Acts of Courage

by Connie Brummel Crook

  Elizabeth was excited, too. “Maybe we’ll make some new friends.”

  Laura guessed she meant men friends. When they first came, Elizabeth had gone to the Landing every day to see if the incoming mail might have a letter from Thomas Mayo. But none had come, and Laura knew how hard that was! She would always remember how disappointed she’d been when Red hadn’t written.

  Father looked at Laura. “I’m counting on you to help me with the books. You always have been good with figures.”

  “I’d like to help,” Laura said. She had become bored since returning to Queenston. The only visitor was Josh, who delivered the milk daily, but he spent most of the time with Mira. Laura could not believe how grown-up her sister had looked as she left for the ball with Josh the previous Saturday. Josh, whose full name was Julius Hitchcock, had taken Mira to Lady Simcoe’s ball at Newark to represent his family, who were well established in the area.

  As for James, he seemed to be nowhere in sight. Father did ask him to help move the family’s belongings from the tents to the inn, but between sorting clothes and lifting bags, there was not much opportunity to visit.

  Then came the business of setting up operations at the inn. Laura became so involved with balancing the books and keeping track of supplies that she hardly had a moment to herself.

  Late one afternoon, a month after they had moved into the inn, Laura was sitting at the little oak desk just inside the main entrance. She had totalled the two columns for profits and expenditures, and she was worried. As she had feared, the expense column was much higher, even though they had been busy. In fact, everyone had remarked on how business was booming.

  Because Queenston was the beginning of the portage route around to Chippawa and connected the Great Lakes, many people passed this way, both overnight settlers and those who frequented the tavern. Her father and Sam handled that part of the business, but all the accounts came through her books. The problem was that her father gave credit to a number of newcomers. The business just couldn’t afford it.

  “Laura, you’ve been pouring over those books all day,” said Thomas as he stepped into the office in the inn.

  “I just totalled the month’s income. The expenses are much higher.”

  “Are they?” Father looked surprised.

  “It’s the credit you give. We just don’t have the capital to last long that way.” Laura handed him the open book and, leaning over, pointed out the number of unpaid bills already on their account.

  “Whoo!” Father whistled through his teeth. “I had no idea.”

  “We cannot afford this,” Laura said, raising her voice. She was annoyed that her father never could seem to make ends meet.

  At that moment, James Secord walked in the door. “Excuse me if I’m meddling. But I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation. You don’t need to worry, Laura. Credit’s always extended in these parts. Folks will pay. It just takes a little time. They’re honest folk.”

  Laura turned around and said, “Oh, hello, James. So nice to see you again. We sure enjoyed your help on our moving day.”

  Then a young lady stepped up beside James and rested her gloved hand on his arm. Laura found herself staring into the eyes of the most beautiful young woman she had ever seen. Her shiny black hair curled out from under her mob cap, around her rosy cheeks, and flowed onto her shoulders. She said, “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friends, James?” She was poised and confident as she held out her hand to Laura, and her dimples made her smile even more welcoming.

  A wife, thought Laura! She was annoyed to feel her cheeks reddening.

  “Of course, Phoebe,” said James. “Sorry. I got caught up in business dealings. I should have introduced you before. Laura and Thomas, this is Phoebe, my niece, David Secord’s daughter.”

  Laura sighed with relief as she reached out a hand to Phoebe. She already knew that David Secord was the magistrate of St. David’s and the founder of the village. Laura stared quietly back at James, who continued, “She’s just stopped in for a moment to say ‘Hello.’ Far too busy to go anywhere with me. She has so many beaux.”

  “Oh, James! You do exaggerate. So nice to meet you folks. And, Laura, I wish you’d drop by to visit some day. But I won’t bother you now. I see you’re busy and I do have to run. Don’t forget, now.” Laura could see that a young man waited for her at the door of the inn.

  They watched her go. Then Laura said, “Now, back to these accounts.”

  “I assure you I wasn’t eavesdropping, but I just don’t want you to worry for no reason.” James was sounding apologetic now.

  “It’s quite all right,” said Father. “Here, have a chair. You’ve come at just the right time.” James sat down with a confident smile.

  “Now, Laura,” Father said, “what were you about to say?”

  “I suggest we give credit at the inn only in emergency situations. The tavern should not have any credit accounts.”

  James interrupted. “As I was saying, you’ll find folks around here are an honourable lot. They’ll settle their accounts.” James spoke calmly as he tapped a tune on Laura’s desk with his fingers.

  “He’s right, Laura. I’ve always said you worry too much,” Father continued. He gave her a pat on the shoulder and abruptly changed the subject. “James, would you like to join us for supper?”

  Laura was furious. How could her father take her advice so lightly? If he had worried sooner, his family would be in better circumstances today. His motto had always been never to cross a bridge before he came to it, so he was never prepared when they did reach the bridge. And who suffered? The family. They always had to take a detour. Well, this time she’d just have to see to it that they didn’t need to go around in circles.

  She could run this business successfully if her father would give her a free hand. And here was James, her ideal man, giving bad business advice. Well, maybe James wasn’t so great, after all.

