Love’s Betrayal

by DiAnn Mills

  “I made it back to … to the wagon and set my sights on Chesterfield. Not sure how I got here … save by the grace of God.”

  “That is also why you’re still alive,” Charity said.

  Little sister, you continue to amaze me, Delight thought.

  “I know ye are in pain, but is there anything you can tell me about the men before we venture toward Philadelphia?” Henry said.

  James swallowed hard. “Two things you need to know. One … has been branded a thief. I saw a T burned into the flesh of his right hand … below his thumb. The other matter is the far barrel … on the left side of the wagon is filled with corn … just in case someone searches it.”

  “Thank you, friend. I’ll be heading outside while ye tell the women good-bye.”

  Delight had no intention of lingering behind. Charity and James deserved a few moments alone. “Farewell, James. I will be praying for your good health.” She stood, then turned to her sister. “Charity, don’t persist in tasking James’s health. You will have ample time to visit when we return.” She tossed a smile over her shoulder and hurried to the doorway behind Henry.

  Hours later, the wagon ambled on in a southwesterly direction. Plenty of food lay packed around the barrels, and true to Henry’s assessment, both girls had a difficult time lying on the wagon bed. Sleeping would be done in an upright position. Thankfully, Mama had packed ample blankets for the cold nights and chilly days ahead. Delight refused to think of the explosion that could occur with a single musket blast in the right direction.

  “What’s in the barrels that is so important to the soldiers?” Mama had said.

  Delight decided to say nothing rather than lie to her mother.

  “I took the lid off one and saw corn.” Henry skirted around the real topic.

  Mama placed her hands on her hips. “Henry O’Neill, must I question you like Mercy and Hope—or Elijah?”

  “Indeed, ye might, Mistress Butler.” He leaned against the wagon, tugging at this and pulling at that.

  “What is below the corn?”

  “Ma’am, if there is anything beneath it, the Continental army has need of it.”

  Mama said nothing, only stared into Henry’s face as the color rose up his neck in sharp contrast to his coppery red hair. “Perhaps I don’t want to know what’s in those barrels.”

  “A wise decision, Mistress Butler.”

  She wagged a finger at him. “You learned too many of Elijah’s tricks while you two were together. Now you take good care of my girls, or I will skin you alive!”

  “Of course. I would prefer a firing squad to facing you if something happened to one of them.”

  “Precisely. You’d best be leaving before I change my mind about allowing them on this mission. I already feel I’ve lost my good senses by going along with this … trickery.”

  A few moments later, Henry took the first turn at driving, and Charity volunteered to sit among the barrels. Despite the uncomfortable position, she eventually slept, which in Delight’s mind was impossible in the excitement.

  She glanced up at the sky with its graying clouds. Although it could snow, she prayed it would wait until they returned. On the other hand, rain had a way of chilling one to the bone. “Do you think those two men will follow us?”

  “Lass, they’d have to find us first.”

  She shivered. “My thoughts are they’d be very angry.”

  “And out for blood. Again, I say this venture is not for the fainthearted. I could still make arrangements to send ye and Charity back to Chesterfield.”

  She straightened on the seat despite the fact her back ached and walking looked more agreeable. “You are afraid of Papa?”

  “And rightfully so. He once threatened to cut off my good leg if anything happened to one of his family.”

  “But my company is worth any risk.”

  He laughed heartily. “Are ye asking me to choose between my good leg and you?”

  Teasing eased her heavy heart. “’Tis a small price to pay for a lady’s company, don’t you agree?”

  “Are ye worth the trouble?”

  “Papa thinks so.” Do you, dear Henry?

  He nodded and pressed his lips together. “Me Delight thinks highly of herself. Pride cometh before destruction, lass.”

  “A woman that feareth the Lord shall be praised.”

  Henry shifted his healing leg, and she sensed it stiffened. “I would like very much to drive now,” Delight said. “Your leg needs a rest.”

