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WHEN LANNEIKA HAD NOT arrived by mid-morning the next day, Catherine knew the Indian girl was not coming. She assumed Phyrahawque and his sister had seen Noah and the other traders returning to the house last evening; only a few minutes had elapsed from the time brother and sister departed and Noah and the men arrived. It saddened her to think she might never see Lanneika, or Phyrahawque, again. She had grown fond of Lanneika and would greatly miss her and her help every day.
“What’s keeping the Indian?” Noah demanded, standing alert in the doorway as Catherine moved past him to lead the children outdoors to work their sums on the ground with pebbles.
“I’m busy, Noah.”
“And I’m hungry. It’s time to take care of me now.”
She hurried to conclude the children’s lessons and, after giving the matter only a cursory amount of thought, told the children there would be no classes the following week. With Noah underfoot, she would have all she could handle just looking after him.
“I have suspended classes for a week,” she announced as she hurried to warm up the venison stew left over from last night. She spooned it into wooden trenchers and set it along with pieces of cold flatbread on the table. “I’ll now be able to spend more time with you.”
He began to eat. “I have a meeting with Deputy-Governor Argall this afternoon,” he announced sullenly.
They ate in silence for a spell. When Catherine was nearly finished, she addressed her husband in a gentle tone. “Noah, I would like you to consider giving up trading. You could apprise the governor of your decision this afternoon. You could tell him you have decided to become a planter. We now have a hundred acres of land. In your absence, I received the new land grant. It’s too late now to plant tobacco this year, but the land needs to be cleared, and you could . . .”
“You don’t expect me to cut down trees and clear away brush, do you?” he demanded angrily.
“But you wanted the land dearly! That’s why you delayed our vows. And the land must be cleared before you can plant. Adam says . . .”
“I don’t care a fig what Adam says!”
Folding her hands before her, Catherine inhaled a calming breath. Perhaps she had chosen the wrong time to broach the topic, but she feared that by evening, her husband would be too full of Ed Henley’s firewater to think or speak rationally. “Noah, I . . . I am afraid for you.”
“You don’t think I can take care of myself?”
“No, it isn’t that at all.” Her stomach tightened with frustration. “When we married, before we married, your greatest wish was to become a planter. We have plenty of land now, and . . . ”
“You are busy with your school,” he spat out.
“I will give up my school if that would make you happy.”
A brow lifted. “Indeed, it would. You have a husband now, and by all rights, you should be breeding. Though I am not particularly looking forward to that,” he added sourly.
“What do you mean? I thought you wanted to get a babe on me.”
He didn’t look up from his trencher. “Been my experience that when a woman finds herself with child she suddenly becomes weak and fragile to the point she makes herself unappealing. I would not like to see you behave in so foolish a manner.”
“I see.” Catherine digested that. “I will certainly try not to displease you, although I believe it natural for a woman to want to protect her unborn child.”
“I especially don’t like those Indian brats in my house.”
Catherine flinched. He was referring to his own son! “Very well. I will give up my school . . . if you will give up trading.”
His face a thundercloud, he sprang to his feet. “How dare you attempt to bully me! You are my wife, and I tell you what to do, Mistress Colton!”
Mere seconds after Noah stormed out of the house, Catherine snatched up an empty basket, which she planned to fill with herbs, and bolted into the woods. Longing for the serenity she always found there, anguished tears streamed down her cheeks as she tried in vain to shake off the sting of Noah’s angry words.
Dear Lord, how had things come to this pass? More and more, she was seeing a dark side of Noah she had never known existed. Why was he so angry with her? The Noah she knew was lighthearted and carefree; a man who bantered and teased and laughed easily. What had changed him? And what could she do to bring back the man she loved and had wished to be with as long as she could remember?
Worrying over her problem, she walked and walked, blindly stepping over fallen logs and ducking through underbrush. At last, she looked up and realized she was not at all certain where her unguided footsteps had taken her. Turning around and around, she saw nothing that looked familiar. In her anguish, she must have wandered further afield than she planned.
Thinking she was heading back the same way she came, she stepped through a particularly thick stand of tall trees and emerged into a small clearing. Straight ahead lay a sparkling pool of clear water. This was not the spring where she and Lanneika came to draw water. She took a few tentative steps forward, her feet sinking into a luxurious carpet of thick green moss. Gazing about, she noted flowering vines wound around the trunks of many of the tall oak trees that sheltered the cove. Sweet-smelling pink and purple blossoms, along with frothy white dogwood, grew in abundance.
Drawing in breath after breath of the heady fragrance, she walked to the edge of the pool and, looking across the glassy expanse, noted tiny bubbles gurgling up at the center. The pool must be the result of an underground spring, alive and breathing here in the forest. She reached to trail one hand in the cool, clear water. Scooping up a handful, she brought the sweet liquid to her face and washed away all traces of her tears.
Straightening, she slowly turned around and around, awed by the silent beauty that surrounded her. She moved towards a tall tree and sank down onto the moss-covered earth before it, her eyes gazing up . . . up . . . upward toward the brilliant specks of sunlight filtering through the treetops. She had never beheld such a beautiful place in all her life.
The day was especially warm, and, although the shade beneath the canopy of thick, green leaves felt refreshing, Catherine began to cast longing glances at the sparkling cool water. As a child, she’d often stripped off her shoes and stockings and waded into the stream that ran through her father’s farm. She smiled now, remembering several times when she and Noah had waded into the running water together. He’d always insisted on holding her hand lest she stumble and be swept away by the swift current lapping over jagged rocks in the middle of the stream.
