CHAPTER TWELVE
CHARLES FINDS A WOMAN
Fall came late in ’49, the soft grasses stubbornly keeping their emerald color all through September. The leaves, ordinarily trodden under foot by the end of the month, still clung tenaciously to the oaks, and the winds, though cool, did not bite and freeze the fingers. Even in October the brooks were not skimmed with ice, and the morning sun warmed the earth by noon.
Molly caught the first trumpet of fall on the morning of the 15th as she was sitting at her small desk writing in her journal. At this time of day, the house was quiet, so Molly had formed the habit of spending the early hours of the morning writing. But now her journal had thickened. Suddenly a sharp breeze swept through the window, scattering some of the loose pages. Picking them up, she glanced at the date, then let her eyes run down the page.
It was the page she had written two years earlier on the day of Jerusha’s funeral, and although time had blurred the sharp pain and bitterness, her lips grew soft as she thought of her friend. Then she read the last comment on the page: One thing I promise! I’m a bound girl, and I’ll never forget that—not as long as I’m his! Never!
She leaned over, shut the window, then got up and slipped out of the flannel nightgown, thinking of that time of her life—something which she rarely did. I was thirteen years old when I said that—now I’m fifteen, she thought as she pulled a gray cotton dress from a peg and slipped into it. The fact that it was too small made her realize how rapidly her figure had developed the past year. She and Beth Stuart could not seem to keep up with her wardrobe. Fifteen—and he still thinks I’m a child!
She looked down at herself, not at all happy that she was five feet nine—taller than any girl she knew and only an inch shorter than Adam. A year earlier she had begun to stoop trying to disguise her height, but Beth had railed at her: “Sit up straight, girl—you look like a worm all bent over! God’s given you a tall, strong body, and you go creeping around like a cowering slave!”
She had been bullied into a good carriage, but now she thought rebelliously, Why couldn’t I be small and dainty instead of a giant? Then she stooped and peered into the small mirror on her desk.
What others saw was a face with rather high cheekbones, the planes sweeping down to a firm jaw totally feminine for all its strength. The eyes were calm, a strange blue-gray color, large and wide spaced. Thick black lashes curled over them, and the brows arched gently under a smooth broad forehead. Her lips were full with a hint of stubbornness, yet soft and red, and when she smiled, a dimple appeared on her left cheek, making her look almost saucy. When she let her thick ash-blond hair down, it cascaded down her back like a smooth waterfall, but usually she wore it up in a crown of braids that framed her face.
She went downstairs and cooked breakfast. As she was taking the bread out of the oven Adam came in. “Winter’s in the air—maybe snow,” he said.
He sat down and she put a bowl of hominy and a pitcher of cider in front of him. “Charles should be in this afternoon,” he said, pouring a stream of dark molasses over the hominy. He waited until she sat down; then they bowed their heads and he said briefly, “Lord, we thank thee for this food, and ask you to grant thy mercy over us this day in Jesus’ name.”
“Is he going to stay long?”
“No, I don’t suppose.” He took a pull at the tankard of cider she had put in front of him, looked at it and said, “That’s a good cider, Molly.” Then he shrugged, saying mildly, “Charles doesn’t stay anywhere long, I guess. He’s been all over Virginia, even went to England last year, according to Aunt Rachel.”
“Did he say why he’s coming?” Molly cut a thick slice of fragrant bread, adding a thick layer of yellow butter. “He’s never come before.”
“I think he wants to see that we’re making money—or maybe why we’re not making more.”
She was suddenly indignant, and her sharp white teeth snapped off a morsel of bread; then she said, “This is the best farm in the colony! And that new plow of yours has made a good profit, Adam!”
He looked across the table, grinned at her, but only said, “I guess this operation is pretty small potatoes to Saul and Charles. They’ve been buying land like crazy in Virginia. Can’t think what he’d want to tell me, though. He and Saul are the businessmen, and I’m just a plain blacksmith.”
Molly started to deny his statement, but she had learned long ago that while there was no man more confident in working with metal, Adam Winslow saw his brother and his cousin as being superior to him in every way. It infuriated her that he put himself down so, but she only shrugged and watched him finish his breakfast.
