Dirk went directly to her. “Heather Flower, hoe gaat het? How are you? Are you all right?”
She looked up and blinked at the tears that sprang to her eyes. Dirk shot a look at Benjamin and was annoyed that he returned the same what-have-you-done look. Rivulets now traced her bronze cheeks and she made no effort to dry her eyes.
He went down on one knee. “I brought back the women for you. They are safe. You do not need to feel like you abandoned them.”
Reverend Youngs tapped his gavel at the clerk’s desk. “Men, we’ll have a meeting now. Let the ladies take care of Heather Flower, if you will. I need a full report as to what occurred in New Amsterdam.”
Dirk stood. He wanted everyone to leave, but it was obvious that they would have the meeting and it would be good to get some things cleared up. He took his seat next to Johnny. But he couldn’t take his eyes off Heather Flower.
She cried and she didn’t care who saw her tears. She loved Benjamin and his happiness meant so much to her. But when Dirk rode up, she knew she could not marry Benjamin. Her heart was not there.
She peered over at the group of men and listened to Dirk’s account of the rescue. Though they’d been forced to marry Narragansett men, they were treated like captives in the beginning, and when the men left on hunting trips, they were bound together in a longhouse. But eventually, when the Narragansett knew the women did not know where to run or how they could escape, they were sent to the fields to work the crops. Dirk told how he and Johnny sneaked in and brought them out to the string of horses. He spoke of the dangerous ride through the very woods in which he’d taken Heather Flower, avoiding the North Sea where they would be open for attack.
After Johnny retold the story, Barnabas informed him that a bail awaited to be paid on his behalf and that he would need to turn himself in to the Dutch authority so the due process of law could be applied. He would then face a fine from the court in New Haven.
Heather Flower looked at Benjamin and found him watching her intently. His face held sadness, but there was kindness in those blue eyes too. She closed her eyes and said a prayer for him, and her, and Dirk. That God would somehow take care of them all.
Mary pulled her close and spoke low. “You must do what is right, Heather Flower. Follow your heart. We all love you. But it would not be right to try to tell you what to do. Go with your heart.”
She looked at Mary. “You know that I’ve always loved Benjamin, nuk?”
“Yes, and you know how much I wanted this marriage—but only you know if it is the love of a sister or a wife.”
She buried her face in her hands. “I feel lost without Dirk by my side. When he left, I had the ache in my heart I had felt for my Keme. It surprised me. It was strong. We are of one heart.”
Wuchi patted her hand. “My daughter, you must go with your heart as Mary says.”
Mary stood and faced the men, sympathetic tears in her eyes. “Perhaps ’tis time that we leave Heather Flower and Benjamin alone. They have much to talk about.” She strode quickly and clasped Dirk’s arm. “ And please come with me—I need to talk with you.”
Heather Flower watched Mary walk out with Dirk like she expected the group to do just as she bid. And they did.
41
May 27, 1654
Heather Flower sat in her beautiful blue gown. Serenity draped her like a gossamer shawl, not even the whalebone stays in her sides bothered her. Her hands were folded on her lap and she watched Benjamin as he sat next to her on the bench. He looked at peace too.
“I am so sorry, my paleface brother,” she began. “I do not mean to cause you unhappiness or your family trouble. I would like for you and me to always be the friends we have been since we were little children. And I think I would have been very happy to have shared your home and raised your children.” She took a breath.
“Don’t cry for us, Heather Flower. We are all right, you and me. You are in my heart and that will never change. You love Dirk and it would not be right for you to marry me. He is here for you now. He loves you—that I can see. And I think we both were trying to be happy, and we both knew our feelings were strong, but not the kind of love that two people should share when they marry. We were trying to make it something it wasn’t.”
She started to tremble and looked away. He must not see any more tears.
“Heather Flower, don’t look away. I’m your friend—you can show me your hurt, your pain, and I expect you to share your joy with me also.”
“Joy? How can there be joy now? Your people will make Dirk leave. They do not like him, they will not be happy until he is gone, leaving me again.”
