by J. Y. Harris
“Yeah, that’s it.”
“On the nose.”
“Well, this secret mission of yours… meeting someone deep in the woods… sounds like the work of a spy.”
Brad laughed. “When you say it like—wait. What?”
“No, no, no,” Kristen said. “We are so not spies. We’re as American as you are. Born and raised here—just miles away, in fact. Not to mention a few centuries. But believe me, we’re big fans of George Washington.”
“And we really, really, really want him to kick General Howe’s butt at White Marsh the day after tomorrow,” Brad added. “It’s very important that he win that battle and lead the American troops to defeat the British.”
Kris nodded. “After all, how else is he gonna become president and get on the dollar bill?”
Whereas a moment ago Jacob was looking at them suspiciously, now he looked just plain confused. “What? Washington is going to become what, and get on where? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Brad gave Kristen another of his WB looks. “Welcome to my world. Look, I know it sounds crazy—and it is, I admit. But the reality is, we do have to go back to where we first met Rebecca. It’s the only way we can get home.”
“Get home? If you’re lost, I’m sure I can—”
“We are lost,” Kristen said, sighing. “No two ways about that. And, unfortunately for us, even the best hunter and tracker in the world—your world—can’t get us home.”
Jacob opened his mouth to reply, but Rebecca grabbed his arm. “Shhh! Listen,” she said.
They all heard it: twigs breaking, leaves rustling. Someone was not too far off, and not being very quiet about it.
Kristen was shocked to see Jacob pull a knife out from beneath his cloak while with his other hand he put his fingers to his lips. He cocked his head in an attitude of listening, and then slipped silently among the trees.
“We may have to hide,” Brad said quietly.
“Hide!” Kristen repeated in a whisper. “Where? How? We’re not hobbits; we don’t have cloaks that conveniently camouflage us.”
“I know, but—” Brad’s reply was cut off by Jacob’s reappearance. They all looked at him questioningly.
“Not soldiers,” he said curtly. “At least not at the moment. They may be deserters.”
“Deserters! What should we do?” Rebecca asked, clearly looking to Jacob for guidance.
“There are some evergreen trees over yonder. Judging from the direction those men were taking, they may pass nearby, and the trees I mentioned offer the best cover.”
It was late autumn, and most leaves had fallen from the trees, which to this point made for some pretty noisy walking as dry leaves weren’t exactly quiet when rustled underfoot. However, Kristen didn’t recall seeing any Christmas trees in this forest. That’s what she thought of when Jacob said ‘evergreens,’ and a nice eight-foot tree certainly would be wide enough for them to hide behind. Add a little tinsel and some ornaments—not to mention a star on top—and yeah, they’d be practically invisible.
They crept as quietly as possible as they followed Jacob, carefully picking their feet up rather than shuffling leaves in their wake. Sure enough, there were a couple of evergreen trees up ahead, and Kristen mentally kicked herself for forgetting where she was.
These were Eastern hemlocks, which species she had known since the third grade was the state tree of Pennsylvania. Duh!
The conifers were pretty young, probably no more than twenty feet tall. Even with the fully-needled branches, which started about three or four feet off the ground, the trees couldn’t completely hide the four teenagers from sight of the passersby, but they would do well enough.
Kristen forced herself next to one tree with Jacob at her side. He maneuvered her as near to the trunk as the thick limbs would allow, and crowded close to her, trying to make them both seem part of the tree. A quick glance told her that Brad and Rebecca were similarly situated next to the other tree.
Any other time, she’d probably enjoy this: a good-looking guy pressing himself against her, smelling as he did of woodsmoke and the outdoors. Kristen’s eyes were about level with his chin, and she could see the stubble on his cheek, as well as a small cut along his jawline, probably from the last time he’d shaved. He was close enough that she could feel his chest move as he breathed, and if she’d had room to put her hand up, she could probably feel his heart thumping beneath the brown woolen cloak.
