The Indentured Heart Page 10

  “Yes, poor boy! Risked everything to see a new world—then died without setting foot on it.” Miles spoke softly, but his words held them all in place; even Martha could not move, so intense was he. “Grandfather told it so well! How the sky was gray as ashes, and the cold wind swept the deck. There were only a few harsh cries from the gulls. And just before William died, John Bradford stood up on the deck and cried out with a loud voice—like an Old Testament prophet, Grandfather always said!—and he had the words memorized: ‘One day our children will say, “Our fathers were Englishmen who came over this great ocean and were ready to perish in the wilderness. But they knew they were pilgrims, and he saved them!” ’ ”

  “That’s what he said!” Rachel whispered.

  “Well, I’m glad he’s not here tonight—to see what his descendants have become!” Miles struck his thigh with a thin hand and rose to his feet. “God help us, we’ve become so money hungry, we can’t spare a few pounds for a poor child to have a new life in this country! If we’ve come to that, I’m ready to die and get out of it all!”

  “I think we can spare the money, Miles,” Rachel said softly. Her blue eyes were bright and there was a defiance in her voice that made Saul drop his head. “Don’t you think it would be good to support Adam in his generous gesture, Saul?” she prodded.

  He swallowed, and his voice sounded hoarse as he nodded. “Of course, Mother! I—I wasn’t thinking.”

  “Charles?”

  Charles towered over Rachel, but his face suddenly looked weak; speechless, he only nodded.

  “Martha, what about you? If you feel you must have the money, I will pay the entire sum into your hand to do with as you will.”

  Martha stood there stiffly, her face gray, every bone in her body stubbornly resisting Rachel. She cast a baleful look at Adam, but one glance around the room told her that she had no choice. As gracefully as she could, she nodded and said, “I will agree to stand with the family.”

  “I thought you might!” Rachel said, irony like a silver blade in her words. “I need not ask you, Mercy, so we all say to you, my nephew Adam—” She turned and went to him, reached up and kissed him on his cheek, then said, “Well done! A real son of Gilbert and Humility, Firstcomers!”

  Adam could not believe what was happening! He stood there, unable to speak; then Rachel put her arms around Molly, smiling tenderly at the child. “Molly, you are far from home, but I hope you will let us be a family to you. Would you do that?”

  Molly had been shrinking into a little ball, frightened by all the arguments and harsh words. She stared up at the beautiful lady in silks, and seeing something in her face, nodded. Rachel stooped down and looked into her eyes. “I’m very much afraid you’re going to have to kiss your new aunt, Molly!” And the child, frightened and confused, felt safe and secure for the first time as Rachel Howland enfolded her.

  The arguments and accusations seemed to fade in the light of that which was good and compassionate. Slowly the family members left, some only too happy to get away—especially Saul and Esther. Charles did not leave, of course, but after saying a few words to Saul, he went to his room, chastened and somewhat sullen.

  Miles and Mercy stayed for only a brief time. “Would you like to leave the child here with us, Adam?” Miles asked.

  Adam felt the alarm in Molly’s eyes, but said quickly, “No, I think I can persuade the Edwards family to have her, Father. She’ll learn a lot from those children.”

  Miles seemed relieved, and added, “That sounds like a good plan. And your ideas, son, are good!” He stared at Adam, shook his head and then gave a half laugh. “We Winslows have a devil of a time with our sons! Your great-great-grandfather tried to make a minister out of Gilbert, and it was nearly the ruination of him! I’ve been stupid about you, thinking only about a bookish sort of way to get ahead, but I see this gift for making things that God has put in you—it’s real, son, and if I live long enough, I expect to hear much good of you.”

  Adam could only nod, and then Mercy said, “Molly, why don’t you sleep with me tonight? I’ve got this big bed and we can be warm as toast!”

  As she led the child away, Molly turned and ran back to Adam. Looking up at him, she asked uneasily, “Am I still your bound girl, Mr. Adam?”

  Adam smiled down at her, touched her smooth cheek. “Of course, you are! You have to put up with me for ten years, child!”

  She smiled and said quickly, “I don’t mind! Really, I don’t!” Then she turned and followed Mercy out of the room.

