Home of Mickey Minner

This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author.

CHAPTER FOUR

“What do you say we go over there and sit for a while?” Bridget pointed across the wide cultivated field to a line of trees and the inviting shade beneath them. It was almost mid-day and she had been helping to pull weeds since dawn. “I could use some time out of the sun,” she said wiping the sweat off her brow using the sleeve of her dress.

“Tis not allowed.” Harriett did not bother to pause from her work.

“Seems like that’s all I ever hear from you.” Bridget grumbled, tossing aside a dirt clod with a weed clinging to it before pushing herself up from the ground. “Whether it’s allowed or not, I’m going. Haven’t you people every heard of sunstroke?” she asked as she brushed her hands together to rid them of some of the dirt covering them. “Not to mention skin cancer. I haven’t been out in the sun for this long since I was a dumb kid in college.”

Harriett looked up. Pushing her hat back a few inches, she wiped at her sweaty brow and studied Bridget. “Ye speaks many words that are unknown to thee. Why is that so?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because you live four hundred years before my time or maybe because I just like to aggravate you. Now are you coming or not? It’s hotter than Hades out here and I need some shade. Not to mention something to eat. Don’t you ever get hungry?”

“Aye, but thy toils must be finished first. Thy row is almost done and thy husband will want thy midday meal soon.”

“Seems to me he could have taken care of that himself.” Bridget had noticed that Samuel spent the morning hours sitting in the shade of the village buildings talking to other men.

“A man is of no use trying to cook.” Harriett laughed as she returned to her work.

“Seems they’re not much use in the fields either.” Bridget looked down the ruler straight row trying to judge the distance to the end and how long it would take Harriet to reach the end of it compared to the length of time required if both women worked together. “Damn, I always hated those math problems.” She mumbled, dropping to the ground.

“I know not what thee speaks.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Bridget said as she resumed her position opposite Harriett. “Let’s get this done so we can eat.”

“Thy wife speaks well of thy work.”

Bridget was behind the house leaning over a wash bucket trying to scrub her hands and arms clean. “She could use some help.”

“Is that not what ye is providing?”

While working, Harriett had explained that though shared by all members of the village, the large rectangle of cultivated ground was separated with certain rows belonging to each male landowner in the village. The rows that Harriett tended accounted for almost a tenth of the total area of the field.

“I was thinking for when I’m not around.” Bridget frowned. “Why do the other women not help with your rows?”

“A fair question, Brother Bishop.”

Hearing the strange voice, Bridget straightened. Reaching for a small piece of cloth to dry her arms, she warily watched as a man haughtily approached.

“Brother Wellesly.” Samuel acknowledged the visitor, a hint of distrust in his voice. “What matter of business brings ye to my home?”

“There is talk in the village of an un-chaperoned virgin ye welcomed into thy house.”

Bridget snorted.

“Thy wife sees to thee.” Samuel said as he gave Bridget a quizzical look.

“Aye, tis well and good then. Thy wishes only to assure thee is properly attended.”

Harriett opened the rear door of the house intending to call her husband and Bridget inside for the meal she had prepared. Seeing Wellesly, she hesitated.

“Good day to thee,” Wellesly said to Harriett.

“Good day, Brother Wellesly. Will thee share our midday meal?”

“I thank thee but no. Brother Dolan has asked that I share his meal. Brother Dolan’s virgin sister is a fine cook, is thee not?”

Harriett nodded.

“Enjoy thy meal, Brother Wellesly. And thanks to God for providing,” Samuel said, motioning for Bridget to join Harriett inside.

“Thanks to God.” Wellesly waited until Bridget had entered the house before turning to Samuel. “Counsel meets in a fortnight, Brother Bishop. Will ye attend?”

“I have no business to bring before counsel.”

“Thy woman spoke truth. Ye has more field than hands to break thy soil. Is not…?”

“Thy wife waits, Brother Wellesly. As does Brother Dolan.” Samuel turned away to walk to the house.

Wellesly reached out, grabbing Samuel’s arm and stopping him from moving away. “Ye would be wise to attend counsel.”

Samuel looked down at the hand restraining him then up at Wellesly. “Good day, Brother.” His voice was calm but his jaw was clenched and his hands shook at his sides.

Wellesly loosened his grip and let his hand fall free. He glared as Samuel entered the house and closed the door. But he said nothing. After a few moments, he turned and walked away.

“Husband, are thy hurt?” Harriett asked as soon as Samuel shut the door.

“Who is that gorilla?” Bridget asked as she peeked out a window at the front of the house.

“Gorilla?” Harriett looked questioningly at Bridget.

“Oh. I supposed they haven’t been discovered yet, have they?”

“Come away from thy window.” Samuel instructed Bridget then smiled at Harriett. “I am unhurt, wife. Let us give thanks for God’s blessings.”

“So do you plan to tell me what Samuel wouldn’t?” Bridget asked as she and Harriett walked to the far end of another row needing weeding. Samuel had refused to allow any conversation as they ate their meal.