She found herself taking shallow breaths, not because she was literally ‘breathless,’ or that Jacob’s proximity ‘took her breath away,’ but because she was almost afraid that if she breathed normally, with full, deep breaths, she would practically push him away. He was that closely pressed against her.
One of Jacob’s hands was braced against the trunk of the tree, and the other rested lightly on the hilt of the knife in its sheath. Under other circumstances, Kristen would say he had her pinned against the tree, and it would be true, but there was nothing romantic about it. Or menacing, for that matter. ‘Shielding’ would be the more accurate term. His dark brown coat and breeches were as much camouflaging as she could hope for as she stood with her back against the scratchy bark.
Brad and Rebecca were in a similar case. He had his arm on the Quaker girl’s shoulder, pressing her as close to the tree trunk as possible. And yet he wasn’t standing as near to her as Jacob stood to Kristen. The thought flew fleetingly through Kris’ mind that Brad, even while stuck in a time-warp, hiding from renegade deserters in the darkening forest, was ever the gentleman, being careful not to crowd Rebecca.
Jacob apparently had no such qualms with her. Not that he was being disrespectful… apparently it didn’t occur to him that it could be construed that way. That’ll teach me, she thought, to try to apply twenty-first century sensibilities to an eighteenth century situation.
No, Jacob was all about the mission, which was protecting those who had been put in his charge: in this case, the “womenfolk.” Kris smiled to herself at that thought. Little did Jacob Tyson know that she’d taken two years of karate at the “Y” when she was younger, and that she’d successfully beat the snot out of Tony Krocker when he’d deliberately tripped her friend on the playground in the third grade.
Well, never mind. If Jacob’s sense of honor dictated that he press her against a tree trunk with his body, so that their very breaths mingled warmly and haltingly between them… who was she to argue the point?
The sound of voices and rustling leaves grew steadily closer, until it almost sounded as if the rogues were on the other side of the tree.
“I ain’t doin’ it, Bob,” said one angrily. “It ain’t right.”
“You want right, or do you want money?” came the reply from ‘Bob.’ “All’s we have to do is snoop around the camp some. Don’t ye want t’ get paid? That’s why we hoofed it out of there to begin with—the army ain’t paid us.”
“So why’re we still crawling around the countryside? I say we just go home to our families.”
To Kristen’s horror, the strangers seemed to have stopped to argue. Her gaze flew to Jacob; his thickly-lashed eyes were glued past her, looking instead through the branches to some point beyond the tree. His face was a study in concentration.
“Go home to our families! With what?” asked Bob. “We ain’t got no money, our families ain’t got no money, since we weren’t there to work the harvest. Nobody’s got no money. Except them Brits. When that redcoat officer caught us stealing them eggs, he could’ve kilt us, or clapped us in irons. But he wants to pay us, Walt. Pay us good money, just for a little snoopin’.”
“Yeah, and never mind what happens if we gets caught. First desertin’ and then spyin’. That’ll work out great for us, Bob. Listen, I saw a clearing over there; I’m going to sit down and maybe get off my feet for a bit. These dogs are barkin’.”
“Wait, you don’t want to be lolly-gaggin’ in these woods—‘specially not now when it’s comin’ dark. Who knows what-all
lives in the forest. By which I’m talking about wild animals.”
“If something’s out there, it ain’t gonna come near no fire. Now look for some kindlin’.”
There was some leaf rustling as the two men moved away from the hemlock trees. Kristen felt a rush of air as Jacob let out a deeply-held breath. He peered cautiously around the tree, eyes darting this way and that as he ensured the men were indeed gone.
As Jacob stepped away, Brad and Rebecca trod quietly over to where he and Kristen stood.
“Well, that was close,” Brad whispered.
“Yeah, the last thing we need is to be caught by some cowardly deserters,” Kristen agreed. “These woods are dangerous.”
“I doubt they would have physically harmed us,” Jacob put in.
“How do you know? I’m sure they were armed, weren’t they?”
“One of them did have a musket.”
“See?”
“Which posed no threat to any of us.”
“How can you know that?” Brad asked curiously.