  Laura slammed the accounts book shut and took a long look at the men. “I’m going to see if Sally needs any help with supper. It’s a good job that women don’t wait till folks are at the table before they prepare the meal.”

  She marched quickly out of the room with her head held high. Surprised, James turned to watch Laura until she disappeared down the hall.

  ***

  A week later, Laura was taking time out from her duties at the inn to pick wild raspberries. Sally was bent on making jam, even though business continued to be brisk at the inn, and Laura had been chosen to do the picking. She had to hold her petticoats up to keep them from brushing against the ox-eyed daisies and devil’s paintbrush that dotted the land at the foot of the Heights. It was almost exactly midsummer. A grilling sun was beating down on her back. She didn’t know whether it was worse to take her hat off and risk a burn or to leave it on and feel even hotter. She resigned herself to leaving it on.

  She turned along the road that led west to St. David’s. In order not to lose her way, she planned to keep the road in sight. Josh had told Mira there were lots of berries in plain view along the sides of the road and up the hillside on land owned by the Hitchcocks—and she was welcome to any pickings there.

  “He was right,” she said aloud as she spotted a thick patch not far from the road. The red berries hung heavily from the canes, and she dropped them easily into the small pail she had tied around her waist. She thought about picking berries in Great Barrington with her mother when she was a little girl. “Maybe I can pick enough for Sally and Bett to make a pie,” she thought with some satisfaction. She pulled a few leaves from her berries in the pail.

  As she picked and ate, the sun became stronger, and she rubbed her hand across her forehead to wipe away the beads of sweat. Three small pails would be enough to get a start on the preserves, and it wouldn’t take long to pick that many.


  With her pail half-full, she sighed and reached for more branches, only to find that she had picked most of the near ones clean. She would need to go farther in, where there might be snakes.

  A man’s voice came from the direction of the road. “Can I help you?”

  Laura recognized the voice. It was James. He was tethering his team of horses to a tree by the roadway. Then, in long strides, he hurried over to her.

  Laura felt the hot sun burn more deeply as she looked up at him. She imagined how terrible she must look with berry stains all around her mouth and sweat dripping from her forehead.

  “I thought that was you, Laura,” James said as he came closer. He reached out and grabbed both of her berry-stained hands. “You look like you’ve been through a war.”

  “Watch out, James, or you’ll be covered with berry juice,” Laura laughed as she looked down to her pail between them. Then she added, “Help yourself.”

  He took a few. “These are good, sweet berries. It must be a fine year for them. Let me help you pick.”

  “Don’t you have to meet a boat?” Laura asked, thinking once more that James couldn’t be that good a businessman if he took time off in the middle of the day to pick raspberries.

  “It’ll be docked for a while. Anyhow, it isn’t due until this afternoon.”

  “Well, if you really have the time, I’d love your help. I have to pick three pails full.”

  They worked away together as the heat of the day grew, and the silence was broken only by the drone of the cicadas. Before long, the three pails were filled to the brim with the bright red berries.

  “Well, I guess that’s it,” Laura declared as she untied her berry pail from around her waist. She smiled at James, whose eyes looked bluer than ever. “Thank you for helping me out. That’s a hot job, and… ”

  “Laura, I’ve lunch in my wagon. What would you say if we went up the Heights to eat? You’ll love it up there. You can see a long way back along the Niagara River.”

  Laura was surprised. Was he just asking her to be nice, or was he really interested in being with her? She couldn’t help thinking how different James was. Red would have been cracking jokes, and they’d both be laughing by now. But James—still, there was something reassuring about him.

  “Well,” she said, coming back to herself, “I guess so. That would be nice.”

  James had to struggle through the raspberry canes to put the berries in a shady corner of the wagon. Laura stifled a laugh as she watched his linen breeches get caught on all the thorns. The same thing happened on the way back from the wagon, only it was worse because James was carrying a basket of sandwiches, a jug of water, and a small berry pail. He didn’t have a free hand to pry himself away from the clutching bushes. Laura could stay still no longer and, when she raced over to help him, she caught her petticoats on the bushes.

  “Here, you hold these.” James handed her the food, disentangled himself, and reached down to free Laura’s petticoat from the canes. Laura watched with fascination as his big gentle hands pulled off each burr—one at a time. In a few minutes, he had them all and was taking the food and motioning her to follow him.

  James held back the thick scratching canes as she edged her way out to the clearing. From there, they clambered up the steep, grassy hillside away from the road. Weaving through the young undergrowth of oak, fir, and maple, they hurried along side by side until they reached a small, stony plateau.

  Laura could see that they were still far from the top. A steep path wound ahead between the trees. James led the way up the narrow winding path to the summit, where they emerged onto a larger plateau.

  “Turn around the other way, Laura, and you’ll see the view.” James placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, and with his other pointed to the view below.

  Laura realized then how far they had come up the Heights. There lay the Niagara River far below and beyond, and the densely wooded slopes hid Queenston completely from view.

  “Oh, can’t we stay right here and eat?” Laura blurted out.

