A different tactic. “Trav—Travis, stop forcing me so, I promise I shall be kinder to you. Please give me another chance.”
“Are you trying to run away again?” His voice and dark eyes softened as he peered into her tear-filled ones.
“If you would let go of me, I shall sit here and talk to you awhile. You said that was what you wanted.”
A moment of his silent scrutiny passed before he got up, one hand still wrapped around her arm. She slowly sat up, and with her free hand tried brushing some of the hay from her hair. In their combat, her kerchief had loosened, exposing more of her neckline than usual, and the sleeve of the calico dress had separated at the shoulder seam.
Travis moved close beside her, still holding on to her. “We can run off right now, just the two of us. I have friends south of here where we can hide awhile.” His face lit up with excitement as he spoke. “We can go to North Carolina, Cape Fear. There are many of your kind there, and some that owes me. You would be free, little lady.” He rubbed his thumb down her neck and across her collarbone.
Horrified by his suggestion, she merely stared, eyes wide, saying nothing. What am I to do, Lord?
“I would take good care of you. You may be a servant, but I spotted right off that you were a lady. How does going south sound to you?”
“Too dangerous.” Her mind searched for a way to escape. “We should plan this out a bit better ... wait for a time when the master will be gone longer.” If only I can gain his confidence and stall him.
“No. We ought to make a break for it now. Even when he comes back, he would not leave the younguns, especially a sick one. This is our best time.”
Gathering her courage, she rose to a kneeling position but almost fell over from the dizziness that suddenly engulfed her.
“Let me go back to the cottage and get a few things—some food to take along. I will come right back. Then we can go.”
Her consent excited him. This time, when he held her close, kissing her lips and face, she dared not resist. He must trust me to let me go to the cottage alone. She drew her arms up to put around his shoulders. It was like lifting cast iron. Her body, her mind, and her soul wanted to fight his every caress, but this was her only hope. Once inside the cabin, she would bolt the door and go for the gun.
“Travis, Travis, not here, not now. We must hurry before Matthew returns. It is getting light out.”
He grunted as his foul-smelling mouth traveled down her neck. Now, she was able to see beyond him—directly into Matthew Stewart’s eyes and silent rage.
CHAPTER 15
Matthew nodded at Doctor Edwards as the two men got down off their horses. “Go on in the cottage. I will be there as soon as I take Honey to the barn.” He stopped near the barn door as he heard the sound of Heather’s voice. Why was she in the barn? What did she just say? She was begging Thorpe to let her go back to the cottage to get a few things? Matthew stood inside the door of the barn, stunned. She had promised to go away with Thorpe.
His stomach tightened, and his whole body tensed as he walked deeper into the barn. Unbelievably, they were on the hay in a passionate embrace.
“Matthew.”
Travis turned, facing him with a challenging glare.
“Thank God, you are—”
“Get in the house, Heather. I shall speak with you later.” It took effort to maintain some self-control.
Heather got up and rushed past him without another word.
“Get your things, Thorpe, and get out of here now.” His fists were itching to hit the man, but he resisted the urge. Thorpe’s smug expression only angered him more.
Travis Thorpe dusted the hay from his pants and walked over to his pallet to gather his few belongings.
Matthew followed him out of the barn and watched him head down the drive. “And make sure you never come back!”
Thorpe was one problem taken care of. Now he would have to deal with Heather. But how? Was she that unhappy here, desperate enough to go off with someone she found so crude?
Mark. He needed to get inside and see how Mark was. He tied Honey to a rail.
In the house, Doctor Edwards sat with Mark. The child was taking some water and, except for his color, he was very much improved. Mary had returned to the pallet and was fast asleep beside her brother.
“The fever is gone.” Heather was breathing heavily as she sat on the edge of the pallet, caressing Mark’s cheek. “Shall I give him something to eat?”
Doctor Edwards nodded. “Nothing too heavy. Some broth would be good. If he keeps that down, give him some porridge.”
“Aye, Doctor. I shall see to him.”
Matthew put his hand on the older man’s shoulder. “Well, Thomas, it seems I disturbed you for nothing. It appears the little fellow is on the mend. May we offer you some breakfast?”
“No, thank you. I am delighted to see the boy does not really need me. I think I shall head back. The Bradfield girl has taken a turn for the worse, so I wanted to check on her today. Stop by and see us, old friend.” Doctor Edwards extended his hand toward Heather. “Nice seeing you, ma’am. I hope the boy is fully recovered soon, and no one else takes ill.”
“Thank you, Thomas.” Matthew extended his hand.
“I hope the next time we see you, Matthew, will be at the Taylors’ barn raising.” The doctor walked down the steps and hooked his bag on the saddle before getting on himself.
When Matthew came back into the house, he went right to Mark. “If you are better now, son, I shall get started on the day’s chores. Have a little broth, but I want you to get some rest, understand?”
“Yes, Papa.” He yawned.
Without even a glance in Heather’s direction, Matthew left the cottage. He needed time alone to determine what to do next about her.
He had not even reached the barn when the sound of her running and calling out made him slowly turn to face her.
“Mr. Stewart, Matthew.”