He was twenty-two years old, and looked much the same as he had the first time she’d seen him. Among the Winslows, where all the men were uncommonly tall, he seemed small, not over five ten, but the years at the forge and on the farm had molded him into a solid shape. He did not look large, but she had seen him without his shirt, washing at the pump, and the swelling chest, the heavy muscles of the shoulders and arms, and the massive development of the muscles in his back made other men look frail. In a land of strong men, only one man was his superior—Timothy Dwight. But Dwight’s strength was massive and ponderous, like a heavy draft horse, while Adam’s was quick as a cat.
I wish he wouldn’t feel so inferior around Charles, she thought, then gave it up as she always had in the past. Only once had she mentioned this to anyone. Mrs. Stuart had listened while Molly burst out, complaining how Adam always saw Charles as being better at things. Beth Stuart had shocked her when she’d smiled and said, “You don’t like that, Molly, but I can tell you something—you do exactly the same thing with Mary Edwards!”
The memory disturbed Molly. She rose and began to clear the table. “We’ll put him in the downstairs bedroom—oh, yes, we’re invited to the Lindons’ day after tomorrow. A last fling for Tom, I think.”
“I’m not sure if Charles will want to go to such a small party,” Adam said doubtfully.
“Well, let him stay at home and stare at himself in the mirror then, because I’ve already told them we’d be there!”
He grinned at her, amused at the fiery response. “You don’t like Charles, and you don’t even know him, Molly. And you better watch that temper of yours. What if the preacher heard you?”
She ignored him, and later that day when Charles got off his horse and came inside, she greeted him with a smooth countenance. He filled the doorway, his eyes alive and dancing, and after greeting Adam with a bear hug, he turned to her, and with a startled expression he said, “This isn’t Molly?! Why, you’re not a snub-nosed little brat anymore—let me see!”
“She’s grown up a bit, Charles, hasn’t she?” Adam grinned.
Charles was looking at Molly strangely; she felt uncomfortable, yet at the same time it pleased her. He was, she decided, the best looking man she’d ever seen, even more handsome than she remembered him. He had filled out a little, and his eyes, blue as cornflowers, seemed to look right inside her. There was a boldness in his manner that was lacking in Adam, and she knew instinctively that he had had much experience with women. He reached out to take her hand, and she saw the sharpness of his expression, heard the smooth ease in his voice as he said, “Miss Burns, I’m glad to meet you. Always a pleasure to see a young woman blossom into a beauty.”
“Enough of that, Charles!” Adam laughed. “Don’t give her any ideas along that line. I’ve warned her about your worldly ways.”
“Ah, too bad!—but how do you know I haven’t repented, Adam? I assure you that my feeling for Molly is strictly honorable.” He still held her hand and added with a wide smile, “Just think of me as a big brother, Molly. Come to me with all your troubles.”
“I’m afraid that’d be like putting the fox to guard the chickens!” Adam said wryly. They all three smiled, and Molly saw at once that Adam was incapable of believing any wrong of this flamboyant brother of his.
They spent a good afternoon, sitting around the kitchen table, with Cha
rles telling them tall tales of Virginia. Adam and Molly sat drinking in the talk, for the man was a born storyteller. He made the dark forests and the painted savages come alive, and finally he said, “It’s not so much my world as yours, Adam. I’ve liked seeing it, but I’m a city man. You’d do well there, as much as you like the out-of-doors.”
Adam was stirred. “I don’t guess I’ll ever find out, Charles. Someone has to mind this place.”
“I suppose, but as much as you know about guns, you’d make a place for yourself. All Virginians are sportsmen, and they’ll swap their sisters for a good rifle—pardon the loose talk, Molly! There’s a family named Washington close by, and they’re good enough farmers, but they live to hunt. Ride to the hounds, of course, but the youngest son, George, he loves a good gun. Wish you could come and see the country there.”
“I’d like to.”
