Spoke Of Love

by Cathy Marie Hake

  By the time he arrived at the meeting, both Thomas and Falcon had joined him. The parson opened the meeting with a prayer; then Erasmus Ryder announced, “In the interest of time, I think it best that we address the most pressing issues first. In keeping with Christian charity and familial obligation, my goodwife and I will take back her niece, Hester. Not only that, but Ethan and Christopher should come, as well.”

  “My children are going nowhere.”

  Erasmus pointed his finger. “You, Samuel Walsh, cannot deny the woman beneath your roof is with child.”

  “She’s a widow,” Thaddeus Laswell said. “Her husband could have sired the babe.”

  “Not with her belly still so flat,” Erasmus shot back.

  Alan Cooper rose. “Even though she be with child, I would take the woman to wife. The reverend has preached on how Hosea married Gomer, knowing full well she was a harlot.”

  “I doubt any other man would be so accepting.” Erasmus spoke so quickly that Sam knew they’d scripted out this little performance. “I’d have us resolve one last matter whilst Walsh is before the council. He’s cheated me of wool and coin for my tobacco. I went to him in private, but he refused to part with what he owes me, so I now seek recompense.”

  “Walsh,” Fred Stamsfield said, “how do you answer this charge?”

  “I’m grateful for the opportunity to set matters straight, Goodman Stamsfield.” Sam looked about the room, making it a point to look each council member in the eyes. “I appreciate Goodman Laswell for crediting the right man for siring the babe. I can state with a clear conscience that I’ve known but one woman thus far in my life, and ’twas within the sacred bond of marriage.”

  Sam paused to allow that declaration a moment to sink in, then continued. “As for the widow’s condition—indeed, she does not outwardly appear to be with child, but for understandable reason. She was dreadfully ill when I bought her, so she’d lost much flesh. Come spring, when she delivers, those who have misjudged her morals and mine will realize how they’ve wronged us.”

  Laswell combed his fingers through his beard. “My goodwife made mention after the first Sunday the widow attended church that she looked exceedingly frail.”

  “Ample proof that I should wed her.” Cooper puffed out his chest like a bantam rooster preparing to spar. “The widow needs to rest, and she cannot do so in a home where three children require attention.”

  “I’ll be sure to mention your kind concerns to her, Goodman Cooper.” Samuel couldn’t suppress a smile. “I fear it’s mis-placed, though. This very noon, Garnet Wheelock became my wife.”

  “That’s not possible!” Cooper shot to his feet. “Banns weren’t posted or read.”

  “We all know Samuel has been free to marry. He’s been a widower for years now. Since he bought the bride, any reasonable person would understand marriage might well ensue. As for the woman. . .” Reverend Clark shrugged. “Widows are shipped here with the clear understanding that they marry. Samuel possesses legal paperwork, which declares her free of any encumbrances. She’s accompanied the Walsh family to services for the past four weeks. I deemed that sufficient declaration of intent on her part, as well.”

  “I witnessed the marriage,” Falcon said.

  “As did I,” Thomas said. “Though I, myself, would have considered taking such a fine widow as my own wife, I respected Walsh’s claim.”

  “Reverend Clark would not have gone against his good conscience and officiated improperly,” Stamsfield said.

  “But by law, a widow must be delivered of her child ere she marries again,” Alan Cooper snapped. “Isn’t that right, Dickson?”

  “You were willing to overlook that matter and wed her,” Laswell mumbled.

  The son of a judge, Dickson had more knowledge of the law than most. His brows beetled as he pondered the situation. “Such laws are in place with specific intent. A man’s rightful heirs ought to be his own flesh. Since Samuel has two sons, the addition of a babe would not pose a challenge to their status. In this instance, the pregnancy posed no impediment to marriage.”

  Falcon snorted. “This whole meeting is an affront.”

  As head of the council, Dickson turned to Erasmus Ryder. “You cannot fault a man for keeping a woman to whom he’s not married beneath his roof, then fault him for wedding her in the next.”

  “They weren’t wed when I called a meeting,” Ryder pointed out. “My concern was for my niece and nephews.”

