The Indentured Heart Page 11

  “Why, we’re so glad to have you, Molly,” Edwards said. “Come inside and we’ll let you try to learn the names of this mob!”

  One of the older girls, who looked about fourteen, came up and smiled. “I’m Jerusha, Molly. You come on and tell us all about England.” Molly looked up and saw that there was a gentle look on the girl’s face, so she let herself be led inside.

  They went into the parlor, and for the next hour Molly’s head swam, for she had never been around such a group of talkers in her entire life. They wanted to know all about her, but she was too shy to talk, so she listened while they chattered.

  She looked around several times for Adam, but at first he was off in the next room talking to Mr. and Mrs. Edwards. Then when they came back, Mary pulled him off and made him sit down in a chair and was right up in his face talking as fast as she could.

  Finally, they went in and sat down at a big table, Mr. and Mrs. Edwards on one end, and the children opposite each other. Molly sat next to Jerusha, whom she had trusted at first sight. She heard the names of Esther, Lucy, Timothy, Susanna—and Mary, of course, but her head was swimming with all the talk.

  Adam sat across from her between Mary and Mrs. Edwards. He smiled at Molly, asking, “Isn’t this nice, Molly?”

  She forced herself to nod, but she had wanted him to sit by her, and she blurted out, “Oh, yas, Mr. Adam, but this ’ere ’ous ain’t nowhere as big as ours!”

  Mary stared at her, then covered her mouth with her hand and laughed merrily. “She talks so funny! Is that the way everyone talks where you come from, Molly?”

  “Mary!” Mrs. Edwards looked displeased. She turned and gave the visitor a smile. “Mary is very rude at times, Molly. You must forgive her.”

  That incident served to seal Molly’s lips; she would have allowed herself to be torn to pieces rather than be made fun of again. Jerusha and her parents saw the tears form in her eyes, though Adam did not.

  After they left the table and the children all went into the parlor, Mrs. Edwards detained the young man long enough to say firmly, “Adam, you split wood very well.” He stared at her blankly. Then she smiled and said, “That child is very frightened, and you must be very careful. She’s far more fragile than a log of oak. Didn’t you see how frightened she was at the table?”

  “Frightened?”

  “Yes! You left her and talked with others and then you didn’t sit beside her. She’s very much afraid—as anyone would be in her situation.”

  Adam’s face flushed, and he said, “I—I guess I wasn’t thinking. I’ll be more careful.”

  She stared at him with apprehension in her fine eyes. “Adam, I don’t think you have any idea of what you’ve done. Oh, it was noble of you, from what you’ve told us, and I honor you for it. But it’s so much more than having a servant! She’s a bound girl for ten years, but she’s a small girl who’s very much afraid. And her future is in your hands, Adam. You’ve taken upon yourself the responsibility of her life—do you understand what an awesome thing that is?”

  Adam Winslow stood there twisting his hands, his eyes suddenly cast down. He shook his head slowly. Then he looked up and there was sadness in his dark blue eyes. “I’m always doing some fool thing! Guess this is just another one, Mrs. Edwards—I must have been an idiot to think I could help the girl!”

  She touched his cheek, looking at him with a soft light in her eyes as she shook her head. “No, you did what very few men would have done, and I’m very proud of you, Adam. But you must always remember that from now on you are Molly’s family!”

  He stared at her, swallowed hard, then nodded. “Yes, Mrs. Edwards. I—I’ll remember that.”

  “We’ll help you, of course. But I must warn you of one thing.”

  “Yes, Ma’am?”

  “Mary is very possessive, Adam! She is the brightest of our children—but not the kindest. That’s Jerusha. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  Adam looked blank, then said bluntly, “No, I don’t.”

  “Men!” Mrs. Edwards snorted. “Well, let me make it plain for you: Molly needs you—but you’ve let Mary monopolize you ever since you’ve been in this place. You’re a big toy to her. All she has to do is snap her fingers and you jump. Well, that may have been all right before, but you must be more careful now.”

  “You mean, my first responsibility is to Molly?”

  “Exactly! Now, it will all work out, but you must be careful, Adam!”

