"The Quaker had been waiting for you to come down the street. He saw you fall and killed Dundoff. He brought you here in a wagon."
"But that doesn't explain how you got here. You were supposed to wait for me across the river." She moved slowly to a sitting position. "How did you know so soon? How did you get here?" She gazed out the tiny window where the winter sunlight came pouring into the room. It couldn't have been any later than ten in the morning.
"I couldn't go back across the river after I left you. I sent a message to Colonel Haslet saying I would wait for you here. I stayed in the woods until dark and then met the boy here at the house. I knew you'd come sooner or later."
"I'm glad you're here." She glanced up at him quickly. "I mean . . . I would have been all right if you hadn't come, but I'm glad you did." Feeling dizzy, she laid her head on his chest again, smoothing his torn shirt with her hand.
"Ah, Cassie . . ." Devon sighed, staring out the small window, brushing at a wisp of her hair. "Sometimes I wish you wouldn't be all right without me." He paused, finding it difficult to express what he meant. "Sometimes I wish you'd depend on me a little more. I wish you needed me."
She pushed on his chest, bringing her face to his. "Of course I need you, Devon." She kissed his mouth, then kissed it again. "What would make you say that?' She ran her fingers over the raven stubble of his beard, noticing the dark circles beneath his eyes. She knew he'd gone without sleep last night.
He gave a snort. "What would make me say it? Good God, Cassie! Is there anything you can't do?" He demonstrated with a hand. "You shoot, you hunt, you doctor. Blast it, woman, you can load and fire a cannon!" He sighed loudly, beginning to wonder if he should have just kept his mouth shut. "The truth is, you got a way of making a man feel pretty inadequate around you."
She moistened her dry lips. "That's foolishness. Being able to shoot a cannon doesn't make a man a man, or me any less a woman!" She tapped his chest. "It's what's in here. I can't believe you're worried about what kind of man I think you are!"
"It's just you're so damned self-sufficient! What do you need me for, except to warm your bed? Look at you, you're fighting in the army and spying on the British. Saints in hell, General Washington will probably give you a pension after the war. I'll be lucky if I get one!"
Controlling the smile that tugged at her lips, Cassie stroked his set jaw. "I need you to love me, Devon Marsh." Her voice dropped to a low hum and she eased her head onto his chest again. "I can take care of myself because I've had to. Growing up I had no nursemaid, no big house with servants and plenty of family to love me. Life was hard with Paddie and it made me hard. But it made me a survivor."
"But I can care for you now. I have a home, servants to wait on you. You don't have to be here, Cas. I don't want you here."
She exhaled slowly. "I'm not doin' this for my health, sweet. You think I like getting shot?" She chose her words carefully, trying to make him understand her love for him. "I'm here because I love you. Because you love Marshview and this is the only way I know how to help." She searched his dark eyes for understanding. "Don't you see, Devon? If you lose this war, if you lose Marshview, I'll not have the man I married. I can't bear to see you hurt. I won't let this army of yours lose, not as long as there's still breath in my body."
Devon stroked her back through the borrowed cotton gown, massaging her bruised shoulders. "You're not like anyone I've ever met, Cassie."
"Do I make sense to you? Do you understand why I'm here?"
"You've never made much sense. But I think I understand." he answered thoughtfully. "Now, tell me what you've found out, if you're not too worn to talk. We've got to get the information across the river to General Washington."
"So why can't I pass it myself?" Cassie's head bobbed up to stare him in the face.
"I—" He had started to say she was too injured to travel, but bit back his words. If he and Cassie were going to make a life together, he was going to have to stop treating her the way he had been taught to treat women. Cassie was his equal. "I suppose you can, if you feel up to it."
"I'm just a little bruised." She snuggled against him. "Feed me some of that bacon I smell frying, then stay with me while I take a nap and I'll be ready to move out in a few hours. I'd forgotten what it felt like to sleep in a real bed." she added sleepily." . . . 'Specially with you . . ."
"Cassie." Devon ducked inside the tent and scrambled for his flintlock and extra ammunition.
"What is it? Where are you going?" Cassie came to her feet, dropping the woolen gloves she was mending for one of the officers.
