by Tamara Gill
With one last rub along her jawbone with his thumb, he allowed his hand to drop. “What time is it?”
Jaclyn straightened and sat on the edge of the bed. She looked out the window. The view didn’t give her much help. “It’s midafternoon, I think.”
“When?”
“June the fourth.”
“What’s been happening?”
“Well, Sara is making bread and Jim Bailey is out with the wagon trying to find out what’s up.”
Sean stared up at the ceiling, his face expressionless. “O’Neill has gone?”
Jaclyn fussed unnecessarily with the covers. “He left the night we brought you here.”
Sean shifted, pushing himself up to a sitting position. “Would you pass me the water?”
Jacqui did as he asked and watched while he sipped cautiously. After he handed the glass back to her he leaned his head back against the headboard, his features strained. “Is the military in control of the region?”
She didn’t have to ask what he meant. A vision of George Denison standing at the door this morning filled her mind. “Yes.”
“The borders are closed?”
“I don’t think it would be a good idea to present yourself at the International Ferry and ask to go over to Buffalo,” Jacqui said.
Sean smiled. “You’re probably right,” he said, then closed his eyes.
Jacqui leaned forward and stroked his cheek gently. “Sean, you’re safe here. Don’t worry about it.”
He opened his eyes again, then he caught her hand in his uninjured one. “My presence here puts you and the Baileys in jeopardy. I would not wish to cause any of you harm.”
Jacqui placed the back of his hand against her cheek. “Sean, you won’t. Trust me on this.”
“I wish I could be sure.”
She shot him a mischievous look. “Have I been wrong yet?”
A smile quirked Sean’s mouth, but he said seriously, “There must always be a first time.” With a sigh he added, “I think I’d best sleep awhile now.”
“Good idea,” Jaclyn said. She slipped her hand from his to help him stretch out again, then waited until his body had relaxed before she headed downstairs.
“Sara, guess what!”
In the time Jaclyn had been sitting with Sean the dough had risen into a huge bubble. Sara punched it down and watched it deflate with considerable satisfaction on her face. “What?” she said absently.
“Sean just woke up! He asked me what was happening.”
“That’s excellent, Jack! I’m very encouraged about Major O’Dell’s prospects.” There was a thump at the doorway. Both Sara and Jaclyn froze until old Jim Bailey stumped wearily into the kitchen. “Grandpa, did you hear that? Major O’Dell is conscious and quite lucid!”
“That’s good news, Sara.” Bailey sat down at the scrubbed pine table with a sigh. “I swear, that young whippersnapper has more energy than a box full of puppies.”
Jaclyn laughed. “Major Denison?”
Grandpa nodded. “He wasn’t still for one minute the whole time I was with him. He galloped that big black of his back and forth across the whole area and he took me and those soldiers of his with him. Oh, I am tired.”
Sara covered the bread pan and set it aside to let the bread rise a second time. “Do you think there is any danger to Major O’Dell from Major Denison?”
Grandpa rubbed his chin. “Could be. This fellow, Colonel Lowry, the one who was sent to take over from Peacocke, has decided that the Fenians are no longer a threat. It seems he went over to the boat that’s got the Fenians’ scow tied up to it—what’s it called?”
“The Michigan.”
“That’s right. Lowry went to the Michigan and had a talk with her captain. The Yank claims the US will not allow the Fenians to invade our soil again. Lowry is satisfied with that so he’s going back to Toronto and so are most of the other troops. Major Denison is to stay and continue rounding up Fenians. But that’s not what worries me.”
“What is it then, Grandpa?”
“Lowry has sent word to Toronto that the emergency is over. Adam will be back in a day or two.”
“Adam?”
“My papa,” Sara said by way of explanation to Jaclyn. “He was in Toronto with my mother and my younger brother when the invasion began. He’s going to be angry when he finds out a Fenian is recuperating in his house.”
