“Whoopy!” The two raced for the tree.
“Careful, now.” He shook his head. Always in competition they were. But he and Thomas and Jeremy had been the same. Mayhap still were.
As his boys dug the small tree, he stored the tools in a corner of the wagon and fetched Northstar. He arranged the harness, adjusting the collar across the horse’s chest. “Good boy.”
He stood back to breathe in the fresh, damp air from the sound. A symphony of sorts played in the wind as boughs bobbed in the breeze and the crash of waves from the beach below mixed with the flutelike trill of the wood thrush and the quick tempo of a marsh wren.
Ann would love this spot. He wandered over to the cliff. If there were any way down, he’d like to hike to the beach. “Joseph, Benjamin—over here.”
They trotted over to the edge.
“Do you see the path through the barberry? I think deer made it. I want to climb down. The timber and brush are thick, but I think once down past it mayhap we’ll see Connecticut across the sound.”
The trio climbed down the side, sliding here and there, grasping branches or finding footholds on rocks as they went. At last they landed on the beach, covered in jewel-like agates and jingle shells like they found at the landing site on the other side of the fork.
“You see beyond the water? That’s Connecticut, whence we came from on the whaling ship. Beyond that would be Massachusetts.” He turned to see their reaction.
“Father, methinks I like it here much better.” Benjamin glanced up the bluff.
“This will be ours and ours alone. In Winnicunnet it was founded by others, who had noble beliefs to be sure, but as in Quinnipiac, ’twould be like joining a clan. This is ours and our fellow founders’. This is the land God has led us to.”
Joseph stuck out his lower lip. “But Father, what about Mother? Each time we leave a place, I feel further from her. I don’t want to, but I do. I had a spot in Winnicunnet where I could go and think about her.”
“Joseph, your mother would have loved this place, that I know. I miss her too. Ask Mary, she will find you a spot here.”
He turned to climb the cliff, back to home. Yes, this was home. He knew that in his heart. He would never leave it. Mary waited and no doubt she’d worked hard all day. He missed his Ann, but he was thankful God had given him Mary. God was faithful.
Barney’s energy and zeal amazed Mary and she listened passionately as he described his accomplishments for the day. He liked to explain to her how many things from the old culture they’d brought with them blended well with the new culture of the Indians.
She told him how she combined Indian corn with milk from her English cow to create an English version of the Indian’s samp.
And when Barney told her the Horton name came from the Latin word hortus, which literally meant “garden” and the Indians were ancient gardeners as well, she found it all fascinating.
“Aye, my sweet, we have always been cultivators. Certainly more producers than consumers.” He looked pleased with himself.
Mary took delight in her family name and endeavored to live up to it by learning everything she could from the Corchaugs. When she met Wauwineta, a friendship grew as strong as any vine. Her new friend taught her how to draw the sugary syrup from maple trees and where to find the wild cranberries, strawberries, and blueberries. She gave Mary gifts of turtle shell bowls, ladles made from gourds, and baskets of split ash. She taught her to catch herring from a canoe and bury it to fertilize the soil. They planted vast fields of corn, hilling them for support and dropping red beans near each stalk so they could climb. Pumpkins and squash were planted to cover between the rows.
After a month of tilling the soil and planting, Wauwineta stood back from their work. “We call Three Sisters Garden, the squash, corn, and beans. They are cycle of life. Complete. Plant the corn first. When it is high to your knee, plant the beans so they climb the stalk. Plant squash so the big leaves cover the dirt, amongst the corn and beans. Mary, you do not pull weeds because they will not grow under the big squash leaves. In hot summer the leaves hold water to the dirt and the bugs will be few. Three crops are ready for harvest together. It is all anyone would need to live.”
Mary gazed at the field they had just readied. “’Tis amazing. You know how to make the land really do most of the work for you. Wauwineta, may I call you Winnie?”
“Winnie, yes.”
“Winnie, where did you learn to speak English so well?”
“My mother taught me. She lived with white people when she was a little girl. They were not mean, but they kept her from family, her Indian family. I learned very well before she died.”