“I know not.”

“Damn.” Bridget kicked at the ground. The dry dirt exploding under the force of the toe of the boot she wore, borrowed from Samuel.

“Hush.” Harriett looked over her shoulder to see if any of the men moving about the village had heard. “Ye must not speak as such. Ye might be thought of a witch.”

“A witch.” Bridget laughed but quickly sobered as she remembered the tragic events surrounding the Salem witch trials. “Shit.” She bit off the word as she too looked over her shoulder. “I forgot you believe in those.”

“Ye does not?”

“I guess we all have some sort of demon to believe in. We just call it different names. You call it witchcraft.”

“And thee?’

Bridget thought before answering. “I call it the Republican party.” She smirked.

Harriett studied her companion. “Ye is different,” she said seriously.

“That I most certainly am.” Bridget grinned.

“Aye.” Harriett smiled.

When they reached the end of the row and began their task of pulling out the unwanted sprouts, Bridget noticed a handful of women had moved to a row not too far away. She hadn’t needed Harriett’s whispered warning not to speak while the women were near, something about the way the women pretended not to notice them called to attention all her internal warning systems.

The women shadowed Bridget and Harriett all afternoon, retreating back to the village only when the pair prepared to return to the house. Bridget was more than a little frustrated at being prevented from questioning Harriett further.

“Praise to God,” Harriett said as she walked away from the house. “He has provided thee clouds to shield as thy toils.”

“Looks like those might be carrying some rain.” Bridget looked skyward at the dark grey clouds, the morning much cooler than the day before.

“A blessing of rain,” Harriett smiled, “for thy crops.”

“Sister Harriett.”

The women turned in the direction the call had come from.

“Sarah?” Harriett dropped her basket and began running across the field.

“Sarah?” Bridget repeated as she watched the women embrace. “Where have I heard that name? And why the hell is everything here so familiar yet so strange? Where the heck are we, Toto?”

“Sister Bridget,” Harriet said as she returned with the other woman. “This is my dear friend, Sister Sarah.”

Bridget couldn’t help but smile at the friendly face gazing at her. “Hi.”

Sarah looked at Harriett, confused by the greeting.

“I told you she was…,” Harriett whispered.

“Different.” Bridget offered an explanation. “Good day to thee.” She tried again.

Sarah smiled. “Good day to thee.”

“Now that we got that out of the way, don’t be expecting me to speak your way too often. My tongue gets all twisted up when I try and I sound stupid.”

“Come. Thy rows will not weed themselves,” Harriett commanded. “Sister Sarah what reason for thy visit?” She asked as they settled to the ground.

“Since thee stands by Brother Samuel’s side, thy days seem empty,” Sarah said as she pulled a weed free.

“I have missed thee too,” Harriett whispered.

CHAPTER FIVE

The preacher’s strong voice reverberated inside the small building and bounced off the plain wood planked walls to surround the villagers with his threats of damnation to any who might dare to disregard his warnings.

Bridget wanted to cover her ringing ears and run screaming out of the church. She had spent the last couple of hours listening to the overly passionate fire and brimstone sermon and was wondering if the long winded preacher would ever run out breath. She squirmed about on the hard wooden bench, trying desperately to find a comfortable position for her numb backside while promising herself that if the sermon didn’t end in the next few minutes, she would get up and walk out of the church even if it meant the wraith of the entire village. So intent was she on her need to escape that she didn’t notice when the preacher ended his sermon and silence claimed the room. It was only when the people around her stood that she realized her silent prayers had finally been answered.

Samuel led Harriet, Sarah and Bridget to the building’s lone door where the preacher now stood on the stone steps accepting the gratitude of the villages as they left the church.

“Thank thee, Brother Dolan. Thy words are true as always.”

The preacher acknowledged the statement with a nod. “Thy will do well to spend the day of Sabbath reflecting, Brother Bishop. Thy name has been spoken as one who may be tempted.”

“Thy faith is true, Brother Dolan.”

“To reap more than is thy due can be a sign.”

Samuel tensed. “I must escort thy wife home. Thanks to our Lord.”

“Thanks to our Lord,” Dolan said loudly then lowered his voice. “Heed thy ways. The eye of a witch may indeed follow thee.”

Harriett heard the warning. She glared at the preacher but said nothing as Samuel took her arm and guided her away from the church.

“What did that mean?” Bridget asked as she and Sarah followed.

“Hush,” Sarah whispered as she quickened her steps to keep pace with Samuel and Harriet. “Speak not.”

“Speak not.” Bridget muttered as she lagged behind. “I’ll catch up with you later,” she called to the others. “I think I’ll take a walk.”

Sarah turned around and hurried back to Bridget. “Thy must come.”

“But I need to think. Walking helps.”

“No. It is the Sabbath. Tis is ….”

“Not allowed.” Bridget finished. “Seems that’s all I ever hear around here. Don’t you guys ever get tired of all this negativity? Wonder how we can liven this place up, Toto?” she asked aloud as she fell into step with Sarah.