There were no rocks here and no current. Except for the gurgling center, the water lay like a sheet of clear blue glass. Patches of sunlight through the treetops scattered glittering jewels onto the surface. Catherine drank in the stillness. Sitting beneath the tree, the only sounds she heard were the melodic chirruping of birds. Occasionally one, or a pair, would dart past her, or swoop low over the water, their bright orange beaks disturbing the glassy surface as they dipped low for a drink.
Watching the birds frolic and play brought a smile to her lips. Drawing in deep calming breaths, she relished the sense of peace that soon filled her. She was reminded of the comforting psalm that spoke of the Lord leading one beside still waters. She closed her eyes. In her darkest hours, she must remember to trust that God was taking care of both her and Noah, whether he be a trader or a planter. Her eyes still closed, she murmured a silent prayer of gratitude for being shown the error of her ways and for being reminded to always trust in the care of their Heavenly Father.
Upon opening her eyes, she thought she detected a slight noise, like a twig snapping, coming from . . . she glanced about, she wasn’t certain where the sound came from, but once more, she realized she had no idea where in the woods she had wandered. She cast another longing gaze at the water, but instead of venturing closer, or stripping off her boots and stockings and wading in, she picked up her still-empty basket and exited the clearing the same way she’d come in. Perhaps she’d be able to retrace her footsteps and find her way back home before the sun dipped behind the trees.
With only a few false turns, she finally managed to find her way out of the woods but along the way made mental notes so she might find again what she was already referring to as her Secret Place.
“Where have you been?” Noah demanded when at last she walked up the path to the house, the basket in her hand still empty.
“I went into the woods to dig up some herbs.”
His eyes narrowed as he gazed at her empty basket. “Appears you didn’t find any.”
Catherine thrust her chin up as she skirted past him. “I became a trifle lost, if you must know.”
He followed her into the house. “Argall has called a town meeting for tonight. Seems all of Jamestown is eager to know what transpired with the Indians.”
* * * *
THE MEETING THAT NIGHT was held in the church sanctuary, but instead of Reverend Buck officiating, Deputy-Governor Argall stood behind the pulpit. Three chairs on the platform behind the podium were each occupied by one of Jamestown’s respected trader-men.
Word of the meeting had quickly spread throughout the tidewater area and nearly every single man, and many women, had gathered to hear what the traders had to say. Both Adam and Jack had ridden into town. Because Catherine saw her brother so infrequently, and because Noah was seated on the platform, she chose to sit beside Adam.
“You look beautiful, Cat.” He smiled. “How are you and Noah getting on?”
“Well enough.” She looked down. “I am glad he is home safe.”
“How long was he away?”
“Close on three weeks.”
“Ah, so ye have a bit of catchin’ up to do.”
A shaky smile wavered across her lips.
The low buzz of several hundred voices talking at once grew silent the moment Deputy-Governor Argall called the meeting to order. After he’d made the announcement they had all come to hear, that Powhatan’s brother Opitchapan was now the new chieftain of the Indian tribes, he turned the meeting over to the traders. One by one they stepped up to deliver short summations of their recent visits with the settler’s closest neighbors, the Indians.
Overall the meeting proved uneventful until after Noah delivered his short talk. Not leaving the podium at once, he instead reached inside his doublet . . . and withdrew a feather.
Catching sight of it, Catherine inhaled a sharp breath, so audible that Adam’s head jerked around.
“Is something amiss?”
Willing her heart to cease its wild pounding, she tightly shook her head.
“I have a few questions to pose to the congregation.” Noah held up the feather. “I assume the majority of you would recognize this as being a mere feather. But . . . upon closer inspection, one would see an odd symbol attached to the base of it. It is this symbol that puzzles me.”
“Why is that?” asked one of the men seated near the front.
“Because in all my years of dealing with the Indians, I have never before seen this particular emblem.”
Noah’s pronouncement was followed by alarmed exclamations from the audience. Many exchanged frightened looks with one another before turning to gaze back up at him.
“Where’d you find it?” asked another man.
Catherine held her breath.
“Near my home.”
Catherine heard a rustling noise as someone in the back stood up.
“I saw somethin’ mighty strange down there t’other day.”
Recognizing Goody Smithfield’s voice, Catherine’s eyes rolled skyward.
“What did you see, Goodwife Smithfield?”
“Well . . . yer wife and her Indian girl was a-plantin’ corn in that little field what fronts the woods when I happened by. Then later, when I looked back down there, I saw a Indian on a huge horse, jes’ sittin’ there watchin’.”
Hushed silence followed before Noah asked, “What color was the horse?”
“White!” Goody Smithfield shouted. “And big! Suddenly, yer wife’s Indian girl run and got up on that horse with the Indian, and I swear, that horse tuk off like lightnin’, like it was flyin’!”
Noisy eruptions and even a few screams from the ladies disrupted the meeting. The exultations grew so loud Deputy-Governor Argall had to step to the podium and call for the colonists, men and women alike, to settle down.
“Thank you for yer observation, Goodwife Smithfield,” Argall said, “but I daresay there’s no cause for alarm, isn’t that right, Colton?”
Even from where she sat in the audience, Catherine thought her husband’s face had become several shades redder. He knew the identity of the Indian on the white horse, and she knew he would not rest until he’d wrenched a satisfactory explanation from her.