"Trenton." he responded gruffly.
"Trenton? God a'mighty! It's pouring rain out there—sleeting. Who's going to Trenton?"
"The entire army." He counted out the musket balls in a small cloth bag and swung it over his arm.
"On Christmas night?" she stammered. "Has the general lost his head? We can't cross that river tonight, we'll all drown!"
"You're right. We can't. You're not going." His jaw was set, his lips tightly compressed. Cassie could spot the dark storm clouds gathering behind his eyelids.
"Of course I'm going!" She started for her musket in the corner of the tent, but he stopped her in midstride, his hand closing tightly over her wrist.
"You're not going." Devon barked.
Cassie started to speak, but then checked herself. She had seen this dangerous look in his eyes before. He wasn't fooling. He meant what he said this time; he wasn't giving her a choice.
"I forbid you to cross the river to Trenton." His voice was barely audible above the sound of the rain and sleet pounding on the walls of their tent.
Cassie's green eyes met his and for a brief fleeting moment she was frightened of him. This was a warning. If she disobeyed him this time, she was unsure what he would do. She bit down hard on her lower lip until she tasted her own blood, but still she couldn't pull away. "If you wish." she whispered. "I'll remain here."
Slowly he released the grip on her wrist and she rubbed it tenderly. She still hadn't recovered from Dundoff's beating last week. Though the bruises on her face and breasts were barely noticeable, her lip and eye were still healing, and she limped when she grew fatigued. In silence she watched Devon prepare to go. For the first time in her life someone had intimidated her. Finally she spoke. "When will ye return?"
"I don't know. I've been told nothing other than to gather every man in my company fit for duty and prepare to move out. We'll be crossing at McKonkey's Ferry."
"In the dark? How'll ye al get across? This is insane, Devon Marsh! It's Christmas." she repeated futilely.
"And there is the genius in our commander." He sat on the bed to stuff parchment into his boots to keep his feet dry. "What will the Hessians be doing tonight, far from home on Christmas night?"
Cassie gestured with both hands, completely at a loss. All she could think of was Devon was going to march off in the sleet to drown crossing an uncrossable river.
"They'll be slumped over their barrels of rum! They'll not expect us to attack."
"No, I don't guess they would." she answered hotly. "Who would expect a half-starved army who's low on black power to advance on Christmas night?" She spoke sarcastically to mask the fear in her voice. "Let me come."
"I told you no, damn it!" He spun around to face her and she noticed the muscle on his cheek that ticked involuntarily.
Cassie swallowed hard, forcing herself to stand up to him. "If you're going to die, I want to die with you."
"You wouldn't be able to keep up. Your leg is still stiff from where Dundoff caught you with the musket ball." He tried to make a plea to her sense of logic. "You wouldn't want to hold us back."
She hung her head, the tears slipping from her emerald eyes. He was right. Damn him, he was right. She was still moving pretty slowly.
Devon dropped his bag on the cot, pulling her into his arms. He pushed the hair off her forehead, bringing his lips close to her ear. The lines of hostility were gone from
his face. When she looked into his eyes, she saw only concern. "Besides." he told her." didn't you say your flux was late?" He ran his hand over her flat stomach. "What if there's a babe growing within you? Our babe. Would you have him die before he ever had a chance to live?"
Cassie tried to hold back the sobs that threatened to wrack her body. "You never told me you wanted my child."
"Of course I want your child. What kind of devil do you think I am? What would I want with Marshview with no one to pass it on to?"
His voice lulled her into silence as she got a grip on her emotions. "All right, I'll stay here with the wounded." She withdrew from his arms and stiffened her spine until she stood ramrod straight. "I'll do as you bid, husband."
Devon grinned, leaning to grab his canvas bag. "Don't overdo it, wife. You make me suspicious talking like that."
She laughed, dashing away her tears with the back of her hand. "You'd better not get yourself killed tonight." she told him, wagging her finger.
"Listen to you, you're already beginning to sound like one of those wives in Dover." He leaned to give her a peck on the lips, but she took his mouth hungrily, trying to chase away the fears.
