Matthew closed his eyes. Yes, he had a vague memory. He’d been at the creek. Then felt the sharp pains. When he opened his eyes again, the woman had a cup in her hand.
She reached behind his head with one hand and gently lifted it while bringing the cup to his mouth. “Drink slow.” Grey curls crowned the front of her cap. Her blue eyes were kind.
He sipped the water. Please let it stay down.
The man, who could pass for her brother, leaned over him. “Vem är du och var bor du?”
The woman swatted him on the arm. “Prata engelska, Oden.”
“You speak English, wife.” Oden turned back to him and spoke with a heavy accent. “Who are you? Where do you live?”
Matthew studied the man. Could he be trusted? “Matthew ... from Virginia.”
She motioned for her husband to leave before turning back to him. “You tired. We talk tomorrow. Maybe you eat. God natt.”
He nodded and drifted off to sleep.
CHAPTER 21
It had started to snow by the time Heather got near enough to see the Turner farm. Early for mid-December, but pretty. Smoke was coming from the chimneys. A welcome sight. She had hoped to talk with Amelia and Aaron yesterday after services, but this conversation needed privacy.
When she reached the stone dwelling, she got down from Tillie and tied the reins to a fence rail. “’Twill not be long, girl.” She walked up the steps of the porch and knocked on the door. A minute later Amelia, smiling, opened it and drew her inside.
“Come in, come in.” Amelia looked to where Tillie was tied. “Cole, please put Mrs. Stewart’s horse in the barn.”
Cole came to the door. “Good day, Mrs. Stewart.”
“Tillie and I appreciate it.”
Heather scanned the hall and large front room. Where were the others? “I needed to talk with you and Aaron ... but privately.”
Amelia helped her off with her cape. “I think I sensed that yesterday. In fact, Aaron intended to ride to your place later today. Go sit by the fire while I get us some hot cider.” Amelia took the cape and walked toward her kitchen. “Logan, would you tell your father Mrs. Stewart is here to see us.”
“Yes, Ma.”
Heather walked into the room and sat in a chair by the large fireplace. The warmth was welcoming, particularly for her chilled hands.
Amelia returned with a tray with three steaming cups, followed by Emily and Ellen, both grinning and curtsying. “Mrs. Stewart,” they said, almost in unison.
Amelia set the tray down and placed an arm around each of the twins. “Girls, you may go up to your room. Logan will be up soon to read to you.”
Heather tried to hide a smile watching Amelia dispatching each of her children when Aaron and the boys entered the room. Did her friend realize she had been Heather’s mentor ever since she’d married Matthew?
Aaron and Amelia sat on the couch across from her. Aaron leaned forward. “I was going to come by today. I know you have been waiting to hear.”
“Please forgive me if I took you away from your work, but I could not wait any longer. Did you learn anything about Matthew on your trip to Leesburg?”
Aaron shook his head. “No. The folks I spoke with have not seen or heard anything of him. The good thing is that they are aware he is missing and will be mindful of letting us know if they hear of or see anything.”
“What about Alexandria?” Heather asked. “Will you go and speak with Adam Duncan ... and anyone else you think might be able to shed some light on his whereabouts. Between you and Adam, I’m hoping you can learn something ... anything. ’Tis been nearly six weeks. He just cannot have disappeared. Matthew may be ill or injured. Why else would he not come home or let us know why?”
“I will go this week,” Aaron said.
The concern on Amelia and Aaron’s faces was a mirror into her own heart. She put her hand to her lips, and the tears she had fought came.
Amelia came and kneeled beside her. She placed her arm around her. “We are praying for his safe return ... and for you and your family.”
Heather just nodded and smiled through her tears. “I know.” She took a deep breath. “I cannot tell you enough how much your help means to me.” She glanced out the window. The snow was continuing to fall. “I should get back now.”
Aaron looked at Amelia and stood. “I will get your horse and ride with you. I need to go see George.” He walked out the door.
Amelia went for her cape, returned, and helped her on with it.
