The Heart's Stronghold

by Amanda Barratt

  Picking up the ginger root, Anne took a knife and began to cut off pieces of the plant.

  If he wanted to win her over, he would need to know more about her. He didn’t remember a single lass who didn’t like to talk about herself. Settling back into his chair, thankful Daniel was taking his time and Caldwell was out of the house, John allowed himself to enjoy Anne’s company.

  “Did you leave a family back in England?” he asked.

  She stopped chopping the root, her hand pausing as she looked straight ahead at the wall. “I have no family,” she said quietly.

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” He leaned forward, his heart heavy for her. “I don’t have any family left either.”

  Anne turned, her eyes sad. “Now I’m sorry.”

  He shook his head. “That’s why I came to Virginia.” He studied her for a moment. “Why did you come?”

  She shrugged. “I had little choice. My mother died when I was two, and Mistress Forest took me in, sparing me from the workhouse. When she decided to accompany her husband to Virginia, I was told to come along.”

  “Now she is gone and Master Forest has no need for you.” He stood and took a step toward her. She was so dainty, yet she was hearty and hale. If Virginia was going to be colonized by women, Anne Burras would be the kind they would need. “What will you do when you return to England?”

  Taking a step back, she looked him over from head to foot, and he realized, too late, that his height might make her feel intimidated. He retreated, putting a little more space between them.

  “I–I’m not certain,” she said quietly.

  “Surely you considered what you might do if you were free from your mistress.”

  She set the knife aside and lifted her apron, wiping her hands on the coarse material. She held it a bit longer than necessary as she kept her eyes down. “There are precious few options for an unmarried woman in England.”

  John’s heart began to beat a little faster. “Do you wish to be married, Anne?”

  She swallowed and still did not look at him. “I—I haven’t given it much thought. As Mistress Forest’s maid, I didn’t have time for such things. I imagined I’d be her servant for the remainder of my days.”

  “And now?” He leaned on the sideboard, consciously aware of the intimacy of the room and the growing darkness outside.

  “Now?” she glanced up at him and clutched her apron tight. “Now I’m not sure what I want.”

  “Anne.” John needed to make his intentions known so the others would soon know as well. “I—”

  The door creaked open, and Caldwell appeared over the threshold, his unsuspecting gaze turning from surprise to anger.

  “What’s the meaning of this, Layton?” Caldwell asked. “What are you doing here alone with Anne?”

  They were standing closer than necessary, and John knew how it must look. “We are waiting for the boy to bring back water. Anne has been making ginger tea for—”

  “You are not welcome here when I am not at home.” Caldwell stepped into the room, his overbearing presence drowning out everything else. “I am responsible for Anne, and it’s not proper for her to entertain gentlemen when I am not at home.”

  John straightened his back. “President Smith asked me to keep watch over Anne while he was away.”

  Anne glanced up in surprise at the announcement.

  “I will see to her welfare,” Caldwell said.

  “But you were away,” John explained, “and she was in need of assistance.”

  Caldwell’s lips pinched and his eyes narrowed. “That is all well and good, but you have no business being here alone with her.”

  Daniel appeared at the door, the bucket of water weighing down his slight frame.

  “And where were you?” Caldwell grabbed Daniel’s ear and hauled him into the room.

  John flinched at the look of pain on Daniel’s face.

  “I went to fetch the water, sir,” Daniel said in a weak voice.

  Caldwell pushed him away and Daniel fell to the ground, the bucket of water sloshing onto the dirt floor, instantly turning it to mud.

  “Now see what you’ve done.” Caldwell stared down at the boy. “I told you to stay with Anne every moment.”

  “Aye, sir.” Daniel rose on shaking legs.

  Anne stood silently near the hearth, her eyes downcast.

  John clenched his fists, hating to see the power Caldwell wielded. He had never liked the man and had even less respect for him now.

  “I have guests coming,” Caldwell said to John, disdain dripping from his voice. “If you’ll kindly depart.”

  John hated to leave Anne in a house with Caldwell, but it wasn’t his house and Anne wasn’t his servant. He had no right to stay if he wasn’t wanted.

  John moved toward the door, his heart heavy. “Good day, Anne.”

  She lifted her gaze but did not respond. No doubt she was afraid to anger Caldwell further.

  “And stay away from Anne,” Caldwell said, coming to the door, his bulk filling the frame. “If I see you bothering her again, I’ll be forced to take matters into my own hands.” He paused, his eyes taking on a gleam. “That is, unless you’re willing to pay like the rest.”

  Clenching his jaw tight, John stared at the man. How could he stomach the idea of taking food from men to spend time with Anne? “What’s your price?”

  “For you? Two cups of corn.”

  Two cups was half of John’s daily ration. He shook his head. “What you’re doing is ludicrous.”

  Caldwell began to close the door.

  “Fine.” If it meant winning over Anne, he would pay the price, but there had to be a better way.

  Chapter 4

  John wiped his brow as he helped lift a tall log into place along the palisade wall. Progress had been slow, and he wondered if they would have the annex finished by the time President Smith and Captain Newport returned.

  The log fell into its hole, and John stepped back to assess the stability.