“I think the tide is changing there. Your father will be forever grateful that he brought not just you back, but the other women as well. Johnny certainly has accepted him, and you know something—I have too. I can’t help but want to get to know the person you have fallen in love with.”
Her eyes stung again, but these were tears of gladness threatening to fall. “But what about you, Benjamin? I thought you wanted to marry, and it cannot be Anna.” She watched his reaction.
He smiled a slow smile, his dimples emerging. “I want what God wants for me, and He’s telling me it’s not you. I don’t know about me yet. I guess it isn’t my time. But I think it’s yours, and I think we should have a wedding. You look beautiful and we have the meeting hall, we have Uncle Jeremy, who would like nothing better than to officiate a wedding. You are the bride, Heather Flower. I think your groom awaits.”
He bent over and placed a tender kiss on her cheek and stood. He removed a handkerchief from his belt, gently dried her eyes, and offered her his hand. “One last thing. I almost forgot. I got you a wedding present. I still want you to have it.”
Her eyes teared once again.
“It’s all right, Heather Flower. Look.” He walked over and pulled a leather bag from behind the pulpit and placed it in her lap.
She untied the bag and pulled a pair of elk moccasins from it, beaded with blue flowers. The striking centers were of yellow jingle shell beads. Her breath caught. “I love these, Benjamin. I will always treasure them. Ooneewey. Thank you, my friend.”
She wiggled her feet from the stiff pointy shoes and slipped the soft moccasins on. She clasped his hand as she rose and the two walked outside.
The whole town had gathered and the people of Montauk and Shelter Island as well. Her parents waited nearby with Wyancombone. Barnabas and Mary stood to their right. The crowd parted as Dirk made his way to the front, his blue eyes on Heather Flower. He hesitated when he reached her, but Benjamin reached out and put Heather Flower’s hand into Dirk’s, then turned to Jeremy. “We are gathered here together for a wedding. If you will do the honor, I think the celebration can continue now.” He stepped down to stand next to Joseph, with a smile for her that gave her courage.
Jeremy did not waste time coming forward, his Bible tucked under his arm.
A quiver pulled at her heart as Dirk’s eyes, the color of the sunny bay, sought hers.
“I love you.” He held her hand firmly like he’d never let go. “Will you marry me, Heather Flower?”
She cried happy tears, but all she could manage to say was, “Nuk.”
Jeremy waved his hand to the crowd. “Ladies and Gentlemen, the custom for the banns is an English one. Since the two I am about to marry are not, I see no reason to wait.” He turned to Dirk and Heather Flower and with the exchange of vows he pronounced them man and wife.
The little girls danced and flowers were thrown as Dirk pulled Heather Flower close and swept her into his arms. His kiss was warm and reassuring. He pulled back and looked into her eyes. “Hoe gaat het? How are you?”
A pouty smile pulled at the corners of her mouth. “I am good, my friend. So very good.”
The Indian braves pulled out their drums and began beating and singing in celebration like a pau-wau. Makeshift tables had been set up in the meetinghouse yard, and soon the women of Southold began bringing out the dishe
s they’d prepared.
Lizzie brought savory vegetables swimming in butter like the French recipes, and sugared plums and violets, and Patience brought tasty meat puddings. Mary brought platters of roasted venison and baked cod along with manchet bread. Barnabas’s little ginger cakes surrounded a towering wedding cake as the beautiful centerpiece, and everyone laughed when they caught little Hannah hiding behind it with her finger in the frosting. Barnabas could not deliver a scolding when she looked up with her big green eyes and pronounced, “Good, Papa.”
They feasted until the evening grew chilly, and as the festivities wound down they built a bonfire and gathered around. The ladies presented Heather Flower with the quilt they’d made for her from the scraps of the wedding dress. Lizzie had embroidered the date on the edge, but in what turned out to be a blessing, she did not have the time to embroider names.
Everyone wanted to hear the story of Johnny and the twelve Montaukett women. Heather Flower longed to hear the full story.
Dirk ran his fingers through his sandy blond hair, his eyes wide. “Ja. It just happened.”
Benjamin and Joseph looked at each other, then at Dirk. Benjamin chuckled. “How could it just happen?”