  “A sweet child, Adam!” Miles remarked quietly. “I’m proud that you fought for her. It’s what a Winslow man should do—and what my father and his father would have done!”

  “It’s what my father did, too!” Adam said quickly. “If you hadn’t jumped to my aid tonight, why, I don’t know what I would have done, sir!”

  Miles’ old eyes suddenly dimmed with tears and he turned hastily away. “Do you think that, Adam?” he asked tightly, not trusting his voice. “Why, that makes me feel very proud—very proud, indeed!”

  Adam reached out and, hesitating, put his strong hand on his father’s thin shoulder, and felt it tremble beneath his touch. He said quietly, “Why, you’re all Winslow, sir! I am very proud to be your son—and a small part of the House of Winslow!”

  Miles Winslow stood there for a moment, savoring the feel of his son’s hand on his shoulder, and then he said in an unsteady voice, “God bless you, my boy! God bless you in all your ways!”

  Then he pulled away suddenly and left the room, and Adam stood there alone. Finally he looked at the crest on the wall over the sword that Gilbert Winslow had carried off the Mayflower. He touched the keen blade, then stared at the coat of arms: a mailed fist clenched against a diagonal stripe of blue on white, and the single word fidelis— “faithful”—at the base.

  He stared at the shield for a long time, then turned and walked away, thinking mostly about Gilbert Winslow, the Firstcomer. As he walked, he pulled back his shoulders and raised his head with pride.

  Upstairs as Molly lay under the heavy comforter that smelled like lavender, she asked suddenly, “Miss Mercy, do yer think I can learn ter read?”

  “I’m sure you can!”

  There was a long silence, and then Molly asked another question: “Miss Mercy, Mr. Adam likes me now, but will ’e like me when I’m growed up?”

  Mercy laughed quietly but said quite seriously, “Yes, dear, I think he’ll like you very much indeed!”

  Sleepily the voice came one more time.

  “That’s good—’cause I like ’im better than anybody!” And then Molly Burns, the bound girl with the indentured heart, dropped off into a deep sleep.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “HOW MUCH TROUBLE CAN ONE SMALL GIRL BE?”

  “There’s your new home, Molly.” Adam pointed with his buggy whip to the two-story frame house that seemed to nestle in a grove of blackjack oaks beside a large, open field. When the child didn’t answer, he looked down and saw that she had fallen asleep. She had a firm grasp on his coat with one hand. Poor child! he thought. She had little enough in London, but at least she wasn’t among strangers!

  He drove up to the front of the house, and when he said “Whoa!” to the team, Molly stirred, then sat straight up, staring out at the house. “Is this ’ere the ’ouse, Mr. Adam?” she asked.

  “Yep. Come on, let’s see our new home.” He jumped to the ground and as he picked her up and set her down, he thought, She’s so tiny—I’ll have to see she gets lots to eat.

  “Let’s see our new home, Molly.” As she took his hand quickly, he looked down at her with a smile. “I’ve never seen the place inside either.”

  She stared up at him solemnly, then said, “Ain’t it funny t’ ’ave a ’ouse you ain’t never seen?”

  “Well, Aunt Rachel said she made sure it was fixed up nice, and there’s got to be a couple here somewhere—the overseer and his wife. Doesn’t seem to be anybody here, though.”
>
  They walked up to the door, and when nobody answered his knock, he opened the door and led Molly inside. They found themselves in the middle of a wide hallway with a set of stairs to one side leading to the second floor, a door to the left, which they found led to a large parlor, and at the end of the hall a massive kitchen and larder.

  They went upstairs and he saw with satisfaction that beds were made and there was firewood by the small fireplaces, which two of the bedrooms had. He grinned at her and said, “Which bedroom do you want? This one?”

  She stared at him wide-eyed, then her gaze swept the room in doubt. It was a small room, not more than ten feet square, and the ceiling sloped sharply toward the outer wall. The only furniture was a small bed, a washstand, and a small trunk, but there were plenty of wooden pegs in the wall for hanging clothing and a red rug lay beside the bed. She stared up at him, her gray eyes filled with awe. “Aw, Mr. Adam, this ain’t mine?”

