows strong and has good friends in Mary and Patience and Lizzie. I know she will find herself once more and not need me. But I want to stay. I like it among Winnie's people.”

He nodded. “And Horton? Benjamin? Do you want to stay for him?” Urgency crept into his voice so he looked away and hoped she didn't notice.

“My brother used to bring me across the bay in a canoe to Yennicott. I played with Abigail, and my aunt would make us dolls. My uncle made Wyancombone and Joseph and Benjamin little wooden canoes. Sometimes Benjamin would teach me and Abigail to ride his horse. He was good to us.”

“Is. He still is good to you,
ja
?”

“
Nuk
. The last time I came to Southold I was ten years old. Abigail married James. After that, Benjamin would come to Montauk to visit me and my brother. He has always been very good to me. But he would not be happy to know I am here with you.”

The hair prickled on the back of his neck and he ran his hand over it. “Why would he care?”

A flash of light danced in her eyes. “It's not what you are thinking, my friend Dirk. It is the trouble between the English and Dutch. You don't seem to fear that you are on English soil.” Her pretty eyes got rounder. “And Benjamin said your people took a ship by force in an English port. Is that true? He said the treaty between you is not good.”

“The news we hear is not good. The loss at Scheveningen was severe for both sides. There's talk of a new treaty. No one really wants that. We want to finish what we started. At least in New Netherlands. The ship we took was our own. It should not have been trading in an English port.”

“That is why I say you are unsafe.”

“I think Horton must be filling your mind with all manner of ill will toward me.”

“No, that is not true. Benjamin is a good man.”

He ignored her last comment. “The fact is we are much more tolerant of the English than they are of us. We were here on Long Island first. We claimed this land. The English kept camping out here on the east end, and we finally gave it to them.”

Heather Flower peered into the darkness of the forest. “The land belongs to no one. She is everyone's. But the white man wars with his white brothers as the red man wars with his. If it is not over land, it is over wampum. Winnie tells me the only thing we should war about is God.”

“How so?”

“She means we should be willing to fight for our belief in God.”

“Does she believe in God or the Great Spirit?”

“She says they are the same with one difference.”

“What is that?”

“God sent Jesus.”

“
Ja
. That is so.” He grew up with the Bible stories, but he preferred not to dwell on them. He didn't need anyone but himself. God was all right for his parents and anyone else who chose to believe. In fact, it wasn't that he didn't believe—he just didn't need the encumbrance. “Do you believe in Winnie's God and Jesus?”

“I don't know. My aunt's faith is strong, but she has been so very lost without my uncle. I see her getting better. But why does God let her suffer?”

Dirk stared at her a long time, recollecting what he'd learned as a youth. “It is not that God lets her suffer. He waits for her with open arms. It is our decision where we put our faith and trust.”

A smile played on her lips. “I am surprised you speak in that way, my friend.”

“
Ja
. I know. It's just that much I know to be true.”

“Then—” She turned even before Miss Button raised her head, ears forward and nickered.

Dirk reached out and placed a warning hand on Heather Flower's arm. “Hush.”

They hovered toward each other, heads cocked toward the noise. A herd of deer moved through the clearing in the evening dusk, carefully placing each step, heads dodging in different directions as they made their way to the other side and into the woods again.

Her nearness was palpable and a ragged sigh escaped him as he offered his hand to help her up. Icy rain began to patter their faces and he looked to the west at the mushrooming thunderclouds. He bent over to pick up the blanket, spreading it about her shoulders. “I should take you home.” He walked to Miss Button and retrieved her reins.

“You cannot come with me. It is too dangerous. If anyone sees me with you, it will be difficult for me and deadly for you.”

“I won't go all the way, but I can't let you walk. I will take you as far as the Broadfield, and then I can easily retreat.” He didn't wait for her answer. He led his horse to her and put his hand out for her to step into. He swung her up and climbed behind her. His heart thumped. Could she hear it? How could he ride with her so near and not tell her he loved her and he wanted to take her away? Wanted her to say yes and be his bride?

They rode in silence as the rain began in earnest, pelting his back as he tried to shelter her. “I should not come to see you again.”

“
Chawgwan?
What?”

“This is wrong. It causes you worry and puts you in danger.”

She twisted, tilting her face so very close to his. “I worry because it puts you in danger, my friend.”

He lowered his lips till they met hers, and for a long moment the only thing that mattered was she was here now, in his arms. The rain, the danger, time and space, all fled his consciousness. And he knew as she first returned his kiss and then drew away, he did not want to leave her. But he must.

They neared the clearing and he reined Miss Button to a halt. He swung off and reached for Heather Flower. As she landed on her feet in front of him, he held her close and kissed the top of her head.

“Dirk.” Her voice was raspy. “I want you to be my friend.”

“I am your friend, Heather Flower. To let you go right now is the hardest thing I've ever done.” He held her from him and watched for a long moment, considering everything he might tell her. “I could not bear it, though, if you give your affections
to a Horton.” She stiffened. “That was foolish of me. I have no right to tell you how to handle your affairs. Forgive me.”

She stood quietly, not moving.

“Go now. There's lightning in the distance and it's moving this way.”

She looked up. “But you will be riding into it.”

“
Ja
, but I know how to take care of myself. Now go.” He gave her a nudge, but wanted to grab her close. Why was he leaving when all he wanted to do was stay?

She didn't look up. She just started walking. He watched until he couldn't see her anymore, as she faded into the dimness. Maybe if he just stood there, her image would be frozen in time. If he didn't move, would he never forget her face, never forget how warm her breath had felt on his cheek, how sweet her lips?