“You did indeed learn well. I am sorry your mother died. Mine did too, when I was very young.” How much alike they were. Mary looked forward to spending time with Winnie to share not only methods of gardening or cooking but of their lives, hopes, and dreams.
She sorely missed the wheat and oats they left behind in England, but learned to depend on the crops that Winnie taught her to grow in order to feed her family. In return, Mary shared her knowledge of cooking on a hearth and milking the cows. She churned butter and produced cheese to the Corchaug woman’s amazement. Together they made delicious corn chowders and puddings, corncakes, and breads.
Mary explained to Winnie about the wheat, oats, and honey that were staples of their diet in England and told her Barney’s brother, Jeremy, would be bringing beehives and seeds on his next visit. She promised to teach her how to gather the sweet honey and told her, when the wheat and oats were planted, she would bake beautiful white bread.
26
July 1639
The days passed into weeks and summer’s humid heat pressed in. Men, women, and children labored from early light to the time they crawled onto their pallets. Mary took pride in her accomplishments, though Barney was too busy to notice. Not that she minded. Everything he did was for her and his children. But his constant concern over whether she was with child or not seemed to have been forgotten for the time being, and she found that a blessing.
One day Winnie appeared from the meadow, Smoke by her side. “Aquai. Friend. Your thoughts are lost today.” Initially, it was frightening their Indian friends kept wolves as pets, much like they might a dog. But this one, with his thick gray fur and blue eyes, was loyal and protective of Winnie. He seemed to know she welcomed the English immigrants and quickly adopted them as friends.
Mary sat under an ancient chestnut tree, pulling dry corn kernels off the cob. She stretched a hand toward Smoke. “You startled me. Come here, you sweet thing.” She looked up at Winnie with a grin. “Yes, my thoughts are lost, I should say. Winnie, you express yourself very eloquently. You meant I am lost in my thoughts, did you not?”
“It is not easy to think two languages. We struggle to understand. Did you not?” She grinned at her friend and squatted, picking up a cob of corn. “Why do you look sad?”
“I am not sad. I’m collecting my thoughts. That means, I’m thinking about my situation—about how things are working out. Where are all of those children of yours?”
“Abigail watches the young ones. She is fourteen, a woman. But your thoughts? Where are they?” Her smile revealed deep indentations in her cheeks. She was a tall woman with thick, raven-colored hair and her eyes were the color of ripe olives.
Mary returned the smile. She treasured the time they spent together and appreciated the help Winnie always gave, often without being asked. More times than not, it was wisdom rather than physical labor that was offered.
“You shall not let me get away with it, shall you? I was thinking of Barney. He is working very hard. He works on our meetinghouse and church most of the day, but he has started to clear the land for our house too, and cut the timber. He works such long days and is so very tired when he comes home. We barely talk.”
She paused and studied Winnie. “Perhaps ’tis a good thing, because I was growing weary of him reminding me I am not yet with child. It distresses me so. He w
ants to have many, many children. I love Jay and Ben, but I want so much to have Barney’s child. I think then, he might love me.” She leaned back against the tree. “I’ve worked very hard to be a good wife to him. I’ve thought more than once he was ready to pass the tongs to me. But nothing has worked.” She peered at Winnie. “That was a lot to say. Did you understand me?”
“What tongs do you want?”
Mary laughed. “Of course. ’Tis the kitchen tongs I want. I use them to manage my fire and many other cooking chores. But they are not mine yet. They are Barney’s. Usually when a young English girl marries and comes home to her husband’s house, she’s presented with the tongs. She is then mistress of the house.” Her smile fell like the corn from the cob.
“Aye. And I understand more. I watch you. You are not happy.” She looked straight at her.
Mary could not hold the gaze. She lowered her eyes so Winnie could not see the tears forming. “I was not happy when Barney first told me we were leaving our home in England. He didn’t give me the tongs. I was certain he was unhappy with me. And it was so hard on the ship. I was always sick. I worried that Miss Terry might prove an attraction to him. It was a terrible time for me. I thought Barney wondered why he ever married me.”