  She turned around, then stopped abruptly as she gazed into James’s sapphire eyes. “We…we can see the river from the shade of this elm tree.”

  “Well, I guess there’s no reason to look farther. This is a superb spot.”

  Laura stood while he pulled the weeds and trampled the long grass, then motioned her to sit down. Before they ate, Laura waited until James bowed his head and prayed briefly for their meal. When she opened her eyes shyly, she saw that James still had his head bowed. He was still praying—but silently.

  In a moment, he looked up and Laura looked away, embarrassed.

  “It always helps to know He hears and cares,” James said as if answering her unasked questions. “Life is not always easy.”

  She did not answer.

  Then, a bushy-tailed grey squirrel jumped down from a nearby willow tree onto the grass in front of them. James broke the silence. “How does your family like Queenston?”

  Laura turned to answer. “Mira is really happy. She makes friends easily, and Josh visits a lot.”

  “I’ve heard he’s courting Mira.”

  “She’s only fifteen. He’s just a friend. But he’s a good friend to all of us. He came by one day, just last week, after his morning milk delivery and offered to help with chores at the inn. Mira had him baking in the kitchen.

  “Josh? In the kitchen? I can’t believe that!” James burst into hearty laughter.

  Laura started to giggle. “It was a funny sight! He couldn’t have caused more problems. First, he upset the fresh berry pie that Mira asked him to take out of the oven. It slipped out of his hands and landed face down on the floor.”

  James’s laughter filled the air again. “I can see it.”

  “Next, he ran into the utensil rack that hung over the table, where all the other fresh pies were spread out, and all the ladling spoons and sharp knives fell down onto the fresh pies. The raspberries splattered all over the wall and floor. That’s when Sally came in and sent them both out.”

  “I bet she wasn’t too happy.”

  “I assure you she wasn’t, but she didn’t say too much to Josh. He was apologizing and looking so distressed. It’s hard to be angry with Josh. I feel guilty even telling you about it. He’s such a nice young man, but such a—”

  “I know Josh,” said James, still chuckling, “and don’t worry. I won’t mention a word to him. I’m surprised, though, that he was free from the farm work in the middle of the day. It’s such a busy time for farmers just now…And how’s Sally? Is she liking it better now at the inn?”

  Laura paused, then replied, “Sally’s still not too happy and neither is Elizabeth.”

  “It’s hard at first. They’re probably homesick.”

  “No, it’s more than that. Sally can’t understand why they haven’t been invited to the teas or quilting bees. She’d love to get acquainted with the women in Queenston.”

  James looked away. The squirrel ran to a large willow tree. It scampered up the trunk and disappeared under the low-hanging branches. James turned back to Laura.

  “Well, the farm women around Queenston are very busy this time of the year. They only have quilting and sewing bees in the winter. Now they’re working in their gardens and helping with crops and farm work.”

  “Is that the only reason?” Laura asked, noticing a certain hesitation in his voice.

  “No, there is some resentment toward settlers,” James replied honestly.

  “Why? The war is over.”

  “It will pass, Laura. They are kind women. They’ll soon forget when they come to know you.”

  “I wasn’t even old enough to understand what was going on in the war. I was born just after it began.”

  James hesitated a mom
ent. “I was three years old at the beginning of the war, when my mother escaped with us to Niagara. There were five women with thirty-one children. I was the youngest. We made it to a shelter at Fort Niagara in November of ’76. A terrible winter. It was a nightmare. We nearly froze to death and arrived half-starved. Mother says we almost died—the lot of us.”

  “Couldn’t your father help?”

  “No, he was away fighting the rebels. He was a lieutenant in Butler’s Rangers. My older brothers fought with his troops, too.”

  Laura looked out over the Niagara River. “Did you say you arrived in November ’76? That was well into the war. Why didn’t your mother leave sooner?”

  “Well, they thought they might not be in danger. My father and brothers had fled for their lives from our home in New Rochelle but, at that time, the Americans didn’t bother women and children. So they stayed with the hope that the whole rebellion would soon be stopped, and their men would be allowed to come home again. That didn’t happen, unfortunately, so they fled across country to Fort Niagara. It was farther than they thought.”

  “We lived at Great Barrington, not far from New Rochelle.”

  “I don’t really remember New Rochelle, since I was so young when we left. Mother told me it was named after La Rochelle in France. Father’s ancestors came from there in 1681 and founded the town in 1689. It used to be a French settlement.”

  “Is your mother French, too?”

  “Yes. She was Madelaine Badeau before her marriage. One of her ancestors fled from France to Bristol in England and, from there, he sailed to America. His name was Elias—Elias Badeau. Now my mother lives in St. David’s with my brother, David. Father would be there, too, but he died in ’84 just a year after the war ended.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It was an old war wound. It became infected and that…that’s what killed him. He’s buried in Colonel Butler’s private burying ground.”

  “How old were you when he died?”

  “I was eleven. He was never home much until that last year, but I was glad I came to know him before he died. He was worn out and disheartened. He had hoped to return to the French settlement at New Rochelle after the war.”