Love's Pursuit (6 page)

“Betrothed?”

I could not lie. Certainly not on a Sabbath. “Not yet.”

He smiled.

“But I will be.”

The smile disappeared. “Truly?”

“Before the summer is over.” Please, God, may I not have lied!

“Is he the young one, then? The one with the scraggly beard?”

I ignored his insults. “The one with more virtues than you will ever know.”

“Who works like an indentured servant on his father’s farm?”

I could not stop my face from flushing. “His father has been ill.”

“ ’Tis that which has stopped him from marrying you?”

“Are you an orphan that you do not understand such obligations to family?”

“Nay. I am a son of a man who pushed me out into the world to make my own way when I was yet a lad. Despite the fact that he had gone lame. In both feet.”

How had he managed to shame me when he was the one who had been seen winking?

“John Prescotte?” He sighed. “I wish you much luck then.”

I could tell that he did not mean it. And besides, I did not need his luck.

8

TRAINING DAY DAWNED SULTRY. Even the notes of the cowherd’s horn drooped in the air. The sun had barely cleared the tops of the trees when waves of heat began to shimmer in the distance.

After breakfast Nathaniel ran up to the meetinghouse with his drum. Soon we heard his signal. By the time we arrived at the training field, several stakes had been driven into the ground. Between them stretched some lengths of homespun and beneath, blankets had been spread out and babes laid down. For once Abigail had been freed from her burden. She stood within a loose cluster of other young mothers.

John Prescotte walked by. I might have smiled at him, spoken to him for a moment, but he did not look at me in passing.

Thomas shrugged out of his doublet and handed it to me, leaving me free to join the other women. And so I would. For a while. But then I planned to slip away into the wood for a brief hour to myself. But before I could move, the captain came to stand just in front of me.

A moment later, he was joined by Simeon Wright.

They stood there the both of them, arms crossed, staring at the field before them.

Simeon Wright spoke first. “If it is all the same to you, the men might as well drill as they have before.”

“With you as their captain?”

“Aye.”

“
Is
it the same?”

Simeon turned toward the captain, brow furrowed. “I do not understand your meaning.”

“Will the drills work in the event of an attack? By savages?”

“ ’Tis the sole reason we train. To prepare for an attack. By savages.”

The captain’s teeth flashed. He bowed slightly. “Then by all means, please do as is your custom.”

In taking their leave of each other, they nearly ran right over me. But I was used to that.

Following inspection, the line of men split into two at Simeon Wright’s signal, each line advancing forward and then moving, one to the right, the other to the left, to take up a position of two lines in the middle.

At an order, the front line loaded their weapons.

“Give . . . fire!”

They fired and then, without waiting to see what it was they had shot, they filed around behind the second line. And the whole exercise repeated itself.

They drilled for some time, advancing for a distance to the beating of Nathaniel’s drum and then stopping to fire; putting on bayonets and then taking them off, while the putrid smoke of gunpowder hung in the air. Finally, at Simeon Wright’s order, they broke into lines and passed before us in review, a forest of muzzles protruding one and two feet above the men’s heads.

The ties at the collar of John’s shirt had loosed themselves and the material flapped open. As he drew abreast of me, he turned his head slightly, his gaze resting upon me for a brief instant before he passed by.

My cheeks flamed with a fire that had nothing to do with the heat. It shamed me, seeing him with his chest bared to all the world. And to me. What might people think? I supposed I would look upon such things as a goodwife, but that pleasure was to come after the marriage, not before.

As the men came to a halt, the women began to rummage in their baskets and pails for dinner. But before Simeon Wright could give the order to break ranks, the captain stepped up beside him. In the stillness of that moment, his voice rang out.

“And what will you do if the savages do not oblige you by attacking in a tidy straight line?”

Simeon’s tone was dismissive. “The militia has always trained—”

“Aye. It has trained. But has it fought?”

They stared at each other for a long moment, wary, alert, as if they were stags in rut.

“Nay.”

“Then may I suggest an alternate course of training after dinner.” It was a command rather than a question.

