“I will do my duty,” I said, and stepped farther into the woods. The snow was coming down heavier than ever. Flakes brushed my face and touched my eyes like little fingers. The snow lit up the dark woods a little.
“Damn right you will,” Gudger said.
When I found Jenkins he was sitting on a log at the edge of the laurel thicket. I reckon he was cold and lonesome, for he was mighty glad to see me. He was all scrunched down and his hat and coat were covered with snow.
“The password is ‘liberty,’” Jenkins said.
“Have you seen anything?” I said.
“Ain’t nothing in this swamp but ghosts,” Jenkins said.
“Ghosts won’t hurt us,” I said, trying to sound jovial and confident.
When Jenkins was gone I sat on the log and laid the gun across my lap. I pulled the blanket tight around my shoulders. I shivered, but it was as much from worry as from cold. If Gudger had found me out— and I was certain he had— then he could tell on me any time he wanted to. As the sergeant he had power over me anyway. But now he could force me to do whatever he wanted.
I wondered what the penalty for pretending to be a man and a soldier was. It seemed like an army could do anything it wanted to. An army could make its own laws. An army could shoot you for falling asleep on guard duty. An army could hang you for a traitor if you sassed an officer or even a sergeant. A woman had no business in an army.
The snow was so heavy it whispered and clicked as flakes touched each other and settled on the leaves of laurels and on the ground. There was the hiss of the tiny bones of snowflakes breaking when they hit the ground. It sounded like the snowflakes were talking, but in such a low voice you couldn’t understand what they were saying. But it seemed they were trying to say something to me. Was the snow telling me what I should do or where I should go? Was John’s ghost sending a message on the night air? Was the snow whispering of sorrow and suffering? The snow was muttering of cold and danger, and the promise of peace and rest beyond it all.
You are a pilgrim, the snowflakes said. You are a pilgrim like the man in the book John read. You are the pilgrim’s wife following him through the woods and thickets and swamps, looking for love and peace, for the path toward the holy city. You are a pilgrim without any home and without any friends. You are a sinner that has killed Mr. Griffin and deceived John and the world. You quarreled with John and you are paying for your mistakes.
It was strangely comforting to think the snow was telling me that. The message was hard, but I saw it was true. And the firmness of truth is comforting. I felt I was touching solid bedrock. Truth was something you could put your feet on. I was a killer and a liar, and I was paying for my sins.
The air was faintly lit with all the falling snow. But you still couldn’t see the trees and ground. I saw this light far off in the thicket, where there hadn’t been a light before. It looked like the glow of a lantern or little campfire. Had I got mixed up in directions? Was I facing the camp instead of the thicket? Falling snow made the light dance and lean.
I brushed the snow off the rifle gun and held it out in front of me. As the light got closer I saw it wasn’t just a yellow light. It was a green and blue light too. It was a light the color of apple wood burning. It was a light with purple and lavender in it.
Who is playing a trick on me? I thought. Who is trying to fool me and scare me in the snow? I thought it might be redcoats trying to trick me. And I thought it might be outlaws or even Indians. They must have special powder to burn to make such a strange light.
As the glow got closer it grew bigger. It wasn’t just a flame but something tall as a man gliding through the trees and through the brush. It was an aura like light from a halo. It was a globe of light. Is this a ghost? I thought. Is this the ghost of a dead Indian? Or the ghost of a dead soldier? Is this the ghost of John come to tell me something?
I aimed the gun as the light got closer. I wondered if I should call out or fire the rifle gun as a warning. What if it was just somebody trying to find their way? What if it was a patriot soldier trying to find his way back to camp in the snow?
As it got closer the light was not as bright as I’d thought. The light was tall as a man but its purples and greens and blues had faded. The glow was weakening, just beyond some laurel bushes, close enough to speak to.
“Halt,” I said. “Who goes there?”
But nobody answered. There was only the swish and crackle of falling snow.
“What is the password?” I said, and raised the rifle. I expected somebody to say “Liberty,” but there was no answer except the whisper and scratch of the heavy snowflakes touching each other and piling up.
