The cedars thinned, and she could make out an open meadow in the moonlight, and in the distance, a great stone barn.
Forest cursed beneath his breath. His hands closed around her waist, and he lifted her down from the saddle. "Shhh," he cautioned again. "Crouch down behind that tree."
Sarah caught the glint of metal as Forest braced the musket across the saddle. Something in the way he was moving wasn't right. "Are you hurt?" she whispered. Had he been hit by a bullet?
"No."
"What's wrong?"
"Be still, woman."
A horse snorted nearby, and the dapple-gray pricked up his ears. Forest tensed.
The sharp nasal cry of a nighthawk cut the air. "Peeent! Peeent!"
Forest lowered the musket and repeated the same call.
"Captain Irons?"
"Thompson?"
"Aye, sir, it's me." Branches rustled. "Where are you?"
"Here," Forest answered. He turned toward Sarah. "It's all right. He's one of ours."
The silhouette of a man and a horse appeared through the trees. "Don't blow my head off, Captain. Damn, but yer a hard one to follow, and thet horse o' yers carryin' double." He led his horse closer. "Is the lady all right?"
"The lady's fine," Sarah replied, "but those nighthawks are going to freeze their feathers off. Since when do you find them in Pennsylvania in the winter?"
There was a low chuckle from the soldier.
"Didn't figure the British would know that," he said. "Yer bird did sound a little sickly, Captain. Maybe the lady could do a better imitation."
They mounted again and crossed the meadow, circling beyond the barn and into the woods. Sometime in the night, Sarah slept once more, cradled in Forest's arms, lulled by the hoofbeats of the big dapple-gray.
The next three days blurred into a pattern of riding, walking, and sleeping. Hunger and thirst haunted Sarah, every muscle in her body screamed with pain, but still they kept moving. South . . . west . . . east . . . she lost all sense of direction. Somewhere along the way, she wasn't sure just when, the man Thompson was gone and three men in hunting shirts had taken his place.
She thought she remembered a campfire and someone shoving a bowl of hot soup into her hands, but that all blurred together with the dream of Forest carrying her in his arms . . . a real bed . . . and being warm . . . really warm.
"I love you, Forest," she murmured sleepily. "I'll never leave you."
He laughed and kissed her . . . or did he? Sarah didn't care. She burrowed into the dream feather tick of her dream bed and slept for twenty-six hours without stirring.
~~~
Sarah opened her eyes to the sound of singing. She blinked and tried to gather her wits. Someone . . . no, not someone, a group of people were singing a hymn. She sat bolt upright and stared into Forest's face. "Have I died and gone to heaven?" she asked.
"I'm here, so there's not much chance of that, is there?" he answered with a straight face.
She rubbed her eyes and looked around the room. The steep roof overhead, the plaster walls, and the low ceiling told her she was upstairs in a house. The room was small, containing the narrow bed, a chest, and a single chair. There was no fireplace, but a brick chimney nearly filled one wall. "Where are we?"
"A little south of New Castle, not far from the Delaware River."
"What's that singing?"
"This is a rectory. The church is just next door."
"How did I get here?"
"The clergyman is a friend of the cause. You were worn to the bone. I thought it best we stop here until you regained your strength."
"Oh." Sarah smoothed her tangled hair. "I don't suppose there's anything to eat?"
He grinned. "I think we can find something. Did you mean what you said when I carried you up here?"
"What I said about what?"
"That you'd never leave me."
She looked down shyly at the embroidered spread. "I said that?"
He nodded.
"I must have been delirious."
"That's no excuse, woman. I have a witness— the good father."
She blushed. "I said that in front of a priest?"
"And his housekeeper." Forest leaned down and kissed her gently. "I've waited long enough to hear those words. I'm not likely to let you off now." His breath was warm and sweet on her face.
Sarah brushed his fresh-shaven cheek with the tip of her finger. "You're pale . . . " she began. "You weren't shot, were you? When we—"
"No." He shook his head. " 'Twas the old knife wound. The riding aggravated it."
"Did you bleed?"
"A little." He stood up. "It's healing." A shadow crossed his face. "I'm a soldier, Sarah. I can't always put you first, no matter how I want to."