  Sam seriously doubted the veracity of his brother-in-law’s assertion, but he chose not to dwell on it at the moment. Clearly, his children would remain in his keeping. “With those matters settled, I challenge Erasmus Ryder to state his claim against me so I can clear my name.”

  Erasmus folded his arms akimbo, and his eyes narrowed. “I went to you to collect on debts you owe me, and you refused payment.”

  “This is a serious charge,” Dickson said. “Honorable men discharge their debts. What do you say Walsh owes you?”

  Erasmus rested his hands on the table and leaned forward as he enunciated each word with hatred. “Fleeces and cornmeal.”

  Dickson turned back to Samuel. “Goodman Walsh? How do you respond to this?”

  “In the past, I’ve bartered cornmeal for Ryder’s tobacco in order to meet my tithe and tax obligations.” Sam hitched his shoulder. “I made no commitment to him to do so this year, and as he’s known for growing good-quality Virginia tobacco, he’s able to sell it elsewhere.”

  Dickson drummed his fingers on the tabletop. “How, then, did you meet your tithe and tax obligations?”

  “I dealt with Thomas Brooks.”

  “That makes no sense,” Dickson mused aloud. “Surely you would have garnered a more favorable exchange with Ryder since he is family to you.”

  “Not so.” Sam looked at Erasmus and revealed, “Ryder always demanded and received fair market value from me.”

  “A crop costs me the same to grow no matter who buys it,” Erasmus said. “And Walsh just told you all my tobacco is of the finest quality.”

  “Have you since sold the tobacco you assumed Walsh would buy from you?”

  The question barely left Dickson’s mouth ere Erasmus spat, “I’m no fool. Of course I did—but I had to journey to do so, and the trip cost me four shillings.”

  “You cannot hold me at fault for the assumptions you made,” Sam said. “And there’s not a man here who doesn’t incur costs for the business he conducts. I had to travel a day and a half each way to the gristmill, and the miller takes one-sixth of the milling as his portion.”

  “What about the fleeces?” Ryder’s head took on a defiant tilt.

  “Shearing is done in spring,” Parson Clark frowned. “How can you still owe Ryder wool now?”

  “My flock is longwool. I shear the sheep both spring and autumn. The day Dorcas and Erasmus took my Hester to live with them, they took my spring shearing, as well. Since then, each spring and autumn, they’ve claimed the fleeces as the cost of keeping her for me.”

  “Your flock has increased by half again in that time.” Thomas Brooks shook his head.

  “And,” Erasmus countered, “the child has grown, as well.”

  “You sought payment for minding the welfare of your own niece?” Reverend Clark’s voice reflected disbelief.

  “Women are scarce, and their time’s valuable,” Alex Smith stated in Erasmus’s defense. “Had Samuel hired someone to mind Hester, it would have cost a pretty penny.”

  “But had I done so,” Sam stated wryly, “you would have brought me before the council and removed Hester from my home. Tonight is ample proof of that.”

  Smith sighed. “ ’Tis true. No matter which route you chose, someone could find fault.”

  “My goodwife always passes our Mary’s clothing down to Hester. Her shoes, as well.” Falcon arched a brow. “Ryder, was it such a burden to feed one small child?”

  “None of this is your concern, Morton,” Alan Cooper rasped.

 
; “Nor is it yours, Cooper,” Samuel said. He then looked at the council. “But I state it clearly here: My sheep average slightly over fourteen pounds of wool apiece each year. Multiply that by eighteen, and ’tis abundantly clear my daughter’s needs posed no hardship on the Ryders.”

  “Eighteen? But that’s your entire flock.” Falcon gave Samuel a puzzled look. “Dorcas took Naomi’s loom and your spring shearing that year, so I assumed all along that she shared the profit of her weaving with you. Has she not?”

  “No.”

  “Why should she? She does all the labor, and she minded the girl.” Erasmus pointed at Samuel. “And you’ve sheared your sheep again but not given over the fleeces.”

  “If,” Dickson said slowly, “the fleeces were first taken the day Hester went to abide in your home, then he’s paid—and dearly, I might add—in advance.”

  “But who among us would ask payment for watching kin?” Disgust painted Thomas’s face. “At the outset, Ryder said Christian charity and concern motivated him to seek the care of Walsh’s children. I’m thinking greed, not charity, is behind all of this.”