I thought I was going to have to shoot. I raised the rifle and put my finger on the cold trigger. But just as I was about to pull the trigger the light melted away. It got dimmer and dimmer and just faded until I couldn’t tell when it disappeared. Even as I aimed the barrel I saw the light had gone.
“Who is there?” I said, expecting to hear snickering. But the only noise was the snow sweeping into the trees.
I sat back on the log and studied on the mystery. Jenkins had said there were ghosts there. Was the light what he’d meant? Had he been visited by such a light? All my life I’d heard about ball lightning and chain lightning. I’d heard about swamp gas and wills of the wisp. I’d heard about lights coming out of hills and sinkholes. I’d heard about ghosts that searched all night for their lost loves.
Just then I saw another light way off in the woods. It was to the left of where the other light had started. It was a faint light that got bigger, like a wick was being turned up. The light floated like a lantern on a tide. The light moved steadily through the trees and brush.
These woods are haunted by devils, I said under my breath. These woods are possessed by bad spirits. The glow of this light was redder than the other one. This light was red as a devil light from hell. I knew that somehow the snow had stirred up the spirits in the woods or in the ground. Whether it was swamp gas that was burning or the ghosts of Cherokees, it was the snow that had riled them out of their lairs to wander in the night.
After the red light faded there was another one that came from the left. This one was yellow and lavender and almost flat as a tabletop. The light was so thin it could have been glow worms and lightning bugs floating on the surface of a lake. The light was thin as a razor’s edge and cut its way through the dark, so flat you could hardly see it.
When the slice of light faded away I didn’t see any more. The woods were dark again and scratching with falling snow like there were tiny beetles and mice all around me. The snow itched and drooled on my face. I pulled the blanket over my head as a kind of hood.
Sitting still in the woods will make you cold no matter how much clothes you’re wearing. Sitting still without a fire will chill you to the bone and to the middle of your guts. You could freeze to death just sitting still and never know it, getting numb and weak. I jerked myself and shook myself. As long as you’re shivering you won’t freeze, I’d heard. Shivering and shaking are a way of staying warm.
There didn’t seem to be much need for a sentry out in the snowy woods. No redcoats were likely to be stirring in the snow and in the dark, not even outlaws and deserters would be stirring in the cold woods. Only ghosts and wills-o’-the-wisp were about.
Just then I heard steps, the faint sound of boots crunching in the snow. I reckon the snow was two or three inches deep. I listened and strained my eyes to see into the snow and dark. It was hard to see anything. Somebody was coming and I couldn’t see a thing. Maybe if they didn’t see me they would walk on by. I wouldn’t call out halt unless they got really close.
What cause do you have to be out here in danger? I said to myself. You should be protecting yourself and the baby. A woman expecting has no right to put herself in danger. You have no business out here freezing and holding a gun. Your duty is to protect yourself.
I turned my head and listened hard. I saw the steps were
coming from behind me and not in front. Somebody was coming from the camp. Could it be somebody to relieve me?
“Halt,” I said, “Who goes there?”
Whoever it was kept coming.
“Halt or I will shoot,” I said.
“Liberty,” a man said, and laughed. It was Gudger.
“Can I go back to the fire?” I said. I was going to pretend Gudger hadn’t found out anything, that I was just a volunteer and he was the sergeant.
“I brung you a dry blanket and a mug of coffee,” Gudger said. He didn’t snarl like he usually did. He sounded like he wanted to be friendly.
“Don’t need any coffee,” I said, my teeth chattering.
“You are freezing,” the sergeant said. I could barely see him, but I could smell the coffee. It was hot and rich like coffee that has just been boiled.
“Put this blanket around you, honey,” Gudger said. He took my hand and put it on the warm mug. And then I felt the rifle being slid out of my lap.
“I have to hold the gun,” I said.
“You can’t hold coffee and the rifle at the same time,” the sergeant said.