"I know that," she murmured.
"I made promises long before I met you."
It was her turn to nod. "I see that now, but if I cannot turn you from this rebellion, I can join you."
His voice turned to gravel. "You mean that, Sarah?"
"I've said it, haven't I?" She swallowed and stared wide-eyed up into his face. "It wasn't any big decision for me, Forest. There wasn't any bolt of lightning. I didn't wake up one morning and decide I was going to become a rebel." She broke off hesitantly, trying to find the right words to explain. "It just happened . . . a little at a time. I don't think I realized it until this minute . . . but it feels right inside. This struggle for freedom is part of you, and I want to share it."
"Just for me?"
She shook her head. "For me and Joshua as well."
He knelt beside her on the bed and took her into his arms. "Sarah," he whispered. "Sarah."
Their lips met, and the intensity of his kiss set her head to spinning. At last she broke away, breathless. "No more," she begged. "No more, or we shall commit a grievous sin in the rector's bed."
"Aye, my little rebel," he agreed. "For you're mighty fetching lying there with your hair all around your shoulders." He bent and brushed a feather-light kiss against her throat.
"Stop," she cried, drawing the coverlet up around her neck. "You take unfair advantage."
Forest grinned. "I take the advantage wherever I can get it with you, Sarah, lest I lose every battle." He turned toward the door. "We'll be off for home in the morning if you feel up to it. The dapple-gray is rested, and I imagine that boy of yours is lonesome for the sight of you."
"Give me something to eat, and I'll be ready to ride in an hour," she promised. "My heart aches for the sight and touch of him. Joshua and I have never been so long apart."
"Good enough," he agreed. "We'll ride first to the inn and see what mischief Isaac's been up to, if any. I learned why he never followed us that day."
She raised her eyebrows questioningly.
"He tangled with the Kent County militia. They killed eight of his men. Like as not, he thought they got the other two as well."
"That's why he never came for us then," Sarah said. "I worried myself half out of my mind for nothing."
"Not for nothing, sweet," Forest replied. "We've not seen the last of Isaac, or he of us. I've orders to find his camp and lead the Delaware boys there to destroy it." He fixed her with a hard gaze. "He is your husband's brother, be he devil or not. I'll not ask you to be part of this."
But I am a part of it, Sarah thought, as Forest closed the door behind him. Whether I like it or not, I am very much a part of what happens to Isaac.
~~~
Sarah saw the smoke of White Oaks when they were still several miles away. "It's Martha's farm!" she cried. "There! See it?"
Black columns billowed into the sky, evidence of a fire too hot to be the burning of a clearing. "Are you certain of the direction?" Forest asked.
"It's White Oaks, I know it is!"
"There's no one there but your friend and her son? God help them." Forest urged the dapple-gray into a gallop.
Sarah clung to the horse's mane, her heart pounding. A question rose to her lips, but it was too t
errible to utter. If the raiders had struck White Oaks in broad daylight, had they left anyone alive to tell the tale?
As they rounded the last bend, Sarah's hopes fell. The house and barn were smoking ashes. The carcasses of Johnny's pups lay still in the yard. Nothing else moved.
Forest reined in the horse, and Sarah scrambled off. The thick, acrid smoke brought tears to her eyes and made it hard to breathe. "Martha!" she shouted. "Martha! Johnny!"
"Take care!" Forest cautioned as she ran toward the smoldering remains of the house.
"Martha!" Sarah cried again. But the only movement was the shadow of a circling buzzard in the sky.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Secrets and a Sad Parting
"Sarah? Is that you?"
Sarah whirled to see two figures step from the woods on the far side of the farmyard. "Martha!" she shouted. She ran toward them, heedless of Forest's warning.
Johnny stepped in front of his mother, raised his squirrel gun to his shoulder, and took deliberate aim at Forest.
"No!" Sarah screamed. "It's Forest. He's a friend!"
Martha whispered into her son's ear and laid a restraining hand on his shoulder. Frowning, the boy lowered the rifle and glared suspiciously.
Sarah's dash carried her into Martha's arms. "Are you both all right?" she cried, hugging her friend tightly. "When I saw the house, I thought . . . " She released Martha and stepped back, her eyes filled with tears.