“Who is Toto?”

Bridget looked up from the washboard she was using to scrub one of Samuel’s shirts. “Who?”

“Toto. Thy speaks often of thee.” Sarah was hanging a clean nightshirt on a rope strung between two poles.

“Oh, him.” Bridget smiled. “A dog.”

Sarah turned and stared at Bridget. “Thy talks to a dog?”

“Why not? He’s the only one in this village who doesn’t tell me to speak not.” Bridget returned to her washing. It was the morning after the Sabbath and she and Sarah had been assigned to do the week’s washing while Harriet cleaned the hut. Not that the spotless home needed cleaning. But like the washing, it was always done the day after the Sabbath. “Besides, he’s not a real dog.”

“Thy speaks to an imaginary dog.” Sarah’s eyes grew wider at the strange declaration.

Bridget chuckled at the look on Sarah’s face. “It’s not what you’re thinking.”

“Does thee know my thoughts too?” Sarah asked. “Are thee a witch?”

“No. What is with you people and witches? Anything you can’t explain, you chalk up to witchcraft?”

“Ye should not speak lightly of those that would tempt us from our faith.”

“You started it.” Bridget wrung out the shirt, squeezing as much soap from it as she could before dropping it into the tub of clean water beside her. She leaned backward, stretching the tired back muscles. “What I would do for a washing machine right about now.”

“A what?”

“Never mind.” Bridget studied her companion as Sarah returned to hanging the clean laundry. “I’m not sure you’ll understand but Toto is a character in a mov…” She stopped herself. There was no way she’d be able to explain something like a movie to the seventeenth century woman. “A story. It’s called Somewhere Over the Rainbow,” she said, deciding that using the real title of Wizard of Oz probably wouldn’t be smart in a conversation that had already included witches. “It’s about a girl who gets caught up in a whirlwind and transported to a land that is strange to her. Her dog goes along for the ride.”

“And thy feels like this girl?”

“Yeah. I guess I do.”

“Did she talk to her dog?”

“All the time.”

“I think I understand.” With no more items to hang, Sarah walked over to Bridget. “Would thee like to change?”

“I’d love a break.” Bridget relinquished the stool in front of the bucket and washboard. Her back ached and, as she stood, she rubbed the tight muscles trying to release their knots. When that didn’t work, she bent at the waist and stretched. Straightening back up, she looked past the hut to the village and spied Samuel walking out of the meeting hall where he had gone immediately after the morning meal. “I wonder what that’s about,” she said when Wellesly followed Samuel outside.

Sarah turned just in time to see Wellesly grab Samuel by the shoulder and spin him around. She quickly turned back to her washing.

“You know, don’t you?” Bridget asked as she watched the two men exchange words. She couldn’t hear what was being said but the men’s body language told her it wasn’t a friendly exchange.

“Tis not for me to speak.”

“Look, I don’t care if it’s for you to speak or not. Something is going on here and, for whatever reason, I’ve been dumped smack dab in the middle of it. Samuel won’t talk about it. Harriet won’t talk about it. But I need some answers.” Bridget grabbed a second stool and set it in front of the tub of cleaned clothing. “And you’re going to give them to me,” she said, sitting determinedly on the stool.

Sarah smiled at Bridget. “Ask.”

Taken aback by the unexpected and sudden capitulation, Bridget opened her mouth to speak then shut it. “Why do I get the feeling your surprise visit to see Harriett was as unplanned as you claim?”

“Harriett knew nothing of my coming.”

“I wasn’t talking about Harriett.” From where she sat, Bridget had an unobstructed view into the village. She sat quietly watching Samuel and Wellesly continue their exchange as several men came out of the meeting hall and literally dragged both men back inside.

“If thee no longer wishes to pose questions, ye shall help Sister Harriett. Thy chore here is close to done and does not require both our toils,” Sarah said as Bridget remained silent.

“Oh, no you don’t. I’m not going anywhere until I get some answers.” Bridget focused her attention on Sarah. She frowned. Was that a look of bemusement on the young woman’s face? That would be a question for later. For now, there were more important answers she sought. “Let’s start with Wellesly. What does he have against Samuel? And where does the council fit in?

“Ye have already seen that Brother Samuel has more rows than others in the cultivated fields. To some, like Brother Wellesly, tis unfair for a man to own what he is unable to put into our Lord’s service.”

Bridget had noticed how almost half of the rows assigned to Samuel were left unseeded. “That would not happen if the other women would help Harriett.”

“Aye. They toil not beside Harriett.”

“Why not? They seem to work on all the rows except Harriett’s.”

“Their reasons are born of fear. They find it easier to obey the tyrant than to suffer with the oppressed. ”

“Can you stop all the convoluted crap and just tell me what the hell is going on?”

Sarah smiled and nodded. Picking up the last item of clothing needing scrubbing, she gathered her thoughts.