That wasn’t surprising. Safe in Toronto Adam Bailey must have been in a frenzy wondering what was happening to his father, his daughter and his farm. There was no CNN on TV to provide a continuous stream of data, no Internet to log on and get real time pictures of the event, no radio to provide regular updates on the status of the invasion. There was only newspapers, some that came out daily, some weekly or biweekly, even monthly. Information would be spread by word of mouth, with all of the pitfalls of that method of communication. It made perfect sense to expect Adam Bailey to return as soon as the all clear was sounded.
“So what do we do with Sean?”
“We have to move him before Adam returns,” Grandpa said.
“I could make a bed up for him in the barn,” Sara said.
“That’s the first place Denison and his boys have been looking. They’ve been pretty successful at finding folks too.”
“He could go back to the States,” Jaclyn said slowly, thinking of the conversation she’d just had with Sean.
Sara glared at her. “He has a concussion, a broken arm and a gunshot wound. He doesn’t have the strength!”
Jaclyn sighed. Sara was probably right. But what was to be done? With Adam Bailey returning at any time, Sean was again in danger.
“If the boy’s lucid we’d best ask him what he wants to do. The decision should be his.”
“No! Grandpa, let him stay. He’ll be fine. Papa will understand!”
“And what happens when your mother finds a strange man in her spare room and has a fit of the vapors?”
Sara’s contrite, defeated expression said it all. Even if Adam Bailey had no objection to harboring a Fenian fugitive, he wouldn’t take kindly to having his wife upset.
“We’d best go on up and explain the situation to O’Dell.”
Sara’s lower lip quivered as she looked at her grandfather. “Can’t it wait until later? He’s still not very strong.”
“Who knows when your father will return?” Jaclyn said. She looked at the other two. “Come on, let’s do it.”
They all trooped up the stairs, not talking, but not making an effort to muffle their steps either. Sara was first in line with Jaclyn following and Grandpa bringing up the rear. When Sara reached the doorway of the spare room she stopped so suddenly that Jaclyn bumped into her.
“Hey, what the...” Jacqui began, then she saw what Sara saw.
Sean was sitting up in the bed, holding the Springfield rifle with the easy comfort of a man used to handling weapons. Although it wasn’t aimed directly at them it was clear that he had had it raised in a lethal position until he’d seen who was climbing the stairs to his room.
“Is that thing loaded? “ Grandpa said, coming up behind Jaclyn.
“It is,” Sean said in a thin, flat tone. He turned, moving slowly and very carefully, to put the musket beside the bed where it was within easy reach. His face was pale when he faced them once more. “I didn’t intend to be taken without a fight.”
“Major,” Sara said, hurrying over to the bed and fussing around him, “you must not strain yourself! Your injuries are healing well, but you need to rest!”
Grandpa shook his head. “Now don’t take on so over the lad, Sara.”
Sara paid no attention. She fluffed Sean’s pillow, put her hand on his forehead to check his temperature, and made a quick visual inspection of the bandages on his arm and head. Sean smiled at her then closed his eyes and let her do want she wanted. He reminded Jaclyn of nothing so much as a contented cat being stroked by his owner. All he had to do was start to purr to complete the image. She had to turn
away and look out the window to deal with the sudden, irrational, spike of jealously.
“That’s enough, my girl,” Grandpa said, rather forcefully.
Jaclyn turned back from the window. Sara was now sitting beside the bed and Grandpa was looking at her with a stern expression. From the smug look on Sara’s face, she wasn’t in the least intimidated by her grandfather’s disapproval.
Sean said, “I believe I have Miss Sara to thank for my return to health.”
Sara twitched at the bed covers. “You are not in full health yet, Major.”
He smiled. “But I do feel much better than before.”
“That’s good to hear, O’Dell. Do you feel well enough to return to the States?”
“Grandpa!”
“He’s right, Sara.” Jaclyn came to stand at the end of the bed. “Sean, what I said earlier—I goofed. Sara’s family are in Toronto now, but with the Fenians gone and your government promising to ensure no more invasions occur, they can return safely.”
Sean closed his eyes for a moment. His jaw moved, then the line of it hardened with determination. “I need to go back, as soon as I can.”