  “How many logs have been prepared for the wall?” John asked Timothy Hanover, the foreman he’d put in charge of the fort addition.

  “About half of what we’ll need,” Hanover admitted as he ran his sleeve across his sweating hairline.

  “I put you on the task a week ago.” John frowned. “Why aren’t the logs ready?”

  Hanover was one of the three dozen men who had survived the first year, and that was why John had assigned him the job. “Very few of these highborn men know how to handle an ax, and even fewer have built a wooden structure before. When they do work, I spend most of my time fixing their mistakes.”

  John sighed. “Those who do not work do not eat.” It was something President Smith had often told them that first year. “Hold back their food rations if they do not complete their daily tasks.”

  “Aye.” Hanover nodded, his face solemn.

  After seeing that the log was secure, John stepped away from the wall and looked out over the open expanse of land they had cultivated to grow their corn. Over a hundred acres had been painstakingly broken, but the crop had not grown well. Inadequate rain had led to a poor yield, making them all the more dependent on the supply ships.

  In the distance, a movement caught John’s eye. Ever on guard from attacks, he was motionless as he watched and waited. The threat of Indian and Spanish invasions was always present. Guards stood watch over the fort night and day around the clock. Each man was required to take his turn on the bulwarks for a twenty-four hour shift, and even now there were men standing watch as the others worked on the fort expansion. Three times a week they conducted practice drills in the fort yard, and daily John took groups of men to the guardhouse to show them how to load and fire a gun. Not only were the men inept at building, but they were just as inept at warfare.

  A sorrier lot of colonists John had never seen.

  Satisfied that his eyes had played a trick on him, John finally let out a breath and entered the palisade. He needed to return to th
e men he had put in charge of making shingles. If he left them for too long, they would find an excuse to take breaks or bother Anne.

  Thinking of Anne, frustration built in John’s chest. He had gone to Caldwell’s home five evenings in a row, sacrificing his precious food supply, but had not had a chance to spend time alone with her. Caldwell entertained his friends every night, demanding Anne wait on them, and by the time she was finished with her chores, she was exhausted. John didn’t want to force her to keep him company, so he had left each night with nothing to show for his time there.

  And the men had increased their ardor, if that was possible. Several of the highborn men who spent time at Caldwell’s had shown serious interest in Anne. Two had even proposed marriage. They were men of wealth and standing in England, and if she said yes, she would want for nothing back home. But she had refused them, and each time she had, John had felt a weight lift off his shoulders—which surprised him. If she married someone else, wouldn’t that eliminate his need to pursue her? He wondered why he felt relieved that she wasn’t married to someone else, and the only reason he could surmise was that he didn’t like any of the men who had made offers. And, besides, if she married someone in the fort, it would mean she would stay in Virginia, and he was still convinced it would be better if there were no women in the colony.

  John strode back into the fort, determined to see Anne now, before she was busy catering to Caldwell’s friends. But first he stopped at the storehouse to get his daily ration of corn.

  The sun beat down on his back, unseasonably warm for October, and it only made his temper rise higher.

  A group of at least a dozen men—most of them assigned to making shingles—sat in the shade of a building within eyesight of Caldwell’s rooms.

  The sight of them was the fire needed to set off John’s fuse. Not one of them looked concerned to meet their obligation—and the threat of starving didn’t seem to alarm them either.

  “I will personally stand guard at the storehouse,” John roared, “a musket in hand, and prevent each of you from receiving your daily ration if you do not get to work immediately.” His voice had reached a pitch uncommon to him, and it caused his throat to strain. “Now!” he thundered.

  The men hadn’t seen him coming and jumped at the sound of his voice. They bumped into each other in their haste to get away, two of them falling back into the dust.

  “If you are not at your station within a minute,” John growled, “you will lose tomorrow’s ration as well.”

  Anne stepped out of Caldwell’s home at that moment, her eyes wide at his outburst.

  He stood in the dusty yard, breathing heavily, with a small sack of corn in one hand. She must think he was mad! Would she shy away, afraid of his temper, or would she be thankful he’d sent the men away?

  She simply looked at him, a brow raised, and then went to the side of the building to take clothes off the line.

  John took a deep, steadying breath and tried to compose himself before he approached her.

  “Good morrow, Anne.”

  “Good morrow, John.”

  It seemed ridiculous to be holding the corn, so he set it down on a nearby bench and went to stand beside her.

  She glanced at him, a bit of laughter in her eyes.

  “What is so funny?” he asked.

  “I’ve never seen a group of grown men move so fast before.”

  “Aye?” He took a shirt off the line and set it in her basket. “And I’ve never seen a more slovenly group of colonists.”

  Her smile faded and she frowned. “Have you heard the news? Three of the men who took ill last week have died, and four more are sick today.”

  He had heard—had actually helped bury them just beyond the fort. “Aye.” Death had become such a part of life at James Fort, he hardly took notice.

  Fear pinched at the corners of her mouth as she set her hand upon a shirt to remove it from the line. “I’ve sent Daniel for more ginger. I cannot abide seeing the men suffer.”

  John set his hand over hers, fear gripping his heart like never before. “Stay away from them,” he said. “You’ll do no good if you get sick.”

