John opened Linnet’s bedroom door quietly and stepped into the room. Linnet was standing by the window, gazing out at the moon. She turned, expecting to see Sarah, and frowned when she realised it was John.
“How are you feeling?” he asked her gently.
“Perhaps a little better,” she replied, picking up her hairbrush and brushing her hair.
“We have to talk, Linnet.”
“Yes, about what?” she said, turning her back to again to continue her brushing. John felt irritated. He took a steadying breath, reminding himself to be patient—she had been very ill.
He moved over and stood behind her. Firmly, he turned her around and sat her down on the bed then sat beside her. “You have been through a terrible ordeal, and you have been very ill, but you are over both now. It is time for us to make our plans.”
He waited for his wife to reply, but after an uncomfortable couple of minutes had passed without her saying a word, he tried again. “Linnet, what is wrong? You can tell me, I am your husband and I love you.”
Linnet made a small sound like a snort. John frowned. “Do you doubt me?” he asked.
She tossed her head, her hair rippling silkily down her back.
“Love?” Linnet sneered. “Was it love you sought to show me, with men hanging from the ship’s mast, kicking their legs, their poor tongues sticking out like huge purple plums from their mouths?” Her voice began to rise hysterically. “Poor mangled bodies, screaming in agony? Luck brought us here! Not you! We should have died along with Captain Pettigrew, Duncan and all those poor brave sailors, and you speak of love?”
She began to laugh horribly, hysterically, shaking her head from side to side in a wild motion. John sat frozen, shocked by her strange reaction, yet how could he deny her words when they held so much truth? Ashen and guilt-ridden, he stood up and quietly left the room.
When he had gone, Linnet flung herself down onto the bed and sobbed herself to sleep. At some point during the night, she woke shivering with cold, and crept miserably under the covers, eventually falling into a fitful doze.
In the cold grey light of dawn, for the first time since their arrival at the homestead, Linnet rose with others in the house. She dressed, joining the others for breakfast. She helped to lay the table and to clear it but made little effort to help Sarah in any other way. Linnet spent her time alone or with Peter, she was much taken with the small boy, delighted with his fresh clean youth and innocence, a balm to the horrors that had stolen her own childish innocence forever.
He in turn, adored Linnet with a calf-like devotion which amused his father and worried his mother. “I don’t like it, Hans,” Sarah told him. “Peter has chores to do and Linnet distracts him.”
Hans shook his large shaggy blond head and grinned at his anxious wife. “Woman, you worry too much. Linnet has much healing to do, ja? Our boy’s youth helps her, I think.”
Sarah banged the pastry she was rolling hard down upon the table. “Don’t call me woman! You know how much I dislike it. I am worried though, Hans. I mean, how long are they going to stay here? They barely talk to each other. Has John mentioned what he intends to do now they are both recovered?”
Hans pulled up a chair and sat down. Sarah was right; winter was on its way and now Linnet was up and about, the two of them should be making plans to leave. He took out his pipe and rummaged in his pocket for tobacco. “I think tonight that I will suggest they winter up at the old cabin. It will need some minor repairs to the roof and some supplies taking up there but it will be cosy enough for the two of them until spring.”
Sarah nodded. “Sometimes, Hans Lammers, you are very clever. I wonder why you are not involved in politics. I had forgotten about our cabin. Whatever is between them, they are sure to have resolved it by the spring. Yes, that is a very good idea.”
Later that evening, after they had all sat down and partaken of Sarah’s delicious pie, Hans cleared his throat. “We are so glad, Sarah and I, that Peter found you both and that you are now fit and recovered once again. I have given some thought to your predicament.”
He paused and started to get out his pipe. John, thinking Hans had said all he intended, spoke up, “We are very grateful to you and Sarah for your kindness and hospitality, indeed, for saving our lives.”
Linnet, sitting across the table, added her own thanks. She looked down at her hands, which were trembling. She was so afraid they were going to be asked to leave here. All at once, she felt guilty for not having helped Sarah with the chores, but she had no knowledge of how to do housework.