Dinner was subdued, the men casting peeved glances at the captain as they ate.

The captain, however, seemed oblivious to their displeasure. He ate as if preparing for famine. And as soon as he had finished, he called the men back to training.

The captain, gripping his musket between his hands, walked out into the field and then turned to face us. “May I submit that this musket may be more useful as a club.”

Clearly no one would stop him from suggesting such a thing, but the men’s eyes filled with horror. One of them even ventured to question his wisdom. “But . . . how am I to shoot a deer or a . . . a bear . . . if I bust my musket over a savage’s head.”

“Better his head than yours. And in such a case, it is better to grasp the musket at the muzzle and wield the butt like so.” He sent his weapon crashing into the grasses at his feet.

“Here now! If we use our weapons thusly, we will have none of them left.”

The captain frowned. “Aye. Such an inconvenience. Such a trifle . . . one life. Or two. Or three. Or perhaps, the whole town’s! Blacksmith?”

Thomas stepped forward. “Aye.”

“Could you not see to some small repairs of the muskets should they be needed?”

“Aye.”

“Then get to it, men! Two lines forming just here!”

The captain had them smashing hay stacks and lunging at the grasses for an hour. The effort required of the men began to show itself in the dampened shirts that clung to their chests. John’s the same as everyone’s. And soon, I was loathe to look at him.

The captain raised an arm for silence. He was given it, the men no longer fit for anything but gasping for air.

“The changing of the watch is heretofore to proceed at the normal times, but the posts are to be at the wood by the river, the ridge near the hay meadows, the minister’s on the south road and at Wright’s hill. Double guards will be posted. The one to walk in one direction and the other to proceed in the contrary. There will be no matches lit for the muskets.”

“What—!”

“How can we be expected to fire them if—”

The captain raised a finger. “If you can see the glow of the match, then so can the savages. Much better to use the rifle as a club, up close, and raise your voice in warning, than to be killed from afar and then overrun.”

“But—”

“Thank you for your time. Training day is to proceed from now as is customary. I will greet the first watch of the night at the meetinghouse.”

That night supper was a dreary affair. The captain was standing watch, waiting for nightfall to change out the guard at the meetinghouse. Father was still flush from the sun and Nathaniel nearly fell asleep in his gruel. The babe had slept for most of the forenoon and now it fussed, demanding Mother’s attentions. It was only in the clearing away of supper that the consequence of the captain’s absence registered in my thoughts.

He had naught to eat. And none to bring him anything.

A glance out the door told me that night was almost come. I took several thick biscuits that had been put aside for the morrow and set upon each a nice portion of cheese. Wrapping them in a napkin, I slipped the bundle beneath my apron and moved to step out the door.

“Where do you go?” Mary’s voice was accusing, as if I were leaving my responsibilities for pleasures.

I inclined my head toward the privy. “If I do not get there soon, then you will know.” It was not a lie. Least not a real one. I would visit the privy that night. Eventually.

Her shadow waved me away.

I moved in haste. It was not unseemly what I was doing. Not exactly. But I would not wish to explain it to any passing by. They might think something . . . different. They might not understand.

I gained my destination in time to see the group of men part, a pair in each direction. It appeared to me that the captain and John Prescotte started off together. I stood, hidden in the darkening shadow of the building, and reconsidered.

For certain John Prescotte would not understand my actions. But how could a man be expected to keep watch for a night with nothing in his stomach to sustain him? John’s own mother would never let him stand watch without first feeding him like a prized pig.

I trailed them, perhaps too closely for my own good, unwilling to leave myself a lone target for any savage. John broke away first, disappearing into the wood.

The captain kept on, walking some distance until he too hid himself between the trees. And I was not quick enough to track him.

I stepped from meadow into forest. Stood for a moment, listening, hoping to be given some clue to the captain’s position. There was no sound save for crickets and the low hooting of an owl. A dainty shivering of leaves as a breeze passed somewhere above my head.

“Captain Holcombe?”

The darkness around me went silent.

9

“OVER HERE.”

