The Patriot's Conquest

by Vanak, Bonnie

  “Do you recognize this, William? You should, for ’tis your journal. You keep such meticulous notes.”

  Amanda waved the journal in the air. She looked at Jeffrey with sorrow. “I would have arrived sooner, but Julie and I could not access William’s quarters until he left.”

  As she read the entry, her voice rose on the wind. Never had he heard such sweeter words, except those whispered during their most passionate moments.

  “The deed is performed. Tonight the fire burns Merton’s house, for my torch set it. Clayton’s walking stick lies outside Merton’s home. He shall bear the blame for my actions and Lord Dunmore will reward me richly for such a brilliant scheme, hanging his enemy in public for a crime so foul that all the citizenry will despise and curse Clayton’s name as his body dangles from the rope.” She snapped the volume shut.

  “Who set the fire, William? Who offered to take Jeffrey’s cane to the silversmith’s shop for repairs when Mother asked, but instead used it against him? Who dressed like Jeffrey and ran from the scene yelling those same words overheard in the Raleigh? Who came into the Governor’s kitchen late that night, threatening a poor scullery maid as he hunted for butter to ease a painful burn on his hand? And how did that burn come to be?” Amanda shook the book like a wrathful clergyman braying about sin.

  The sheriff’s gaze darted to Christopher’s gloved left hand. Christopher’s face contorted with rage. Suddenly he grabbed a pistol and Amanda at the same time, pressing the deadly flintlock against her neck. He forced her away from the wagon of death.

  “Stand back or I will shoot her, I swear it.”

  Fright clouded Amanda’s snapping violet eyes. She seemed paralyzed as Christopher dragged her away. Jeffrey snarled.

  Meg shrieked. “William, don’t! Leave Amanda alone. You will hurt the baby!”

  Shock filled Jeffrey, then joy and tenderness. He eyed Christopher, all his defenses mounting until a blood rage filled his head. His ears buzzed with it. The roaring was the same as when he’d fought in the war, only now it unleashed his fury to protect his wife—and his child growing in her womb.

  Christopher’s gaze whipped back and forth as the sheriff and his men drew near, forming a horseshoe around the man.

  Rogers’ Rangers Rule #19: Allow your enemy to approach until he’s nearly close enough to touch. Then jump out and attack with your hatchet.

  Jeffrey leapt from the wagon. With great stealth, he circled around Christopher, who inched backwards, Amanda tightly in his grasp. Gaze wide with fear, she glanced over her shoulder at him. Giving an encouraging smile, he pantomimed jerking away and gestured toward the ground. She nodded.

  When Christopher turned, he loosed his grip on Amanda. She twisted away and dropped down. Christopher whirled. Before he could shoot, Jeffrey launched himself at the corpulent captain as Amanda scrambled away on hands and knees.

  He knocked the gun from Christopher and toppled the man to the ground. The captain fumbled for a knife secured to his belt.

  Jeffrey sent his fist flying into the bastard’s face and felt something crack beneath his hand. Crimson dappled his knuckles. The dazed Christopher moaned, holding his nose.

  Blood rang in Jeffrey’s ears. He unsheathed Christopher’s blade, rage white-hot and so fierce he heard naught but a buzz of hoarse shouts. Raising the knife, he prepared to plunge it into Christopher’s throat. Self-defense. None would dare say otherwise.

  But a slow, calm voice spoke inside his head. Did he really want Mandy to witness him killing another man, even as deserved as this one? This was not war he fought. He was not a ranger any more. He was a man who could control his anger, with a wife, who was carrying his child.

  Jeffrey silently wrestled with his rage. He began counting to ten, to recite Rogers’ Rules and then stopped. He no longer wanted to live by those rules. Instead, he began counting ten things he loved about his Mandy.

  Her laugh. Her beautiful smile. Her lively wit and her intellect.

  One by one he ticked them off until his anger died. Tossing the knife aside, he rose off Christopher. The sheriff sprang forward to haul the captain to his feet. Amanda’s portly ex-beau moaned as they led him away.

