by Becky Lower
Eleanor prepared her nightly cup of tea and sat at the table, reliving that horrible night when Billy Buford invaded the home. The fragrant hot liquid did not have its usual effect on her tonight, though, as her thoughts ran every which way. It had taken a watershed event for her to close the gap between Adam and herself. She was now an accomplice to murder. She hoped there was not another monumental event in her future, that Patterson would soon return, and she’d be bound for London with a letter of recommendation and a head full of stories about her time in America with which to regale the children of whatever family she hired onto next. No other outcome would suffice.
• ♥ •
It was nearing the end of February when portions of the Continental Army started to reappear in the streets of Groton. Eleanor, Adam, and the rest of the children waited impatiently for Patterson to arrive and return to his post at the Army’s supply depot. And to return to his post as head of his family.
“Shouldn’t your father have been home by now?” Eleanor worried her bottom lip as she glimpsed out the window at two men on horseback wandered down the street. Their horses were muddy, with drooping heads, and the men were the same. “Those two stragglers are the only militia we’ve seen today.”
Adam followed the course of the men with his eyes. “My guess is he stopped off in Philadelphia for a few days. The Sons of Liberty have relocated there, from what I hear.”
“Sons of Liberty. Such a fanciful name. The captain of the ship I was on from England talked about the group a bit.” Eleanor’s mind drifted back to that frightening journey and how the captain tried each day to put her mind at ease by telling her about America, and about Patterson. She appreciated his kindness, although it had done little at the time to quell her fears. And, even though she’d now settled into a routine of sorts after six months here, it certainly was not the same kind of routine she’d had in England. Patterson had promised to put her back on a ship in March, heading for home. So, she was more anxious than Adam for his return.
She pivoted away from the window and returned to the kitchen, where a pot of venison stew was cooking. At least the seasoned venison part was on the stove, if not the entire stew. The meat being used was the toughest part of the deer, according to Adam, so it needed several hours on the stove to become tender. In the meantime, she peeled potatoes, chopped onions and carrots while she waited for the venison to cook. There was always something to do.
As soon as she finished getting their evening meal together, she’d make some rice pudding for dessert. Thankfully, the children had done their studies without complaint this morning, and the two youngest were napping now. She plopped the vegetables into the venison and stirred it a couple times. It would be ready for them in about a half-hour.
A noise in the alley behind the house startled both Eleanor and Adam. Their glances collided across the small room, and Adam grabbed the rifle before he ran to the door, throwing it open.
“Papa!” Adam dropped the gun and darted through the door to catch the reins of Patterson’s horse and to speak to the tall man with Patterson. Eleanor stood in the doorway, allowing father and son to share a moment before she stepped forward.
“Take the horse to the stable, son.” Patterson gazed at his eldest. “You’ve grown some while I was gone.”
“Yes, Papa. I took care of everything while you were off fighting, just as you said to do.” Adam held the reins and waited for his father to alight. “And Hawk, I didn’t expect to see you.”
Patterson shifted in the saddle and unhooked his foot from one of the stirrups. “Eleanor, you are a sight for sore eyes.” His gaze drifted from Adam to her.
“We’re glad you are home, Patterson.” She stepped closer to the horse and to the man named Hawk, who had jumped off his horse in order to help Patterson.
Patterson’s eyes glazed over, and he fell from the saddle into Eleanor’s waiting arms. Thankfully, Hawk had anticipated his reaction and was able to take the weight from her; otherwise, she would have fallen to the ground with Patterson on top of her.
“Patterson!” She struggled with the weight of the man, lurching backward. Hawk wrapped his arm around Patterson’s lifeless body. “Adam, get on your father’s other side. He’s been injured and needs a bed and some care.”
Adam tossed the reins of the horse to Ben, who had come charging from the house when Adam greeted his father and took some of the weight off Hawk. Together, they carried Patterson into the house, and into his bedroom. Eleanor followed along behind, her mind racing. She had no idea what type of aid she could provide, since she had no idea what type of injury he suffered.
