American Dream

by Colleen L. Reece

  “Abigail,” Father called as he opened the door to their little home, “the children are safe and unharmed. They need food and rest. Bring warm, dry clothes and broth. We’ll talk later.”

  The last thing Rebekah remembered clearly was the sensation that the ice inside her was melting as she drank her mother’s broth. Then she vaguely remembered her father’s strong arms helping her up the ladder to bed. After that, she remembered nothing at all.

  Rebekah awakened to pitch darkness. Had she only dreamed that Father and the others had come for them? Was she still in the woods? She cautiously shifted her body. The straw in her mattress crackled, telling her she was safely home. She turned over and fell asleep again.

  The next time Rebekah woke, daylight had come. She glanced sideways at her brother’s sleeping shape and then slid farther under her covers. The day was likely to bring hard moments for her brother. Captain Standish would certainly kill any hope of future hunting expeditions. Others in the colony might laugh at the boy who wanted to be a man but sneaked off like a sulky child.

  “Lord, help him to bear whatever scolding we get,” Rebekah whispered. “Help me to be a good big sister.”

  “Will. Rebekah. Dress and come down quickly,” Father’s ragged voice called.

  Something in Father’s voice frightened Rebekah. She had an uneasy feeling that he was not calling them down to scold them for their adventure. Her muscles stiff and aching from their night in the forest, Rebekah managed to get into her clothes and down the ladder. She left Will still fumbling his way into his wool pants.

  Rebekah ran to the fireplace and warmed her cold hands at the blaze. Its cheerful glow felt good, but even the fire could not melt the icy fear in her heart. When she looked at Mother’s face, she saw that her mother’s lips trembled.

  Father waited until Will stood beside Rebekah before the fire. Sadness lined Father’s face as he said, “Children, you must be brave.”

  “What is it?” Rebekah clenched her hands until she felt the nails bite deep into her palms.

  “Word just came from the Mayflower. Our friend Jake died in the night.”

  Rebekah buried her face in her apron.

  “No,” Will said hoarsely. “No, no, no! Jake was getting better. You know he was. That’s why I went for the deer. He couldn’t have died. It must be another crew member.” He started for the door.

  Father caught him halfway there. “Running isn’t going to help.”

  “Let me go!” Will twisted and turned. “It isn’t true.” He stared up into Father’s face. “Did he know we were lost?” When Father looked blank, Will shouted, “That’s it, isn’t it? He knew and tried to come for us.” He buried his face in his hand. “What have I done?”

  “Stop this, Will.” Father shook his son, not hard, but enough to get his attention. Father’s eyes blazed. “You had nothing to do with Jake’s death. Plague took him, as it has taken many others and will take more. Jake never knew you were missing.” Father pulled Will to him in a big hug.

  Rebekah wiped away her hot tears. Her mother’s arm went around her and held her tight.

  Father looked over Will’s head at his daughter. “We grieve, yet we praise Almighty God that our friend met Jesus, our Savior, before it was too late. The bearer of the news said Jake died with a smile on his face and the words ‘Tell th’ lass’ on his lips.”

  A great sob tore free from Will’s throat. He jerked from Father’s arms and bolted up the ladder. Rebekah heard the crackle of the straw as he threw himself on his bed.

  After a moment, she followed him up the ladder into the dim loft. “I loved him, too,” she whispered. “I thought he was going to get better. I thought God had healed him.” Her voice broke. “Sometimes I don’t understand God.”

  The two children were silent for a long moment. Finally, Rebekah sighed. “Father and Mother are so sure of their faith. Maybe someday we’ll be as strong as they are.”

  Will sat up and looked at his sister. With a sob, he put his arms around her, and the two children clung together. Perhaps later they would have more to say to each other, and they would find a way to comfort each other’s hearts. Right now, Rebekah was just glad they still had Father, Mother, and each other.

  Just thinking that made Rebekah’s mouth go dry with fear. All she could do was cling to the promise that God would never send more than they could stand but would always make a way of escape.

  CHAPTER 10

  What Is a Samoset?

