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“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?” he shouted at Catherine the second he barged into the house.
She looked up from the pot of vegetable stew she was stirring. “Nothing, Noah. I’ve done nothing.”
Grabbing one arm, he yanked her around. “What have you done with my muskets and gunpowder?”
“I haven’t done anythi . . .”
“Where did you hide them?” he yelled. Then, spotting Lydia near the board table holding two empty trenchers and spoons, he shouted, “Lydia, get out of here!”
The command was delivered in a tone plenty loud enough for the girl to hear. With wide round eyes, Lydia darted from the house.
“Noah, please . . .” Catherine attempted to wrench from his grasp.
He grabbed her other arm and backed her into the corner beyond the hearth. “You and I were the only ones who knew about the muskets and gunpowder. Now everything’s gone! What have you done?”
Catherine had never seen him so angry. “Noah, I haven’t been in the shed except to get my ho . . .”
“You’re lying!” He slapped her across the cheek.
The sting caused her to cry out. “Noah, stop!”
“Tell me the truth before I . . .”
“Please, calm yourself,” she gasped.
“Calm myself! I find an easy way to turn a profit, and now you’ve ruined it! Where did you put my crates? You’ve hidden them somewhere!”
“Noah!” Tears pooled in Catherine’s eyes. “I’ve done nothing. Please . . . believe me!”
He flung her from him. “You’re a lying bitch, and if you don’t tell me the truth, I swear I’ll kill you!”
Landing on the floor, Catherine feared for the safety of her child, so she drew up her knees in an attempt to protect her middle.
“Get up!” He kicked her backside with one foot.
She coiled tighter. “Noah, stop! You’ll hurt the baby!”
“I’m sick of hearing about that damned baby.” He grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked until she raised her head.
“I’ll get up! I’ll get up!”
He jerked her to her feet. “Get up and show me where you’ve hidden everything!” With an impatient shove, he pushed her toward the door.
Catherine knew better than to resist. With Noah in the lead, they both headed around the side of the house toward the shed, but just before reaching the stack of firewood, the edge of her long skirt caught on a bramble. She bent down to loosen it.
“Hurry up!” Noah shouted over one shoulder.
“My skirt is caught, Noah!”
Muttering something that sounded like, “Damned useless female,” he spun around to grab Catherine’s arm and yank her forward.
The bramble held fast, and instead of being able to take a step, Catherine’s body lurched forward and landed with a hard thud against the stack of rough-hewn sticks of firewood. The sudden impact knocked the breath from her. With a gasp, she crumpled to the ground clutching her middle.
Noah seemed not to notice. “Damn you! I’ll find the crates myself!” Without a backward glance, he disappeared into the shed and some moments later, into the woods.
* * * *
NO ONE HAD TO TELL Catherine her baby was dead.
When Lydia stole around the corner of the house and found her mistress lying on the ground, she ran at once to fetch Goody Smithfield. The older woman helped Catherine into her bedchamber where they peeled off her blood-soaked skirt and undergarments. Although feeling as if she might lose consciousness at any moment, Catherine managed to tell Goody Smithfield which of her herbs to bring from the loft and how to prepare and administer them. The older woman did exactly as instructed. For the next several days, she also came by to check on her.
That week Lydia learned how to cook.
For days, Catherine lay alone in bed, hardly speaking to either the servant girl or to Goody Smithfield. She did her best to eat what was put before her, but inside, her soul felt numb. Over and over in her mind, she retraced the events of that horrible afternoon. The injury was so devastating she feared she might never conceive again. Some days she could not halt her tears and they flowed unchecked. Other times her anguish was so deep, no tears would come. How, how, how could she ever forgive Noah this?
When he finally did return home, he said little, did not ask how Catherine or the baby fared, or mention the missing muskets or gunpowder. The two women hardly dared speak to him, or to one another.
One evening, as the three were finishing up their evening meal, they were surprised when Deputy-Governor Argall and the other two traders, Tidwell and Sharpe, stepped to the threshold.
“So, yer home.” The deputy-governor looked in, addressing Noah.
“Come in, Argall; Sharpe, Tidwell. Lydia, pour the gentlemen some ale.”
The deputy-governor pulled one of the ladder-backed chairs up to the table and sat facing Noah. The traders slid onto the bench opposite Catherine.
Her breath grew short even before the older man began to speak. Was it all to come to a head now?
“I’ll get straight to the point, Colton.” Argall’s tone was somber.
Noah flung a nervous glance at Catherine who sat mute, the little bit of color that had returned to her face having now drained from it.
“I’ve received some disturbing reports from a couple of planters over by Henricus. Seems a band of Indians armed with muskets been raidin’ homes and barns over that way. One man shot dead and his wife raped. Couple other planters injured though they’re still alive. Barely. Soon as I received the first report, I came for ya’, but yer girl here said ye was out checking yer traps. The boys and I took the liberty of carting away all the crates of muskets and gunpowder been stored in yer barn.”
Catherine’s eyes fluttered shut.
“Ought ta’ lock that shed up, Noah,” Tidwell remarked.
“Wish ye had,” Argall chimed in. “A good many muskets were missing and a whole box of gunpowder gone. Some sneaky Indians must ’a broke in durin’ the night and made off with ’em.”
“Well.” Noah spoke up quite strongly. “I daresay I never heard a thing. Did you, Catherine?”
Her lips tight, she merely looked down.
“Of course, I’ve been away from the house a good bit lately.”
“So, how does yer trappin’ fare?”
“Quite well.” Noah nodded. “I wonder I did not hear about Indians raiding farms or . . .”