What sweet relief to hear his words! I turned in the direction of his voice and began to walk. Soon I perceived him in the gloom. But then I blinked and realized I had offered my purloined food to a squirrel.

“If he does not want it, may I have it?”

I turned toward the sound of his voice and extended my offering.

He took it from me, spread the napkin on the log beside him, and ate in silence. Then he withdrew a flask from his doublet and held it to his lips, drinking with great gulps.

“Do you think . . . are we safe?” Though the meadow was lit by stars, darkness had fallen in the wood, and I could see little within the shelter of the trees.

“Safe as a babe in a cradle. I have not heard nor seen anything this day.”

“At all?”

“Not one thing.”

I wished that I had not been so hasty in bringing the captain his supper. Wished I had not brought him supper at all. I sent a glance into the wood. “Well . . . I will leave you, then.”

“Wait a moment, and I will send you back with the cloth.” He wiped his mouth upon it and folded it. “How is it that a woman such as yourself was sent to bring me food? Why not your brother?”

“Because he is foolhardy and prone to shrink at shadows.” And besides, no one knew that I had come.

“Many thanks. The young John Prescotte sits watch just the other side of me.”

“I did not know it.” Why did the captain’s presence always seem to provoke me to lie? If souls are judged by their fruit, then surely he was a devil.

“Go over to him. Make him feel better about the scandalous wink I gave you earlier.”

“There shall be no more talk of winks between us.”

“Go on. ’Tis a night for courting. A waxing moon. No savages on the prowl.”

“ ’Tis also a night for ruining reputations. And I will not squander mine.” I had done enough damage to it already. I reached out to retrieve the cloth from his hand. It should have been an easy task, but he held on to his end.

“You cannot tell me you are so virtuous a woman as that.”

“I am.”

“When your beloved sits just there, in the shadow of the night? Alone?”

“What would you have me do?”

“Bestow one kiss upon the poor boy, at least. Perhaps two.”

Kiss him? I only wished to marry him, not entice him to seduction like some immoral woman. “And distract him from the watch?”

He considered me for a long moment. “I will tell you a secret.

From here I can watch both his position and my own. Go on.” He said it as if he were doing me some great favor.

His words made me feel very young. And they raised up an obstinate spirit within me. “I do not wish to.”

His sigh sounded of exasperation. “I will tell no one.”

“ ’Tis not that you will tell or not. ’Tis simply that it must not be done.”

“Do you love the boy or not?”

“Lust is better left unprovoked until the marriage bed.”

“Have you never kissed him?”

I could not lie again. “Nay.”

“And he has never tried to kiss you?”

“Truly, I must decline to—”

“Were you mine, I would be well familiar with your sweet ways by now.”

I did not like what he was insinuating. And the thought of it, of him, sent a not unpleasant sensation through my belly, as if I were sliding into some deliciously cool stream. Why should the thought of kissing the captain provoke such a feeling when the thought of kissing John provided no reaction at all? He was a devil indeed! I gave one last rather violent tug on the cloth.

He let go, and I fell sprawling onto my backside in the brush.

“Oh, pity! Here.” He extended a hand to help me.

“Captain Holcombe?” The voice was followed by a snapping of twigs and limbs.

Frustration and resentment vied for control of the captain’s face.

“Captain?” The voice was louder. I could identify it now as John’s.

“Oh, for—!” He let go my hand and stood with indecision for a moment. And then he pressed me to the ground, throwing his cloak over me. Scrambling to sit beside me, he propped an elbow between my ribs, leaning against me as if I might have been a log.

“Ow! Could you—”

“If you do not want that boy to accuse you of something worse than consorting with the likes of me, be still!” he hissed.

“Captain Holcombe?” John asked.

“Aye, lad.”

“Is all . . . are you all right?”

“Aye.”

“I heard a great rustling . . .”

An elbow ground down into my rib. “Just . . . uh . . . stepped upon something, lad.”

“Can you watch from there?”

“What’s that?”

“Do you not have trouble seeing from there?”

