To her surprise, sentries stopped her only briefly. As soon as they ascertained that she was indeed there to visit her brothers, they'd simply bid her a good day and pointed her in the direction of her brothers' regiment. She'd expected the camp to be better patrolled. But then, there was little damage a lone woman could do to fifteen thousand soldiers.
She slipped her hand in her pocket to check the safety of the packet she carried. She'd repeatedly done so since she'd gotten it; it seemed somehow dangerous to simply carry it around in her pocket as she would a handkerchief or a ball of thread, but she hadn't been able to think of any better place to hide it. If she'd been taken and her captors had been determined to find it, it wouldn't have mattered where she'd hidden it.
Her father had seemed somewhat perplexed when she'd announced she was going to Cambridge to visit her brothers. She'd managed to convince him that she'd been utterly dissatisfied with the assurances they'd given on their brief visits home. She simply had to see for herself that they were taking proper care of themselves.
Her mother, oddly enough, had seemed to think it was a fairly good idea. Bennie suspected her mother cherished a secret hope that she would be swept off her feet by a handsome young officer.
Well, she'd tried that once, and it wasn't an experience she planned to repeat anytime soon. She wasn't sure she'd survive it again.
Bennie realized she was clutching the packet in her pocket, nearly crumpling the papers. She forced her fingers to uncurl; the information must remain undamaged. That was the only thing that mattered now.
So she'd been sent off with a bag stuffed with new shirts, underclothes, and stockings that her mother and her sisters-in-law had been making for the Jones men. How convenient, they'd all thought, that Bennie'd volunteered to take the things to them. Who knew when any of the men would get a chance to come back to New Wexford again?
Her brothers turned out to be surprisingly easy to locate. All of them, it seemed, were camped within Cambridge itself, near the headquarters, not in one of the outlying areas.
She'd already found Henry. He'd been delighted to see her—after he'd gotten over the fact that she'd been wandering alone through thousands of men. She'd finally gotten him to admit that no man was likely to bother her; first, because she could take care of herself, and second, because he was her brother. He'd seemed somewhat gratified by the thought that he was a deterrent.
He been equally happy with the clothes that her mother had made. Although Bennie'd never quite managed the delicacy necessary for small, tight needlework, Mary was an expert seamstress, and the clothes she made her men always fit better than anything from the finest tailor shop. Henry's clothes had been hard-used, he admitted, and the camp laundress didn't exactly clean and mend up to the standards he was used to.
Then he'd finagled two of the currant tarts she'd brought along for herself, claiming they certainly didn't know how to properly feed a Jones around here. He'd been so enthusiastic about showing her the camp, he'd pointed out General Washington's offices before she'd even had to ask. Then he promised he'd take care of Puffy for her while she visited with the others, gave her one final hug, and took off, leading her horse.
Bennie smiled fondly, shaking her head. The army had certainly not dimmed Henry's enthusiasm.
Taking a deep breath, she turned to face the plain, whitewashed frame building that served as Washington's quarters. To her surprise, it was only lightly guarded. Then again, one had to go through the entire encampment to get to it.
All at once her heart was pounding painfully in her chest. She was going to meet the new commander of the entire Continental army. By all accounts, Washington was an exceptional man, tall, handsome, and brilliant. He was also said to be quite stern, and with his new position, he was undeniably powerful.
She was suddenly afraid that they wouldn't let her in to see him after all. Why should they?
Because Jonathan had said they would. Whatever else he was—and wasn't—she was certain he was absolutely perfect at his job. And much as she hated the things he'd become in order to do it, she wanted him to succeed. The only safety her family had lay in the war's ending as quickly as possible.
Once more, for reassurance, she groped for the packet in her pocket. The sharp, clean folded edges and the thin smoothness of the ribbon gave her courage, and she started for the headquarters.
"Bennie!"
"Adam!" She laughed as he swept her up and twirled her around in the air. When she'd been very small and Adam had been a sturdy youth too big for his age, he'd often thrown her into the air until she'd been helpless with laughter. Even now, she knew he was the one who felt most responsible for her.
He put her down. "At first, I wasn't sure if that was you I saw walking across camp. But then I realized, no other woman covers ground the way my sister does."
She frowned at him. "Watch it, Adam, or I won't give you any of the things I brought you."
"What are you doing here?" His happiness at seeing her faded quickly, and concern darkened his hazel eyes. "It's not... everything's all right with Hannah, isn't it?"
"Yes, of course," she hurried to reassure him. "She's still losing her breakfast, but that's nothing new."
"Lord." He dragged a hand through his dark blond curls. "If I could do it for her, I would, you know?"
She snorted in disbelief. "Sure you would."
"I would." The corner of his mouth twitched, and then a wide grin spread over his face. "All right, maybe I wouldn't. I wish I was there with her, though."
"Mother's taking good care of her."
"I'm sure she is."
"Besides, when has a Jones ever married a woman who wasn't strong enough to stand up to him? She'll be fine."
"I suppose." He gave a deep sigh. "What brings you here, then?"