Martha straightened her thin shoulders, pain etched on her plain, country face. "They burned it all, Sarah. Killed Johnny's pups for sport and drove off all the rest o' the livestock." She drew in a ragged breath and spread her work-worn hands in despair. "It's all gone . . . everything me and Will worked for all these years."
Johnny looked at his mother and shook his head until his white-gold hair whipped back and forth across his face. "N-no," he said, pointing at the muddy ground beneath his feet. "Here. Lan . . . land."
Martha wiped her smoke-stained face. "Boy's right. Someways he's got more sense than me. The land's still here. Isaac Turner and his lot couldn't take that from us."
"Isaac?" Sarah asked. "Isaac did this?"
Forest led the dapple-gray across the blackened farmyard toward them. Martha gazed at him steadily and broke into a grin. "Forest Irons! Well, I'll be damned." She glanced sideways at Sarah. "Ye told me his name was Abe Forest. This here's Forest Irons from Chestertown!" She wiped her hands on her homespun skirt. "I heard Sarah goin' on about Forest this and Forest that, but I never guessed 'twas you."
"You know each other?" Sarah asked, astonished.
"Mistress Green." Forest touched his hat in a gesture of respect. "I wasn't sure you'd remember me."
Martha snorted. "Nothin' wrong with my memory. You built a boat for Will a few years back." She turned and smacked her son on the arm. "Put the rifle down, Johnny. This is Sarah's friend. He's no Tory. He's a soldier, like yer pa."
"Isaac did this," Martha told Forest. "He rode in here with his pack o' devils and burned us out."
"Aye, I heard you say his name." His eyes met Martha's faded ones in a gesture of sympathy. "I'm sorry for your loss."
She shrugged. "We'll build again . . . or the boys will, soon as this war is over." She glanced at her tall son. "We was gettin' lazy layin' around here, anyway. Johnny and me, we're off to join the army."
Sarah stared at her friend, openmouthed. "You're going to Valley Forge?"
"If Will's there, or some o' my boys." A smile lit Martha's bloodshot eyes. "I miss the old coot, if the truth be known. Like as not he hasn't had a clean shirt on in a month."
"Will's there," Sarah assured her, "and some of your sons . . . I'm not sure which ones. Some of them are with Smallwood outside of Wilmington."
"It's not easy, what you're thinking of," Forest warned her. "There are women with Washington's army, but—"
Martha grinned. "Whores, you mean?" She chuckled and Johnny laughed with her, not understanding the joke. "You think a few lightskirts will bother me? I may be a stringy old crow, but I've got enough spunk left to put them in their place if any of 'em turns her foul mouth on me or mine." She caught Johnny's arm and pulled him close. "I call this one my boy, but he's not a boy— he's a man. I reckon he can do a man's part in this war."
Sarah looked troubled. "Johnny's not—"
"Hot damn, Sarah!" Martha cried. "You do think me a loony! Who knows better than me what Johnny can and can't do? Washington needs riflemen, don't he? And who's the best shot in these parts? Who can hit a mosquito on the far bank of the Misakaak with his eyes shut?" She slapped her son on the back and smiled at him. "He's a man, Sarah, and this here's his land. He's got as much right to fight fer it as any man. He just needs his mama to point out which ones to shoot at."
"You've made up your mind, then," Sarah said.
Martha nodded. "We have, and yer wastin' yer breath to try and change us. Johnny." She pointed back toward the trees. "Fetch the mule."
"How did you survive the raid?" Forest asked.
"Johnny and me was trackin' a bear that's been botherin' my livestock. We headed for home when we smelled the smoke, but it was too late to do anything but lay low and watch the polecats burn us out. They stole your other horse, Sarah, but the mule ran off into the woods."
Johnny appeared at the edge of the trees, leading the blade mule. The animal was heavily laden with blankets and bundles.
"I was takin' your mule, Sarah. It's a loan, and we'll pay ye back, God willin'. We been to King's Landing this morning and borrowed some blankets and cookin' stuff. Isaac didn't leave Johnny and me with a spare change of socks."
"You're welcome to anything you want," Sarah assured her.