Hawk and Adam lifted Patterson onto the bed and started to remove his clothing. Only then did Eleanor see the bloody pant leg. She fisted a hand to her mouth to keep from crying out. The stench of sweat, dust, and infection filled the air as the men removed Patterson’s trousers.
Eleanor took several deep breaths to calm herself. During her tenure at the Patterson Estate, the four rowdy boys in her charge had suffered broken bones, bloody noses, and other childhood injuries and illnesses. She could handle one grown man’s injury.
“Adam, finish undressing your father while I get some hot water from the stove. We’ll clean his wound and see what else we can do.” She placed a hand on Patterson’s forehead. “He’s burning up with fever, too, probably because the wound is infected. I’ll have Caleb get some snow from the alley we can melt to cool him off.”
Eleanor ran into the kitchen and poured some of the hot water from a pan always on the back of the stove into a bowl, while she barked orders at Caleb. She grabbed a clean cloth from the pantry shelf and checked another shelf where the ointments and medicines were located, searching for some salve. Patterson might just have passed out from tiredness, but Eleanor’s guess was he hadn’t gotten any decent medical treatment for his wound. He had exerted himself in an effort to get home before he collapsed. Thank goodness the man named Hawk had stayed with him, or he might have fallen from his horse into a ditch between South Carolina and here, and they would have no knowledge of his whereabouts. At least, he was home.
Did he make his way back here knowing she’d be here to care for him, or did he do so because he feared she would no longer be here to care for him and his children?
Whatever the reason, Patterson was in trouble, and she was the only one who could help him.
Chapter Fourteen
B y the time Eleanor retrieved her supplies, Adam and Hawk had Patterson undressed and under the covers. She handed one rag to Adam. “You clean him up as best as you can while I tend to his leg.”
He nodded, his lips forming a thin line, and got to work.
She then focused on the big, exotic-looking stranger named Hawk. His skin was a deeper hue than she was familiar with, and his chiseled face and strong body intrigued her. “Mr. Hawk, there’s venison stew cooking on the stove. You certainly must be hungry.”
“Oui, ma’am, I could use a bowl of stew. We cut off his trousers so you could get to his wound.” He shifted his gaze from the lifeless body in the bed to her. “And it is just Hawk. No mister.”
Eleanor raised the blanket on the left side of the bed and gasped when she gazed upon the wound for the first time. Patterson’s leg had swelled up and an angry red gash still oozed. “What happened to him? How was he wounded?”
“A bayonet sliced through his leg. Fortunately, the man carrying the bayonet was killed before he could do more harm.” Hawk’s jaw tightened. Eleanor guessed Hawk was the man who had saved Patterson, but she also guessed he would never admit it to her. She nodded. “Get on to the kitchen then and get some stew. I’ll clean the wound.”
She scrubbed the area around the injury with soapy water, relieved when she didn’t see any red lines running away from the injured area. Then, she took another rag from a pan of clear water and started to clean the abrasion. Even in Patterson’s unconscious state, he groaned, and his leg shifted, away from Eleanor’s rag. She gave him a minu
te to recover from her ministrations and lifted her gaze to Adam.
He had wiped clean his father’s face and washed off his right arm. Eleanor could see tears in Adam’s eyes, but he valiantly blinked them back. He glanced over at her. “Will he make it, Eleanor?” His voice was barely above a whisper.
“I honestly can’t predict. But he’s made it this far, and we’ll give him the best care possible. Beyond that, it’s in the hands of God.” Eleanor wished she could ease the boy’s anguish, but anything less than the truth would come back to haunt them.
Caleb entered the room, with a pan of melting snow, and broke the quiet moment between Adam and Eleanor.
“Ah, good, Caleb. Set the pan here, and then go get some rags from the pantry. You can be in charge of putting cooling cloths on your father’s forehead, now that Adam’s cleaned him off.” Eleanor smiled slightly at Caleb and covered Patterson’s leg so the young boy wouldn’t see his father’s wound.