She still had pieces of hay on her skirt and in her hair.
“I wanted to thank you, Matthew.” Her quivering voice was full of emotion.
“So now it is Matthew, is it?” She has a way of charming you. Watch out. “I hardly need to be thanked for being a fool. Loyalty was not a prerequisite in a wife, but I had not counted on betrayal.” He turned and unhitched Honey and headed deeper into the barn. She was still following him. Do not sin in your anger, man.
He turned to face her. She was furious, not in the least contrite.
“He attacked me. Why are you angry at me? It was my life that was in peril.”
“Peril? The only peril you were in was being caught.” He strode back toward her and stood within a couple of feet of her.
Her mouth dropped open. “You have made a terrible mistake, Mr. Stewart. You saw ... the man was forcing me! I was trying to get away from him.”
“You were having a nice tussle in the hay, and enjoying it.”
She stood there, mouth agape.
“I had no idea you were so free with your favors, but when they are that freely given, they are not worth much.”
She reached up and slapped his face with a force that appeared to shock her as much as him.
For a long moment, they stood staring at each other. As tears welled up in her eyes, she turned and ran back to the cottage.
When Heather reached her room, she was relieved that Mary had gone back to her pallet so she could be alone. What a hateful remark. What is the matter with the man? How dare he think and say such things about me! Once in her room, Heather threw herself on the bed, beating the quilt with her clenched fist, her face bathed in tears. She wept until there was nothing left in her, wept for all the injustices, a lifetime of grievances.
Much later, when she woke, she lifted her aching head and glanced around the now familiar room. Her dress was torn and adorned with bits of hay. All she wanted now was to remove any remnants of the morning’s memories. She needed to gather her resources and see to the wee ones. With all t
he angry words and irritation, she had completely forgotten the children. What must they be thinking?
She walked to the door and peeked out, hoping not to be observed. Silence. Mark was sleeping in his pallet, and Mary was nowhere to be seen. Creeping farther into the main room, she peered out the front window and saw Mary sitting on a blanket beneath the large oak tree. Perhaps Matthew was still in the barn.
Back in her room, she began the job of making herself more presentable. Her hair was frightfully tangled and full of hay. She carefully took the muslin dress off so as not to tear it further. It was too warm a day for the green wool. This would be a good day to try the yellow lawn dress that Maggie had put in the package for her. It was a bit short, yet fit quite well for a dress of Maggie’s. The length could be adjusted later. Right now, she needed something to wear, and she appreciated Maggie’s kindness in giving it to her. When she had opened the package the previous night, she was overwhelmed to find this dress, along with another buff-colored one, a light cotton shawl, and a woolen cape.
She peered in the looking glass. “It is a lovely dress.” When her eyes traveled from the reflection of the yellow gown to her face, she broke into tears. Lord. I cannot bear this. How could he think me so faithless? She combed her hair, removing every remnant of hay from it. I have been searching for, chasing, something I may never find. Where is that safe haven? She swallowed hard. I shall find it. I must find it.
A knock on the door startled her. “Aye? Come in.”
Mary opened the door. She stopped suddenly, eyes wide.
“What is it, Mary? Are you well? You are not ill now, child?”
“I ... Papa wants to know when dinner will be ready?”
“Oh my! I completely forgot about dinner. Tell him half an hour.”
When Mary left, Heather tied a ribbon around her loose hair and placed her cap on her head. She would not let Matthew insult her like that again. She had tried to defend herself and had no reason to be ashamed. And servant or not, she did not have to take his vile remarks.
Matthew stopped abruptly when he entered the cottage. He eyed her and looked like he was stifling a comment before he sat at the table. Surely, he would not continue to insult her in front of the children.
Dinner was a strained affair. They ate in silence. Even the children had nothing to say, though their glances between the two of them and each other displayed their confusion. It was obvious they sensed the tension.
“Papa, where is Mr. Thorpe?” Mark drank some broth.
“He is gone—gone for good.”
“Why did he go?” The curious child naturally had to ask.
“Well, Mark, Mr. Thorpe was attempting to take something that was not his. Now we cannot have that, can we?” He directed his gaze at Heather.
“What was he stealing, Papa? He was not going to steal Honey, was he?”
Heather relaxed her clenched lips. “Mark, would you like some porridge? I made some for you, as the doctor suggested. Do you think your stomach is strong enough for it?” A change of subject was what they needed.
The boy nodded and reached for a spoon.
“No, son. He was not going to steal Honey. But no matter what the value of the property, the principle is the same. It is wrong to steal. Thorpe is gone now. We shall have to get along without him.”
Heather surveyed Matthew’s face. The kindness she had once seen there was gone. His dark eyes were now full of reproach and condemnation. There was so much she wanted to say to him, but not in the children’s presence. It would not be fair to them. And sometimes it was better to say nothing. Instead, she rose and cleared the dishes away.
It was not until the children had gone to bed that night that she had an opportunity to be alone with him again. The desire to confront him with his crude and incorrect conclusion had grated on her throughout the day. She did not want a confrontation, but the hostility that had built up within her was unbearable.
When he went out to secure the barn and see to the animals, she would follow him and settle this misunderstanding far from young and curious ears.