"Promise me you'll be careful." she insisted huskily. "Promise me you'll take no chances."
"I promise, I promise. Now I've got to go."
Cassie released him begrudgingly and stood in the doorway of the tent, watching Devon trudge through the rain until he disappeared from sight.
The night of December 25, 1776, was the longest night of Cassie's life.
Unable to sleep, she spent the night in the makeshift hospital tent, pacing, waiting to hear word of the fate of their ragtag army. The rain and sleet drummed on the canvas walls, making it difficult to hear the low, weary voices of the men within. They spoke in hushed tones, assuring themselves and each other that Washington's daring crossing and march to Trenton had been a success. It had to be, or this was the end of the war. Morale was too low; the army needed this win to unify their dwindling troops. If they could just make it through the winter, if they could just hold on a little longer. France was sending food and munitions. The Colonies were collecting coin to fund new troops. If they could make it to spring, General Washington was certain they could fight another year.
Cassie shivered, rolling into an empty cot. She couldn't remember a night that had been this cold. The wind howled outside, beating at the thin walls of the tent and sending rushes of frigid air through the cracks in the canvas. Though they were under cover, Cassie felt damp to the core. She just couldn't shake the chill that numbed her bones. Finally, sometime near dawn, she drifted into a fitful sleep.
It was nearly noon when Cassie bolted awake. Stumbling to her feet, she ran from the tent out into the dim light of day. It had stopped raining now, but the wind still howled, ripping at her cloak as she pulled her hood over her plaited hair. She grabbed the arm of the first sentry she spotted. "Frenchy, has there been any word?"
The young soldier turned to her, a pipe clenched in his teeth. "Not a word, Cassie, but a few men are headin' up to McKonkey's Ferry landing to see if they spot anything."
"Who? Who's going?" She glanced about hurriedly. The camp was empty except for a few sentries, wounded men, and prisoners that hadn't been transported to Philadelphia yet.
"Larry and Lieutenant Ledford. There they are now." He shifted the musket on his shoulder, pointing with one gloved finger.
Cassie spun around and went after them. "Larry! John! Wait! Wait for me!"
Cassie sat in silence on the ferry dock, watching for signs of the Continental Army. She clutched her cloak to her shivering body, drifting in and out of sleep. Then suddenly she heard Larry give a hoot.
"They're coming! They're coming!" he shouted, flinging his hat in the air. "Bless the Holy Mother Mary! Here they come!"
Cassie leaped to her feet. Across the narrow river she spotted a line of troops moving out of the woods. She could hear their cheering, even a burst of song as they neared the shore of the Delaware. Someone spotted Cassie and the other men on the dock on the opposite shore and raised a fist in victory.
Cassie jumped into the first boat that hit the shore. "Have you seen Devon Marsh?" she cried out to the soldiers as one of John Glover's men pushed the boat off and headed back for another load. The men shook their heads.
"Haven't seen him, Cas." someone cried out." but he's all right. We only lost a few." The weary soldiers grinned, patting another across the shoulders.
"Did you take 'em by surprise?" she called out as the boat moved farther away.
"With their bloody pants down!" the soldier returned, laughing.
Once on the shore, Cassie thanked the boatman and started pushing her way through the soldiers. To look at them, no one would have suspected this ragged army had just won an offensive attack. They were poorly clothed, their cannon rusted. There were streaks of blood in the snow from men wearing broken shoes—or no shoes at all. No, no one would have known, unless they'd seen the looks on their faces. These were the smiles of victors. The soldiers of the Continental Army finally had something to be proud of.
Cassie stopped everyone she knew, asking for Devon. German prisoners began to file by and she was taken aback by the sound of a familiar voice.
"Red."
She turned to spot Von Blitzen in the crowd. "Uncle George." She broke into a grin.
"The vench didn't lie." The German officer's cloak was torn and muddy and he was missing his hat. His face was ashen white and his mustache drooped. "You vere a spy."
"Not a spy, sir. Just a good citizen, doing my country a favor."
"Your country is England. Your allegiance is with your King." He clutched at his chest as if stricken by a sudden pain.