  “I think not. It is fine,” he said. “Although we could quote scripture all the way to Philadelphia to pass the hours.”

  “I am sure that would make Charity and Mama very happy. Remember is most likely praying for that very ideal.”

  “Why don’t we recite the Song of Solomon?” His voice rang with laughter.

  “Henry, what a shameful suggestion.” Those thoughts traverse through my mind enough without reminders. She crossed her arms across her chest in feigned annoyance. “Perhaps I shan’t speak to you at all until we return home.”

  “Then ye can listen, for I have much to discuss about us.”

  Chapter 16

  Henry couldn’t believe his daring, but he had experienced God’s prompting to talk with Delight about their relationship. He sincerely doubted if she would jump from the wagon and walk home. She was far too committed to the patriot cause. And if she refused to listen, then obviously he’d misunderstood God’s leading regarding their future together. His heart might be broken at the end of the journey and the rendezvous with Cavin Sullivan, but the Father had promised His abiding grace in times of adversity.

  Delight perplexed Henry. She appeared to enjoy his conversation and they shared teasing readily, but her physical response to him fluctuated like the changing tides. She seemed to enjoy his embraces, then would pull away as if suddenly assaulted by guilt or remorse … or something. She might still have feelings for James, or perhaps she bore no strong feelings toward Henry other than friendship. In any event, he needed to have the answers.

  “Delight, if not for this journey, I would be enlisting. I have no doubt that God placed me in your home for the purpose of understanding true liberty in Him and true freedom for men to govern themselves.” He glanced at her pale face. Did his topic disturb her this greatly?

  “I am pleased we were used for this noble purpose.”

  With only the sound of nature around them and the steady plop of the horses’ hooves on the road, he continued. “Until I joined your family, I believed God intended the aristocrats to rule and the poorer classes to adhere to their mandates. I was convinced of this, even with the suffering of my own family in Ireland and the testimony of my friend Adam about his meager life in the slums of London.”

  “I’m sorry for all you have experienced.” The earnestness in her voice showed her compassion. “Previously the war felt like an adventure or a diversion, a topic to debate. I saw soldiers in British-occupied Boston, with all of their pomp and circumstance, arrest men and escort them away. I heard men and women shout of the unfairness and ministers speak against the British from the pulpit, but the situation angered rather than frightened me. Even when I carried messages in Boston—”

  “Ye what?” Henry must have heard incorrectly.

  She massaged her arms. “Papa did not tell you?”

  “Tell me what?”

  Delight moistened her lips. “I passed messages for the patriots while we lived in Boston.”

  Henry exhaled heavily into the chilly air. “I am not surprised, knowing your resolve in such matters. Did ye not consider the danger?”

  “Not exactly. It exhilarated me. Of course, my illegal activities are why Papa moved us to Chesterfield.”

  “Wise man.” I wonder if I can handle the trouble involved in loving and marrying ye, Delight Butler.

  “As I was saying, that used to be my attitude. When you came, I saw the cruelty of war from a different perspective. I truly wanted to hate you, but I co
uldn’t. As a result I was constantly angry. At times, I actually considered that there were good, Christian men in the British flanks, too. Now I realize you could have chosen to keep your views about the patriots to yourself, and our friendship might never have taken place.” She cast him a sideways glance. “For selfish reasons, I am glad you are now a man of true liberty.”

  “I am delighted, too, Miss Delight.”

  She smiled before a wistful look passed over her face. “Papa’s leaving awakened me to the atrocities involved in this struggle.” She gazed into his face, her large eyes reflecting sadness. “Finding James in such a mangled, bloody condition did not help either. Of course, you have seen more injured and fatally wounded men than you care to remember.”

  “True, and I will see it again.”

  She shuddered, and he did not think her reaction was due to the cold, and began again. “Forgive me, you were talking, and I should have been listening instead of voicing my own thoughts.”