  “My goodwife spins yarn aplenty and knits our wear.” One of the newer settlers plucked at his doublet as if to illustrate his point. “We were told looms are forbidden in the New World. Mother England is to receive all raw materials and send them back as bolt goods.”

  “At a cost none can afford,” Brooks muttered.

  Dickson let out a sigh. “Reverend Clark, almost a score of years ago, we met o’er this very issue. By sending all our wool, flax, and cotton to England, we doomed our citizens. The cost of the cloth they sent back was so dear that none could afford to clothe their family and blanket their beds.

  “Throughout England, families own looms and weave homespun. As we are all English citizens, that same right ought to belong to us, as well. Surely the law was intended to ward off the start of industrial development here when other endeavors are more important. The council voted if someone wove for family or for charitable means that then the spirit and heart of the law were met.”

  “Thank you for that explanation, Goodman Dickson.” The parson nodded. “Christ admonished us to render unto Caesar what is Caesar’s and unto God what is God’s. By paying taxes and tithes, you fulfill His instruction. I am not a scholar of the law. What I would say is that each man is responsible before the Lord for his family’s needs and conduct.”

  “It occurs to me,” Smith said, “that Goodwife Ryder has gone beyond simply providing for her family’s private need and uses the loom as a business enterprise.”

  Dickson turned to Smith. “A point well made. One we need to address.”

  “The solution is plain enough.” Falcon gestured toward Samuel. “Sam was generous to allow Dorcas the use of the loom these many years. Now that he’s wed, the loom rightfully belongs back in his household. I’m sure his bride has need of it.”

  Erasmus let out a roar. “Now see here!”

  “I, for one, agree.” Stamsfield looked about the table. “What say the rest of the council?”

  Erasmus fumed, “You overstep your authority in seeking to interfere with family affairs.”

  “Citing familial concern, you brought me before the council, Goodman Ryder.” Sam folded his arms across his chest. “Once the matter came to this assemblage, you implicitly agreed to abide by the council’s decision—just as you expected I would have to.”

  “This would rob me of coin!”

  Sam stared at him. “You worry about money. I came to fight for my family.”

  fourteen

  Garnet sat at the spinning wheel and kept her hands busy. Unsettled by the day’s events, she tried to reassure herself that she’d done the right thing by marrying Samuel. Compared to Alan Cooper, her groom was a prince. From the day Samuel had purchased her, he’d treated her with respect.

  But he doesn’t want my child.

  She lost the rhythm of pressing the pedal and pulling on the fibers.

  “Mama?” Hester set aside the carding brushes. “Will you walk me to the privy? It’s so dark.”

  Christopher whispered something in Ethan’s ear as Garnet led Hester outside.

  When she and Hester returned, Sam stood in the open doorway. He looked years younger as he smiled. “God went before me. All is well.”

  Garnet slipped past him and busied herself at the spinning wheel once again. Hearing all went well for him pleased her. Sweet Hester had used every opportunity to call her “Mama” all afternoon, and relief filled Garnet in knowing the council hadn’t broken the little girl’s heart.

  “Mama and me—we’ve been keeping each other company, Father. I’m carding the wool, and she’s spinning it. Look how much we got done!”

  Samuel leaned against the edge of the stones that formed the fireplace. “Hester, you’ve nigh unto filled that basket with carded wool, and it’s rolled in such a way that it stays straight. Mind you, I’m not much of a judge of these things, but it all looks excellent to me. And look at your mama’s bobbin. She spins with a deft hand, don’t you agree?”

  Hester beamed her agreement.

  Ethan shifted from one foot to the other. “Father?”

  Samuel ruffled Ethan’s hair. “Yes?”

  “The wid—I mean, Mother made Christopher a new shirt and a bodice for Hester. We’re curing that deer hide so she can stitch you buckskin breeches. Will the cloth she weaves be for a shirt for me?”

  Samuel’s smile faded. “I cannot say. Her babe will require blankets and swaddling clothes. Those needs most likely will come ahead of your desires.”

  “Oh.” Ethan’s mouth drooped.