She spotted him from the window as he left the smokehouse and headed in the direction of the barn. She left the cottage, dreading the confrontation but determined to find the courage she needed.
Matthew was seated on a crate, preoccupied, as she approached him in the barn. “Mr. Stewart, you have made a terrible mistake. I want to explain about what you believe you saw this morning.”
He looked up from sharpening the sickle. His sad expression dispelled some of her anger. “I do not want or need the details. All I want from you is for you to take care of the children and mind the house. I had no idea you were so desperate for your freedom.” His words were slow and deliberate.
She needed to guard her comments also. It would be easy to say something she would later regret. Her head began to throb. “You are mistaken. Please allow me to explain.”
Matthew’s eyes searched hers. “You did not have to run off with the likes of Thorpe to achieve it. You will have your freedom. Grant me some time. You owe me that.” He shook his head as he studied her.
Why was he so uninterested in the truth of the matter? So be it. But the comment about restoring her freedom was so completely unexpected and unsettling that she stood silent, staring into eyes that seemed devoid of emotion. Retorts and explanations ran through her mind, things she wanted to say to him, but she was helpless to verbalize any of them. He had distanced himself to a place she was unable to reach and feared approaching. Her head ached, and she knew if she stayed her tears would flow. Drained, and with a heavy heart, she slowly walked back to the cottage, resolved to honor her commitment to care for the children. But she wondered what he meant by giving him time. Did he plan for her to leave soon?
Heather went into the cottage and leaned against the closed door. She looked around the small dwelling, a place she had begun to think of as home. When she reached the kitchen, she peered out the window in the direction of the barn. If only Travis Thorpe had never come to their farm. If only there were some way of changing the likely events to come.
The haven she sought was not here, but with God’s grace she would still find it, especially if there was hope for freedom in her future.
CHAPTER 16
In the week that passed since Travis’ departure, confusion and disappointment had periodically plagued Matthew. His memories of the scene and the words spoken between Thorpe and Heather in the barn stuck in his craw. His hope that she had grown to accept her place in the family was shattered. He had opened his heart and had grown to care for her, perhaps too much. How could he have been so wrong in believing she had a growing affection for the children—and for him?
Matthew left the cottage early each morning and spent most of the day on farm tasks. He and Heather remained civil toward each other and avoided confrontations of any kind. Were it not for the innocent cheerfulness of the children, the entire household would have remained in a glum state.
The last two days had been unusually warm, and today promised to be no different. As usual, Heather and the children brought him dinner. The children bantered, but his conversation with her was minimal. Heather sat under the oak tree and fanned herself with the Gazette she had brought with her. It was hard to figure her out. At times she looked sad, other times annoyed.
He scanned the sky—not a cloud in sight. Lord, please bring some rain. And wisdom. I need wisdom to know what is best for everyone.
Mary finished eating, scooted over to the rock where he sat, and parked herself in his lap. “Papa, you are not going to stay out here working late again tonight, are you?”
“I fear I need to, child. There is much to be done around here, and it is only me now. If only it would rain. With the weather so dry, I am afraid that we are going to lose some of the crops.”
Heather passed him the bowl of berries they had brought. “We have been watering the garden and doing the laundry with water from the pond. What else can we do to h
elp?”
“Nothing. We are all bathing in the pond now. I just pray that the situation changes and soon.” He glanced her way. They had said hurtful things to each other, or was it just he who was accusatory? She looked downcast. Did she have any second thoughts or regrets? What happened in the barn exposed her desperation. She had come to Virginia to serve an indenture, and he had pressured her into marriage. After their earlier confrontation, he had told her he needed time to remedy the situation. Why was he so reluctant to act on it?
Heather’s glances his way were detached and brief. “Children, I think we should head back and let your father get back to work.”
He had to admit to himself that he cared for her and did not want to lose her. But if he truly cherished her, he had to let her go. It was up to him to follow through on his promise to grant her the freedom she so wanted.
Heather wrapped up the remnants of their meal. She and the children bid Matthew good-bye and headed back toward the cottage.
Mary plodded up the hill, carrying the half-empty jug of cider they had taken for their dinner. “It is so hot.” The perspiration was running down her cheeks. “May we go down to the pond this afternoon?”
It was difficult to act like nothing was wrong, but Heather was determined to not take her frustration with Matthew out on the children. “Aye, I think that would be a good idea. Also, Mary, we need to do some sewing. You can work on your sampler while I work on our dresses.”
Mark’s face broke out into a smile. “I will bring the fishing pole so we can catch fish.”
“That sounds fine with me, laddie. It would be a nice change for supper. We should also take the basket this time and pick some more berries.”
Their afternoon at the pond, splashing, fishing, and berry picking, energized them all and was a balm to her wounded spirit. Heather pondered her uncertain future as the three of them walked back up the hill toward the cottage. Where would she go if she were free? What would she do? Leaving the children would not be easy. Over these months, they had established a tender place in her heart. Mary had become more agreeable and less moody this past week, an unexpected gift. She had feared Mary might be more temperamental after seeing their old friends in Alexandria.
A Heart Set Free Page 14