“In our homeland, Brother Samuel’s father holds an important position as advisor to the King and the Bishop crest flies over a land grant that is quite large with flowing rivers and fertile ground. Brother Wellesly’s father is not so favored by the King. Some generations ago, their family’s roles were reversed but when a plot against the King’s life was discovered and the plotters imprisoned…”

“Wellesly’s family was part of the plot?”

“Not officially. None that bore the Wellesly name was ever imprisoned but the possibility of their involvement has been whispered ever since. What is known is that the Wellesly crest was removed from the King’s favor and the Bishop crest hung in its stead. The two families have been at odds ever since.”

“So that is why Samuel has so much more land?”

“To encourage settlement in the colonies, the King grants ownership of land. A man’s status in the homeland and his family standing with the King determines how much land he will be granted.”

“And Samuel was granted more than Wellesly.”

“Yes.”

“I still don’t understand. Why was Wellesly so intent on Samuel attending council?”

“It is expected, for the good of the entire settlement, that a man will seed all his rows. The survival of the settlement depends on this.”

“And Samuel doesn’t seed all of his.”

Sarah nodded.

“But the village doesn’t appear to be suffering. In fact, there is excess food to sell in other settlements.”

“Yes. And if it wasn’t for Brother Wellesly, none would speak of it.”

“But Wellesly wants what Samuel has?”

“The feud is deeply rooted.”

“Can the council take Samuel’s land?”

“No. But a man who is unable to seed all his rows can offer to share.”

“And Wellesly wants Samuel to do that?”

“Yes.”

“We’re not just taking rows in the fields are we?”

“The rows represent the land grants. The ground around the settlement is divided in proportions equal to the rows. To give up a row…”

“Means you also give up an equal portion of your grant.”

Sarah nodded.

“So Wellesly is trying to get a chunk of Samuel’s total grant. The more land you own, the more important you are in the settlement. And by taking the land away from Samuel, he would somehow regain some of what his family lost.”

Again, Sarah nodded.

“That’s absurd. What would a few more acres here do to restore Wellesly’s family name?”

“We may be separated from the homeland by a sea but what happens here does carry weight. If Brother Wellesly should become the largest land owner in the settlement, he would become the Selectman and the King’s representative.”

“And if he returned to England, the King would have to acknowledge him. I get it now. But can’t he just claim some of the un-granted land that surrounds the settlement?”

“That land belongs to the King.”

“I think the First Nation tribes might argue that point.”

“First Nation?”

“Indians.”

“Ah. Perhaps. But that argument is for another time; is it not?”

“Probably.” Bridget said absently as she mulled over Sarah’s information. “Is there no other way for someone to gain more land than what was granted?”

“Only one.”

“And that is?”

“If a man dies and his widow does not remarry within six months, his land is divided equally amongst the other landowners.”

“And if she does remarry?”

“Her new husband will assume ownership.”

“Nice.” Bridget sneered at the thought of a woman mourning the death of her husband being forced to remarry in such a short time. And under such circumstances. “What a minute.” Bridget turned to face Sarah. “That means if Wellesly is truly after Samuel’s land, all he has to do…”

“Exactly.”

The back door of the hut opened and Harriett appeared. “Have you seen Samuel?” she asked, worry written all over her face.

“Brother Samuel remains with thee council,” Sarah answered.

“Is thy washing not yet complete?” Harriett asked as she stepped down to the ground and walked to the corner of the hut.

As Sarah turned to watch Harriett, she saw Samuel exit the meeting hall and walk briskly toward them. “Thee should walk to meet thy husband. Sister Bridget and I will finish our toils.” When Harriett walked out of listening range, Sarah turned to Bridget. “She fears for Samuel.”

“Because of Wellesly?”

“Enough talk. Hurry and get those hung to dry before Samuel returns.”

Sarah stood abruptly and walked to the hut before Bridget could say anything further. It was only after she disappeared inside that Bridget realized the woman had been speaking in non-Puritan vernacular. “Think if I click my heels together, I’ll go home, Toto?”

CHAPTER SIX

“What is this important gathering that Harriett had to attend?” Bridget asked Sarah.

It was early morning and the pair was working along a row pulling out weeds and looking for bugs that fed on the growing sprouts. They had been walking to the field of crops with Harriett when a young boy had run up to them with a message that Harriett was required to go immediately to the meeting hut.

“Tis a meeting of the women that stand beside a husband. They have been asked to give counsel to Sister Faith.”

“She’s Brother Dolan’s sister?”

“Aye.”

“Why does she need counsel?”

“Brother Wellesly has requested she stand beside him. She must decide.”

“He wants to marry her?”

“Aye.”

“But she can say no?”

“Aye.”

“And the meeting?”

“She will be counseled as to the wisdom she should agree.”

Bridget concentrated on pulling weeds for a few minutes. “I take it Sister Faith isn’t too keen on marrying Wellesly.”

“He is an over-bearing man.”

