Mathias wasn't given to flights of fancy. Rather, he had summoned the mindset of a Creek warrior. "You cannot believe that Britain will butcher loyal subjects of the Crown, just to accommodate soldiers! Major Hunt would never consent to such wickedness."
"It appears that's why he's been recalled to England."
"Recalled? But he told me that — that —"
"That he'd inherited family estates and bought his way out?" Mathias ejected a short, soft laugh. "Not all who wear the uniform are warriors. Major Hunt belongs on his Hampshire estate, not on the battlefield."
Not only had Edward burgled her house, but he'd lied to her about his reasons for returning to England. She lifted her chin to stop her lower lip from quivering with disillusionment.
"Tonight all hundred and fifty warriors will make sure the soldiers don't impersonate us for such an atrocity. Let Whites massacre each other if they must, but we won't be cast as villains."
This was madness. Her heart stammered a beat. "You're going to kill Major Hunt!"
"Only if he doesn't cooperate."
Sophie reflected that Lady Beatrice had best keep her betrothal options open. "I still don't know why you're here."
"I'm here to ensure your safety."
"There are two soldiers downstairs charged with that duty."
"If we aren't satisfied with Hunt's explanation, both of them are dead, along with as many others as we can find tonight."
For the first time, she noticed his quiver of arrows and bow. "You plan to guard me until the danger is passed. Why?"
"A month ago, Will asked me to protect you if danger ever came to Alton and he wasn't here." Ah, so her father knew at least a month in advance that danger was coming. Mathias took a step toward her. "I gave him my word I would do it."
"But why?" she whispered, although she knew at the core of her soul.
"In all my life, few have given me respect. Will dealt me far more respect than my stepfather, as have you, your brother, and sister. It's a debt I can never repay."
A solid enough rationale, one that stood on its own, but after almost two decades, she suspected Mathias's own agenda played into it. It dawned on her then that his offer was an avenue to freedom from the absurd house arrest. "If all you say is accurate, I'm not really safe here. I must leave."
"Those two soldiers won't let you go, and I won't attack them unless it becomes necessary to protect you."
"We don't have to let them know I'm leaving. I can get out the window if you help me."
He propped fists on his hips. "Where would I take you?"
"To the Creek village."
"That's the first place the redcoats will look." From his expression, he realized the obvious with his next breath, and he sealed his lips briefly over scorn. "Ah. They'll see only what we wish them to see."
Better still, perhaps the redcoats wouldn't find her in the Creek village because she'd be miles away to the south, en route to St. Augustine. Now that she'd gotten that wild scheme in her head, she couldn't turn it loose. Grasping for it was far easier than embracing the finality of her father's murder.
Somewhere in the distance, they both heard the report of a musket, followed by others. In the room below, Barrows's voice rose. "Did you hear that? Zounds, it's war with the Creek!"
Sophie seized her tote sack and threw in toiletry articles, hair ribbons, and an extra shift and pair of stockings while Mathias climbed back out the window. Ensign Baldwin stomped across the shop floor. "Shut the windows. Block the doors."
Out of intuition, she also threw the copy of Confessions into the tote sack. Then she diapered her petticoat together, slung the tote over her shoulder, extinguished the lantern, and went to the window.
Mathias clung to the side of the house and whispered, "Crawl out like this. Get your balance on your stomach the way I'm going to show you, and then ease your legs over the side. I'll wait on the ground and help you down." She watched him roll onto his stomach, wiggle to the edge of the porch roof with his legs dangling over the side, then drop out of sight.
Holding her breath, she crawled outside and balanced on the roof. She eased the window shut, dropped her tote over the edge, and let out her breath. Then she rolled onto her stomach, slid her legs over the edge, and scooted backward. While gripping the planks with her hands, she heard the approaching gallop of a horse. "Mathias?" One of the planks splintered. She clawed the roof for support.
He caught her about the waist as the plank gave way, as Fairfax rode up, reined his horse back from a gallop, and vaulted from the saddle. No doubt about it, the British lieutenant saw a Creek warrior trying to spirit away a helpless, senseless woman from Alton that he'd captured and slung over his shoulder. "The devil — savages! Baldwin! Barrows! To arms!" Achilles and Perseus sprang up from the porch and began barking. Fairfax's infantry hanger sang with a metallic shhhling, freed from its scabbard, while he sprinted toward Sophie and Mathias.