Grandpa nodded. His words were addressed to Sean, but he was watching his granddaughter. “I thought you’d say that.”
“How can he go back with Major Denison patrolling the area?” Sara demanded.
Jaclyn thought that if Sara had been standing she would have stamped her foot. “We’d have to have a plan.”
“And I suppose you have already come up with one!” Sara’s tone was annoyed.
“If Sean can handle it, yeah, I have.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Water lapped gently against the side of the little skiff. “Poor old Thomas Newbigging. Do you think he’ll mind that we stole his boat?”
Grandpa Bailey tied the rowboat up to a thick branch of a spreading bush, then he shot Jaclyn a disapproving look. “He’ll never know unless someone tells him. He’ll think it was just another Fenian theft.”
“Don’t look at me,” Jacqui said, holding up both hands, palms forward. “My lips are sealed, Grandpa.”
Jim Bailey sighed then squinted up at the sun. “I reckon it’s about six o’clock or thereabouts. You take the rig back to the farm. Do you know the way?”
“Yup.”
“Good. I’ll stay with the boat. You wait until it’s dark, then ride Sunny Girl down here, just as if O’Dell was riding the horse.”
“Yeah, right. Fat chance of that, Grandpa. Sean is a bloody centaur. If I can stay on the horse all the way from your place I’ll be lucky. I still think you should be the one to go back to the farm.”
“And what happens if Denison or one of his troopers happens to catch sight of you and decides to question what you are doing? How are you going to explain the skiff tied up beside you? Denison has already arrested you as a Fenian once. This would only add to his suspicions of you.”
“So how would you explain it?”
Grandpa raised his brows. “I spent the day with the good Major, assisting him in his valuable work. He now sees me as one of his brothers-in-arms. Plus, I’ve got the benefit of age and being well-known in the area. I’ll simply say I planned to go out for an evening’s fishing, but didn’t bring the right rod. I sent you back to get it.”
“I could say that.”
“You could. Think Denison would believe you?”
The injustice of being a youth. As much as Jaclyn wanted to avoid riding that big, excitable horse again, she knew Grandpa was right. He could bluff his way out of a dangerous spot much more easily than she could, simply because he had age and respectability on his side. All right, she could manage Sunny Girl one more time. After all, the first time she’d ridden the horse on her own it had been to help Sean. This was different only in that it was a dry run of her plan to get him back to the States. If she was able to make it from the Bailey farm to the stolen skiff moored on the Niagara River near Frenchman’s Creek without coming upon any of Denison’s troops, then Sean should be able to do it as well. The dress rehearsal would be tonight, with the final performance the next evening.
“Okay. I’ll ride Sunny Girl. Now tell me again how you drive that wagon of yours?”
***
It had to be nearly ten before Jaclyn and Sara decided it was dark enough for her to set out on her mad scheme. “Now remember,” Sara said as she saddled Sunny Girl, “stay on the path and you’ll come out close to the Fenian camp at Newbigging’s farm.”
Jacqui shot a look back at the farmhouse. They hadn’t told Sean that she was testing the waters, so to speak, since both she and Sara figured he’d make a fuss and do some sort of stupid heroic male thing to stop her. Jaclyn had dropped into his room earlier and said good night. He looked so much better that she did believe he would have the strength to follow through with her plan. If it worked.
With the filly saddled and bridled, Sara held her head while Jaclyn shoved her foot into the stirrup, hopped around and somehow managed to throw her leg over the horse’s back. Still stiff, her body protested as she settled into the saddle. “It’s awfully dark out here,” she said, gathering the reins. “I wish I had a flashlight.”
Sara shook her head. “There you go again, Jack. A what?”
“A torch, a lantern, a candle. Something to light the way. I know I’m going to get lost.”
“No you’re not. And you know why you can’t have a light. You would be too easy for Major Denison and his men to spot. Without a light you are just a shadow in the darkness.” She took hold of the bridle where the reins met the bit and began to lead the filly across the yard to the path. “Take your time and remember to trust Sunny Girl. She knows where to put her feet and she has no more desire to stumble than you do.”