Bridget chuckled. “That is one way to describe him. It seems that most in the village are afraid of him, which I don’t understand. He doesn’t own very much land. He doesn’t sit on the council. So why does anyone care what he does or thinks or says? He has no power that I can see.”

Sarah did not pause in her weeding as she answered. “Brother Dolan represents the King.”

Bridget leaned back, stretching her tired back. “Brother Dolan is the village Selectman?”

“Aye.”

“No wonder Wellesly wants to marry his sister.” Bridget twisted around to look toward the village buildings. “Think they’ll talk her into it?” she asked.

“It is my wish… for Harriett’s sake.”

Rested her arms, Bridget set down the buckets of water she had carried from the creek. It was late afternoon and she would be very glad to see the last row of crops watered so she and Sarah could return to Samuel’s and Harriett’s hut and get out of the hot sun. She watched as Sarah carefully ladled water around each individual plant.

“Looks like the meeting is finally over,” Bridget said bending over to lift a bucket and carry it to Sarah.

“The bell is not rung. Tis not bode well.”

“What?” Bridget set the bucket down beside Sarah.

“The church bell is not ringing.”

“And that means?”

“There is no news to celebrate.”

“Faith turned down the proposal?”

“Aye.”

“Wellesly won’t like that.”

Sarah dipped the ladle into the bucket, filling it with the cool creek water. Lifting the ladle, she offered it to Bridget.

“Thanks.” Bridget drank slowly, keeping her eyes on the village where Harriett and the other married women of the village were exiting the meeting hut. “Uh, oh,” she handed the ladle back to Sarah, “here comes Wellesly. And he doesn’t look happy,” she said as she spotted the man rapidly approaching the women.

“Tis no bell I hear,” Wellesly said disbelieving as he marched up to the meeting hut to confront the woman he was expecting to marry. “Am I to believe thou has failed to find me acceptable?”

Faith Dolan looked around, hoping desperately that some of the women would come to her defense. When none stepped forward, she turned to face the angry man before her. “I mean thee no contempt.”

“Yet thee spurns me.”

“Brother Wellesly, tis forbidden to question thy choice.” Brother Dolan had been summoned from the church.

“Thy sister disgraces my offer.”

“As is her right.”

“Thee condones such insult?”

“Tis no insult to speak thy heart. Ye must ask another to stand beside thee.”

Wellesly glared at Dolan. “Ye promised her hand.” He said angrily. “Thou should force council to continue.”

“I cannot.”

“Ye must.”

“Brother Wellesly.” Samuel had been speaking quietly to Harriett. “Sister Faith listened to council and chose to say nay. Ye shall respect…”

Wellesly spun around. “Tis you’re doing.” He shouted at Samuel. “Ye fail to share thy land which thee has no hands to toil.”

“I pray that has no bearing on Sister Faith.” Samuel said.

“Tis simple to say when thy grant is large but unused.”

“Brother Wellesly, ye must not speak such.” Dolan tried to calm the angry man. “To do so, doubts the King.”

“Tis a family trait.” Richard Calvin muttered. He and several other men had now joined the crowd outside the meeting hut.

“Tis true.” Another man added.

“What are thou saying?” Wellesly asked, surprised but not shocked by the accusations that had dogged his family for years. “I am steadfast to our King.”

“Tis family banner does not grace the King’s wall.” Calvin answered. “Tis good reason for Sister Faith to question thy worth.”

“Do not speak such lies.” Wellesly threatened.

“Please. Give pause to thy words,” Dolan said to both men.

“I shall not.” Calvin crossed his arms over his chest and stood his ground.

“Ye shall regret…” Wellesly took a step toward the other man.

“Pause.” Samuel stepped between the two men. “Tis not right to speak thus. Brother Dolan, ye are the King’s man.” He implored the Selectman to intervene.

“Brother Samuel speaks true. Tis wrong to make conflict between us. Sister Faith has chosen. Brother Wellesly, ye must accept. Tis other maidens to stand beside thee.”

Wellesly glared at Dolan. Then, without speaking, he turned and stormed away.

“Nightfall approaches.” Dolan spoke to the villagers. “Return to thy homes.”

“And Brother Wellesly?” Calvin asked. “Thee spoke of violence against another.”

“I shall pray with Brother Wellesly,” Dolan said. “May he bear witness to thy wrongs.”

“It is a matter for council,” Calvin continued. “Thy grant is forfeit.”

“Thee speaks too soon,” Samuel interjected. “No violence was actually spoken. And none acted.”

“Brother Samuel speaks truth. The matter shall drop. Return to thy homes and give blessing for thy day.”

As the villagers followed Dolan’s instructions, Samuel walked back to Harriett.

“Darkness descends,” Harriett whispered when Samuel rejoined her.

CHAPTER SEVEN

“Wake.” Harriett gently shook Bridget from her dreams.

“What’s wrong?” Bridget asked groggily.

“Hush. Speak not.” Harriett continued in a whisper. “Tis time.”