Jacob shook his head. “No ammunition. Do you really think they would bother stealing eggs from some farm if they had the means to take down a deer or even a rabbit?”
“Good point.”
“They probably still have knives,” Kristen said, eying Jacob meaningfully. “Apparently everyone around here carries a knife.”
“You’re right,” he replied. “Most men who walk in the woods carry knives. It’s a reasonable thing to do. But I don’t think those men pose a big threat—not physically, anyway. Not to us.”
“What do you mean?”
“Didn’t you hear them?” Rebecca put in. “They were talking about spying. On General Washington.”
“Yeah, but old buddy Walt over there wasn’t on board with the plan. He didn’t want to do it,” replied Kristen.
“Maybe not,” said Jacob. “But think about it. Which of those two do you think would win out in the end?”
“Bob was pretty persuasive,” Brad said thoughtfully. “For them the choice is between going home empty-handed to face a cold, hungry winter, or taking a risk in helping spy for the British and getting paid a tidy sum for a couple days’ work.”
“So you think eventually Bob would win out.”
Jacob tipped his head. “I don’t think he would do it alone, without his friend, but of the two, he has a better chance of convincing the other one. He had more persuasive arguments on his side.”
“Okay,” Kristen said, “now we know that good ol’ Bob gets to be captain of the debate team. So what does that mean for us?”
Jacob and Brad looked at each other as if seeking affirmation that the other would agree with him. They were each about to speak when—
“We have to stop them.”
The boys looked at Rebecca in surprise.
Kristen laughed. “She totally stole your thunder. You go, girl!” Kris stuck out her closed hand for a fist bump, then dropped it when Rebecca just looked at her as if she were crazy. Kristen cleared her throat. “Yeah, okay. Anyway. So, what do we do to stop them?”
CHAPTER FIVE
“Keeping these deserters from spying on General Washington may not be as easy as we think,” Rebecca said. “They may be desperate.”
“I doubt that. They seemed more hungry than dangerous,” Brad replied. “Maybe we can befriend them and offer whatever food we have left. The journey cakes, for example.”
“And do what, wait for them to fall asleep while they’re chewing the blasted things?” Kristen asked.
“No,” Jacob replied, his hand on his knife, “once one or two of us have their attention with the food, the rest of us get the upper hand and tie them up.”
“And do what with them once we’ve gotten them tied up?” wondered Kristen. “Assuming that works, for starters, because really, does anyone really think they’d fall for that? But seriously, what would we do then, once we’ve gotten them tied up—take them back to Washington? What would his officers do to those guys, if they really are deserters?”
Jacob shrugged. “They would most likely be flogged.”
“Flogged,” Brad repeated.
“Yes. I believe deserters can get up to one hundred lashes.”
“Lashes,” Kristen said, “as in, with a whip?”
Brad said, “If that’s what they’d get for deserting, what about for the spying? I mean, I know they haven’t actually spied yet, and maybe they won’t anyway, but I can only imagine what the Army officers would do just knowing these guys had thought about it.”
“And is that what we want?” Kristen continued. “Bob and Walt may be cowards, but they’re also desperate—not just for themselves, but for their families. And besides, if their hitches working for the army are up and they haven’t been paid and they’re worried about their families, how can anyone blame them? Well, okay, so we can blame them for considering spying—that’s just wrong. And for running out on their army buddies in the middle of the night or whatever, ‘cuz that’s wrong too, but still, I don’t want to be responsible for anyone being whipped. Or lashed, or flogged, whatever it’s called.”
“So do you have a better idea as to how to keep them from informing the British of the strength of the American forces?”
Kris bit her lip speculatively. “Well, as a matter of fact… I think I do. Especially since we don’t have to actually interfere with them; all we really need to do is delay or distract them. Brad, this will be a job for you and me, requiring our special skills.”
“Um, excuse me, our ‘special skills’? Do you want to elaborate on what, exactly, those are?”
“You’ll see. You’ll just have to trust me.”