  “Nonsense, I value your words. Every comment helps me to know ye better. In addition, what I have to say involves your own thoughts and sentiments.”

  “Do continue, Henry. I won’t interrupt.”

  Suddenly, all his carefully prepared statements escaped his mind. He didn’t know why he’d initiated the conversation or what he planned to say. Stammering and feeling ridiculous, Henry chose to abandon the subject and try again another time—once he remembered what he wanted to tell her about his love and the future. Humiliation warmed him to the bone, and foolishness cast an accusing finger in his face.

  An hour later he recalled the purpose of his initial discussion—the future—but courage failed him. He couldn’t tell Delight he loved her or ask her to wait for him until the war ended. In all honesty, he wanted to marry her before he enlisted.

  Five days passed, five weary days that extended into the night. Delight endured the uncomfortable wagon and persisted through each hour with less and less sleep. Henry often refused her offers to drive, as well as Charity’s. And he always waited until complete darkness before stopping for the evening.

  The wagon held a heavy load, and despite the urgency, the animals required rest. Often Delight and Charity strolled alongside it, but in those rare moments when Henry allowed them to drive, he slept. His limp had all but disappeared, yet Delight noted the way his leg stiffened after long periods in the wagon. He must be exhausted, but he never complained.

  Henry traversed away from settlements. No point in arousing suspicion about the barrels or having thieves steal their corn. Sleeping under the wagon on cold, hard ground bruised her bones and threatened her disposition. Delight noted Charity grumbled not once, a rarity for her sister and an obvious improvement in her temperament. But of course, Delight herself had found patience in dealing with others of late. Perhaps both she and her sister were showing the signs of reaching maturity.

  The past few days, Delight had wakened with a pounding headache that plagued her until nightfall. Stubbornly she refused to tell Charity or Henry, knowing they could do nothing about the growing pain. Her throat felt as though someone had sliced it raw. This was not the time to be ill, so she prayed.

  Delight wondered time and time again what Henry had planned to say on the first day of their journey, but she hesitated to inquire. Deep down she understood his sincere feelings for her as readily as she knew her own. Something always held her back from initiating a conversation on the subject. Cowardice disgusted her, so she elected to term her reluctance to another cause, but what? She felt the pangs of fear every time she gazed into his blue eyes.

  Several days out on their journey, the weather turned nippy. One morning they woke to a dusting of snow coating their blankets. Although it quickly melted, the threat of a heavy falling needled at her mind. Along with her other afflictions, she had noticed a slight cough. Delight concentrated on swallowing the annoyance so as not to alarm Henry or Charity.

  By avoiding the more heavily traveled roads, they saw few people except during those occasions when they needed to gather directions. The three conversed freely as their journey lengthened. The topics covered everything from Henry’s boyhood memories, his friend’s recollections of London, Bible passages, and a mound of stories that Delight and Charity told of their childhood.

  Delight loved Henry’s teasing. His wit and charm increased her feelings for him. Talking with him reminded her of Papa, as though he sat in their midst instead of marching off to war. Many of Henry’s admirable traits were the same characteristics she valued for a husband. Of course, considering him in the future sounded easier than approaching the subject at the present.

  “Henry, do you sincerely intend to live in Chesterfield after the war?” Delight said one late afternoon as the sun made its fiery descent and she rode in the wagon bed. “I know you have stated as such, but this country is vast.”

  “I believe so, lass. In me heart, I want to settle down with a family and resume me weaving. Remember, it’s why I purposed to come to this fair country.”

  She nodded. “I remember you telling me that very thing.”

  “Where do you plan to obtain this family?” Charity said from the bench beside him.

  Sister, do not force his reply. I’m not ready for this discussion—at least not now and certainly not in your presence.

  Henry chuckled, a trait she had learned to recognize when he hesitated speaking about an uncomfortable issue. “It is all in God’s providence. I believe I can provide for a family with my trade, but I do require a wife.”