  A few weeks later, as Rebekah trotted alongside her little brother, she suddenly noticed that he was no longer so little. In fact, he was taller than she was. The realization made her giggle. She clapped her hand to her mouth and quickly looked around to make sure no one had heard her laughing on the Sabbath—but it felt good to laugh again after so many days of sadness.

  They had just come from Sunday meeting, and Father and Mother were walking ahead of them. Rebekah looked sideways at Will. “My, that was a good sermon.” She laughed again. “Elder Brewster’s scripture was about you.”

  Will stopped dead still. “Whatever are you talking about?”

  “The scripture,” Rebekah patiently repeated. Her green eyes twinkled with fun. “Weren’t you listening?”

  “Not very well,” Will confessed. He was staring at the Mayflower, and Rebekah knew he still ached inside each time he saw the ship where Jake had died.

  “You should have been,” Rebekah told him. “It just fits the way you are now.”

  Curiosity seemed to finally pull Will’s attention from his sad thoughts. “Really? What scripture was it? What did it say?”

  “First Corinthians, chapter 13, verse 11.” She smothered another giggle, and her face lit up with fun. “You know. The one where Paul says when he was a child, he spoke and understood as a child, but when he became a man—”

  “He put away childish things,” Will soberly finished for her. “Do you really think I’m like that?”

  “Oh, yes.” Her cap-covered braids bobbed up and down. “You’re ever so much more grown-up. You’re kinder to me, and I heard Father tell Mother he was proud of the way you took your punishment like a man.”

  She slid her hand into the crook his elbow made. “Father said even when Captain Standish roared like the wind, you held your tongue and looked straight at him. Mother’s awfully proud. So am I.” She hesitated, then whispered, “God must be proud, too.”

  “I hope so.” Will scuffed his boot on the hard ground. “I’m trying.”

  “I know,” she said sympathetically.

  They walked in silence. For the first time in many days, Rebekah was filled with contentment. The cold winter could not last forever. On days like this, when the sun shone, she felt spring must soon be on its way.

  Then suddenly, as she looked up ahead at her parents, she gave a little cry and sprang forward. Mother had fallen to the ground. When Rebekah reached her, she saw her mother was as white and still as a dead person. Rebekah’s heart pounded with terror.

  Father snatched up Mother in his arms and raced toward their hut. “Will, fetch Dr. Fuller,” he ordered. “Tell him she collapsed for no apparent reason. Rebekah, run ahead and spread the mattress.”

  Will looked up at his father’s ashen face. “Shouldn’t you take her to the common house?”

  “Nay. Home is closer. Go, lad, and don’t stop to argue!”

  Will turned and ran as if pursued by a thousand howling wolves. Rebekah hurried ahead to get her mother’s bed ready. Dread kept time with her flying steps. Would Mother be taken next? “Please, God, spare her. Not just for our sake, but for the sake of others who need her so much.” Rebekah’s prayer came out in little gasps as she ran.

  Minutes felt like a lifetime before Dr. Fuller reached the Cunninghams. Will had delivered his message and flown home without waiting for the physician. The kindly, overworked doctor bustled in. “Eh, what’s all this? Is my best helper giving out on me?” He quickly examined Mother. She didn’t even move.


  Rebekah held her breath, waiting. Will was standing more still than a mouse that suspects a cat may be nearby. Father sat on the homemade bench, head bowed. Rebekah knew he was praying. Finally, Dr. Fuller finished his examination, rose from beside the straw mattress, and smiled. His expression filled Rebekah’s heart with hope.

  “Now, now, nothing to worry about.” The doctor’s face crinkled into laugh wrinkles. “She’s just plain worn out. Our bodies keep going and going when we push them. How well I know!” He yawned mightily. “But eventually they give out.

  If we don’t give them the rest they need, then they take it for themselves. That’s why your mother collapsed.”

  The doctor turned to Father. “Your wife has no fever,” Dr. Fuller said. “She has no signs that foretell illness. I’d say what she needs is a good night’s sleep. Don’t wake her, even for food. Her body needs rest.” He yawned again. “In fact, that’s what I’m going to do: rest. All my other patients have either died or are mending.”

  He shook hands with Father and Will, then tugged on a braid that showed beneath Rebekah’s cap. “It’s your turn to play nurse, Mistress Cunningham. See that you do a good job.”