I saw what a fix I was in. Gudger had found out my secret and was going to use it against me. Gudger could always claim I was a spy, that he’d caught me spying. It was known that women had served as spies for the redcoats. If the sergeant told on me I was dead any way you figured it. I would have to use my wits.
A sip of the coffee warmed my lips, and warmed my throat and belly as it went down. I sipped again and the coffee was like a light on my tongue that found its way down to my belly.
“I saw lights out in the woods,” I said to Gudger.
“You seen lanterns?” he said.
I described the glowing things, the blue and green and lavender, the red devil light, and the razor edge of light that slit through the dark.
“You must have been asleep and dreaming,” Gudger said.
“I was not asleep,” I said. As I sipped the coffee I quit shaking, but my teeth didn’t stop chattering. It wasn’t just the cold that made me shudder. I was afraid of Gudger, of what he might do or say.
The sergeant leaned up against me in the dark, smelling of tobacco and the whiskey he kept in his canteen. I tried to pull away. “I can help you,” he said.
“How can you help?” I said.
“I know you’re expecting,” Gudger said.
“You don’t know anything,” I said, and took a big swallow of the coffee.
“When I seen you sick this morning, I knowed what it was,” Gudger said. “ My mama was a midwife and I know the signs. And when I seen you march and handle a rifle I knowed you wasn’t no boy.”
“What do you want?” I said.
“I want you to be nice to me, ” he said, and pressed closer. He put a hand on my breast and I pulled back. His breath was getting shorter and he was getting excited. I reckon a man can get excited in a second. A man can get all worked up by a touch or maybe just a smell of perfume.
I pushed Gudger’s hand away and he put his hand down in my lap. His fingers fumbled at the straddle of my breeches. I saw why he’d taken the rifle away. I saw I was in grave danger. If I hollered out and soldiers came from the camp, he would not only tell my secret but accuse me of spying or going to sleep on guard duty. If I didn’t holler out he would have his way, for he was bigger and stronger than me. I didn’t even have a knife, and the ax was back in the camp. All I had was the mug of coffee. I could try to hit him with the mug, but that wouldn’t do much good.
Sometimes a woman has to be smart and swallow her pride. A woman has to think how to live and protect her children. A woman has to think sometimes in complicated ways. I decided I would resist the sergeant, but I would not holler out. If he overpowered me I would have to let him have his way. I would not give in, but I would not let him kill me either. The Lord would forgive me. Maybe I was being punished for my sins, for killing Mr. Griffin and quarreling with John. It wouldn’t be the first time I was taken against my will.
I gulped the coffee like I was pretending his hand wasn’t on my groin. His rough paw felt its way under the cloth and I winced when he touched me there. “No,” I said, and flung down the mug into the snow. I tried to push his hand away, but he was a lot stronger than me. He pushed himself against me and opened the trousers with his left hand.
“You know you want me,” Gudger said. “I’m the most man you’ll ever have.” His breath was shorter and his words were like hisses.
“You get away,” I said.
Gudger was trembling as he held me and pushed me down in the snow. He was shaking from either excitement or cold. “You ain’t never had a real man,” the sergeant said.
“Get off me,” I said.
“You can take it fore or you can take it aft,” Gudger said.
The snow was coming down harder than ever. The flakes hit my face like little paws fumbling. Flakes hit my eyes and melted in my eyes. Gudger was pressing me down and opening my legs and I saw there was no way to stop him. I wasn’t going to holler out. I wasn’t going to give myself away. I’d done all I could.
But then Gudger just stopped, like the will had gone out of him all of a sudden. He lay back like the wind had drained out of him and the meanness had left him. I felt his weight and smelled his breath, but the pushing had stopped. I had felt his member hard and now it seemed to be gone.
“You damn whore,” the sergeant muttered. He rolled back a little bit. Something had happened to him. Something had taken the will out of him. The snowflakes scratched my face like spiders and little birds’ feet. The air was damp and cold and the new blanket already wet. I thought it must be the cold and wet that had cooled Gudger off.
I opened my mouth and sucked in flakes like they were sugar.