  Resting a hand on his son’s thin shoulder, Samuel said, “Take a lesson from this. As a man, you must sometimes put aside your own desires for the sake of another’s needs. Not a one of us gets everything he wants in life. You must learn to be satisfied with your lot.”

  Every last word her new husband uttered drove a stake of pain through Garnet’s soul. He’d not tried to be diplomatic in the least. Samuel Walsh was keeping his promise to make sure her child would be provided for—but at what cost? It wouldn’t take many such comments to turn his children’s hearts against the babe.

  Christopher stretched and pretended to yawn. “It’s bedtime.”

  Ethan brightened. “We have a surprise for you!”

  “I want to tell it!” The carding brushes clattered from Hester’s hands onto the floor. “I’m not a baby anymore.”

  “So she’s moving upstairs with us,” Ethan chimed in.

  The spinning wheel stopped, and the yarn broke as Garnet heard their announcement.

  “Ethan and I snuck the mattress off the trundle and toted it up the ladder whilst Mama took Hester out to the privy.” Christopher stood straight as a lance. “I’ll listen to their scripture verses tonight so you don’t have to trouble yourselves with us.”

  “Actually, Chris, I’m going to need your help.” Samuel’s voice started out at a croak and quickly normalized. “Goodman Laswell is to arrive soon.”

  “Why would he come at night?”

  Garnet wondered the same thing.

  Samuel folded his arms across his chest. “He and some other men are bringing over the loom.”

  “You bought a loom today?” Ethan gaped at his father.

  “No, no. Long ago, I bought it for your mother. Your aunt Dorcas borrowed it. Now that we have a woman, we’ll have need of it again.” He looked at Garnet. “Since it’s so large, I thought to put it in the barn until you’ve spun enough to weave. Does that meet with your approval?”

  Garnet nodded her head while promising herself she’d work diligently so she’d soon have use of the loom and make sufficient for a shirt for Ethan, as well as clothing for her baby. With that on her mind, she joined the ends of the thread together and started the wheel in motion.

  Her thoughts spun as fast as the wheel, leaving her slightly dizzy. I need to spin each morn and eve, and at any other moment I can s
pare. I’ve yet much to preserve. Ruth offered us some of their pears. Drying pears will take a few days’ work, but ’twill be well worth the effort in the dead of winter. I could trade her cheese for them.

  Cheese—by the beginning of next month, the cow will go dry. Since Samuel slaughtered the hog, I’ve not had to pour the excess milk into the swill and have been able to make more wheels. Cheese keeps well, and from what Samuel said, most around here don’t make cheese. Instead of buying it from the northern colonies, they could purchase it from us.

  A big, strong hand halted the spinning wheel. “Garnet? You were lost deep in thought. The wagon bearing the loom has arrived. They took far less time than I expected.” The children ran outside, but Sam didn’t immediately follow them.

  “Garnet, I would have you know that Goodman Dickson insisted upon the loom coming to us this very night. Erasmus Ryder was sorely vexed that his wife would no longer be per-mitted to weave for profit. To assure that no damage came to the loom, the men of the council went together and have brought it hence.”

  She’d used the slate to write to the boys earlier in the eve-ning. Garnet lifted it from beside her stool and wrote, Give cheese to thank?

  “That’s a fine notion. Bring a knife with you. We’ll cut one of the wheels and give each man a share.”

  Moonlight assisted the men in the yard; by the time they moved the loom inside the barn, Garnet and Ethan had lit four oil lamps. Christopher dragged a chest, a crate, and a pair of barrels away from a wall to make sufficient space for the loom.

  Garnet counted seven men, but she’d already given the parson a small wheel of cheese that afternoon, so she selected a fair-sized wheel and cut it into sixths as the men carefully set the loom out of the way.

  “Felicitations on your marriage, Goodwife Walsh,” an older man said as he turned around. He reared back. “Bless me, is that cheese?”

  Garnet nodded.

  “Aye. My goodwife asked me to be sure you men received our thanks for your help this eve.” Sam motioned to her.

  Following his direction, Garnet approached the eldest first, then gave each man his portion. Reverend Clark grinned. “I’ve already enjoyed some of your delicious cheese, Goodwife Walsh. The flavor went especially well with an apple.”