  She said no more, but Adam was downcast. He said little, but he saw that Molly was unhappy, so half an hour later, he said, “We must be getting back.”

  “Why don’t you let Molly come over on a regular basis and begin her schooling with the girls?” Edwards asked.

  Jerusha saw the fear in the child’s face and went to her at once. “Why, that’ll be fun!” she said, putting her arm around the girl. “You will come, won’t you, Molly?”

  It was a kind and tactful thing to do, and Molly nodded, saying, “Yes, if you’ll ’elp me, miss.”

  “We all will!” Jerusha said gently, and Mary added, “Why, I’ll teach you better than anybody, Molly!”

  They left then, and Adam tried to find out what was going on in Molly’s mind, but she answered his questions shortly. Finally he said, “Molly, I’m sorry if you didn’t have a good time.”

  She bent her head and he was startled to see a tear run down her cheek. “Oh, Molly, you mustn’t do that!” he said in dismay. Stopping the team, he turned to her, and in an awkward display of affection, he put his arm around her, saying, “Molly, I know I’m thoughtless sometimes, but you mustn’t be angry with me. It’s just that—well, I’ve never had anyone to—to take care of, so I don’t know how to go about it.” He felt her shoulders shaking, so he sat there helplessly, not knowing what to do or say—wishing that he’d left her in London, wishing that someone else could step in and take over, but knowing there was no one else.

  Finally he said huskily, “I know I neglected you today. I shouldn’t have left you alone. But I want you to know one thing—look up at me!”

  He pulled her face up, appalled to see her small defenseless features contorted with grief. She had her eyes shut tightly, and was biting her lip to hold the sobs back.

  “Molly,” he said quietly, holding her fast with one arm, “I want you to know that I love you very much—and as long as I live I’ll take care of you. That’s all I can say!”

  She opened her eyes suddenly, and he saw the fear that had been in them all day replaced by a sudden flash of joy. She smiled tremulously and whispered, “Will yer now? Will yer truly allus take care o’ me?”

  “Yes!”

  Molly Burns—bound girl—did not say anything, but he saw that his promise had driven away the despair that had filled her. She nodded once, then grabbed him in a wild embrace, the first time she’d ever done such a thing. And as she held on to him, Adam Winslow thought, God help me if I ever let this child down!

  As they sat there holding one another, Adam realized that it was not the child that was “bound”—he was the who was bound by his promise!

  Ten years! he thought wryly. Some of those who came over on the Mayflower were bound for that long—I guess I can do it, too. After all, how much trouble can one small girl be?

  CHAPTER NINE

  A BROOCH OF SILVER

  A sudden movement caught Molly’s eye, and she held the goosequill pen off the sheet of paper, glancing out of the single window of her bedroom at the antics of a pair of purple martins. As they sailed acrobatically to a landing at the birdhouse, a smile turned the corners of her wide mouth up. It was the third time she’d watched a family of the connubial birds raise a family, and she suddenly remembered how Adam had built the birdhouse and set it outside her window during her first lonely months at Winslow House. She cast an involuntary glance at the forge, noting the smoke pouring out of the chimney, and her eyes softened at the memory of Adam sitting beside her for hours as the birds had come that first Ma
rch. He’d held her in his lap, pointing out the antics of the martins, and a warmth filled her as she thought of how he’d drawn her out of her solitude during those days.

  She sighed, lowered her eyes and, noting that her pen was dull, she cleaned it with a small cloth, trimmed it with a silver-handled knife Adam had made for her for that purpose. A small stack of papers was neatly stacked on the desk beside her, with Molly Burns—Her Journal written across the first sheet in a careful childish hand. Dipping the pen in a bottle of ink, she began writing in an even hand across the sheet:

  28 May, 1747

  Yesterday Adam’s brother, Rev. William Winslow, preached instead of Rev. Edwards. I liked his sermon very much, and afterwards he came home with us to take dinner. Mrs. Stuart and I cooked a good meal. I made some blackberry tarts and he liked them as much as Adam. He asked me how old I was, and when I said thirteen years old, he seemed much surprised, and said many nice things, like “My! what a fine young lady Molly has grown into during the last two years!” He is so handsome—much taller than my master, I’m afraid, and Jerusha says that every young woman in his parish is dying to marry him!