  Amanda, sobbing in Meg’s embrace, tore away and ran into his outstretched arms. He hugged her fiercely. Jeffrey silently thanked the Almighty for granting his last prayer. For a few minutes they held each other, Amanda pressed against his shoulder as he kissed the top of her head. Finally he eased her away.

  “Mandy, my Mandy, how I love you and feared I’d never have the chance to tell you so,” he whispered brokenly, stroking her tear-streaked cheeks, afraid ’twas all a dream and he’d wake to find himself on the wagon again with a rope around his neck.

  “Jeffrey, I feared I would lose you and never see you again and tell you about the baby.”

  He smiled and pressed a gentle hand against the tiny swell of her abdomen. “Today is a fine day, for I am saved from death and find new life, twice.”

  He kissed her. Amanda’s lips were soft and pliant beneath his and Jeffrey felt himself drowning in bliss. Surely if he had died, Heaven could not be as sweet.

  Not by half.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  IN LIGHT OF new evidence, and a confession wrung from William, all charges against Jeffrey were dropped. But Amanda would not trust the sheriff’s word until he signed a declaration stating so. Shortly after, she’d heard William had “escaped” from gaol and fled back to England.

  After arriving home, Jeffrey insisted the first thing he wanted was a “good hot bath to scrub away the stink of that gaol.”

  While Meg and the servants scurried about, Jeffrey pulled her into his lap, cradling her against his chest. In silence, he held her in a grip so intense, she knew he feared everything was but a dream and he would soon hang.

  Finally he released her and rubbed his chin ruefully.

  “’Tis time to rid myself of this scruff.”

  “I thought you liked having a beard, though I must confess I enjoy a shaven Jeffrey more than a furred one,” she teased.

  He smiled, but his eyes grew sorrowful. “Then a clean-shaven Jeffrey it shall be. I’ve no desire to let this remain, for ’tis a sad reminder of my time apart from you.”

  He shaved and bathed. As he rose, dripping from the tub, she winced, seeing his jutting ribs, the bony blades of his shoulders. Her husband had suffered much while imprisoned.

  Jeffrey dressed in a comfortable robe and straddled a chair before the fire, resting his chin in his fists as she tenderly combed out his hair. She lifted his hair and planted a soft kiss to his nape.

  As he stood, she gestured to the table. “Jeffrey, ’tis a fine meal Sadie and Meg have prepared for you.”

  He glanced at the table. “First, a slight nap.”

  In minutes he was fast asleep. Amanda covered him and kissed his brow.

  He slept for more than a day. Many visitors, including Williamsburg’s gentry, came by to laud him for his bravery. Amanda guarded his sleep with jealous protectiveness. She admitted no one and even shooed away Thomas Jefferson. Only one person gained entry. Peter Pellam, with a note for her. Jeffrey had written it before the wagon of death came for him, he informed her.

  Thanking him, she watched him leave. Then she tore into the letter, her hand trembling as she read what her husband thought would be his last words.

  My dear Mandy,

  I had meant to tell you this in person, but in my stubbornness and pride I did not. And now, as the hour of my death draws near, I must to put to paper the words my heart longed to say.

  I love you, my sweet. You are the other half of myself, a woman who rouses a passion within my breast as fierce as I long for liberty for the colonies.

  So many times I desired to say the words to you. I love your spirit, your fire and determination and your clever, oh, so clever wit. I cherish your sharp intelligence and your gentle manner. As I sit in this cell, I think only of holding you in my arms, if only for one last em
brace. I will go to my death with memories of your soft lips pressed against mine, of you in my arms. I love you, dear Mandy. I will always love you, for ’tis a fire burning inside me that will never be quenched. Never did I think I would allow my heart to be captured by a woman again, but you did so, dear Mandy, and I willingly let you.

  Know that I die innocent, words of love for you carved upon my heart. I will be gone, but if the Almighty is merciful, we will be together again one day in Heaven. I will be with you, always. As my last breath leaves my body, know my love for you will never die.