“Oh. Aye. Well. We must attend to the . . . necessary every now and then, must we not?”

I drove a fist into the small of the captain’s back. He grunted in response.

“Pardon me? Was there something else, Captain?” John’s voice was tentative.

“Uh . . . aye. Aye, there was.” He settled against me as if he meant to enjoy himself. “You are a man unmarried. If you were courting a girl, would you not wish to take advantage of a night such as this?”

“Advantage? How so?”

“If I were such a young man as you, I would . . . well . . . I mean . . . with the moonlight and a girl close at hand . . . I suppose I might want to kiss her.”

“You would?”

“Why? Would you not?”

“Of course not.”

“Nay?”

“Nay.”

“Come on, lad. Man to man. Of course you would.”

“Of course I would not. There will be . . . would be . . . enough time after marriage to undertake all of that.”

“
All of that
. You make it sound like work. Not one little kiss? To know what to look forward to?”

“Nay.”

He wouldn’t? Not even one?

“Oh. Well.” The captain slumped against me as if his argument had been exhausted.

I pushed back.

“Was there nothing else, Captain?”

“Hmm? Oh. And also, I had a wish to test you.”

“Test me?”

“Aye. Had a savage truly crept up on me, were we truly wrestling upon the ground, no good would have come of announcing your presence. And were there other savages about, surely you would be dead by now.”

“Oh. So . . . I failed, then.”

“Aye. In more ways than one. Now, back to your post. Better luck next time. Off you go. Step sharp!”

There was more rustling and snapping of limbs as John retreated.

“Boy walks with all the grace of a blind ox.”

Boy? He addressed John as if he himself were so very old, but the captain was of an age with Simeon Wright. And John was as much a man as they! I sat up and shoved at him to do the same.

“You can thank me later.”

“For tumbling me into the brush and then grinding your elbow into my ribs?”

“Hush. I would hate to have him return, in silence this time, and find you here with me. How would you ever explain yourself? Do you not find it curious that he mentioned no intentions toward you?”

“I do not. ’Tis none of your business.”

“I am a man unmarried. Of course it is my business.” The captain shrugged, made as if to speak, then shrugged again instead. “Well . . . have you your cloth?”

“What? You were going to speak.”

His lips pursed, his eyes narrowed, but he shook his head. “I do not wish to say.”

“What is it?”

He opened his mouth, glanced at me, and then closed it. “Nay.”

“Tell it to me this minute or I shall scream.”

“ ’Tis simply, my dear, that you deserve better.”

“Nay, I do—” I halted, realizing he nearly had me disagree with him, telling him that I did not deserve better. But then, I did not agree with him. John Prescotte was good enough. Was better. Was fine. He was better than fine! I gathered my thoughts. “I do not agree with you.”

He pulled me up. And then he stepped close. “You deserve someone who would want to kiss you given even the very slightest of opportunities.”

I could not think of anything to say to him. My ears had gone thick with a curious buzz, so I turned my back to him and left. Took two steps before I realized I had started off in the wrong direction. Turned once more and walked past that man and headed home.

But as I walked, I turned John’s words over in my mind. Although we had both said the same thing in reply to the captain’s baiting, there was a very great difference between not wanting to kiss your intended and knowing that your intended did not wish to kiss you.

God curse the man for putting a question mark into my head where none had the right to be!

But as soon as I had thought it, I knew that I had sinned. No man deserved to be cursed. And so, as I walked along, I prayed.

“Dear God, please forgive me. A man such as the captain, controlled by carnal lust, though he chose his words deliberately for the purpose of teasing and baiting, and though he sees chastity as no virtue . . . though he mocks our ways at every possibility and turns every good thought into a jest . . .”

Was it even possible for God to save such a man?

“Though his time with us is short, may he see his errors and revel in your grace and become a convert to your truth.”

Even though he lies incessantly.

“May it be done through your wisdom and according to your mercy. May I see him on the far side of eternity, a redeemed soul.”

Though you would not make me speak to him, God, would you?

“Amen.”

Would you?