He laughed. “Trust you! Last time I trusted you, I was eight years old, and you told me my GI Joe action figure would be able to swim back to the top if you flushed him down the toilet.”
“Well, he was supposed to be a Navy SEAL GI Joe; he should have known how to swim against the current. And I was, what, six? And you believed me?”
Her brother just shook his head. “What’s this plan of yours?
“Whatever you’re thinking,” Jacob put in, “I can’t let you do it. Not the two of you, alone.”
“Ha! First of all, like you can stop us. Second of all, you have to stand down on this one. It has to be us, Brad and me. You and Rebecca can’t be involved.”
The two colonials looked at each other. “Why not?” Rebecca asked. “We are involved, and have been all along. What are you trying to hide from us?”
“Let’s just say we’re trying to protect you.”
Before Rebecca could ask “Protect us from what?” which is exactly what she was about to do, Kristen looked at Brad, “I hope you have the proper school spirit.”
He looked at his sister questioningly, and she whispered a few words to him. His face cleared in understanding.
“Not bad,” he said approvingly. “I think that has a shot at working. At least, better than your swimming GI Joe idea.”
To Jacob and Rebecca, he said, “Kristen is right. This plan can work, but the two of you have to stay here. No matter what you hear, don’t move until Kris and I come back.”
Jacob looked really stressed out and unhappy about this turn of events, which Kristen hated, but there was no way he could help them. This plan had to be carried out by Brad and her. She also wasn’t keen on leaving Jacob alone with Revolutionary Rita, but there was no other choice. Besides, it’s not like she was involved with Jacob—or ever could be. With any luck, she and Brad would be gone soon (please, God, please let us be gone soon!), and she’d never see him again. His bones would be crumbling in whatever was left of a pine box by the time even her grandparents were born.
Brad and Jacob conferred briefly on where the deserters likely went, and then Jacob joined Rebecca in sitting at the base of one of the hemlock trees. The two Everhearts, meanwhile, set off quietly into the woods.
Once they were safely out of earshot, Brad stopped. “Okay, this is
far enough. Let’s test it out first, and then we’ll strategize.”
They reached into their bags and brought out their cell phones. After checking a few settings, they were satisfied and ready.
“Listen,” Brad whispered, “I think I hear Bob and Walt talking. There they are.”
Sure enough, about fifty or sixty yards away, Kristen saw the two men in a small area where there were no large trees. Through the darkening shadows she could see they were gathering kindling and putting it into a pile.
“I can’t believe they’re stupid enough to light a fire.”
“Why? The trees are so thick, the flames won’t be visible unless you get right on top of them.”
“Yeah, but the smoke will be visible above the trees from miles away, even in a night sky. Not to mention the smell of the smoke.”
“True. Not the brightest move for a couple of guys who are running away from one army, and trying to be stealthy spies for the other one.”
“Okay, so here’s the plan,” Brad said. “I’m going to circle around to the ten o’clock position. You’ll be at eight o’clock—”
“You just can’t let that GI Joe military thing go, can you?”
“Come on, be serious. You know what I’m talking about or not?”
Kristen sighed. “Yes. We’re going to get between the Doofus Brothers and the direction of the tavern and where Washington’s army is. Then we’re going to unleash the secret weapon.”
“Right. I’ll signal you to let you know I’m in position. With luck, they’ll go running back the way they came.”
Kristen followed her brother until she was in position, and watched him pick his way toward his location. She found herself holding her breath, her heart pounding. She felt as if she could sprint a mile, or five miles, or all the way back to the tavern—however far that was. That was the adrenaline, of course; Kristen wasn’t one to break into a sprint under normal circumstances; not that she couldn’t--she'd run track, after all--it was just that she had to be properly motivated.
She had already donned her backpack the correct way, with a strap over each shoulder. Most people didn’t bother to do that, usually just slipping a single strap over one shoulder. Which totally defeated the purpose of a backpack, which was to distribute the weight of the pack even between the shoulders, thus making it easier to carry. Not to mention decreasing the pressure on the carrier. It made perfect sense, Kristen thought.