Sophie found herself dumped hard on the ground beside the porch. From inside the house, Mary screamed, and Baldwin hollered, "Barrows, douse the light! Assume position!" Sophie realized the two soldiers had misunderstood Fairfax. Rather than rushing to the lieutenant's aid outside, they prepared to repel hoards of Creek warriors from breaking into the house.
Meanwhile, the blacksmith staggered backward, beyond reach of Fairfax's first swing, seeking the cover and shadow of fruit trees along the side of the house. Out of sight from the front windows, Sophie collared Achilles before he could lunge for the two men. Both hounds barked and whined.
The curved sword's second whoosh through the air curtailed when the blade embedded in a tree trunk. Growling, Fairfax yanked at it. Mathias grabbed a branch and swung his legs around. They caught Fairfax in the chest and knocked him away from the trees and the hanger. Fairfax reached for his knife. Mathias slammed a fist into the pit of his stomach. Then he brought both fists down on Fairfax's right kidney. The lieutenant landed belly down on the ground and didn't move.
Sophie rose, her tote on her shoulder. The dogs' barking subsided, and they circled around, confused, curious, sniffing at Fairfax and Mathias. "Are you hurt?" she whispered to Mathias when he staggered over.
Breathing hard, he shook his head. "Even better, I doubt he recognized me."
"He knows you were Creek." She stroked both hounds. They pranced back to the porch, toenails clicking on the boards. "Taking me to the village isn't wise. Hide me in the smithy."
Adjusting the quiver, he whispered back, "I am not leaving you in Alton tonight."
"Gods, but you're stubborn."
His smile gleamed in the starlight. "The pot calling the kettle black, eh?"
She turned back to the dogs to hide a grin. "Down," she said, her voice low. Achilles and Perseus flopped down with sighs, relieved that the activity was over. "Stay."
Mathias signed for her silence. Then, hugging the deepest shadows, they crept west, out of town and into the rolling, lush wilderness of pines and hardwoods peopled by the Creek Confederacy.
Chapter Eight
THE FIRST TIME she awakened, night had not yet surrendered the land. Unable to see more than dark, she lay still, heart pounding with disorientation. Musty scents of deer hide hammock and fiber blanket deepened her confusion. In the distance a dog barked, competing for nocturnes with crickets and frogs. Above her, a mockingbird experimented with Monday predawn. Not far away, a man snored bass to the bird's soprano.
Sophie recognized the interior of a wattle-and-daub house of the Creek village. The snoring came from beyond a partition near her hammock: Hawk In The Sun, who was husband of the village's ambassador and Isti Hogdee — Beloved Woman — Laughing Eyes. At Laughing Eyes's groggy mutter, his snoring curtailed with a grunt. He grumbled, and they grew quiet. Sophie smiled at the familiar routine of urging a snoring husband to roll on his side. She drew the blanket over her shoulder and eased back to sleep.
Daylight awakened her the second time — daylight and a conversation in Creek between Jacq
ues le Coeuvre and Laughing Eyes. Curious, she rose and pushed the window shade aside.
Outside the lodging house, Jacques gestured east toward Alton to emphasize a point. He wore a hunting shirt, trousers, tomahawk and knife in his belt, and moccasins. A thin strip of leather held his shaggy salt-and-pepper hair in a braid down his back. Over his shoulder draped his haversack, and he carried his musket. No doubt about it, he was ready to embark on another adventure, rub shoulders with celebrities. Envy crawled through Sophie.
Laughing Eyes nodded to him, the creases on her face deepening. Almost three decades earlier, while in her late twenties, she'd begun taking Mathias with her on visits to the Europeans, allowing her adoptive sister's son to absorb the art of diplomacy. Ayukapeta Hokolen Econa, they soon named Mathias: Walk in Two Worlds. Naked from the waist up that morning, the Beloved Woman wore a knee-length skirt of floral print. Strands of shells and beads adorned her neck and bosom, and a myriad of flowers twisted through the plaits of her black hair.