“Great. The horse is going to make all the decisions.”
Sara laughed. “Not all, only some.” She reached the path and looked up. “Good luck, Jack.”
“Thanks. I’ll need it.” Remembering her wild ride from the Fenian encampment at old Fort Erie, Jaclyn nudged the filly, who responded by shaking her head and snorting. She kicked a little harder at the same time as Sara slapped Sunny Girl on the rump. The horse jumped forward with far too much enthusiasm for Jaclyn’s taste, then settled into a trot. Jacqui bounced along, certain she was going to fall off at any second.
She was too busy worrying about staying on the horse to pay much attention to where it was going, so she was surprised when she saw the dark bulk of a farmhouse—the Newbiggings’ place. Candlelight warmed one of the windows on the upper story and provided a weak beacon for her to follow. Beyond the house would be Newbigging’s destroyed orchard and past that the river. She was almost there.
“Hot damn, I made it,” Jaclyn muttered, pushing nameless fears aside as she patted the horse on the neck. The rising moon added a wash of feeble light that didn’t do a lot to cut through the darkness—in fact, it made more shadows than anything else—but she was grateful for any help she could get. She knew where she was going now and would be glad when the test run had been completed.
To reach the spot where old Jim Bailey was waiting she had to ride through Newbigging’s orchard. She guided Sunny Girl around the breastworks, into the Fenian camp where stumps and broken parts of trees were an ever present danger. Once Sunny Girl tripped. Her gait faltered, sending Jacqui’s heart racing. She spoke reassuringly to the horse, risking a pat on the neck, then concentrated on keeping the filly from stumbling over anything more.
Jacqui was so focused on staying aboard the horse that she never heard the sound of the other horses, or noticed the grotesque shadows that moved eerily about the area. It wasn’t until a voice shouted, “Halt in the name of the Queen!” that she realized she’d run into some members of the Governor General’s Body Guard.
Panic flowed through her, freezing her. Fortunately Sunny Girl wasn’t beset by the same problem and she continued to trot steadily toward the river.
“Halt, I say!”
&nbs
p; Oh man, what a disaster. A few yards more and she would reach Grandpa Bailey. They’d both be arrested and so, eventually, would Sean. I’ve really screwed up big time! What to do?
“Halt or I’ll shoot!”
If this bozo shot her, he’d probably kill her. At this close range he couldn’t miss. If he didn’t kill her outright, they’d call in Reeve Kempson, who would take great delight in chopping of her arm or leg, or whatever extremity he could lay his hands on. What to do? What to do?
Run.
The word whispered through her mind and before she could think about whether it was a good idea or not she had hammered her heels into poor Sunny Girl’s sides and shrieked out something that she thought might have been, “Giddy up!”
Sunny Girl bolted. She ran through the darkness with a sure-footed instinct, dodging the stumps and hopping over downed tree trunks the Fenians had left. Jaclyn clung to the filly’s mane and clamped her knees against the horse’s sides as tightly as she could, but this headlong rush across rough ground was way beyond her meager riding skills. She could feel herself slipping and knew she didn’t have a hope in hell of staying on for much longer.
She didn’t have the opportunity to find out how long she would manage. A shadow streaked in front of her and solidified into a big black horse ridden by a man in a dark, probably blue, uniform wearing a ridiculously high hat. Denison. Just my luck!
Sunny Girl whinnied, reared up on her hind legs and twisted to one side as she tried to avoid a collision with the Major’s mount. Jaclyn’s precarious link with her horse was broken. She screamed as she lost her hold on Sunny Girl’s mane and felt her body being flung off the filly’s back. As she soared through the air she somersaulted dizzily then landed with a thump that knocked all her breath from her body.
***
She lay on the ground shuddering with the effort of dragging air back into her lungs. The only sounds that broke the silence of that dark velvet night were the chirping of crickets and her own rough, rasping breathing. As she managed to draw one gasping breath after another, this profound silence puzzled her.