Later that day, Charles brought out a leather case and extracted a sheaf of papers. “We’ve managed to get an option on a large tract over the mountains, Adam. I couldn’t believe the price!” he exclaimed. “Saul and I are spread a little thin, but you know how it is—you have to take opportunities when they open up. Saul’s figured out a way to keep what we have, get a loan on some of it, and buy this section. It’s really pretty involved—but we can’t lose. It’s all tied up with the general estate, so all of us have to sign it.”
“What did Father and Aunt Rachel say?” Adam asked. He felt uncomfortable dealing with papers and lawyers, and wished that he’d gone to Boston so that his father could explain it all.
“Oh, you know how they are, Adam,” Charles shrugged. “Getting on, I’m afraid, and old people are all conservative. Took a lot of talk, but Saul finally got his mother sold, and she talked to Father, so that’s all right. They’ve already signed, and so have I. Your signature is all we need—but we’ve got to move fast or The Hudson Bay Company may get wind of it; then it’d be a lost cause!”
Adam stared at the papers, then nodded. “Well, if they signed, I guess I will, too.”
“It’s going to make us all a pile of money, brother!” Charles said. He took the papers after Adam had signed his name, and put them back into the case with an air of satisfaction. “Now, maybe you’d like to show me the place. Rachel thinks you’ve done something unique here.”
For the rest of that day, and all the next morning, Adam and his brother walked over the entire farm and Charles showed a quick intelligence that went beyond his indolent manner. He commended Seth Stuart for his work in managing the crops, but he was most interested in what Adam was doing at the forge.
“This is fantastic, Adam!” For the past few years Adam had been experimenting with muskets, and Charles was holding his brother’s latest effort. It was something of a cross between the old style musket and the Kentucky hunting rifle. “This is beautifully balanced; is it accurate?”
“Well, I hate to brag, but it’ll do very well against most competition,” Adam shrugged. “You know how the old flintlocks are—the Brown Bess that English soldiers use. Anything over fifty yards and you might as well forget it! The soldiers just aim in the general direction and blaze away. They don’t even have a front sight! But they’re easy and quick to load and the powder and ball aren’t too critical—just about anything will work. Now the Kentucky rifle, why a good marksman will knock a squirrel out of a tree at a hundred paces—but the balls have to be specially made, and so does the powder, and they take three times as long to load—so massed troops can’t use them.”
“And what’s this you’ve done?” Charles sighted down the gleaming barrel of the rifle.
“Well, I’m trying to find a weapon that’s got the best of both the rifle and the musket. Quick and easy to load, but accurate. This is better, but the powder and shot is still critical.” He hesitated, then said, “I’ve got an idea, Charles, but it’s still just that.”
“Well, Adam, after seeing this piece of work, I’m convinced you can do anything! What’s the idea?”
Adam faltered, taken off guard by the praise, but he said, “Well, the obvious answer is a breech-loading mechanism, of course. Lots of men have tried, but nobody’s hit the answer yet.”
Charles’s wedge-shaped face was alive with excitement. “You think you’re on to it? Adam, if you could get that thing made, why, it’d be worth millions! Every army in the world would sell their souls for it! Why . . .!”
Adam laughed, and held up his hand in protest. “Hold on now—it’s just an idea, Charles!”
“You work on that, you hear me? Why, the Winslow rifle will make our name famous!”
Adam laughed suddenly. “Remember how we blew up Father’s chickens with my first gun? This may turn out like that!”
Charles threw back his head and roared. “And I ran away like a rat and left you to take the blame, didn’t I, Adam?” he said finally. “You must have hated me for that!”
“Why, no!” Adam’s open face showed surprise, and he added, “I couldn’t fault you for anything, Charles.”
The remark moved the tall young man, yet he seemed disturbed. “You’re too trusting, Adam. You’ve got to learn to be a little more careful about people.”
“You’re not people,” Adam smiled. “You’re my brother.”
Charles stared at the smaller man, and there was a light of wonder in his face. Finally he shook his head, saying, “I shall have to watch out for you, brother!” Then his face changed and he said, “Saul will be interested in your rifle, but now tell me about yourself.”