  “I will,” Rebekah promised.

  Dr. Fuller went out, leaving the others to follow his orders.

  The rest of the day, Mother lay without moving. Once when Father and Will weren’t looking, Rebekah bent low to make sure she still breathed. She felt her mother’s slow, steady breath against her cheek and sighed in relief. But when evening came and the Sabbath ended, Mother still slept.

  “Should we ask Dr. Fuller to come again?” Rebekah anxiously asked Father.

  “I hate to disturb him when he is so tired.” Father knelt and touched Mother’s forehead. “Her skin is cool and dry. She has no sign of fever. We will let her rest.”

  “Shall I stay up with her?” Rebekah volunteered.

  “Should Dr. Fuller be wrong, although I have no reason to believe this is the case, you will be needed more on the morrow. Go to bed, child. I will watch.”

  All through the long night hours, Mother slept. Neither did she waken when morning came. Thoroughly alarmed, Rebekah coaxed Father into letting Will fetch the doctor again.

  After Dr. Fuller examined Mother, he assured them again that she would be fine. “I expect her to wake before night,” he told them. “If she should not, then is time enough to be concerned.”

  Shortly after he left, a sound from the mattress brought all three watchers to Mother’s side. She opened her eyes, yawned, stretched, and looked around. “Mercy, what am I doing here at this time of day?” She looked confused, and then her face cleared. “My goodness, I fell asleep walking home, didn’t I? I never heard of such a thing.” She glanced around the hut. “I hope you ate without me.” A frown wrinkled her forehead. “I smell something cooking. Surely you are not breaking the Sabbath by cooking food?”

  “It’s no longer the Sabbath!” Will shouted. A broad grin spread over his face. Matching smiles covered Rebekah’s and Father’s faces.

  Father reached down a hand to help Mother get up. “It’s Monday and time for dinner. You have slept ever since the meeting yesterday.”

  “Dr. Fuller said we weren’t to disturb you unless you didn’t wake before dark,” Rebekah explained. She clasped her arms around her mother’s waist. “I’m glad you’re awake. It frightened me when you stayed asleep for so long.”

  Mother began to laugh. She laughed so hard the others joined in. “A grown woman, sleeping all the hours on the clock twice around! I do feel rested, though.” She looked ashamed. “I hope no one needed me.”

  Father shook his head. “Not even Dr. Fuller. He says the worst is over and his patients are mending.” The laughter in his eyes died. “Almost every family but ours lost at least one person.”

  A lump came to Rebekah’s throat. “We lost Jake.”

  “Indeed we did, although we haven’t actually lost him. We’ve just parted for a time.” Father looked with joy at Mother. “Let us give thanks for your mother’s recovery.”

  Signs of spring began to appear at Plymouth Colony like a long-awaited guest. They brought a wave of relief and hope. Surely things would be better now that the harsh winter was slowly retreating. The little band of surviving settlers prayed for good weather, asking the Lord to bless the land.

  Yet many of those who survived were still weak. How could the few strong ones left in the settlement take on extra duties and provide for everyone? There was also the ever-present fear of Indian attack.

  One day in mid-March, Will burst into the Cunningham home as if chased by a whole tribe of unfriendly Indians. Eyes wide with excitement, he cried, “Mother, Father, Rebekah, come quick. Just come see!”

  Will frightened Rebekah so badly, she dropped her knitting. “Father and Mother are at the common house. Will Cunningham, is this another of your tricks? Just when you’ve been good for such a long time?”

  “It’s not a trick,” he indignantly told her. “Are you coming, or aren’t you? If you don’t, you’ll miss all the excitement.” He placed his hands on his hips and glared at Rebekah. “C’mon, will you? Father and Mother will have heard the news. They’ll be there before I get back with you.” He hurried out the door and started up the lane.

  Rebekah quickly took care of her knitting and ran after him toward a cluster of people on the road a little way ahead. The children headed straight for Father and Mother, who stood at one side of a small, gaping crowd.

  “What is it?” Rebekah stood on tiptoe, trying to see.