Hans raised his hand and shook his head, smiling. “Ach, I fear you have misunderstood me. We do not need your thanks; we are friends, ja?”
They both nodded.
“We have a cabin which was our home for a while before we built this house. It is a few miles away, up high on the side of a hill in woodland. It is very small but sturdy and snug through the winter months. We would like to lend it to you until you can start your journey in the spring.” Hans sat back a satisfied grin on his open face.
They were all surprised when Linnet interrupted. “That is most kind of you, Hans, but I am sure the coach will be here any day to collect us. We would be only too grateful if you would continue to give us shelter, just until it arrives. I was so fearful you would ask us to depart before it could get here.”
There was an awkward silence as the others glanced at her in surprise. “What coach is it that you speak of, my dear?” John inquired.
Linnet stared back at him. “Well, you have surely sent word to your people in Boston to alert them of our troubles? Surely they will have set out to collect us?”
John gazed at her pityingly. “I am sorry, my dear, but I have not been able to send word to Boston.” He watched her face become pinched as she paled. “Linnet, there is no possible way to get a message to Boston until the spring. There are no roads to Boston, only a rough trail which is best travelled on horseback. That is how we will have to travel when we leave. It is much too late in the season to risk such a journey now. The winters here are extremely harsh. That is why I think we should gratefully accept Hans’s generous offer of overwintering in their cabin.”
He turned and put his hand on his friend’s shoulder, giving a hearty squeeze of gratitude. There was a sudden crash as Linnet leaped to her feet and knocked over her chair.
“Well, I won’t stay here!” she shrilled before spinning away from the table and flying out of the door, which banged shut behind her.
Sarah stood up. “I’ll go after her,” she said, but John put his hand on her arm.
“No, thank you, Sarah. I should like to talk to her.”
Hans nodded in agreement. “Ja, this is for John to solve. Come sit with your old husband and tell me how much you love him.” He patted his knee invitingly.
Sarah harrumphed but nevertheless she sat on his lap.
John found Linnet sitting on a log beyond the barn, looking at the moon.
“Can I sit down?” he asked, doing so before she could answer. Linnet shrugged, turning her face away. John studied her profile for a moment. “America is a young country. There are so many hazards, quite apart from the weather which is so much more extreme than the English climate. There are Indians: wild native people, with occasional savage behaviour. The animals here are much fiercer than anything you would find in England. There are bears, mountain lions, wolves and snakes. This is not a safe and ordered country like the one you are used to, it is wild and untamed. I thought you understood that.”
Without turning or looking at him, she said flatly, “You know, I believe at one point I really did want to be a part of this adventure but after what happened on the ship… all I want is to remain safe.”
John was filled with pity. “Oh, my dearest girl, I am so sorry to have put you in so much danger. It was not my intention. I would die rather than expose you to risk. It is why it would be foolish to risk a long journey at the start of winter.”
He sl
ipped his arm around her shoulders and attempted to draw her to him but Linnet drew herself away. “I do agree that for a woman to try and ride all that way at this time of year would be foolish. However, a man alone could get to Boston before winter sets in, surely? You could have gone already and come back with help before any snow fell.”
John sighed. “I suppose I could have risked the ride but I too was unwell and afraid to leave you, you were so very ill, Linnet. I will ask Hans tomorrow if it would be possible to leave soon and perhaps borrow a horse and supplies. You do understand, though, that if I cannot get back for whatever reason, you would be stuck here, possibly never knowing my fate?”
She merely nodded. “I understand.” She stood up. “Well then, I shall bid you good night, husband.” She turned with a gentle swish of skirts and walked back toward the house.
John watched her go but remained seated on the log, dejectedly. Hans appeared beside him and sat next to his friend, quietly smoking his pipe. John sat silent for a while before turning and speaking to Hans. “Linnet wants me to try and reach Boston before the winter sets in. She thinks if I travel alone I can get there and back to collect her before the spring.”