Heather smiled. “Aaron does not really need to see George, does he?”
“No.”
“I thought not.” Heather hugged Amelia. “My precious friends.”
Heather stepped back from the table, dusting the flour from her hands. How many times waiting for Matthew’s return had she kneaded dough to relieve the tension? Best let it rest and rise, or it would only be fit for pudding. She placed the ball of dough in the wooden bowl, covered it with a cloth, and set it near the hearth. She needed to have hope that Adam or Aaron would discover news of Matthew.
Stirring the soup steaming in the kettle, she glanced out the window to the dusky sky. Mary and Mark should have been home from the Whitcombs’ by now. Hopefully, they found Hannah less melancholy. The snow had stopped hours ago, but the wind blew so much it sounded like a wail and— Todd Gordon burst through the kitchen door, his face almost scarlet from the cold. “Mrs. Stewart, Mark has been hurt. They are bringing him here.”
She dropped the ladle and ran to the door. “What happened?”
George Whitcomb and Philip carried Mark inside. Mary followed, carrying her brother’s hat. Blood dripped from Mark’s nose onto his shirt.
Heather peered at George and Mary. “What happened? Why is he unable to walk?”
The expression on George’s face alarmed her. “A fight, and he fell down the stairs. His leg is hurt, and possibly his head. After we set him down, I will fetch Dr. Edwards.”
She stood back, stunned. “Take him upstairs, George. I will be right up.” Heather poured water into a bowl and gathered some clean cloths.
Douglas ran into the room, his eyes wide as he reached for her skirt and cried.
She stooped and held him close to her. “Mark is hurt. I need to go and take care of him.”
Mary stood still as a statue, staring at her.
Heather poured water into a bowl and gathered some rags. “Please take Douglas to the cottage and ask Polly if she can keep him for a bit.”
George came down the stairs as Heather entered the central hall. “Before you go for Dr. Edwards, tell me what happened.”
Their neighbor glanced at Mary as she bundled up Douglas. “Todd and Philip are getting him settled. Mary can tell you what happened. I need to find the doctor.”
“I’m obliged to you for bringing Mark home.” As George rushed out the door, Heather turned her attention to Mary. “As soon as you have him settled with Polly, please come back.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
About ten minutes later, Mary came into Mark’s room and sat on the bench at the end of the bed. She focused on her brother. “I’m sorry you are hurting, Mark.”
Heather studied her son’s face and rinsed the blood-soaked cloth in the bowl. “His nose has stopped bleeding, but he will probably have some bruising and this nasty bump on his head. His leg does not appear to be broken, but Dr. Edwards will know.”
Mary reached for her brother’s hand.
Heather watched the two. The tender sight stilled her. Better that than the pounding her heart had been doing. “Could Polly see to Douglas?”
“She said yes, and if you needed help with Sara ...”
“I fed her not a half hour before you came home. She is sleeping. Come with me.”
Heather headed toward her room. Mary followed.
Once they were both in the room, Heather shut the door. “Tell me what brought all this about?”
Mary took her cape off. The look on her face and her reluctance
to talk about the incident was troubling.
“Tell me everything. Who did this to Mark and why?”
“Teddy Whitcomb. Mark hit him, they got in a scuffle, and Mark fell down the stairs.”
“Teddy? Why would those two fight? They are best friends.”
“Teddy provoked Mark.” Tears formed in Mary’s eyes. “He said Papa left because he sided with the Tories.”
“What? Why would he suggest such a thing?”
A pained look remained on Mary’s face. She knew more than she had disclosed. Teddy would never make such an accusation, unless ...
“How is Han ... Mrs. Whitcomb? Does she still keep to herself?”
“Mama, I wonder if Mrs. Whitcomb had something to do with Teddy’s comments. She has been so withdrawn. A few days ago, Teddy told Mark that his mother took a strap to him for no reason. And a week ago, Mrs. Whitcomb attacked Martha, calling her all sorts of vile names.”
“The Whitcomb children told you these things?”