  He laughed, glad to see that she was happy. She had been very quiet on the voyage home, so quiet that he became anxious about her, doubts about the wisdom of his decision filling his mind. And it had not helped when Charles had stared at him with pity in his light blue eyes, thrown up his hands in disbelief and said, “Adam! Only you would do a thing like this—bring home a girl practically off the streets! Why, you don’t have the faintest idea of what to do with her, do you now?”

  The truth in Charles’s words had disturbed Adam, but now as he saw her mobile features light up with pleasure, he felt somewhat better. “Of course, it’s yours, Molly! Now I’ll bring the trunks in, and we’ll get unpacked. Then we’ll go see the minister, Rev. Edwards.”

  As they went downstairs, they heard the back door slam. “That must be the overseer,” Adam said, but it was a woman who emerged from the kitchen. “Mrs. Stuart?”

  “Yes, I’m Beth Stuart,” she nodded. She was a large woman in her thirties with glossy brown hair and sharp eyes. He also noted that her left hand was deformed, bent into a permanent fist. “Mr. Winslow?”

  “Yes, and this is Molly Burns.”

  “Ah, yes.” A light appeared in Mrs. Stuart’s eyes as she looked at the girl; then she nodded at Adam. “Seth and me have the place all ready. We been expecting you.”

  The front door opened and a short, skinny man with a red face and a thick mop of sandy hair staggered through the door with a large trunk. “This is my husband, Seth. Mr. Winslow and Molly Burns.”

  Seth Stuart dropped the trunk with an alarming crash, came forward to shake Adam’s hand. He was older than his wife, in his late forties, and his grip was almost as powerful as Adam’s own.

  “Weel, now, Mr. Winslow, I dinna expect ye today, but welcome hame!” He had a Scottish accent and his merry blue eyes looked down at the child. “Molly Burns, is it? A gude Scottish girl ye are indeed!”

  “Molly is going to be your helper, Mrs. Stuart,” Adam said. “While your husband and I are taking care of the outside work, you and Molly will take care of the inside. I think you’ll find Molly a good hard worker.” Saul had hired the Stuarts, and from the looks of them, Adam decided, he could not have done much better.

  “I know we’ll be good friends, Molly,” Mrs. Stuart said, going to the child and putting her hand on her shoulder. “I’ve never had a little girl of my own. Maybe we can teach each other some things, all right?”

  Molly looked up at her, and the reserve that was a part of her character lasted only a second, then she smiled and said, “I wants to learn ’ow t’ work, Ma’am.” She had been tense, her lips tight, for the whole journey had been a nightmare for her in some ways. To leave her home with a man she scarcely knew had been frightening! She had not had much joy in her hovel of a home in London, but fear had lain in her heart ever since Adam had taken her on board the ship. She had slept little, eaten little, and even the warmth of Rachel and Mercy had done little to give her heart any peace.

  But Beth Stuart’s kind face encouraged her, and when the large woman said, “I’ll help you get settled, Molly,” she went upstairs with something like a light heart for the first time since she’d left England.

  “Your wife is good with the child,” Adam remarked as they went out to get the luggage.

  “Aye, we never had any of our own,” the overseer said sadly. “It’ll be good for her to have a young one to fuss over.”

  Adam shared a few of the details of Molly’s hard life with Stuart, and added quietly, “I want to see the child get a good start—a good education and everything.”

  “The gude Lord bless ye fer it, Mr. Winslow.” He nodded and said with satisfaction, “It’s glad I am to be workin’ for a Christian man!”

  Adam cleared his throat nervously and said, “Well, my family are Christian, but I guess I’m not much of anything myself.”

  “Do tell me!” Stuart said in surprise. “I thought you studied under Rev. Edwards.”

  “Well, a little Latin, Seth.” Adam changed the subject and asked about the farm, and after they unloaded the luggage, they left Mrs. Stuart and Molly to unpack while they walked over the property. The scrawny Scot had been there only a month, but he knew all six hundred acres of it—not only the cleared fields, but the springs, the timber and even where the best hunting could be had!

  “Seth,” Adam said finally, as they made their way back to the house, “I might as well tell you now that I’m no farmer. I guess you know more about it than I ever will.”

  “I’d not be too quick to say that . . .!”

