“I’ll take care of him,” Amy promised, grabbing his hand and squeezing it.
“I’ll help her,” Emily added.
William loved them both. They weren’t his blood daughters. Despite their horrible upbringing, they had grown into compassionate, loving girls. He hated to deny them anything, yet he knew that without a horse, he would need their aid to work the fields. He glanced at his wife, Agnes, and saw the anguish in her eyes. She knew he had no choice. William squeezed Amy’s hand, feeling a mixture of sorrow and love. “I’ll need your help to maintain the farm. You won’t have time to tend a lame horse.”
“I will,” Amy insisted, her eyes brimming with unshed tears.
He shook his head and glanced at his eldest child. “Jacob, fetch me the dagger, son.”
“Father, we came to tell you that Peter is bringing a package for you,” Jacob said, his brow furrowed as he eyed Amy’s tearful face.
“What type of package?” William asked, confused. He had not ordered anything from the blacksmith.
“I don’t know,” Jacob answered, handing William a bag. “But he said to give this to you. It was part of the package.”
Scowling, William took the bag. He shot a look of confusion at Agnes, who mirrored his expression. William turned his back on the lame horse and tugged the string on the bag. He reached inside and pulled out a piece of paper with an etching of a hawk in flight. Further confusion furrowed his brow deeper, and he shoved his hand back into the bag, his fingers rummaging around the bottom of the sack. His fingers found cool metal coins. A lot of them. He grabbed one and pulled it out.
His eyes widened in shock. It was a gold coin.
He heard a muffled gasp and raised his eyes to Agnes, who stared in disbelief at the treasure between his fingers.
The distant thud of hoofbeats drew his attention. He shaded his eyes against the brilliant sunlight to see Peter, the blacksmith, riding one horse and leading three others. With a broad grin, Peter lifted his straw hat in the air, waving it in greeting.
William swallowed hard. Horses? Gold? His chest tightened in happiness, and tears rose in his eyes. He wrapped his hand around the drawing of the hawk, crunching it in his fist, and put his balled hand to his lips. Tears of joy overflowed from his eyes. His children would never want for anything. Their fields would be tended. Amy would be able to care for the injured horse.
Agnes launched herself into his arms, holding him and weeping with joy. Jacob and the girls embraced them with love.
They were saved. The Hawkes had saved them.
Vivian’s heart pounded as she watched the rider approach the cottage. She tightened her grip on the small bag of coins, the only thing they had to offer as payment for the tithe. She knew it wasn’t enough, and her stomach churned in fear. She had to find a way to convince the tax collector to grant them more time to come up with the payment. She held her breath, hoping against hope that he would be understanding.
Even though she couldn’t collect all of the tithe, Vivian knew she was one of the lucky ones—she could at least pay part of it. She knew other farmers who had nothing to give. She wished she could aid them, but there was nothing she could do. It had been a difficult year for everyone with the unrelenting rains.
Her mother, Sybil, was sick and could not help this year. But it hadn’t mattered because the endless rains had decimated the wheat field.
Vivian bowed her head and swallowed hard, her fear almost tangible. Would the tax collector take her away, or even worse, take Emma or Cassie as payment? They were only twelve and thirteen summers. She felt sick at the thought but knew it was possible and had sent the girls to the far field to check on the flooding. She licked her lips as the man drew closer and dismounted. With a deep breath, she stepped forward, ready to meet him, hoping he would be gone before the girls returned.
He stood tall, with a thin line of a mouth and strict eyes. His aura of authority made her hesitate, and her negotiation plan flew from her mind. Her stomach clenched, and dread slithered up her spine as she heard the high-pitched squealing of the girls playing.
Vivian spotted them heading across the field toward them and held the bag out to the man with trembling fingers. “I know this isn’t all of it, but I promise to get the rest. I just need time.”
He scowled as his eyes dropped to the sack.
A chill clawed down her spine as she darted a final glance at the girls. She shoved the bag forward and begged, “Please, just a little more time.”
The man’s gaze swept the children as they ran toward them.
Vivian’s voice trembled, pleading desperately, “Please. A little more time.”
“I’m not here for—”
“Mother!” Cassie called from a distance.
Vivian shook. “Please, they’re innocent. They don’t know anything about this. Please.”
The man’s face crumpled into an even deeper scowl.
Vivian’s vision blurred as her tears threatened to spill. She silently implored him to accept what she had to offer, but his hands remained at his sides. She shook her head. “I’ll give you anything else. I have some pottery. Maybe—”