"The King lost my allegiance when I lost his, Von Blitzen." She pressed a finger into his round belly.
"Vhat kind of army is this that they have their vomen fighting?" He looked up at the Continental soldiers herding the prisoners. "Vhat kind of men are you, huh?' he shouted, massaging his chest.
Cassie turned to the nearest soldier. "Watch him. Heart's bad. We don't want him to keel over. I want the satisfaction of seeing him marched to Philadelphia." She gave him a smug grin and disappeared into the crowd.
When Cassie spotted Devon's tall figure through the throng of soldiers, she stopped short. Her heart was beating so loud that it drummed in her ears. She couldn't catch her breath; she couldn't keep her hands from shaking.
Then Devon saw her and he was coming to her. She could see his head above the others as he fought his way through the soldiers, calling her name.
"What are you doing here?" he asked gruffly, lifting her off her feet to swing her into his arms. "We did it, Cassie! We did it!" He held her so tightly against him that she couldn't breathe. "They never saw us coming. You should have seen them! The sentries were half asleep. The soldiers were undressed, some of them still drunk!" The words tumbled from his mouth, mingled with laughter. It had been a long time since Cassie had seen him this happy.
"Put me down, you big oaf, you're crushin' the life from me!" He set her on her feet and she reached to brush some mud from his chin. "How many dead?"
"Just a few. Three or four. But look at all of the prisoners! There must be nearly a thousand of them!" He hugged her against his chest.
"I wouldn't believe it if I didn't see it with my own eyes. You did it." Her eyes shone with pride as she gazed up at her weary husband.
"We did do it." he answered more quietly. "I was afraid we'd come to the end of the line." He leaned to kiss her soundly on the lips. "I was afraid they'd beaten us."
"But they're not going to beat us, are they?" Cassie licked her lips, savoring the taste his mouth left on hers.
"No, they're not." He shook her shoulders, grinning. "We're not going to let it happen. Now all we have to do is convince the men whose enlistments are up to stay a little longer. Just a few more weeks, that's all we need." He was propelling her forward now through the c
rowd of soldiers.
"We? What do you mean, we?" She clasped his hand tightly.
"You will help, won't you? The men like you. They'll listen to you." He patted soldiers on the back as he passed them, calling out to his own men.
"You want me to help? Me, a mere woman?" she asked sarcastically, raising an eyebrow. "A woman fit only to sit in a parlor and drink tea?"
He flashed her a warning glance, giving her a pinch on her bottom, and she squealed, returning the pinch to the seat of his worn breeches.
Chapter Twenty-four
"Cassie O'Flynn . . ." Devon's face reddened with rage. "Sometimes I don't think you're worth the powder it would take to blow you up!" He stuffed his balled fists in the sleeves of his cloak, shivering with cold. "Don't you see, Cas? This is my chance to get home. My family needs me. You read the last letter. Nothing has been heard of Mary. Not a word. Father and Mother think she's dead."
Cassie bristled. "She's not dead. Death's too good for her. She'll turn up." Cassie was tired and her nerves were on edge. It seemed that every word that came from Devon's mouth these days irritated her. "The army needs you here. They need me, and I'll not abandon them. They cross the river tomorrow and march north, and I march with them."
"Cassie, the rest of the Delaware Regiment has gone or is leaving for home to recruit soldiers. Don't you understand, I've been given permission to go home!"
Cassie shrugged, stiffening her body against the bitter, driving wind. They were standing outside their tent, their voices barely audible above the howl of a northwesterly. "Do what you must, Devon. Go home. But I've got to stay. I can't explain why, it's just a feeling in my bones. I'll be all right here. I don't mind if you go. Mordecai'll watch after me."
"It doesn't look right, Cassie." He scowled, melting the ice that had formed on his mustache with the palm of his hand. "You're my wife. I can't go home and leave you behind. It just isn't seemly."
"There's not a soul who'll think it's any stranger than me being here in the first place. Besides, I'm sure the Marshes would prefer I didn't come. If they're lucky, maybe I'll get a bayonet through my chest." She gave him a smug grin.
The Officer's Desire Page 25