Johnny walked over and sat down between his two friends. “It really did. It didn’t take much to escape from the King Solomon—I just walked off and no one seemed to notice. But once I was free, I knew I needed to get to Flushing and find a place to hide. They wouldn’t have thought twice about shooting an escapee.”
Dirk nodded. “That is true. But Johnny wandered into my camp instead.”
Heather Flower looked from Johnny to Dirk. “Why did you have a camp? You live at the fort. And I sent you a message. Why did you not answer me?”
He covered her hand with his. “I couldn’t. I’d been up north. I’d been sent on a mission with a mapmaker. We were in Narragansett territory and I knew we had to be close to their spring fishing grounds. We were practically right on them. While Visscher sketched his maps, I scouted and I stumbled on the women almost immediately. They were forced to work the fields and almost starving.”
Heather Flower’s eyes flashed as she remembered how Ninigret had forced them into the canoes and taunted them. “But you could not bring them back?”
“It would have been very dangerous. I needed to plan an escape for them and I needed to make sure the mapmaker was not in harm’s way. So we returned, and when your runner appeared, I sent him on his way with no message, but a piece of wampum for his trouble. Then I requested a leave of absence. I needed time to figure out a plan, but I also knew I should act quickly. The women would either finish their work in the field or they would start dying. Either way it would not be good. So I set up a camp near Flushing. That’s when Johnny walked in.”
Johnny raised his hands like in a surrender. “I didn’t have a choice but to hear him out. What else could I do?”
“I knew you would not hurt him, Dirk.” Heather Flower’s eyes stung and her throat ached, but it was joy behind her emotions.
Dirk continued. “There’s a big farm out there where a fellow breeds horses, imported from Utrecht, Holland.” He looked at Barnabas. “We felt like your English Robin Hood, but we stole thirteen horses. And rope. We linked the horses together and we started north.”
Johnny nodded. “And we brought food. There’s a woman who makes poffertjes for Dirk. She prepared a bushel full, no questions asked. We brought bacon and dried apples and tied all the provisions on the backs of the horses.”
Mary leaned forward, close to the fire. “I am so thankful you two were able to save those women. I’ve been so troubled thinking about their fate. But how did you get them out? And were they not as frightened of you as they were of the Narragansett?”
“I had been there before and gave them a little food. I told them I would be back, but they must keep doing as their captors told them and work in the fields as they did each day. We watched and waited until the men were gone hunting. The women were ignored while they were in the fields. No one thought they would leave. Where would they go? So it was an easy thing for Johnny and me to go in and lead them out. We gave them food and water, then put them on the horses and single file led them away.” He looked at Heather Flower. “We came almost the same way as we did when I rescued you.”
Warmth flooded her cheeks that came not from the fire, and there was a patter in her heart as she looked into his bay-blue eyes. “You were my hero, Dirk. You saved me from death. You are my hero again today. Thank you for saving my friends, my sisters.”
Benjamin stood and poked the logs with a stick, reviving the flames. “Yes, thank you, Dirk. I know we’ve had our differences, and certainly this will not solve the problems between your people and ours, but you have friends here in Southold. We are forever in your debt.”
Mary and Lizzie looked at each other. Mary spoke their question. “Where will you and Heather Flower live?” All eyes turned toward Dirk.
He looked at his new bride. “I have much work to do as the Dutch government expands their trade west. If you will consent, we’ll live at Fort Amsterdam. But I will make sure you have transportation to visit Montauk, Fort Corchaug, and Southold as often as you like.”
Heather Flower stood. Her eyes sought out Grissell and Patience as she took her husband’s hand. “It is my hope that Long Island will not always be divided, that the people here may learn to live together as one. Until that day I will be by your side, my husband.” She turned to Mary, Lizzie, and her parents. “But I will miss you all and Lizzie’s Hatterie too. I’ll come to visit you because you will always be in my thoughts and my heart. I cannot stay away.”
With much hugging and kissing they said their goodbyes.