  Yours always, Jeffrey.

  Hot tears scalded her eyes. Amanda folded the letter carefully and left it on the table. With quiet sobs, she lay beside her sleeping husband, draping her arm about his middle.

  Bright sunshine filled the room as Jeffrey woke to find Amanda asleep, her damp cheek pressed against his shoulder. He touched her pillow and felt hot dampness. Mandy crying?

  Worry shot through him. He would discover the source for her tears. Breathing deeply, he relished the sensation of his lungs filling with air. Jeffrey dressed and walked outside to use the necessary. Sunshine warmed his body as he returned to the cabin. So grateful to be alive, and have his Mandy back.

  Amanda woke as soon as he entered.

  “Ah, I hadn’t meant to wake you,” he said, sitting on the bed and kissing her deeply. Jeffrey tenderly traced twin tracks of tears staining her cheeks.

  “Why did you cry, Mandy? Is all well with the babe?”

  She pressed her hands against her belly. “’Tis not the babe, Jeffrey. I read your letter. The letter you wrote me in gaol.”

  He stilled, searching her face. “And?”

  “Jeffrey, you truly do love me. Just as much as I love you.”

  “And I always will.” He cupped her face in his palms and kissed her deeply. “My love for you will never die.”

  They went to the main house for a splendid repast. He’d never tasted food so wonderful before. ’Twas as if everything had been born anew. The roast beef was juicy and tender, the biscuits never so fresh. He ate until stuffed full, and pushed back his plate with a huge groan. Everyone smiled.

  Miles grinned. “Uncle Jeffrey, ’tis good to have you back among us. We missed you something sorely.”

  He smiled fondly at the boy. His gaze darted over to Amanda. In a few months, he’d have his own family. The thought filled him with pride and tenderness.

  After, he and Amanda walked back to their cabin. When they got inside, she herded him to the bed, then removed his shoes and clothing. Jeffrey gave a lazy grin.

  “Mandy, do you think ’twas so long that I have no notion of how to undress myself?”

  He stripped her naked, tumbling her into the bed. Jeffrey remembered her condition. He lay still as she studied his face.

  “Jeffrey, what ails you?”

  “Mandy, I fear hurting the baby.”

  She smiled. “’Tis fine, Meg assures me. Trust me.”

  Amanda pulled him into her arms and kissed him. They made love with great passion.

  After, lying next to him, Amanda toyed with the dark, silky hairs on his chest. “You are too thin. I shall have to fatten you up again.”

  His hand slid over the slight rise of her belly. Her skin felt warm, vibrant beneath his palm. “Aye, you will fatten me up and we will both be waddling about soon,” he teased.

  She slapped his hand affectionately. “Jeffrey, ’tis time to be serious. We must talk.”

  “Talk later,” he muttered, nuzzling her neck. “Have I told you how beautiful you are and how much I love you? How much I am in debt to you for saving my life?” He stroked her naked belly. “For restoring it?”

  “When I thought you would die, part of me wished to die as well.”

  He rested his head against her stomach and smiled gently as she raked her fingers through his hair.

  “George stopped by while you slept. There’s news from Williamsburg. The Burgesses meeting with Lord Dunmore has failed. People are growing more inclined to revolt and join with Boston. More men are clamoring to sign up with the Continental Army.”

  He stiffened, not wanting to hear what she said, but knowing he must.

  “Mandy, if you fear I’ll leave you to fight, put it to rest. If it pleases you, I will stay home. I will not join the war.” He felt his throat tighten with those words. More than anything, he now longed to join the war and prevent the same injustice he had suffered. But Jeffrey knew he must remain at home with his wife, who deserved a husband at her side after nearly losing him.

  “You must fight, Jeffrey.”

  He sat up abruptly, staring.

  “Jeffrey, the army has great need of officers. George says many hands are needed to train the army, to drill, to have military discipline. To start with the militia and train them for fighting.”