  “Him!” Will stepped out of her way and pointed to a tall, black-haired Indian halfway across the clearing between the settlement and the woods. The Indian carried bow and arrows and steadily walked toward the nearest group of men.

  “Is he going to scalp us?” Rebekah squeaked.

  The men reached for their muskets. The Indian never faltered. He was close enough now so the settlers could get a good look. Rebekah knew her eyes grew large as cartwheels. She felt herself blush and quickly looked away. So did the other girls and women. The unexpected visitor wore no clothes. Just a little war paint and a leather apron that hung down from his belly! Who was this bold Indian who marched into the colony instead of skulking in the woods?

  He reached the men. “Welcome.” The word sounded strange on the lips of the nearly naked man. “Samoset.”

  “Did you hear that?” Will whispered. “He speaks English!”

  “What is a samoset?” Rebekah whispered back.

  Will choked back a laugh. “Not a samoset. Samoset. That must be his name.”

  Rebekah risked another look, making sure she kept her gaze on the stranger’s face. “Why did he come here, and what does he want?” she wondered.

  “That’s what we need to find out,” Father said.

  CHAPTER 11

  Hair-Raising Stories

  The first thing Samoset did was ask for something to drink. The settlers quickly took on their roles of hosts, and once his thirst was satisfied, Samoset told his story.

  He explained he wasn’t from the area but came from Monhegan, an island off the coast farther north. He said in broken English that he had learned the white man’s language from English fishermen there. To prove he told the truth, Samoset mentioned the names of many captains who fished there.

  He’d come to Cape Cod the year before and remained eight months. He added he could reach his home with one day of good sea breeze, but it took five days to go by land.

  Fascinated by the visitor, the Pilgrims brought out a long, red, horseman’s coat. Samoset wrapped himself in it, grunted, and talked on. The settlers brought food: butter, cheese, a slice of duck, and pudding. He ate and ate and talked and talked. It appeared Samoset had no intention of leaving.

  “What will we do with him?” Will whispered. Even in the red coat that covered his nakedness, Samoset was a frightening figure.

  Others wondered the same thing. The Pilgrims decided to take Samoset to
the Mayflower, but they ran into trouble. A headwind and low water made it impossible to get the shallop across the flats to the ship. Stephen Hopkins at last agreed to keep Samoset overnight and guard him without seeming to do so.

  “I wish we could have quartered Samoset,” Will grumbled to Rebekah later. “Think of all the stories he could tell us! Now we’ll have to hear them from the Hopkins family.”

  Rebekah’s mouth turned down. “I’m glad we don’t have to keep him. He might tell us stories of how the Indians scalp people.”

  Will grinned mischievously. “I guess you could say they would be hair-raising tales, couldn’t you?”

  Rebekah’s green eyes flashed. Her freckled nose went into the air. “Humph! You won’t think it’s so funny if we wake up murdered in our beds.”

  “If we’re murdered in our beds, we won’t wake up,” Will answered. When his sister’s face turned red, he quickly added, “Don’t be mad, Rebekah. I was just joking. Besides, if Samoset were unfriendly, he would never have come right into the settlement. He’d have brought a band of warriors.”

  Rebekah finally agreed, and Will said no more about hair-raising tales.

  The next day Samoset left, the proud possessor of a ring, knife, and bracelet. He promised to come back with some of the Wampanoag Indians, who would bring beaver furs for trade.

  The next time Samoset came, he arrived on a Sunday with five tall Indians wearing deerskin clothes.

  “It’s too bad they came today,” Rebekah said. “We can’t trade on Sunday.”

  “It is awkward,” Father admitted. “Our leaders will just have to explain we don’t trade on Sunday.”

  Will ran up to his family, bursting with news. “Wait till you hear what’s happened!” he shouted. “You’d never guess, not in a million years!” He didn’t give them even a minute to answer but said, “The tools. The Indians brought back the tools they stole from us.”

  Mother clapped her hands, and Rebekah cried, “Then they must be honest.” She stopped and wrinkled up her face. “If they are honest, why did they take our tools in the first place?” Then she remembered something, and the same funny feeling she had known weeks earlier came back. She lowered her voice so no one else could hear. “What’s the difference between our taking their corn and them stealing our tools?”