“Why would that be?” Winnie plucked at the corn.
“He wanted me to have a baby, and it never happened. He still wants that and I’ve tried so hard to be a good mother to his children—tried to be everything a wife and mother should be. But he keeps asking me if I am with child. I feel like I’m not living up to his expectations. He speaks of how lovely and smart and talented his first wife was. Ann.” She turned so Winnie could not see her wet face, her pain. “That part is all right with me. I know he must speak of her so he doesn’t forget his dear wife. I wouldn’t want that. But he feels so guilty. He holds himself responsible.” Gentle sobs racked her as she wrapped her arms over her head and buried her face into her skirts.
Winnie scooted close and put her hands over Mary’s. “I understand what you say.”
Mary turned her head to the side and peeked at her friend. “I am so sorry, Winnie. I try to be the person women turn to. Now listen to me.” She dabbed at her eyes. “You are such a friend to me. I do not know what I would do without you. Do you mean you understand my words or my meaning?”
“Aye.” She looked proudly at Mary.
“Oh, Winnie, you make me smile even when I am so sad.”
“What do you mean with responsible? What is wrong with Barney?”
“I don’t know. He somehow thinks he caused her death. Not really caused it, but if he had taken care of the children when they were ill, she might not have died. I cannot seem to reach him. I do not know why he feels so responsible. He has such sadness in his heart that I do not know how to help him.”
“That is so terrible for Barney.”
“Yes, it is. My heart aches for him and I do pray for God to ease his pain. I know he loved her very much. It makes my problems seem so small.”
Winnie wiped Mary’s tears with her fingers. “What are your problems? Is it that you are so far from your land and your people who loved you?”
“You’ve known me such a short time, yet look how you perceive my heart. Yes, I would say ’tis true. But, if Barney could love me, if I truly believed I met his every desire, I could be content, and I feel God would grant us a child.”
Mary looked over the meadow and the tall white birch. “I was not happy when Barney told me we would leave Massachusetts. But to come to this beautiful place and build the home we have talked and talked about, ’tis where we were meant to be, I am sure. Did you know this land looks so much like a beautiful seaside hamlet in England called Southwold? It looks amazingly like it, and Barney felt it was a sign from God that we are doing the right thing to be here.”
“It is very beautiful here. We call this Yennicott and the land you build on the Old Village. My father told me it is very important to have your people come here. That you were sent by your God.”
“Yes, I believe we were sent by God. I did not like Massachusetts, and the Indians there were not altogether helpful or even very friendly. But, you see, Miss Terry was not there. I could forget about her. But now we are here, and Miss Terry is too. It just does not seem fair, and I can’t understand why God would do that to me.”
“Why do you think your God would not bring her here? She might seek the beauty that is here, as you do.”
“Oh, I would hope it would be the beauty of the land, and not the beauty of Barney.” She hiccupped as she tried another smile through her tears. “Of course, she is here because her parents came, and they came for the same reasons as Barney. They are starting a church in which people are allowed to worship as they want.”
“Why do you worry of her then?”
“She seems so attracted to him. And she is beautiful and seems to hang on his every word. Of course, Miss Terry has known Barney since she was very young. I just think that if Barney loved me, God might grant us a child and perhaps he would not spend so much time with her. He would value me.”
“What do you mean, value?”
“I mean, he would treasure me. Like you treasure Winheytem, and every one of those children the two of you have. Treasure is love and more. Love at its greatest. God gave us that kind of love. I want that kind of love with Barney. He had it once, but I don’t know if God grants us that twice.”
“Why not? If Barney lost the greatest love God gave him, why would God not give him a greatest love again? But, I think you fear Barney values Miss Terry instead of you. Barney values people. I see that. And he is handsome. I see that. Many women see what you love in him. But Barney chose you. I know he treasures you. But you do not know Miss Terry. I see her watch you at times. She looks like she would like to be your friend, as I am. Do you understand my words?”