  Amanda glanced at the ceiling, a dreamy look in her eye.

  “I had come to realize what you’ve been doing these past few months. My mind was so filled with England and my own desire to fit into society. I saw England as a force to obey and never question. And then you came along, with your swaggering courage and dauntless will. You sought what I wanted in secret for so long. Freedom. I had not the courage to stand up for it myself until I realized my love for you, and how I’d give up everything to be with you.”

  “You would? For me?” he whispered hoarsely.

  “’Twas the day I visited my parent’s shop. All my life I’ve sought acceptance by the gentry. And a group of women snubbed me because you were found guilty of arson. I found I did not care. All I cared about was saving you. I even reprimanded Mother.”

  Jeffrey’s gaze widened. “That I would have enjoyed.”

  “Aye, she was most shocked. ’Twas a heady feeling.” Amanda smiled. “You were right. England is a parent refusing to release a child who needs to grow and flourish. And like me, America needs to break free. I needed to separate myself from my parents’ smothering ideals. You helped me do that, Jeffrey. You must take up arms and do what is right by fighting for this freedom. The colonies deserve a courageous patriot like you. They need you.”

  He shook his head, marveling at his wife’s love and her own bravery. “Aye, but you are more courageous, sweet. It takes much bravery to break free of all you’ve known your whole life as you did, and face the unknown.”

  She squeezed his hands. “Not so, for I have your love to hold me secure.”

  Her gaze grew distant and dreamy as she rested a hand on her belly and he knew she thought about the babe she carried. “With the growing tensions, Dunmore is too afraid to remain in the governor’s palace. He will leave soon, mayhap to take up residence in a place more easily guarded by British soldiers. His wife, Lady Charlotte, wishes to sail back to England. She has asked my parents to accompany her on the voyage and promised to pay for their passage and all their expenses. They have agreed. Papa is selling the store and all his assets, and with that money, he and Mother will start a new business in England, for they sorely miss their life there. I will stay here with Meg and the children and help work the farm. I’ll be fine when the baby is born. You needn’t worry about leaving me.”

  Jeffrey studied the rosy glow in her cheeks, the stubborn line between her brows. His wife’s spirit would endure, no matter what trials awaited them.

  Uncertainty faded into acceptance. He could leash his temper and not fear the beast within. He would pick up arms and fight, this time not as an untried stripling youth, but a man knowing the full consequences of what he faced. Amanda would be fine. He needed to join the fight for freedom. He owed it to his children’s future.

  “’Tis a fight I will take up. I’m glad you understand, Mandy, how much it means to me,” he finally said.

  Jeffrey rose from the bed. “Come, Mandy, get dressed. I need to show you why this land is so important to me.”

  When they’d finished dressing, he led her outside to the hill behind Meg’s house. As they gazed at the rolling wa
ters of the James, Jeffrey tightened his grip around her waist.

  “Do you see that, Mandy? The river is just part of this great country. There’s so many opportunities here. Chances to start over, for both of us. The future is ours to mold, to live out our dreams and hopes and pass them on to our children. ’Tis a future worth fighting for, a country worth fighting for. No man to tell us how to live or restrict us to their laws or class differences.”

  “’Tis a freedom our children deserve,” she said softly.

  He smiled and kissed her. “Aye. Look at the river. The James is a mighty force that flows where it wants. No one can claim it. It doesn’t care who you are, blacksmith, farmer, gentry, lawyer. In the river’s eyes, everyone is equal. That’s what this country means to me, Mandy. A place where every man can say, ‘I will not be bound by another. I am equal with all.’”

  Amanda’s gaze sparkled with a zeal equaling his own. “Freedom. We will seek it, Jeffrey. And we will fight for it. It will be ours to claim some day.”

  They stood at the hill’s crest, watching the mighty river roll toward its destiny. The future shone on the James in a shimmering promise of freedom. Taking his wife’s hand, Jeffrey walked toward the river’s edge, listening to its call.

  [Fluffer Nutter]