Dirk scooped her into his arms and carried her to Miss Button. He lifted her high onto the saddle’s pommel. He climbed up behind her and with her blue satin gown flowing behind them and his arm around her waist, they rode off toward Flushing. It wasn’t the end of the story. It was a beginning.
Acknowledgments
I have much gratitude for those who have encouraged me, taught me, and prayed for me. I am blessed by you!
Thank you to my heavenly Father, the Author of dreams, my refuge and my strength.
Thank you to my family for their patience and support.
My father and my husband are the first readers I dare show my manuscripts, and I depend on their keen eye and words of advice laced with encouragement. My dad, Howard M. Worley, published his first novel, The Stagecoach Murders, in 2012 at age eighty-nine, despite an aortic valve replacement and followed two days later by a stroke suffered in the midst of completing his western romance, a la L’Amour and Zane Grey. He treated those setbacks as but a blip to his health and got back in the saddle to finish the book. Thank you, Dad, for your true grit. I love brainstorming with my husband, Tom—he gives me encouragement and fresh perspectives. Thank you for enduring with me to the deadlines and beyond.
I’ve been blessed with three supportive daughters and their husbands—Jennifer and Shane, Lisa and Jon, and Kelly and Cory—and eight grandchildren, Dylan, Emma, Abbey, Sophie, Olivia, Ashley, Caden, and Brody. Tom has brought more sweet family with his children, Sasha, Steve and his wife Michelle, and three grandchildren, Sarah, Vito, and Vincent—all who have shown me love and support and I thank you!
I have some pretty neat siblings too. Thank you to Linda Lohr, Cynthia Dort, and Mark Worley—each of you show your love and support in your own special way!
A big thank-you to the Southold Indian Museum. And to Lisa Cordani-Stevenson who so graciously kept the museum open for me when I arrived late on a Sunday afternoon. The museum is a treasure, and I’m so thankful for curators like Lisa who enjoy sharing their passion and knowledge!
And continued heartfelt thanks to the Southold Free Library and the Southold Historical Society for their support. I’m especially grateful to Melissa Andruski and Daniel McCarthy for their friendship, enthusiasm, and willingness to assist me.
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A huge thank-you to the Revell team, who have become like family to me. A special thank-you to my editor, Vicki Crumpton, who makes my work stronger with her expertise, gentle advice, humor, and encouragement. A big thank-you to Barb Barnes, Twila Bennett, Lindsay Davis, Michelle Misiak, Claudia Marsh, Erin Bartels, Cheryl VanAndel. They and their staff—the talented group who work in editorial, marketing, publicity, cover art, and sales—strive to make my book the best it can be.
I’m forever grateful to Barbara Scott, Greg Johnson, and WordServe Literary Agency. Thank you so much for your belief in my story and continued support!
My thanks always to Bob Welch’s Beachside Writers with Jane Kirkpatrick, the Mount Hermon Conference faculty and staff, and for the huge support of the American Christian Fiction Writers, Romance Writers of America, and Oregon Christian Writers.
And a warm thank-you to my readers—you have a special place in my heart. Thank you for joining me and the Hortons on our journey. Please visit me at www.rebeccademarino.com to leave me a message or sign up for my newsletter. I love to connect on Facebook and Pinterest too!
A special thank-you to The BookLits, a group of readers dear to my heart, who encourage me, pray for me, and joyfully put a shout out for me. You are a dream of a team!
Dora Wagner Cynthia Lovely
Lucy Reynolds Cynthia Dort
Debbie Curto Wilani Wahi
Angel Holland April Morris
Patricia Lee Heather Tabors
Wanda McAnany Charlotte Dance
Courtney Clark Rebecca Petersen
Kristine Morgan Bonnie Traher
Patty Mingus Virginia Winfield
Margi Dean Kaytee Rodden-Beswick
Iola Reneau Teresa Wade Sheroke
Kathy Jacob Betty Dean Newman
Susan Strickland Grondin Cheryl Baranski
Kelly O’Neil Hart Laura Viol
Lisa Landrum Henson Victor Gentile
Lynne Young Amy Putney
Deb Stein
To Capture Her Heart Page 27