“Time for what?” Bridget asked, sitting up and rubbing her eyes. It was pitch black in the small room where she slept on the floor, a lumpy grass filled mattress and threadbare blanket her only protection against the cold.

“Speak not. Come quickly.”

Unable to see in the dark, Bridget allowed Harriett to pull her up and lead her across the room. She heard the familiar squeak as the hut’s door opened and she felt a cool blast of night air rush into the building. She looked at the rectangular opening which, unblocked by the door, appeared a lighter shade of black from the walls surrounding it. As she watched, the shadowy shape of a man filled the opening.

Bridgett felt Harriett’s fingers entwine with her own.

“John Carpenter Wellesly, you have invaded the home of another.” Harriett’s voice announced in the darkness.

“Who defies me?”

“It matters not. You have come to do harm and I will not allow that.”

Bridget felt a strange sensation where her hand was clasped by Harriett’s. Confused, she stood frozen in place as the sensation moved up her arm.

“I seek only what is thy due.”

“The soul of my husband shall no longer suffer your fate.”

Bridget was frightened. Not by the presence of Wellesly but by the odd feeling that somehow her body was merging with Harriett’s.

“Shall a woman keep me from my due? I think not.” Wellesly laughed.

Bridget heard Wellesly’s words. Then she felt her own lips move to reply. “I have lived without my husband long enough. It is time I returned to his side.”

“What are you talking about?” Wellesly asked. “Who speaks?” The dark night prevented him from witnessing the bodies of Bridget and Harriett merging.

The strange sensation Bridget was experiencing had now spread throughout her body and was traveling down her other arm to cover her hand all the way to her fingertips.

“It is past the time for flight. You have come to take my husband’s life. I shall take yours instead.

“Wellesly laughed nervously. “How can thee know my thoughts?”

“Do you deny your deadly intentions?” The words were coming from her mouth but Bridget was powerless to stop them.

“Samuel would have done well to bow to council. Thy rows are untended and fallow. Thy grant is large but thy need is small.”

“So you come to take what is not yours?”

“I come to take my due.”

“And you would have me stand by you after you murder my husband?”

“Others share thy house.”

“You would blame another for your deed?”

“I would.”

“No,” Bridgett said. “This time you shall pay with your life.”

“Thou but a fool if ye seek to stop me.” Wellesly raised his arm, starlight reflected off the head of the axe he held. “Ye have no weapon to stop me.”

“I need none.”

Wellesly surged forward. He swept at the darkness in front of him with the axe, determined to cut down the woman who stood between him and his intended victim.

Bridget moved at Harriett’s command and sidestepped out of Wellesly’s path.

Unable to see, Wellesly tripped over the box that had mysteriously been placed directly in front of him. He landed on the floor with a heavy thud.

Bridget reached down. Picking up the axe that had been knocked free from Wellesly hand, she lifted it high above her head. “May your family be scorned for eternity.” She swore the oath then swung the axe down with all her strength on the head of the man that lay at her feet.

Bridget passed out.

Sarah waved her hand over the wick of a candle. A bright flame flickered, dispelling the darkness. “Is she harmed?”

“She is well.” Harriett smiled.

“Time is short,” Sarah said as she peeked out the window toward the village.

“What happened?” Bridget moaned. She shook her head, attempting to clear her thoughts. Slowly, her memory of the night’s events returned. She looked around the room. “Oh, shit,” she said when she saw the axe sticking out of Wellesly’s head. “I killed him.”

“No.” Harriett said, calmly.

“That’s right.” Bridget’s head whipped around to face Harriett. “You killed him. But…? How…? Why…?”

The sounds of worried voices shouting in the night were heard coming from the village.

“There’s no time. They’re coming.” Sarah turned away from the window.

“No time for what? Who’s coming?” Bridget tried to push herself off the floor but her hand slipped in something warm and wet. She looked down. “Oh, double shit with cherries on top!” Her hands were red with blood and the sticky liquid was seeping into her nightshirt.

The voices were getting closer and even in her confused and muddled state of mind, Bridget heard the sound of boots striking the hard-packed dirt on the path leading to the hut.

“It is done.” Sarah said as she faded from sight.

“Trust in love,” Harriett told Bridget.

Bridget watched as the woman faded into nothing. “I think our goose is cooked, Toto,” she said as Dolan and Calvin burst into the hut.

Bridget sat on the hard cot that was the only furnishing in the otherwise empty room. Her bare feet rested on the rough floor, shackles encircling both ankles. A thick chain connected the shackles to an iron ring bolted to the log floor. “Oh, boy.” She muttered.

Dolan had ordered her arrest after discovering Wellesly dead and Bridget covered in blood. In the days since, she had been escorted each morning to the meeting hut where her punishment was debated. All assumed her guilt and none had spoken in her defense. Even Harriett and Samuel denied any knowledge of the night’s events, claiming they had awakened to the grisly scene only after hearing Wellesly fall.

Bridget waited. She could hear the angry voices of the villages on the other side of the cell’s walls and more than a few were discussing her impeding death. She thought back over the events of the previous days. How had she ended up in this place? And why?