  The sow gave birth to fourteen pigs yesterday, so with the two new calves, we will have plenty of meat. The garden is much better than last year! The new kind of tomatoes are already so big the stalks are bending double, and the potatoes are doing well.

  I am very excited about meeting Miss Jerusha’s young man. We are going to the Edwards’ house this afternoon for supper. It is Mary’s birthday, and I made her blue blouse out of the silk that Adam had bought at Boston last month. Mrs. Stuart helped me, but I did very well, Adam said.

  I hear Mrs. Stuart calling me, and must end this writing, which I do with a prayer of thanksgiving to God for bringing me to this place. When at times I wake up at night after one of my bad dreams, almost crying out with fear as I do when I dream of my childhood at home, how wonderful it is to suddenly know that I am here at Winslow, with Seth and Beth almost like parents—and of course with my master, Adam Winslow, who has shown nothing but kindness for these two years!

  Beth Stuart had been calling urgently. Molly blotted the sheet, carefully added it to the others, then slipped the journal into the lower drawer of the small chest beside her bed.

  “I’m coming!” she called out, then ran out of her room and down the stairs.

  “Molly, I’ve been calling you for ten minutes!” Mrs. Stuart said sternly. “If you’re going to get Mr. Adam to that party, you’ll have to go drag him out of that shop right now!” She spoke harshly enough, but there was a light in her eyes that betrayed her affection for the girl, who was not in the least frightened by her frown. The Scotswoman had been a mother indeed for the past two years, showering her with love such as she had never known, and teaching her many skills—cooking, washing, canning, sewing, and a dozen other arts of the country housekeeper.

  “I’ll get him—but will you finish hemming my new dress, please?” Molly did not wait for an answer, but patting Mrs. Stuart fondly on the shoulder, skipped out of the back door and ran lightly to the large wooden building a hundred yards east of the main house.

  Pushing the door open, she entered and saw Adam standing with his back to her at the wooden workbench. He did not hear her enter, and when she said, “Mr. Adam . . .!” he gave a sudden start, and wheeled to meet her with a frown on his dark face.

  “Molly! Don’t sneak up on a man like that!” He turned and swept something into a soft leather bag, then blew out the large lamp that served as a light for the fine work he did. Turning again to face her, he saw that he had driven the smile from her face. He smiled at once, saying, “I didn’t mean to speak so rough.” He was rewarded at once as her face lit up, and he thought as he had many times, This child is so sensitive! Have to remember to be gentle. He put his arm across her shoulders, grinned and said, “It’s hard to live with a grumpy old blacksmith, Molly, but you and Mrs. Stuart will make something out of me yet!”

  “It’s time to get ready, Mr. Adam,” she said, pulling at his arm. “You’ve got to wash and shave and I’ve pressed your best suit—you hurry up now!”

  He allowed her to pull him through the door, and as they made their way across the yard spotted with Black Winslow chickens, he marveled at how she had changed since the first day they set foot at Winslow House—the name that had gotten attached to the farm. She had grown taller, of course, so that now at thirteen she was almost as tall as Mrs. Stuart. He thought suddenly of how much she was like the young colt that frolicked in the pasture across from the house—leggy, awkward, but with the grace that all young things seem to have. First thing you know, he thought with a sudden grin at her, the place will be cluttered up with a herd of young fellows wanting to court her!

  “You wash, now, and don’t forget your neck!” Molly gave a warning shake of her finger at him, then left him at the pump, saying, “I’ll have the hot water and your razor as soon as you’re finished.”

  He washed his upper body, then his face, then stuck his head under the pump. As he worked up a lather with the heavy square of lye soap, he thought of how the girl had lost her early fears. She had been as shy as one of the wild kittens at the barn for the first few months. Now she bosses me around like I was the bound servant, he thought as he dried his thick black hair on the towel she’d left. Mostly Beth’s doing—she and Seth have been a godsend for the child!