“Yes. When I pressed Martha about her cheek being red and swollen, she cried and said her mother flew into rages. She is still upset about Timothy’s death years ago, and Tobias joining the militia seems to have made things worse.”
Heather sat back and took a deep breath. “Something must be amiss with Mrs. Whitcomb. What happened to Mark today is proof of the harm gossip brings. It is a false suggestion that your father left home because he is associated with the Loyalists.”
Mary pulled back. “What should we say when people ask us where Papa is? He has been gone for six weeks. He would never choose to be gone so long.”
“’Tis true.” Heather rubbed the knot in the back of her neck. There was no faulting the children for being confused and anxious. She must remain strong and set a good example for them. “I need to look in on Mark.”
When Heather reached Mark’s room, he was on his side, leaning close to the lantern and reading. He looked up when she entered.
“Are you in pain? Does your head ache?”
“My whole face hurts.”
“Let me put this cloth back on. You can read later. Can you move your leg?”
“Yes. But it hurts. May I have something to eat? I’m starving.”
“Mr. Whitcomb went for Dr. Edwards to make sure nothing serious is wrong with you. There is soup downstairs, and I will bring you some if the doctor agrees.” She left him and was walking downstairs when she heard men at the door.
Dr. Edwards entered with his black bag. “How is the boy?”
Mary took the doctor’s coat.
“Bless you for coming,” Heather said. “He is hungry, so I believe he is better, but he has some bad bruises and a bump on his head. Mary, please take the doctor upstairs.”
George Whitcomb, his hat in his hand, stood in the center hall. He watched the two as they left the room.
Heather stared at her neighbor. “I asked Mary what caused this fracas. She told me Teddy said Matthew left our family to support the Loyalist cause. Where would he hear such rubbish?”
George looked embarrassed. “Teddy should not have said that. He will be rebuked and apologize for this.”
“But why he would believe such a thing? Is the community sharing this falsehood?”
“No. I have never heard any neighbors question Matthew’s loyalty to the Patriot cause.”
“You make it sound as if he has joined that group. He is a farmer and a businessman. While he believes as strongly as anyone we should not be subject to British tyranny, he has not joined the Patriots or the Loyalists.”
“Then where is he?” George said. “’Tis what folks are wondering.”
She threw the towel on the table. “I do not know. Day and night, I question why he has not returned. I fear he may be lying in a ditch somewhere, hurt and without help.”
George bent his head.
She took a deep breath. “Matthew was only to be gone a fortnight. Aaron Turner went to Leesburg and is going to Alexandria to make inquiries ... get some answers. If something detained Matthew, he would write or send word to us. Where do I go for help to find my husband?” She shook but felt relieved voicing her concerns to another human being.
“We all are concerned for Matthew’s safety, and for you and the children.”
“Where did Teddy come up with such a far-fetched story?”
George looked down for a moment. When he looked back up, his cheeks had reddened, and his eyes looked sad. “Hannah has not been well since Tobias joined the militia. She has strange imaginings. At times she makes outrageous comments and has fits of rage. I fear for her safety.”
Heather relaxed. George was in the midst of his own agonizing situation. She was not the only suffering spouse. “I’m so sorry, George. What can I do to help?”
His eyes grew moist. “What can any of us do to help her? I think her outburst about Matthew comes from her fear that Tobias and the rest of us are in danger.”
“If your children knew Hannah was ill, it might be easier for them to cope with her outbursts.”
“You are right. Hannah’s odd behavior has been difficult. Having it known outside of the family ... well, ’tis not hidden anymore.”
“Feel free to send the children here for a break. We will pray for your family.”
George nodded. “You are a good friend.”
Footsteps sounded on the stairs. The smile on Dr. Edward’s face relieved her.
“I believe Mark will recover very well. I wrapped his ankle and suspect ’tis only a sprain. His face will heal, and the nose does not appear broken. Put cold compresses on the goose egg. Some birch bark tea or a little lemon balm for the headache. His eyes look clear. Keep him quiet for a few days. He says he is hungry, so that is good, but I advise only clear broth today.”