She dipped a clean cloth into the clear warm water and uncovered his leg again. This time, when Patterson flinched away from the cloth, Eleanor grasped the leg and kept at it until she had it as clean as possible. While Adam continued to clean his father’s torso and Caleb wrung cold cloths and placed them on his father’s forehead, she applied a salve to the wound and covered it with a cloth bandage. Only then did she sit back and roll her shoulders.
“We’ve done what we can for now, children.” Adam dribbled a bit of water into his father’s mouth. “Stay with him, Adam, while I clean things up and feed the young ones.”
Eleanor whispered a silent prayer as she left the room. She reminded herself Patterson was not like the young men she’d spent time with while in England. He was stronger and sturdier. And if ever he needed to be sturdy, it was now. If he made it through the night, he might have a fighting chance.
What good had it been to count the days until Patterson returned, if he returned home in such a state? It was nearly March, when she had been promised a return to England. But now, until Patterson regained his health, she could not leave.
And if he didn’t regain his health? If his return from the battlefield only prolonged his demise? What then? How would she and the children survive? All her focus thus far had been to have herself return home to England as soon as was feasible. But she could not leave these youngsters to their own devices. She could not walk away without a backward glance if they were orphans. And somehow, during the months she’d been waiting, the return to England has lost some of its appeal. The children, especially the older boys, would not agree to relocating to England, to the home of their uncle. Could she make a go of it here in America, with five children to support?
They’d already lost their mother. They might be days away from losing their father. They’d already had more heartache than a child should have had. Despite the fact they weren’t her flesh and blood, she’d come to care for them. Elizabeth and Daniel clung to her most of the time. Ben and Caleb, who still had memories of their mother, had accepted her. And Adam, the boy who was almost a man, leaned on her for strength when life became too overpowering. Like now.
Hawk sat at the table, so Eleanor slid into the seat next to him while Caleb, Daniel and Elizabeth ate. “Thank you for feeding the children.” She nodded toward the emptying bowls of stew. “I take it you’re one of Patterson’s friends from Boston?”
“Oui. And I must get on the road tomorrow and head for home. It took longer than it should have for us to get here, with Patterson’s injury. I need to get home to my wife and my own children.”
“I appreciate you taking care of him.” Eleanor could not control her tremor. “I shudder to think what might have happened to him otherwise.”
“He is not out of the woods yet, I fear. The medical staff did what they could for him, but it was not much.”
Eleanor nodded. “I can see that. But if I can break his fever, he will have a chance.”
Hawk glanced over at her, before he placed one of his big hands over hers. “All he thought about was getting home to you.”
Eleanor lifted her gaze from their joined hands and stared at him. “His obligations must have weighed heavily on him. He promised me I could return to England.”
“I do not feel his urgency to return had anything to do with wishing to put you on a boat and let you sail off. He did praise your apple crumble.” Hawk’s mouth quirked up in a smile. “And he likes your freckles. Get him well and see what happens.”
She pondered Hawk’s words while the children ate their dinner and prepared for bed. She should have eaten along with Hawk and the children, but her stomach was clenching as it was. Whether from the distress of seeing Patterson so near death’s door, or from the conversation with Hawk, she couldn’t tell.
When they were tucked in for the night, and Hawk unfurled his bedroll in the living room, she returned to the kitchen, washed the dishes and prepared trenchers for Adam and Caleb, which she left warming on the stove. She took a cup of broth into the room where Patterson lay.
“How is he?” Eleanor whispered as she entered the room, which was illuminated with one lonely candle.
“He settled, after we stopped poking at him.” Adam tore his gaze from his father and gave Eleanor a brief smile. “But he’s still burning up. No sooner does Caleb put a cool cloth on his head than it becomes warm.”
“Well, I’ll take over from here. I left your suppers on the stove. After you eat, could you fetch another pan of snow? I’ll keep putting cold cloths on him and see if I can break his fever by morning.” Eleanor took a seat near the bed and put the cup of broth on the small table beside the bed. “Hawk is sleeping in the living room and plans to leave in the morning.”