"I come bearing gifts." She plopped her satchel down on the ground and opened it up. She plowed through the assortment of items until she found the ones intended for him. "Here. Two new shirts and three new pairs of socks. Hannah said you go through socks in no time at all."
"It's my toe," he protested.
"Uh-huh."
"It is. It sticks up, sorta, and goes through the sock, and—" He stopped when he saw her laughing at him. "All right. I give up." He took the bundle she handed him. "My thanks."
"You're welcome."
"You have quite a load there, Bennie. Did you bring things for everyone?"
"Yes. I've already seen Henry."
"Oh, no."
"Yes. He's enjoying himself thoroughly, isn't he?"
"Yes. But then, he hasn't seen much action yet, either. We kept him well away from the front lines at Bunker Hill."
Shading her eyes from the sun, she squinted up at him. "How about you?"
A brief shadow of pain darkened his eyes, but he shrugged. "Not now, Ben."
"All right."
"When you get home, will you... tell..." He stopped, a red flush creeping up his neck. "Tell her that I love her," he said in a rush.
"I will," she said softly.
He swallowed. "Thanks."
"Now, can you tell me where I can find the rest of the crew? I'd like to lighten this satchel a bit more."
He glanced around quickly. "David, I think, is off digging barricades today. Everyone else is still in my company, so they should be around somewhere."
"What is all this digging for anyway? This place looks like its been overtaken by giant gophers."
Adam laughed, a rich, rolling sound that boomed throughout the camp. "Washington believes it's better that they have something to do, and I have to agree with him. We were having far too many men injured by their fellow soldiers. When the men have nothing better to do, they fight."
"Sounds familiar," she said, shaking her head.
"Doesn't it, though? The general hasn't had an easy time of it, trying to shape a regular army. We started out with forty or so odd-size regiments, and he wanted us in twenty-eight uniform ones. Many men didn't take well to bei
ng reassigned."
Bennie appraised the confusion and disorder that surrounded her. This was an improvement? "Tell me honestly, Adam. Do we have any chance?"
"I have to believe that we do." He crossed his massive arms over his chest. "We have good command now. And we have one huge advantage: we are fighting for our homes. They are simply following orders."
"And we have the Jones family, right?"
"Right. The one you should really ask, though, is Brendan. Now that he's been assigned to Washington's staff—"
"Brendan's been reassigned?" she broke in.
"Yes. Someone decided he was too brilliant to waste slogging through the mud."
"Good for them. I wonder what Da will think of it?"
Adam frowned. "He'll think that the only real soldier is one that is belly-deep in the muck."
She sighed. "You're probably right."
"You should give it up. After all this time, I doubt there's anything you—or anyone else—can do to change the way it is between them."
She crossed her arms in unconscious imitation of his belligerent stance. "I never give up."
Sunlight glinted off his dark blond curls as he threw back his head and laughed.
Bennie slanted a curious glance at the headquarters building. So Brendan worked for Washington now, did he? How useful. If worse came to worst, and she found it impossible to get in, she could go to Brendan. He was sure to be able to find a way to get her an audience with the general.
And if she had to, she'd tell Brendan why. She considered getting the information in Washington's hands her primary goal; following Jonathan's instructions was a secondary consideration.
After all, she'd already broken one promise to Jonathan.
"Ben? Are you with me, Ben?"
"Huh? Oh Adam, I'm sorry. I was thinking about something."
"Now why would you want to do that?"
She swatted him playfully. "It was wonderful to see you, too."
His expression grew serious. "You will keep an eye on my family for me, won't you?"
"You know I will."
He reached for her hand and squeezed it, nearly crushing her bones in the process. "Thanks."
"It really was wonderful to see you, Adam. I think I'll go see if I can find Brendan."
"I'm not sure he's on duty right now. You might want to ask around for his quarters."
"I'll find him."
"Good." He pressed her fingers again. "Take care, Ben."
"I will."
Watching him stride away, head and shoulders above every man in camp, Bennie felt a quick swelling of pride. She waited until he was out of sight, unwilling to take the chance that he would turn and see her heading for Washington's quarters. She wasn't sure she was up to answering any questions right now.
As casually as she could manage, she strolled over to the whitewashed building. The soldiers who guarded it were unsmiling, utterly serious about their jobs. Unlike most of the men in camp, they were in uniform—plain and dark blue, but clean and neatly turned out. Their black boots shone, a gleam only rivaled by that of their weapons.
Bennie swallowed heavily, set her shoulders, and approached the nearest guard.
"Excuse me, sir. I'd like to see General Washington."
His gaze flicked over her dismissively, resting for the briefest moment on her breasts. She wondered if he could see her heart knocking against her chest.
"Are you expected, ma'am?" he asked stiffly.
"No, but—"
"Then I'm afraid it will not be possible."
"I know it's irregular, but I have to see him. It's important."
"I'm sure it is, ma'am," he said with just a trace of condescension. "However, the general is a busy man."
"I'm aware of that."
"Excuse me." He turned on his heel and began to march across to the other side of the building. Another soldier was high-stepping toward them; the dead grass was worn thin in criss-crossing lines that they followed precisely.