Mary squeezed her friend’s hand. “Yes, I do, and you are amazing. I have been worried about Miss Terry and I have not even tried to get to know her. Of course she likes my Barney. Who would not? Thank you, Winnie. I think I know what I need to do.” She stood, brushing the dried leaves and grass from her skirt. “Winnie, you and God will help me with this.”
27
Winnie and Mary found Patience Terry down at the creek, sleeves rolled up, revealing her dainty wrists. Her bonnet hung down her back and she had pulled her straight blonde hair to the side. Clothes were strewn about the rocks, and she scrubbed a shirt with a vengeance, occasionally dipping it in the cold water. She looked up, wiped a droplet of sweat from her brow, and squinted in the sun as they approached. “Good morrow.”
“Good morrow, Patience. That actually looks inviting on such a hot day. May we help you?”
Her pale blue eyes widened as she looked first at Mary, then at Winnie. She glanced over their shoulders. “Why would you want to? Has someone sent you to check on me?”
“Why ever would someone do that?” Mary’s smile broadened and she tried to look reassuring. Patience would be suspicious of her motives at first, but she had prayed fervently about this as she and Winnie searched for her. It was time to forget about past behavior and to entertain only thoughts about how things were today. She was quite certain this was what God wanted her to do. “Winnie and I were talking. There are so few people here, we should all be friends and help each other. That is all. We do not know each other very well, but do you not think ’tis time we did?”
Winnie stepped closer. “Mary is a very good friend to me. We would like to be your friend too. Friends help friends.”
“Patience, you have met my friend, Winnie? She is one of the Corchaug people who live over in the fort.”
“Yes, of course. Thank you both for your kind offer. Mary, I’m a little surprised. I thought perhaps you did not like me?” It was a question rather than a statement.
“I truly am sorry if that be how you felt. When we were on The Swallow, you tried to avoid me. I thought it might be because of Barney. Prithee, do not take this
as an accusation, but you are fond of him, are you not?”
“Oh, yes. Mother and I used to go to his bakeshop, and he would give me a ginger cake. I have always had an infatuation with him. I think you were so lucky to marry him. I truly do hope to meet someone just like Barnabas someday.” She paused. “But, of course, Barnabas would never do anything improper. I could not like him, if he did. His morals are part of his appeal, I suppose. He’s always been so nice to me, and so patient with my flirtations. Mary, you must know he has never encouraged me, but he would never embarrass me either.”
Mary picked up a shawl from the laundry and began to scrub.
Winnie followed suit and started on a table linen. She looked thoughtful, but remained quiet.
Finally, Mary turned to Patience. “No, Barney is too nice to purposely embarrass someone. You do not have to make excuses for him, however. I know he is an incorrigible flirt. You are right, though, the fact that he has such high standards for himself, and yet does not impose them on others, is one of the things that makes me crazy with love for him.”
“Mary, I know I was horrid to you on the ship. I have grown up some since then, and I want you to know I understand how wrong I was to behave in such a manner with your husband. Can you forgive me?”
Mary looked into her earnest blue eyes. “Well, yes. Of course.”
Patience stood up, rolling the wet shirt, and faced her. Her words bubbled out. “I hope this means we can be friends. I would like it very much. Someone to talk to would be wonderful. We’ve made it through the first winter here in Yennicott, but it has been so lonely.” She looked to Winnie and extended her hand. “I would be pleased to be your friend too.”
Winnie put the linen on a rock and took Patience’s hand in hers. “Thank you. To be my friend is to be my sister. From this day, I have two white sisters.”
Mary rose up and took their hands. “I like that. Sisters. Our husbands and fathers have founded this land, but we are the Founding Mothers and Sisters. We are important, and we must work together, not apart. Barney likes to say he wants his children and his children’s children for all time to know the love, sweat, and dedication the Founding Fathers gave to build this new land. I hope someone remembers it was the Founding Mothers as well. We shall work hard, side by side with our men, providing them with the food, hearth, and love they require.”
A Place in His Heart Page 21