“Myself?”
“Yes, not the farm or the forge, but you. Are you in love?”
“In love?”
“Confound it, don’t be such an echo! You must have done something all these years besides grow turnips and make rifles. Come on, now, tell old Brother Charles all about it!”
There was a light of expectation in the face of Charles Winslow, and Adam was speechless. He opened his mouth, closed it, then finally said, “Well, I haven’t had much time for such things, I guess.”
Charles studied him, and there was a sharp light in his eyes. “But I think there’s somebody special, right?”
“Why, she doesn’t really know how I feel . . .”
“Why not?”
Adam flushed, and biting his full lower lip, he cleared his throat, saying, “Charles, I’ve never told anyone about this. There’s only one woman I’ve ever felt anything for, but it’s not easy. She’s very young, and I’ve been like a big brother to her.”
“The best thing in the world!” Charles grinned. “Why, all you’ve got to do is let her know that you’re not her brother!”
“But she’s only fifteen years old, and she’s the daughter of the best friend I’ve got in the world.”
“Well, who is this paragon of youthful beauty?”
“Mary Edwards!”
“Ah! The plot thickens!” Charles stroked his chin. “The famous preacher, I take it?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I don’t care if she is a preacher’s daughter, she’s just like any other woman! See here, I’ve got to give you some help in this business!”
“Oh, I don’t think—!”
“When will you see her again? Soon?”
“As a matter of fact, Molly says we’re invited to a party at some neighbors, and Mary will be there. But I didn’t think you’d want to go, Charles. It’s really a rural affair.”
“Lead me to it!” Charles laughed. “Country matters are what I crave. And by the time I get you fully instructed, you innocent young Hercules, Fair Mary will fall into your arms helpless with young adoring love!”
Over thirty young people had gathered to celebrate the coming wedding of young Tom Lindon and his bride-to-be, and with the older guests, well over fifty people were present. They were hard-working people, these children of the Pilgrims, and they delighted in donning brightly colored clothes and having a time of relaxation.
Molly had drawn an exclamation from Charles as she came down
the stairs in a new dress that she’d been saving for a special occasion. It was a simple blue-gray gown with a cluster of red ribbon at the high neck and sleeves and a wide red sash. It showed off her maturing young figure well. “Good heavens!” Charles breathed, taking her hand, “let me look at you!” He made her turn around, and there was a flush on her creamy complexion when he kissed her hand and said quietly, “You look very beautiful, Molly—very beautiful, indeed!”
Adam, taken aback by Charles’s attention, said nothing, but he stole several glances at Molly as they went out to the carriage. He was quiet on the way to the Lindons’, but Charles kept the conversation flowing, eliciting a giggle from Molly several times as he described some of the amusing happenings at parties he’d attended in Virginia.
They arrived at the Lindons’ late, and Charles was immediately the center of attention. There was an exotic air about him, and his stunning good looks and fine dress would have marked him if his elegant manners had not.
Adam introduced him to the senior Lindons, then to the guests of honor, and he won the bride’s favor by saying fervently to young Tom Lindon, “Zounds, Mr. Lindon, I’d advise you to keep this beautiful creature away from the city! She’d cause a stampede there, I vow it!”
Timothy Dwight came in a little late with Mary Edwards, and Adam whispered, “That’s Mary!”
“Who’s the elephant with her?” Charles grinned. “I hope you don’t have to fight it out with him for her fair hand!” Then he looked at Mary, who was elegant in a green silk dress with white brocade, and said, “Well, she’s a beauty, old boy!”
On being introduced, he kissed Mary’s hand and said, “Miss Edwards, I’m honored. Your father is a man I cannot presume to praise too much. Would you object, sir, if I stole this lovely creature for a time? I’ve read every book her father has written! He’s quite an idol of mine, you know.”
As Charles walked off with Mary by his side, not at all disturbed by the thundering lie he’d just uttered, Timothy looked at Adam with a smile and said, “Well, I’m glad his charm doesn’t run in the family, Adam.”
The Indentured Heart Page 15