  He went inside and found the water and his razor and soap waiting. He shaved carefully, then turned and noted his clothes carefully laid out on the bed. He put on linen undergarments, the brown homespun breeches, then the fine white shirt, the buff-colored coat, and finally the fine leather boots he’d bought on his last trip to Boston.

  He took a small bag from the pocket of his work clothes, put it in his inside coat pocket, then left the room, calling out, “Molly—are you ready?”

  “Yes, I’m coming!”

  He met Mrs. Stuart at the bottom of the stairs and said, “We may be late getting home, Beth. You and Seth don’t have to wait up.” Hearing light footfalls on the stair, he turned; seeing Molly he said, “My word! How nice you look!”

  Beth Stuart saw the rosy glow creeping up Molly’s neck and cheeks at Adam’s words, and she was gratified to think that the hours she and the girl had spent on the dress had not been wasted.

  “Thank you, Mr. Adam,” Molly murmured breathlessly. Her clear eyes were blue-gray—Adam could never decide which—but the dark blue material of her dress brought out the blue. Her ash-colored hair was combed back into a single heavy strand, and was so thick and heavy it seemed almost to pull her head back. Her figure was only beginning to fill out—just a hint of womanly fullness in her straight carriage. She wore no jewelry, but the bright yellow ribbon that held her hair, and another at the high neckline of the silk dress, added a touch of color to her attire.

  Seth had brought the buggy to the front, and as they got in, he gave a spare smile, saying, “Weel, now, I’m thinkin’ there’s a little vanity in your dress—but ye’ll no be the worse for such, maybe.” He helped Molly into the seat, gave her a steady smile and said, “Ye watch this one, Molly girl! That Jerusha Edwards may set her cap for your master!”

  She laughed and said as Adam released the brake and they pulled out, “No fear there! Miss Jerusha’s got herself a minister—she’ll not be after a blacksmith like Mr. Adam!”

  They drove out of the yard, and Molly felt very grown-up as they made their way along the road, the buggy sending a cloud of dust high in the air behind them. She had been going to study at Jonathan Edwards’ house for nearly two years, but this was the first time she’d gone almost as a guest. She realized, of course, that she was expected to help with the serving, but all of the other girls would be doing that as well. She sat beside Adam, brushing the fine dust of the road off her dress, and more than once she stole a look at the man beside her. He’s not as handsome as William, she thought, then looked at his square jaw, the dark blue eyes that were now
mild, but could set off sparks when he had one of his fits of fierce anger. She thought contentedly, He may not be handsome, but he’s strong and he’s good!

  “Looks like you’ll be losing your teacher, Molly,” Adam said mildly. “I look to see Mr. Brainerd carry her off pretty soon. You’ll be pretty sad, I reckon.”

  Jerusha Edwards was being courted at the age of sixteen by Rev. David Brainerd. Molly had been closer to her than anyone in the world except for Mrs. Stuart, and she gave Adam a sorrowful look. “Are they really going to get married, Mr. Adam?”

  “I think so.” Adam gave the girl a look, and added gently, “She’s young, Molly, but lots of girls no older than Jerusha have families. And Mr. Brainerd is a good man—a famous one, too.”

  “I know.”

  Jerusha had met David Brainerd a year earlier, and after Molly’s lessons, she had spoken in glowing terms of the young minister who had attracted her. He had left Yale after a stormy career to become an evangelist to the Indians, and in a short time, every church in America was buzzing with his activities. He had walked into the woods at the forks of the Delaware River with no training, not speaking a word of the Indian language. Not a few had told him he would perish in the wilderness—that he would either die of starvation or be butchered by the fierce tribes that still made that area their home. Instead, he had encountered a young Indian with the unpronounceable name of John Wauwaupequuaunt, who happened to know English, having been raised by a minister in Longmeadow, Massachusetts.

  From that time on, Brainerd had driven himself, ignoring the frightful hardships of the wilderness, and his success with the savages had sped about the Colonies. He had emerged from his labors with the Indians only long enough to preach on a tour. On his engagement at Northampton, he had met Jerusha Edwards. Their courtship had been swift as lightning, stunning the Edwardses and everyone else.