“I thought it best not to publish the news. No need to pitch the settlers here into a panic. All the same, I want you boys to head over to Henricus, camp out north and west of there, move around a bit. Watch; see what ye can learn. If ye hear anything suspicious, get word to the planters at once. I don’t want any tobacco fields burned or anyone else killed. Don’t need to remind you this is serious business. All the planters are armed now. The boys and I distributed the muskets and gunpowder to every man on every plantation up that way.” He paused. “If ye’d ’a been at home when we come for ’em, I’d ’a wanted ye ta’ come along.”
After the men talked a bit more, deciding when to set out for Henricus and what to take with them, they rose to leave. Near the door, Argall paused. “Oddest thing, Colton,” he mused, “them Indians that stole from ye, they knew exactly which crates held the muskets and gunpowder. From the look of it, they didn’t tear into a single other crate.” He shook his head. “Them Indians are a crafty lot.”
* * * *
CATHERINE COULD NO longer remain silent. Since she was not carrying a child and did not believe she could ever conceive again, she had nothing now to fear from Noah. When they were preparing for bed that night, she prepared her mind to speak.
“Noah.” She kept her tone calm. “Surely you will now give up conducting ‘private’ trades with the Indians.”
“You heard Argall.” He addressed her without looking up as he removed his jerkin. “We’re to go to Henricus.”
“I am referring to the future, when you return to Jamestown. A man has been killed, Noah, by an Indian to whom you gave a musket.”
He whirled around. “You have no proof of that. The Indians have been stealing weapons from us since Captain Smith’s time.”
Catherine inhaled a measured breath. “Noah, I saw the crates in the shed. Muskets and gunpowder were missing. And now you have a pile of pelts in the loft for which you traded something.”
“Have you seen me leave here with weapons?” he challenged. “It would be impossible for me to carry half a dozen muskets and bags of gunpowder into the forest . . . on foot. You have no proof of anything.”
Catherine’s ire rose. She knew he was lying, but other than what she’d seen in the shed with her own eyes, he was right, she had no proof. Even the deputy-governor believed the Indians had stolen the weapons. Noah had so completely gained the trust of everyone in Jamestown that not a one of them would suspect him of wrongdoing. It would be the same as with Victor’s death, her word against his.
“A few months ago, all you could speak of was becoming a planter. You now have your hundred and fifty acres. You could earn quite a good living planting tobacco.”
His mouth twisted with annoyance.
“You could hire someone to help you clear the land. The planters would gladly share their knowledge with you.” When still he said nothing, she went on. “Noah, we have to eat. Which means we have no choice but to grow our own food.”
“There is plenty of grain in the storehouse,” he grumbled.
From her place on the bed, she sprang to her feet. “That corn is not yours! It is for new settlers to see them through until their first harvest!”
He remained calm. “Governor Yeardley didn’t see it that way.”
“What are you saying?”
“Yeardley told me, Sharpe, and Tidwell, to help ourselves.”
“That was because you had no land! You have land now! You are expected to farm it. You are well aware of the ordinance commanding every settler to plant and harvest his own corn.”
“Argall does not plant corn.”
“And what does that mean?”
“It means the deputy-governor and I have a good deal in common; seems we are both ill-suited for hard labor.”
“You are not making sense, Noah.” She glared at him.
“If you must know, I intend to become governor myself one day.”
Shock registered on Catherine’s face. “I do not think that a good idea, Noah. For a certainty, all your lies and deceptions would come to light.”
He angrily lunged toward her, but she successfully sidestepped him to press her body against the back of the door. He stood near the bed glowering. “You are a woman,” he spat out. “Who would listen to you?”
“Nonetheless,” she countered, “you are as ill-suited to be governor as apparently you are for hard labor. A governor must be above reproach.”
“So you believe Argall is above reproach, do ye? Apparently ye do not know it was he who kidnapped your friend Pocahontas afore she wed John Rolfe.”
“I . . . confess I did not know that,” Catherine faltered. “Still the New Virginia Company must trust him, otherwise they would not have appointed him.”
“And the colonists trust me. I am the man Argall turns to in time of crisis. Not Sharpe or Tidwell. I know more about the Indians than any man since John Smith. Argall has a fine house and servants. But I have something he doesn’t. A wife. The Virginia Company investors will take kindly to a family man becoming governor. Argall is a mere ship’s captain who issues orders.” He grimaced. “Which I obey.”
Catherine shook her head with dismay.
“As my wife, you took an oath to obey me,” he gloated, “therefore when I issue an order, it is your duty to obey. And I hereby order you to behave in a seemly fashion, befitting the wife of a governor. To your credit,” he added, “you handled yourself quite well this evening.”
“I said nothing this evening.”
“Precisely.” He crossed the room to extinguish the pine-knot candle.
In the darkness, Catherine slowly walked to her side of the bed and climbed in. Lying abed, she softly addressed him. “Noah, what has changed you? You are not the same man I knew in England. The Noah I knew, the clergyman’s boy, would never lie or cheat or steal. What caused you to turn against the goodness your father instilled in you?”
She heard his snort of derision. “Your brother, for one.”
She sat bolt upright. “You cannot blame your actions on Adam!”
“He cheated me out of what was mine.”
“My father paid your passage over. The land he received for doing so belonged to him. Upon his death, it rightfully passed to Adam. I’ve compensated you with the land I inherited, therefore that score should be settled. Adam is not to blame for your lies or your thievery.”
“I have committed no crime. Now, cease badgering me and go to sleep. I’ve a hard day’s travel ahead of me.”
She said nothing further. As usual, trying to make her husband see reason was useless. She did not believe he would ever be appointed governor. He was arrogant and irrational, and Adam had been exactly right about him. His scheme to become governor was yet one more method to avoid doing his share of honest, hard work. Her only hope for their survival this coming winter was the bargain she’d struck with Adam. Beyond that, she had no notion what was to become of them.