All those flowers triggered Sophie's memory of her stroll home from the swimming hole that afternoon. Mathias had stolen her mobcap, snagged wildflowers, and twined them into her braid. Silly with summer, they'd made each other laugh by convoluting sentence structure to an approximation of Shakespearean English. A poetic side of him emerged that she'd never expected. Along the way, the dark of his eyes had softened whenever he looked at her.
Had it been eighteen years since then? It seemed a hundred. At what moment in time had they turned from giddy youths into duty-bound adults?
Jacques referenced the garrison, and Laughing Eyes responded something about warriors. Sophie listened with diligence but didn't know enough Creek to understand. Vexed, she eased the shade back in place and began dressing.
Instinct told her there'd been no bloodshed in Alton the previous night. The Creek village would be hopping with activity otherwise. Finding no sign of a struggle in her bedroom, the soldiers would conclude that she'd left of her own volition, violating house arrest. With Fairfax insisting he'd been attacked, the incident would appear schemed between Sophie and the Creek. The redcoats wouldn't take that lightly. What had she unleashed?
While she was drawing on her stockings, Jacques rapped on the door of the hut. "Belle Sophie, you are awake?" She stuffed her stockinged feet into shoes, set the partition to one side, and opened the door. A blend of pleasure and relief wove through his expression. "Ah, it is good to see you safe and well after last night. May I come in?"
She stepped aside. "And where are you headed today?"
His expression darkened. "Anyplace where trouble is not, and that does not include Alton this morning."
"You'll not attend the funerals at ten?" She closed the door behind him.
He shook his head. "Bad luck, my old heart tells me, to leave town the same day I attend a funeral, even the funeral of my nephew." He paced the interior of the hut. "What possessed Mathias to bring you here last night?"
Chagrin gnawed her. "I coerced him. He wanted me to be safe. Where is he?" Mathias had disappeared within minutes of depositing her into the hands of his mother's adoptive sister.
Jacques sneered. "He is in Alton, convincing English pigs that no hostages were taken during that gross misunderstanding. I do not know how the rumor originated among the Creek, but I am certain that no one was slaughtered to make room for troops."
She expelled relief. "Mathias thought the real reason Major Hunt was surrendering command to Captain Sheffield was because he'd been recalled to England for refusing to commit atrocities."
"Bah. Hunt is wealthy. He bought his way out of the war."
"I presumed as much. Then why did Mathias so misread the situation?"
"The rumor infringed on the sacred honor of the Creek people." The sneer contorted Jacques's upper lip. "Even if the rumor vanished with the light of day, that lieutenant was knocked out after he charged the Creek warrior with you —"
"Hah. Fairfax attacked Mathias with his sword."
"As far as the pigs are concerned, you escaped arrest. And although no one was injured in the confrontation in town last night, the Creek are now suspect of breaking their treaty —"
"I cannot go back to Alton, Uncle Jacques!" She threw up her hands.
"Soldiers are on their way here. You must return to Alton, or the Creek may be charged with abetting your escape." He grumbled, "And already the whispers I hear are foul, that the Creek murdered those three men."
Time to enlist qualified help for the cause. She seized his upper arm and lowered her voice. "I'm leaving for St. Augustine today. Find me a good horse and some supplies."
"Eh? Have you hit your head, belle Sophie? St. Augustine is more than a week away by rigorous travel over terrain no woman dare journey alone —"
"Get word to David that I require his company."
Scowling, he shook off her hold. "What is all this about?"
"Solving the murders of my father and Jonah."
Disbelief faded from his face, and he studied her. "Perhaps you had best explain everything. Keep your voice low."
She told him about the ciphers, showing him the second one and Confessions, and related the visit of the Spaniards two nights before. The Frenchman's eyebrows bristled like caterpillars, his beady gaze stung, and the veins in his ropy neck stood out. "St. Augustine belongs to George the Third. Sophie, you cannot go. You are a woman."
She stamped her foot. "I run a printing press. My aim with a musket is excellent. I ride a horse better than most men in Alton." From his expression, she wasn't getting through to him. Exasperated, she realized her argument wasn't convincing because in her heart she hadn't accepted her father's death. "Jacques, the redcoats won't solve the murders! Someone did them a favor and rid Alton of rebel spies. Don Alejandro de Gálvez is a lead in the murders. He may be in St. Augustine. If the soldiers are on their way here now to find me, you can either help me get to St. Augustine, or you can hand me over to them." She braced her fists on her hips. "I'll not return willingly to Alton today."