“Dismal, isn’t it?”

Bridget turned to see Sarah materializing beside her. “Are you for real?”

“As real as you are.”

“Sorry.” Bridget shook her head. “I don’t fade in and out.”

“No. You don’t.”

“I don’t suppose you’re here to explain what the hell is going on,” Bridget asked, scooting back on the cot to lean against the wall.

“You’re about to die.” Sarah scooted back to copy Bridget’s more comfortable position.

“Swell. We’re definitely in deep doo-doo, Toto. Well, I’ve been meaning to lose a few pounds.”

Sarah smiled. “It’s not that bad.”

“Easy for you to say.”

“Yes.”

Memories flooded Bridget’s mind. “The diary. Why couldn’t I remember before?”

“We didn’t want you to.”

“We?”

“Harriett.”

“The explanation?”

“Ah.” Sarah squirmed about on the hard cot then settled. “It’s a little complicated.”

“I think I can handle it.”

“Yes.” Sarah smiled. “That is why you were worth waiting for.”

“I’m listening.”

“Samuel’s murder was unexpected.”

Bridget looked questioningly at Sarah.

“Let’s just say we’ve learned a lot in the past three hundred years,” Sarah shrugged.

“You didn’t know Wellesly would do anything to gain Samuel’s land?”

“We knew he wanted Samuel’s land. We didn’t know he would actually act upon that.”

“Not even after Faith turned down his proposal?”

“No. There were others in the village that would have suited him for a wife.”

“But the feud between the Welleslys and Bishops?”

“It had been hoped that it was left behind in England.”

“False hopes, uh?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“But aren’t you.... And Harriett…. Witches?”

“Yes. But that doesn’t allow us to see into another’s heart. Besides… Like I said, it’s complicated.”

“So uncomplicated it.”

“Three hundred years ago, Harriett and I were new to the coven. Our powers were not strong.”

“So you weren’t able to invade another’s body back then?”

“No.” Sarah sighed. “You know?”

“I generally don’t go around burying axes into people’s heads. No matter how much I dislike them.”

“I’m sorry. It was necessary.”

“I’m sure.” Bridget frowned.

“Harriett was devastated when Samuel was killed.”

“She must love him very much to wait three hundred years to get him back.”

“She does.”

“But you were pressed to death. Are you saying you didn’t really die? I’ve seen your grave.”

“No. I died. But….”

“I know, it’s complicated.”

“Harriett visited me the night before my….”

Bridget reached out and placed her hand over Sarah’s. “You don’t have to say it.”

“Thank you.”

“So Harriett came to see you?”

“Yes. We knew that I could survive my punishment but to do so would prove me a witch.”

“Guess that wasn’t something you wanted to do back then, uh?”

“Not if we could avoid it. Harriett said it would be best for me to die and wait.”

“Wait for what?”

Sarah hesitated.

“This is the complicated part?”

Sarah grinned. “Love.”

“Love?”

“Harriett loved Samuel.”

“But?”

“I loved Harriett.”

“Ah.”

“It was a love never to be.”

“Especially not at that time.”

“Exactly.”

“Did… Does Harriett know?”

“Yes. But as she knew my love for her would never be fulfilled, she knew someday I would meet a woman I could love.”

“And that would be?”

“You.” Sarah lifted Bridget’s hand to her heart. “You didn’t save Samuel’s life when you allowed Harriett to kill Wellesly. You saved mine.”

“Oh, boy. Now you’ve really got me confused.” Bridget twisted so she could face Sarah, but she left her hand firmly in the grasp of the other woman. “Let me get this straight… You somehow found me three hundred years from now and transported me back in time so that I could save your life. And in the process, I also save Samuel’s life and help kill another man so Harriett and Samuel can be back together. Now, I’m about to be put to death for committing murder. Just how does this work out so that you can fall in love with me and we can live happily ever after?”

“Do you trust me?”

“No.”

Sarah laughed. “Guess I had that one coming.”

“Yes, you did.”

“Ok. Trust me or not. You have to face your punishment in the morning.”

“And then?”

“All I can say is-- we will meet again.”

“When? Where?”

“You have to trust me.”

“No I don’t.”

“This is a beautiful ring.” Sarah studied the piece of jewelry on Bridget’s finger.

“It’s a family heirloom.” Bridget smiled, remembering the day her mother had placed the ring on her finger.

“How old is it?”

“We’ve never been sure but the family has always guessed that it was at least a couple hundred years old.”

“You’re very lucky to have it.”

“Sarah?”

“Yes?”

“I’m scared.”

Sarah wrapped her arms around the trembling woman. “I promise you won’t feel any pain.”

“Will you be there?”

“If you want.”

“I want.”

“Tis time.”

Bridget’s eyes popped open. She was surprised to be lying on the cot, covered by a blanket. Sarah was gone. She wasn’t too surprised by that. Her eyes drifted to the door as it was pushed open and two men entered.