  “And what are your requirements for a suitable spouse?” Charity continued.

  Delight jabbed her finger into her sister’s right side, but Charity ignored the touch.

  “Are ye applying?” Henry’s voice rang with merriment.

  “Nay, but I thought I could recommend someone if I knew what you deemed important.”

  Henry urged the horses down the road. Soon they would need to stop for the night, and all of them wanted as many miles behind them as they could obtain. “A godly woman is essential. A woman with a sharp mind and who has convictions of her own appeals to me. Friendship is vital, and with that comes respect and admiration for each other.”

  “And what of beauty?”

  Henry’s laughter rang over the treetops. “Oh Charity, I am not a comely man, so how can I ask God for loveliness in a wife? Although the idea does have merit.”

  “Henry, I think you are most dashing. Don’t you, Delight?”

  Charity, if we were at home, you and I would toss words like puppies tugging at a bone. In fact, I would tease you unmercifully in front of James until you begged for release.

  “Don’t you think Henry is handsome?” her sister repeated.

  Delight fumed. Later she’d tell Charity to tend to her own matchmaking. “He is pleasing to look at, if one appreciates red hair.”

  “His hair is what distinguishes him from other men.”

  “It reminds me of a rooster’s comb.” Delight uttered the words before considering their content.

  “Sister, dare you be unkind to our Henry?” Charity sounded appalled.

  Properly chagrined, Delight sought to remedy the situation. “I didn’t mean to be derogatory. The color is simply unusual.”

  Henry cleared his throat. “Ladies, I’d welcome it if ye could talk about matters other than me appearance.”

  “Certainly.” Charity’s honeyed words irked Delight. She glanced back at Delight and offered a sweet smile before turning her attention to the road. “Now, what were we discussing? Oh, now I remember, what Henry prefers in a wife.”

  “I completed my thoughts,” he quickly said.

  “Wonderful. Commendable, too. I have another challenge. This time it is Delight’s turn.”

  Oh no!

  “What do you desire in a husband?” Charity said.

  “Must we persist in this topic?” Delight envisioned her sister’s neck as one of Mama’s chickens in line for dinner.

  “Aye.
You are next, then I will give my desires.”

  Delight attempted to remember the items Henry had listed so she would not repeat them. If she did, she had no doubt that Charity would make pointed comments about the similarities. “Henry must surely be bored with this game.”

  “Nay, lass. I am finding this portion enjoyable.”

  Trapped, she must endure her sister’s folly. “A man who honors God above all things.”

  Silence.

  “Nothing else, Delight?”

  “Unselfish, loving, intelligent, capable of courage and strength.”

  Charity sighed. “Forgive me for my observation, but your description sounds like Henry.”

  You will be at my mercy this night, Delight promised her sister silently, then quickly added, “I believe I spoke in generalities. All Christian women want those qualities in a husband. This is the essence of a true gentleman.”

  “You are most insightful. And I do believe you are quite intelligent, sister, with an apt mind and the qualities of a true friend. I only wish I had your beauty.”

  Red-faced, Delight chose not to respond. She’d lost in Charity’s little amusement. Thankfully, dusk had replaced the light, for she could not look into Henry’s face without sinking into a puddle of humiliation.

  A few moments later she gathered her courage. “Charity, this is not the end of this matter.”

  “I certainly hope not. Such a pity for me to marry before you.” Charity laughed until Henry joined in. At first Delight scrambled for the right words to express her anger, then she, too, broke into a fit of laughter. “Charity, I will get even. Then we will see who shares the mirth.”

  “I don’t doubt your merciless spirit for an instant.” Her sister giggled. “But it was such fun.”

  “Henry, are you going to allow this infraction into your private affairs without revenge?” Delight desperately attempted to disguise the smile on her face.

  “Your sister is a worthy opponent. I am afraid King George’s army has met their match. As for me, I am going to get some rest before morning arrives.”