Hans nodded thoughtfully and said, “I see.”
John looked at him and asked, “Hans, what do you think? Should I attempt it?”
Hans cleared his throat. “Nee, you do not know the trail, there will be hungry wolves and big cats eager to attack a lone traveller such as yourself, and what if you are caught in a white-out? Once the snow comes, all landmarks disappear and the trail will be covered. I would not attempt such a journey at this time of year and I know the trail. What would become of your wife should you never return? Why do we not travel early tomorrow, leave at dawn to go and see the cabin, then you can decide what is best for you both?”
John nodded thoughtfully. “Linnet seems to want me gone. I think she blames me for putting her in danger. I should never have bought her to America!”
Hans put his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “But you did bring her, my friend, and you are not to blame for the actions of others. Linnet is still so very young. I think she behaves as a child does when things go wrong and they blame their parents or God. She is your wife, John, but she does not know how to behave as such, you must guide her. You both need to look forward and not back. Come now, it is late. We shall leave at daylight tomorrow. We go to our beds now.”
Both men stood. John stretched and yawned. “Thank you, Hans. You are right. I will see what this cabin of yours is like and then decide what is best to do.”
Chapter 9
When Linnet came down to breakfast the next day, she found that only Peter sat at the large table. He was eating freshly baked bread and honey. “Good morning, Peter. My word, that looks good! Where is everyone this morning?” she asked while helping herself to a cup of milk.
Peter gave her a friendly grin and repeated what his mother had told him. “Pa and John got up early and went riding off. Mother is gathering blueberries for a pie and I have to feed the chickens. Will you help me, Linnet?”
Linnet became still. A dreadful thought occurred to her; had John left already without saying goodbye? “Peter, may I ask if John has gone on a journey?” she asked.
Peter frowned. “Well, I think so. Mother said they wouldn’t be here for lunch and that Father will be back tonight.”
Peter looked pleased with himself for remembering exactly what his mother had told him. Linnet bit her lip; she had urged John to go, so why did she feel such a dreadful sense of loss now that he had? She sat down, feeling wretched.
Peter looked concerned and asked, “Is there anything wrong?”
Linnet looked at him sceptically. “Peter, are you sure your mother didn’t say that John would be back tonight with your father?”
Peter thought hard. He had asked his mother if Pa would be back for lunch and she had definitely said, “No, not until supper time.” She hadn’t mentioned John at all. “No, she only said Pa. Will you help me with the chickens now?”
“Sorry? Er, I will be along in a little while. You go and get started,” Linnet told him distractedly.
“All right but don’t be long!” Peter shouted as he rushed off, banging the door behind him.
Linnet wasn’t even aware the boy had gone, so deep in thought was she. Amazing, but now that she knew John had gone to Boston for goodness knew how long, it was as clear as day to her that she did, in actual fact, love him. Supposing the snow lasted all winter; he might not be back until the spring. A dreadful thought crossed her mind: suppose he didn’t come back at all? What would she do, perhaps never knowing what had happened to him? Oh, she should never have spoken to him the way she had last night, urging him to go alone to Boston.
She had to go after him. She was his wife and she should be by his side. She had to tell him she loved him, that she was sorry. It would be all right; they would travel on together. She would need food, a blanket, and some clothes—and a horse, perhaps. Peter would saddle one of Hans’s for her. Linnet ran to the door, calling frantically for Peter. She must be gone before Sarah returned, for she knew Sarah would try and stop her from riding out alone.
Fifteen minutes later, Linnet mounted a pretty brown mare called Penny. She had rolled everything she thought she might need into a blanket from her bed and tied it onto her saddle.
Peter was not happy with her plans. He had been faintly shocked when she had come out wearing a pair of men’s britches and had mounted Penny astride. He thought he ought to be going with her, however, Linnet was adamant that he should remain behind to help his mother and to explain to his parents where she had gone. As she galloped away from the homestead, she felt a wonderful sense of freedom and exhilaration. Linnet loved riding; it had been too long since she had been in the saddle.