"St. Augustine is a different world from Hampshire."
"Then perhaps I shan't be followed to St. Augustine."
His expression thawed. "Belle Sophie, you may find the companionship of more than your brother on your journey."
***
Inside the Moon Lodge, the smell of menstrual blood blended with that of sweat, flowers, and a grass-and-herb smudge. Two-dozen Creek women of various ages lounged around a fire pit, the interior of the lodge dimmed by smoke. Some were naked above the waist. Others wore floral print shirts like the one Two Rainbows had loaned Sophie. They gossiped while having their hands and feet massaged or their hair combed and braided. None seemed concerned that eleven redcoats had ridden into the village a quarter hour before and begun nosing around.
Three women entered bearing platters of cut fruit and corn cakes. They served the food as if the menstruating women were goddesses — which they were in Creek civilization, exalted and one with Creator during their menses. Imagining the townsfolk of Alton treating menstruating women with honor made Sophie want to laugh. That idea had slim chance of generating approval among those who regarded work as a moral good.
With a swirl of skirt fabric, Two Rainbows, younger wife of the medicine man, pivoted from the small window. "Nagchoguh Hogdee, a lieutenant comes." The Creek woman sashayed to the opposite side of the fire pit and sat facing the doorway.
Her back to the door, Sophie shifted on her mat and willed the muscles in her neck to relax. Surely Lieutenant Stoddard wouldn't invade the Moon Lodge. Strands of shells and beads around her neck chuckled, blended with the earthy murmurs within the lodge. Earth, she told herself, I am earth as the other women are.
Jacques's voice, steeped in indignation, closed on the lodge from the outside. "What can you be thinking?"
"The Moon Lodge is the only place in the village we haven't searched."
Dismay and panic tore through Sophie. That was Fairfax outside with Jacques, not Stod
dard. Fairfax had received movement orders. Why hadn't he left for South Carolina?
"Uhchulee Nagonúhguh gave you his word that Sophie Barton is not here." She almost smiled at the semantic game the medicine man, Old Tale, had played with Fairfax. No, Sophie Barton wasn't there, but Nagchoguh Hogdee was.
Indignation in Laughing Eyes' voice rang distinct. Old Tale said something in Creek. "Monsieur le Coeuvre," said Fairfax. "Please be so good as to translate for me. I could have sworn this fellow spoke the King's English."
And so he did when he felt like it. The smile plucked at Sophie's mouth. She fanned a fly away from her face.
"Uhchulee Nagonúhguh reminds you that the Moon Lodge is a sacred place and that great Mico George has thus far respected the customs of the people in this village —" A snarl penetrated Jacques's tone. "— English pig."
Fairfax's voice lowered. "Curious, Monsieur le Coeuvre. I detected neither the Creek words for 'English' nor 'pig' in the fellow's statement."
Jacques lowered his voice, too. "Translation is a delicate and subjective art, impacted by the judgment, personal experience, and prejudice of the translator — English pig."
Oh, gods. She closed her eyes a moment. Jacques le Coeuvre had just elevated himself to the top of Fairfax's dung list.
"Tell the medicine man I follow orders to search the entire village for Mrs. Barton."
The incongruity of the situation jolted Sophie. Fairfax should be headed that moment to South Carolina for his next assignment. Technically, neither Edward nor Captain Sheffield was his commanding officer. Neither should have sent him on such a search.
Fairfax paused the duration of a heartbeat. "While King George does not wish to infringe on the customs of natives, Mrs. Barton is a subject of the Crown, has violated arrest, and must be taken into custody if she is here."
Wood clattered and feet shuffled outside — warriors stepping before the lodge with spears. Movement within the lodge stilled, and conversation ceased. Jacques dripped acid into his voice. "You will have to get past them first. Now look around you. At least a dozen warriors have you targeted. Even King George is not mad enough to proceed on your course. Stand down, Lieutenant, or you will die."
Paper Woman: A Mystery of the American Revolution Page 7