Adam and Caleb both nodded and ducked out of the room, leaving Eleanor alone with Patterson for the first time in months. She studied his face. Rugged was the first word she thought of. Even though it was etched with pain right now, the underlying message was ruggedness. She touched his cheek, which had a week’s worth of beard growing, marveling at the softness of the whiskers.
“Patterson, stay strong,” she whispered as she caressed his cheek. “Your children need you. I need you.” She put a fist to her mouth to stop the moan from escaping. Now was not the time for her to give into her problems. If she was ever to get back to her normal life, she needed this man to recover. That was the only reason for the moan. Not the reasons Hawk gave her to consider.
She had a long night ahead of her to make sure that was the only reason. But she caressed his beard again before she tried to dribble some broth into his mouth.
• ♥ •
The thrashing startled her from the doze she’d fallen into. For a moment, she couldn’t recollect where she was. The candle had burnt down to a nub and gone out. The thrashing came again, from the bed and the pit in Eleanor’s stomach reminded her of where she was and with whom.
“Patterson!” Eleanor whispered and ran to his bedside. She put a hand to his forehead, which was still way too hot. In the dim light of early morning, she could see he was sweating profusely. She removed the sweat-damp sheet covering him, tossing it onto the floor. Then, she dashed outside for a bucket of snow and picked up a fresh candle for the sickroom. Even though her movements were quiet, Hawk wakened and rolled his bedroll.
“How is he?” Hawk spoke in a quiet tone.
“His fever’s not yet broken.”
“I will help you get him settled before I take off.” He nodded toward the room. “Lead on.”
Nodding, she led Hawk into the bedroom, biting her bottom lip.
They had to remove his underthings, and somehow get a new sheet onto the mattress while he lay on it. It was up to them to maneuver the man and tend to his comfort. First things first. She forced her lips into a straight line and undid his drawers, tugging them from his body. Averting her gaze, she grabbed a fresh cloth from her pail of warm water and wrung it out. She needed to bathe him to remove the sweat, which meant touching him. In a most intimate manner. She rai
sed her gaze to Hawk. “Would you rather do this?”
Hawk smiled. “I have seen him in worse shape. And you have not. Give me the cloth.”
Eleanor let out a slow breath as she handed over the duty to Hawk. She had been the governess to four boys, so she was familiar with the male anatomy, at least a small boy’s anatomy. But she had never encountered a fully-grown male’s privates before.
Certain Hawk could see the pink in her cheeks, even as he took over the more intimate part of the cleaning, she wrung another cloth out and cleaned Patterson’s wound. She forced him to lay on his side while she cleaned the back of his leg. With Hawk’s assistance, they got a clean sheet under Patterson and settled him back onto the bed. She started to sweat, too, from the exertion.
Eleanor blew back the hair that had loosened from her bun and lay a cool cloth on Patterson’s forehead. She stared at his face, willing him to open his eyes and come back to them. She brushed a hand over his whiskers and allowed her gaze to travel the length of his body. Then, she focused on Hawk. “Thank you for your help. I was going to wake Adam if I couldn’t do this on my own, but the boy needs his sleep.”
Hawk shrugged his massive shoulders. “It is the least I could do.”
“May I fix you some breakfast before you get on your way?”
“If you have some dried meat, I will take that. You have your hands full here as it is. I do not need you to cook for me.”
She nodded and shifted her gaze to Patterson again.
“Do you think he’ll make it, Hawk?”
“If anyone can, it is he. Will you write to me or tell him to, when and if he recovers? I would like to know he is still with us.”
“Of course, Hawk.” She led him to the kitchen and handed him some jerky. On an impulse, she raised onto her tiptoes and kissed his burnished cheek. “Thank you for bringing him home.”
Hawk gazed at her for a long moment before he picked up his bedroll. “You make him happy. And he has not been so for a long time. I hope to see you in Boston someday.”