Although not in the same league as her thoroughbred, Pango, the little mare was sweet-natured and willing. She and Linnet soon left the homestead far behind. As she rode, Linnet studied the countryside, finding it quite beautiful, much more open than England, rugged and wild with tall trees and rocky outcrops. Land just as God intended it to be, unspoilt by mankind. The trees were magnificent. They seemed so much higher than the trees back home, but perhaps that was because she had been at sea for so long, she had forgotten. They cantered along, Linnet enjoying the feel of the warm sun on her face. Peter had given her directions. It was simple; all she had to do was follow the Webhannet River inland, then follow the river fork to the right until she met up with John, which she guessed would be at nightfall when he made camp.
It was so good to be out again alone on a horse, her hair flying behind her. All the horrors and fears she’d witnessed seemed to be a thing of the past. She laughed aloud with the joy of it as she urged Penny into a gallop. The horse obligingly raced ahead, seeming to enjoy the freedom as much as her rider. Linnet slowed her horse when up ahead she saw the wide sparkling expanse of the Webhannet River, its water glinting brightly in the sunlight. The river was much wider than any others she had known at home. It was flowing much faster than she’d expected, too. Linnet walked Penny to the river’s edge and dismounted. The thirsty horse lowered her head and drank greedily. Linnet found a boulder to sit on and viewed the river, it was so delightfully peaceful.
On the opposite bank, the trees grew almost to the water’s edge. A long ridge of pine trees rose high above the river, covering the side of the steep hill. Linnet held up her face to the warmth of the sun and breathed in the sharp, astringent scent of the pines. A flock of birds flew up into the air, startled by the gentle whicker Penny gave after she had drunk her fill. Linnet watched them fly high and circle, disappearing into the distant blue sky, and wondered what sort of birds they were. After a while, she rose and brushed down her clothes, calling Penny to her. She mounted and swung right as they set off, the horse picking her way along the river’s path.
Meanwhile, John and Hans had arrived at the cabin mid-morning. They’d travelled steadily uphill fo
r the last half hour of the hour long trip. The cabin was set in a wide clearing surrounded by tall broadleaf trees. A fenced corral stood to one side, and a small barn stood beyond that. In the far distance on the other side of the hill, John could see snow-capped mountains. The view from the front of the cabin through the clearing entrance was breathtaking.
“Let’s put the horses in the corral first,” Hans instructed as he dismounted.
They unsaddled the horses, shooed them in and then barred the entrance to the paddock. John checked that there was water in the trough before walking over to the cabin. Hans proudly pointed out the well dug above an underground spring he had followed from farther up the hill. The cabin was low and solid with an apex roof, which hung wide over the cabin walls, giving maximum protection from the weather. It had one sturdy wooden door and two front facing windows that were shuttered.
Hans unlocked the door and shoved it open with his shoulder. Once inside, he flung the shutters wide open so that the sunlight poured through the square openings. I wonder what you would call them, because really they could not be called windows, not without glass, John mused.
He looked about the rectangular room. A large wooden bed without a mattress stood in one corner, a table and two chairs in another. Two carved wooden candlesticks stood on the stone mantel above a broad stone fireplace. It was basic but dry and reasonably clean. There was dust, a few dead leaves which had blown inside beneath the door and John noticed a few spiders lurking in thick webs in the corners of the cabin, otherwise the homestead was sound.
“We took everything useful with us to the farm house when it was finished. It will be easy to bring the wagon up here filled with the items you need. Well, what do you think of it, my friend?” Hans stroked his hand down a window edge. “I built this with my own two hands, no help I had with this cabin. It is very cosy in snow, ja. Like the houses of The Netherlands, I built the roof so the build-up of the snow is not so dangerous. We were very snug here for three years, Sarah and I.”
Her Match, Her Mate, Her Master Page 15