  She moved her gaze from his hand to his face, her eyelashes lifting gently from her cheeks. “Are you worried for me?”

  It felt good to touch her, and if his instincts were correct, she liked it too. Was he winning her over?

  Or was she winning him over?

  He pulled his hand away, realizing he was worried about her, far more than he should be. Hadn’t he convinced himself he was the only man in the fort strong enough to capture her heart and then let her go?

  “Aye.” He nodded at her question, probably more surprised than she was at the admission. “I do not want any harm to come to you, Anne.”

  She studied him for a moment. “No one has ever worried about me before.”

  How could that be true?

  A commotion tore his gaze from Anne.

  Two guards opened the west gate facing the river to allow visitors into the fort. It couldn’t be people who posed a threat, or the guards would never willingly allow them to enter. But it probably wasn’t one of the colonists either. They usually entered through the east gate, facing the fields and the side of the island where they were cutting trees.

  Three Powhatan girls entered the fort, baskets on their hips.

  Anne stood still as she watched the Indians. They were probably the first she had seen since arriving in James Fort, and no doubt she was curious.

  “Those are some of Chief Powhatan’s daughters,” John told Anne as the girls began to speak to the men who were gathering around them. “They come to the fort from time to time to trade with the men.”

  “What do they trade?”

  “Food.”

  “And what do the men give them in return?”

  “Beads, cooking utensils, cloth, sewing needles.” John turned from Chief Powhatan’s daughters and smiled at Anne. “Would you like to meet them?”

  Anne’s eyes grew wide, but she nodded.

  She stayed close by his side as they walked toward the Indian girls.

  One of them caught his eye and smiled.

  “John,” she said, her accent still foreign to his ears. Her gaze shifted to Anne in curiosity, though she didn’t seem surprised to see a woman in the fort. Perhaps word had already spread about Anne’s presence on the island.

  “Anne, this is Chief Powhatan’s daughter, Pocahontas.”

  “How do you do?” Anne asked the girl, who was no more than thirteen.

  The other two Indians stopped speaking, and all three studied Anne with deep, probing eyes.

  Pocahontas nodded, a smile quick to appear on her face. “How do you do?” she asked Anne in return.

  “And these are Pocahontas’s older sisters, Matachanna and Namontack.”

  “How do you do?” Anne asked the other two.

  They were quieter than Pocahontas, who had become a popular and frequent visitor to the fort.

  “You are woman?” Pocahontas asked, trying the word on her tongue.

  “Yes.” Anne’s gaze wandered over the Indian girls with the same interest they showed for her. She did not seem afraid, but merely curious. “I’m Anne.”

  “Anne.” Pocahontas repeated her name with a nod. She extended the basket to Anne, revealing squash, beans, and corn. “You like?”

  Looking up at John, Anne questioned him with her eyes.

  “Pocahontas is offering to trade her food with you.”

  Anne shook her head. “But I have nothing to offer.”

  “A gift,” Pocahontas said. “To Anne.”

  “A gift?” Anne continued to shake her head. “I cannot acc—”

  “You’ll insult her if you do not,” John warned quietly.

  Anne swallowed, her smile wobbly. She reached out her hands to accept the gift. “Thank you.”

  Pocahontas handed her two handfuls of beans, which Anne cradled in her apron, a large squash, which John
accepted on her behalf, and several ears of corn. All the while, Anne thanked her profusely for the offering.

  “I will give you a gift the next time you come,” Anne promised Pocahontas.

  Pocahontas simply smiled and then continued her trading while Anne and John brought the food back to Caldwell’s home.

  “I cannot believe her generosity,” Anne said. “I must make her a gift as well. Maybe a cap or a pair of mittens?” She looked at John expectantly, but he simply shrugged. He didn’t know what Pocahontas might like.

  “Thank you for introducing us,” she said as she set her bounty down on the table in Caldwell’s home. “I thought I would be afraid to meet the Indians, but they seem very nice.”

  Pocahontas was nice, as were her sisters, but not all of them were kind to the colonists. Many were hostile, angry at the intrusion, and still some were quietly watching and waiting to see what would happen.

  “Do they live far from here?” Anne asked.

  “Aye. But they come often, leaving early on foot.” John frowned, confused by their timing. “I am surprised Pocahontas is not in her village, since President Smith and Captain Newport are visiting her father. She and President Smith are good friends.”

  Anne didn’t seem to notice John’s musing, and he decided to drop the subject so she wouldn’t become concerned.

  The weather had turned cool, and Anne was especially thankful for the warmth of the fire in her kitchen as she set the corn cakes in the small oven at the back of the hearth. Master Caldwell had taken a contingent of men to the east side of the island to cut more cedar, offering Anne and Daniel a bit of space to breathe. While her master was charming and gregarious with his friends, he was sullen and demanding with his servants. Even so, Anne couldn’t complain. She was warm, well fed, and safe for the time being.

  A knock at the door sent Daniel to his feet.

  A familiar male voice greeted the boy. “I’ve come to see Anne.”

  Her heart sped at the sound, and she couldn’t stop the smile from lifting her lips even if she had wanted to. John had come again.