“I appreciate your coming, doctor. May I offer you some soup?”
“Not for me. Betsy has supper waiting.”
She bundled up some of the scones she had made earlier in the day along with some of her apple butter and handed it to Doctor Edwards, who received the gift with a smile.
George put his hat on. “I will get you home to your supper, doctor. Goodnight, Heather. Teddy will be by tomorrow if that is acceptable to you.”
“Of course. Good night, gentlemen.”
CHAPTER 22
Matthew’s head still ached. He reached up and touched his face. Quite a growth. His fingers traveled higher to his forehead. A bandage was wrapped around it. He moaned when he turned to scan the room.
Anna stood by a steaming pot and turned toward him. “You wake.”
She brought him some broth, which he managed to retain. When he finished it, she returned with some cloth, a blue bowl, and a cup. “I clean and dress wounds.”
Matthew bit his lip. “Much obliged.”
She smiled and lifted his head again to drink. “Drink slow.”
He choked as the burning liquid went down his throat. “’Tis not water.”
“Brandy. Helps when I take dressing off.”
His throat burned less with each swallow. He winced as she began to peel off the bandage. She jammed a roll of cloth into his mouth and poured some of the brandy on the wound.
His muffled scream brought Oden back to the bed. Her husband held his arms down while she executed her ministrations. His head throbbed with pain. Was it the head injury, a reaction to the side wound, or the kindly woman’s aid?
Sleep finally came, and along with it, dreams. Something hitting his head, the sound of musket fire, and his face in the mud. His head ached something fierce, and his side was in excruciating pain. He lay in the mud and touched the back of his head. He felt wetness and looked at his fingertips. Bright red blood covered his hand. Blood oozed from his side. He could not rise, and he was alone. He would die there. “I’m so sorry, Heather.”
Within two days, Mark improved not only in how he felt but also in how he looked. As promised, Teddy Whitcomb came to the Green and apologized. Mark and Teddy’s longstanding friendsh
ip did not appear altered by their fight.
Heather poured hot chocolate for the boys and for Martha, who accompanied him. The unspoken topic of their mother’s health and behavior was as much a guest at the table as any of them. Had George relayed to his children their conversation about Hannah’s condition? She needed to address it with care.
Heather brought a plate of sliced gingerbread to the table. “Your papa told me about your mother’s melancholy and how hard it has been for you. I am praying for her and all of you. Losing a loved one can change a person’s attitude and affect everyone in the family. Please come here whenever you wish.”
Martha wiped away a tear. “None of us is free from worries.”
“True, and the Lord tells us, ‘Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.’”
Early the next morning, Heather tucked Sara into the cradle in the common room. She added kindling and a few logs to the embers still glowing from the previous evening. The dark morning ensured the children would sleep a while longer. She wrapped her woolen shawl tightly for warmth and sat in a favorite chair. Gazing out the window, she watched the sunrise.
Lord, You know where Matthew is. Please tell me how to find him. You assure us You will instruct us and teach us in the way we should go, and that You will guide us. I need Your guidance now. To whom shall I turn, and where do I go to seek the answers we need?
She wandered into the kitchen. Sunrise made the lane leading up to the Green visible, although a mist still covered the path that led to the pond. It had been five days with no guests at the Green. The diminished workload allowed her more time to tend to Sara and to Mark as he healed, but the addition of guests added vitality and information to their lives, not to mention the additional funds. If only someone would come with news of Matthew. She must focus on her blessings.
Lord, You protected Mark. You have provided for our financial needs and an abundance of crops. You have given us good neighbors and friends so we are not without resources. A tear rolled down her cheek. Please protect Matthew wherever he is. If injured, supply him help and healing. Give him the ability to communicate with us. Bring hope, restoration, and comfort for Hannah and her family.
A Heart for Freedom: He longs for freedom, but won’t risk the lives of those he loves. Page 14