Gudger smacked me hard across the face. “I will finish with you later,” he said.
TEN
I EXPECTED THE SERGEANT to give me away the next morning. I figured he’d go back to the camp and accuse me of falling asleep on sentry duty, or say he’d proved I was a spy for Tarleton. After Gudger left me, I sat in the falling snow trying to decide what to do. If I ran off into the woods they would track me in the snow and shoot me or hang me. Running away would be like admitting I was guilty. Running away from guard duty was asking to be shot.
Besides, if I ran off into the winter woods I’d be lost and cold. I didn’t have any fire and I didn’t know where I was. I didn’t know where they had taken John and I didn’t have anything to eat. I had the rifle gun but hardly knew how to shoot it. And I had a baby growing in my belly that would starve if I starved. I’d have to stay in the militia as long as I could, until I found what to do.
I sat there shivering and thinking as I wrapped myself up in the two blankets that were already white with snow. My cheek burned where Gudger had slapped me. My skin stung like he’d had poison oak on his hand.
It came to me that Gudger might not tell anybody what he’d found out. I saw he might not tell, for he would have to explain why he hadn’t told Cox sooner, as soon as he knew I wasn’t a boy. And if he accused me he might also have to explain why he came to me on guard duty out in the woods. Whatever had happened to him there to stop him, he wouldn’t want me to tell anybody.
If nobody else knew I was a girl, it would be his secret, and he might be able to use it, and me, in some way in the future. I tried to think the way the sergeant would think. You really can’t know how another body thinks, but I had a pretty good guess about how Gudger would think. He reminded me of Mr. Griffin and the boys I’d gone to school with.
I was still pondering what to do when T. R. came out of the dark and told me it was his turn to stand watch. The snow was still falling and it was still dark. But you could tell daylight wasn’t too far off by the misty look in the trees. The treetops looked deep underwater.
“The sergeant said I could have the extra blanket,” T. R. said.
I peeled the second blanket off my shoulders, shook the snow
off, and handed it to T. R.
“This cold makes your thing get littler and littler,” T. R. said.
“I’m too cold to care,” I said. But I was relieved, for it seemed the sergeant hadn’t gone back to the camp and told on me.
I was stiff from cold and from fighting Gudger. I hit a laurel bush and shook snow down the back of my neck. That woke me up and made me scream a little. I saw how hard it was to walk in the snow. I stumbled from tree to tree back into camp, determined to face Gudger and not let him get the better of me.
Fires were blazing all over the woods, and men were boiling coffee and grits. I could smell hoecakes frying and bacon frying.
I went right to the fire where the sergeant and the other boys of our squadron were. Gudger was stirring a pot of grits with a wooden spoon.
“Stir this hominy, private,” the sergeant said to me. He stared at me hard, like he was warning me not to say anything. I looked him straight in the eye and took the spoon. I wanted him to feel my scorn for him. I didn’t want him to see how relieved I was he hadn’t told anybody.
I stirred the grits and turned the bacon in the big pan. I was cold and hungry and the heat of the fire was sweet as maple sugar. I wanted to stand by the fire and drink up the warmth. I wanted to drink the light. The warmth of the fire and smell of coffee and bacon made me feel alive again. But I felt Gudger’s eyes on me. Every time I turned his way I found him studying me. I turned away and poured coffee into my bowl.
“Summers, you will make somebody a good wife,” he said, and laughed.
The captain came to the fire and put two pieces of bacon and some grits on his plate. I didn’t have a plate and I was wondering how I would eat some grits. I couldn’t eat hot grits out of my hand. I had only the pewter bowl.
“Too bad we don’t have some butter,” Captain Cox said. “When you joined you should have brought us some butter, Private Summers.”
The warm fire, and relief that Gudger hadn’t told, made me feel good. The coffee was rich and hot and I was hungry for some grits and bacon. I wanted to eat and rest. I figured that because of the snow we wouldn’t be marching or drilling that day, and I could sit by the fire and maybe even sleep some more.
Brave Enemies - A Novel Of The American Revolution Page 21