  “This is mostly my family’s idea, and if it works, it’ll be your doing. We might as well understand each other right now.” They paused, and Stuart saw that his young employer’s dark blue eyes were about as intense as any he’d seen. “You do the farming, and I do the rest of it. Mostly I’ll be working on machines and keeping things up in that way.”

  “Weel, if you can do that, we’ll maybe make a farm of this place, Mister Adam!” Stuart had been apprehensive about the whole matter, and had said often to his wife, “We may be movin’ on, lass. If the new owner’s not a man of sense, we’ll have to leave.” Now he saw that Adam Winslow was his kind of man, and his intelligent eyes warmed in a smile. He stuck his hand out, saying, “It’s not going to be easy, mind you, for the place is run down something fierce! But give us a few good years and some willin’ hands, and we’ll make this farm something to notice!”

  Inside the house, Mrs. Stuart had helped Molly fix up her small bedroom, noting how scanty the child’s wardrobe was, and making a firm resolution to remedy that. Then she had led the way to the kitchen and was pleased that as she prepared a noon meal for the men, the girl was anxious to help and quick to learn.

  Beth had noticed that Molly got more nervous as noon approached, but said nothing. Then, as she expected, the girl spoke out her fear. “Ma’am, Mr. Adam, ’e says I gotta go to the minister’s ’ouse to learn me letters.”

  “Well, now, that’s fine, isn’t it? Everybody in the parish speaks well of Mr. Edwards.”

  Molly’s brow knitted, and she picked at her blouse nervously; when she looked up there was fear in her clear gray eyes. “I don’t wanna go there.”

  “Why not, Molly?”

  She ducked her head and said nothing. Then she finally looked up, there were tears in her eyes. “I—I’m stupid—and they’re all so smart—” She bit her lip and then said with anger, “And that ’un called Mary is the wust!”

  “How do you know that, child?”

  “Cause Mr. Adam, ’e’s allus gabbin’ about her, ’e is!”

  Mrs. Stuart knew little about Molly’s past except what few facts she had learned from the brief history the child had given her while they were working. She had sharp eyes, however, and it was obvious to her that Molly Burns had fastened on to Adam Winslow, and this “Mary” was clearly seen as a threat.

  She started to speak, then heard the men approaching, so she said only, “Now, you just wait, Molly! Mr. Adam is very proud of you, and I hear that the Edwards children
are very nice.”

  There was time for no more, but there was a rebellious set to Molly’s posture. Adam said while they were eating, “We’ve got plenty of time to go over to Rev. Edwards this afternoon, Molly. I know you must be tired, but I want you to meet them. I’m sure you and the girls will be great friends—especially Mary!”

  Mrs. Stuart gave her head a quick shake and thought, Don’t do that, Mister! But she saw that Winslow was smiling happily and had not the slightest concept of how desperately the English child clung to him. He’s a good young man, she thought, but he’s a bit thick where it comes to young girls!

  * * *

  Adam talked happily as they covered the four miles from their new home to the Edwardses’ house, not noticing that Molly sat stiffly beside him, saying almost nothing. Finally he pulled up in front of the house, and the two of them got out of the buggy.

  They were halfway up the walk when the front door swung open and a young girl about her own age came sailing out. She was crying out Adam’s name and he dropped Molly’s hand and stepped forward to catch her in his arms. He spun her around laughing, and said, “Well, I guess you really did miss me, didn’t you, Mary?”

  Molly drew back as he put her down, and as the two of them chattered away, she felt very lonely. Then several other girls came out to greet Adam, but the one called Mary did not turn loose of him, holding on to his hand as if she owned him!

  “Welcome home, Adam!” A tall man and a beautiful woman came out, and they both shook his hand.

  The entire family swarmed around Adam, all talking and laughing, Molly drew farther back, wanting to run to the buggy.

  “Well, who is this young lady?” The tall man separated himself from the group and came to stand before her. There was a kind light in his eyes as he put his hand out, saying, “I’m Rev. Edwards, child.”

  “Oh, this is Molly Burns, Rev. Edwards!” Adam moved to come to where they stood, but Mary held tightly to his hand, so he stood there and explained. “She’s come all the way from England, and I’ve told her so much about you and your family.”