“Stand.”

Bridget did as she was instructed.

One of the men knelt to unlock the shackles around her ankle. The chain clanked loudly as it was pulled free of the iron ring.

Bridget was led outside.

Bridget’s heart was beating so fast she was sure it would burst out of her chest at any moment. She heard a thud as another stone was added to the board pressing her into the ground. “Sarah?”

“I’m here.”

With difficulty, Bridget rolled her head to see who had spoken. She felt warm arms wrap protectively around her and a sense of calm chased away the panic that had gripped her just seconds before. Soft lips kissed her forehead and she sighed.

“Do you trust me?” Sarah asked.

“Yes.”

“We will meet again.”

“I believe you.”

“Good.”

“How will I know you?”

Sarah reached down for Bridget’s hand and pulled it up to her lips. “You’ll know.” She lovingly kissed each finger.

“Take my ring.”

“Why?”

“I trust you but I want to be sure.”

Sarah laughed. “You are everything Sam said you were and more.”

“Sam?”

“Harriett and Samuel’s great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great grandson. The one you met in the graveyard.”

“The one who took me to your grave?”

“Yes.”

“So he did know more than he was willing to tell me.”

“He knew to watch for you.”

“We have much to talk about.”

“Another time.”

“Take my ring.”

Sarah pulled the ring free and placed it on the ring finger of her right hand.

“Happy?”

“Very.”

Sarah leaned forward and pressed her lips to Bridget’s.

As she returned the kiss, Bridget tapped her heels together. “Time to go home, Toto.”

“It is done,” Dolan pronounced.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Bridget groaned. She rolled onto her side to escape the bright sunlight shining in her eyes.

Sunlight?

Bright sunlight?

Bridget shot up in the bed. The hard cot was gone. She was back in the room at the bed and breakfast sitting on a thick mattress and covered in warm quilts. “Hot damn, Toto. I think it worked.”

A soft tapping was heard from the door.

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry to bother you, Miss Donovan, but it’s much later than you usually get up. I was concerned you might not be feeling well.”

“I feel fine, Mrs. Nolen. Great, actually. I’ll be down for breakfast in a few minutes. Um, that is, if it’s not too late.”

“No, not at all. I’ll put a fresh pot of coffee on.”

“Thanks.”

Bridget bounced down the stairs, enjoying the smell of fresh bacon, eggs, toast and coffee coming from the dining room. She sat in the first chair available and reached for the platter in the middle of the table.

“You must have slept well.”

“Yes, I did.” Bridget answered without looking up. “Had the strangest dream though.”

“Oh? I guess that explains why you called me Mrs. Nolen.”

“What do you mean? You are Mrs. Nolen, aren’t you?” Bridget saw a cup of coffee being place beside her. The hand that held the cup was adorned with a ring. Her grandmother’s ring. She dropped the platter. “Sarah?” she asked, grabbing the hand.

“The one and only.”

Bridget looked up at the woman standing beside her. “It is you.”

“Yes. It’s me.”

Bridget walked beside Sarah as they made their way through the forest to the copse of trees that protected the grave. She was unsure what they would find when they arrived but Sarah had been insistent that they go. She led Sarah to the narrow opening between tree trunks. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Yes. Quit worrying.”

“Well, it has to be strange to see you own grave.”

“It’s not mine anymore,” Sarah said as she ducked under a branch and entered the tree tomb.

“What?”

“It’s theirs.” Sarah was standing by the grave, a smile on her face as she gazed down at the carefully tended mound of dirt.

Bridget stepped beside Sarah and read the tombstone.

Samuel and Harriett Bishop.
May their love last an eternity.

“But?”

“Samuel was mortal. Harriett chose to stay with him.”

“She really loved him.”

“Yes.”

“Why couldn’t she just kill Wellesly herself?”

“Well, um…”

“I know, I know. It’s complicated.”

Sarah chuckled. “No, not really. She wasn’t sure she could do it herself. She needed your strength.”

“My strength?”

“To send you back in time three hundred years took all the power we both possessed. Harriett was weakened by that and needed your strength. Your hand struck the blow but it was Harriett’s will that caused it.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“No. But as time passes, the memories will fade and soon you won’t remember anything about those days.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing.”

“What about you?”

“We build memories starting today.”

“Good plan.”

“Shall we go back? Sam will be here soon to tend the grave.”

“All right. But explain one thing to me. When I left, Mrs. Nolen owned the bed and breakfast. What happened to her?”

“Wellesly never had children, hence…”

“No Mrs. Nolen.”

“So the bed and breakfast?”

“Belongs to the Bishop family. Sam owns it and I run it.”

“What else has changed because of all this?”

“Oh, not much. We can talk about it on our way back.”

“Uh, oh, Toto. Why do I get the feeling I may not like what you have to say?”

“I haven’t a clue.” Sarah smirked as she pulled Bridget into an embrace. “Don’t you trust me?”

“No.”

“Quit worrying and kiss me.”

THE END