"Thank God Joshua wasn't here with us. We'd not of tracked a bear with the little one along. Isaac meant to burn us in our beds, I think," Martha said bitterly.
"You're certain it was Isaac?" Forest asked.
"As certain as I am of Judgment Day." She regarded Forest shrewdly. "He had more than twenty men with him. You're not goin' to take Isaac on alone, are ye?"
"No. Not alone."
"I'll take you to him," Sarah said. "I know where his fort is."
Martha nodded. "I figured ye did, girl. It's up in Kent County near Grogtown, ain't it?"
"In the woods," Sarah replied.
"You can draw me a map," Forest said. "I'll not risk your life by taking you along."
"You'd never find it," Sarah murmured. "I'll go, or no one will." She moved to stand beside him. "I saw things at Valley Forge . . . " She shook her head in frustration at her inability to put her feelings into words. "I met men . . . brave men and women chasing a dream of freedom. I saw them dying for what they believed in." She stopped to catch her breath. "I can't explain how or when it happened, but I've changed my mind about this revolution of yours, and I can't hide here while you go after Isaac and his butchers."
Martha grinned broadly. "I knew ye'd see the light of day sooner or later, girl. I'd take her with ye, if I was you," Martha urged Forest. "My Will claimed Isaac's men had pit traps on the road. You'll not make it alive without someone who knows the way."
"I've dragged Sarah through enough danger already. A battle is no place for a woman."
"No?" Martha's creased face turned hard. "Neither is war a place for women, but we're here, ain't we? Best to go out and seek trouble with yer eyes open, I say, than let it find you sleepin' in your bed. Isaac Turner is a mad boar. It's time to root him out once and for all."
Johnny led the mule next to his mother. "Goin'" he said. He pointed north. "Goin' he'p fight."
Martha nodded. "That we are, Johnny. Soon as you dig a proper grave fer those two pups of yours." She untied a shovel from the mule's saddle. "I told you we borrowed a few things, Sarah," she explained. "Figure Will can always use a shovel."
"I'll help you," Forest offered. Together he and Johnny went to take care of the burial.
"Johnny did love those pups," Martha said. "He cried like
a baby when they was shot. No need of Isaac's men to kill pups, was there? Them dogs was too young to do any harm. Just meanness."
Sarah waited until Johnny and Forest were out of hearing. "There's something I'd have you know," she said to Martha. "Obediah's dead. He's been dead a long time."
The older woman smiled knowingly. "I figured as much. You ain't the kind to put horns on a man, girl, not even one like Obediah Turner."
"I didn't say anything because of Isaac."
"I figured thet too, Sarah. I wish you and him"—Martha motioned toward Forest's back—"a good life. It's plain what you two think of each other. I kin read it in yer faces." She nodded. "He's a good man, decent and honorable. He's what you deserve."
"I haven't told him yet," Sarah admitted, kicking the frozen ground with her boot.
"I'd like to be a little bird listenin' when you do. Oh, one more thing," Martha added. "They's a couple of no-goods layin' back at the tavern. I never seen the wench, but the man's Roman Clough, that worthless bond servant of yours that ran off last year. They been there a few days, as far as I could tell. They're makin' mighty free with your things, Sarah."
"I sort of expected it," Sarah said. "I'll settle them, or Forest will." She smiled. "Forest's pretty good at handling surprises."
The two women talked until Johnny and Forest rejoined them. Martha nodded thanks and tied the shovel back on the saddle. "You two take care of each other, hear? And take good care of Joshua." Martha reached for the mule's lead line.
"Be careful," Forest cautioned. "There's a lot of enemy troops between here and Valley Forge."
"We'll try," Martha answered.
Sarah hugged her friend and Johnny good-bye. There seemed nothing more to say. She stood in silence beside Forest as mother and son crossed the ruined farmyard and set off down the road on foot, leading the mule.
~~~
Forest took Sarah up before him on the dapple-gray, and they followed the wooded trail toward the tavern. Neither of them spoke; there was no sound but the squish of the horse's hooves in the wet dirt and the creak of saddle leather. The winter-bare trees hung gray and dismal against the blue, cloud-strewn sky.
Scarlet RIbbons Page 27