"Wait!" She hurried to go after him. She wasn't used to being dismissed.
He stopped and turned impatiently when she reached him. "Ma'am, I'm sorry, but if you don't leave I'll have to get someone to escort you away."
She checked quickly to see if anyone was in earshot. "Tell him it's about Goliath."
The young soldier wrinkled his brow. "Excuse me?"
"It's important," she insisted.
"Goliath?"
"Just tell him!" she said, glaring down at the soldier, grateful, not for the first time, that she'd had plenty of experience in quelling recalcitrant young men.
"If I do, and he won't see you, will you leave quietly?"
"Yes," she said, impatiently shoving back stray curls. Why would her hair never stay where it belonged?
The soldier marched crisply to the plain structure and up the steps. He opened the wooden door, then turned and looked at her, his eyebrows raised questioningly, as if giving her one final chance to back out. She nodded forcefully, and he disappeared inside.
Bennie waited, fingering the papers in her pocket. She swallowed, licked her dry lips, and wondered if she'd be able to get any words out when the time came. Maybe words wouldn't be necessary. She could just give the general the packet and get out of there.
The general! Oh, Lord. The impact of what she was doing struck her forcefully. What she was carrying in her pocket could make the difference between life and death for thousands of men.
She looked around quickly. No one seemed to be paying any attention to her at all. Thank God.
The young soldier stuck his head out the door. He was frowning, and she braced herself to be told to leave.
It would be all right. She'd find Brendan, and he'd listen to her, and he'd find a way to get the information to Washington. Yes, it would be all right. It had to be.
"Follow me," he said.
"Excuse me?"
"He's waiting for you. This way ma'am."
She managed to gulp down a full breath of air, straightened her spine, and went to meet General Washington.
***
The traitor mopped the sweat from his brow and looked around him in disgust. Two soldiers were sprawled to his left, drinking rum straight from a common bottle and exchanging stories about the whore they'd shared the night before. To his right, one man shouted and four others groaned as each lost half a crown on the turn of a card.
It stunk. A haze that smelled of unwashed, sweaty male bodies and spoiling food clung to the camp. The sanitary conditions were deplorable, the food was worse, and soldiers were dropping like flies—not from battle wounds but from illness.
It was a complete waste. It was disgusting. And nothing he'd done to try and prevent it had amounted to a damn thing.
There'd been precious little information to be discovered in the last few months. Both sides seemed content to sit on their hands and wait.
He sighed in disgust and rose from the crate he'd been sitting on. Perhaps a turn about camp would help. He needed to stretch his legs anyway.
The gamblers hailed him and invited him to join their game. They needed fresh blood—and fresh coin. He declined. He had better things to do, both with his money and his time.
Neatly sidestepping the drunks, he strolled across the camp, automatically noting and cataloguing every thing he saw. One never knew when something crucial would drop into one's lap.
A woman was standing in front of the General's quarters, staring at the door and impatiently tapping her foot. That was unusual enough to catch his interest, but there was also something very familiar about the figure. He slowly ambled closer.
Bennie! What in the world was she doing there?
Before he had time to make up his mind whether to approach her, a young soldier appeared in the doorway and beckoned her in.
It made no sense. There was absolutely no reason she would be expected in the headquarters of the Continental army.
He wondered if it was worth trying to find out what busines
s she could have with the general. Crossing his arms, he waited, unmoving, oblivious to the bustle around him. After nearly a half-hour had passed she still hadn't come out.
Well, his decision was made. He would have to satisfy his curiosity.
CHAPTER 27
Dark clouds scudded across the black sky, blotting out the moon. The light was gone, and darkness settled like mist over a swamp.
That was fine with Jonathan. He saw well in the dark.
He couldn't have said why he'd chosen to come back here. He put little stock in superstition or luck, so coming back to this place didn't bother him. Instead, it seemed fitting somehow, to close the circle where it had begun—in New Wexford.
The outlines of the old fort were a mere impression in the darkness. The eye was easily fooled by outlines, in any case. He watched for texture, for movement, and listened for any sound that was manmade.
He knew there would be no repeat of what had happened the last time. The instructions to Washington that he'd attached to the end of the troop information had been clear. They were to seal off every possible exit from Boston, throwing a tight, impenetrable line around the city. There was no possibility that even a small force of British troops could have made it through.
The almost imperceptible swish of a bat in flight stirred the air over his head. He hoped the creature had good hunting tonight. He certainly intended to.
If only the traitor had taken the bait. He'd suggested that Washington have the information leaked. It was a lure Jonathan was sure would be irresistible; Jon was supposed to be meeting with the highest-ranking American spy to have infiltrated the British army, a person whose existence had only been rumored until now.
A person who didn't exist. Jonathan had created him. There was no way the traitor would pass up the opportunity to identify—perhaps to capture—both of them.
There was no sign of anyone else. He would have thought he was completely alone, but he knew his target was there. He felt it somehow, a disturbance in the air, a tang of anticipation.
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