The whine in David's voice masked his glee. "Will we get dinner before we leave? Tea and biscuits doesn't go very far."
"This morning Major Hunt had business matters to resolve, the nature of which he didn't disclose to me. As a consequence, we shan't leave until the morrow. I assume you shall be fed whenever and whatever the other wretches in this jail are fed. Have you stabled your horses somewhere in the city, or did you sell them prior to your departure for Havana?"
David sounded bored. "They're stabled with Mr. Garner."
"You three haven't much money to retrieve them."
"We shouldn't owe much after our payment. We used the name Hazelton. And don't forget Jacques le Coeuvre's horse." Fairfax stomped out, followed by David's voice. "Come now, lieutenant, you can find me something decent to eat before dinner, can you not? You don't want me perishing of hunger before you stretch my neck on the gallows. Lieutenant, are you there? Well, how do you like that, Mathias? He's ignoring me."
Sophie caught David's eye through the grate on the door and motioned for him to cease the banter. Then she sat on a bench grinning, aware that her cellmates regarded her with a mixture of fear and awe: a woman marked for execution, for whom Fate had granted a few more days of life.
***
Early Friday morning, she and Samson the gelding became reacquainted, and the horse's affection and loyalty cheered her. Mr. Garner had taken good care of the beasts. When Sophie mounted the gelding, he pranced about, eager to take on the day, hot and muggy as it portended. How she wished she could have shared his enthusiasm. A night spent serenaded by the scratching and snoring of her cellmates had left a crick in her neck. Still, she counted her blessings. Two of David and Mathias's cellmates had taken turns retching all night.
Before departing St. Augustine, Edward, his expression inflexible, lectured them about the dangers of the road and assured them that if they tried to escape, they'd be executed on the spot. At one point, he paced upwind of Sophie, and she smelled tobacco on him — peculiar since she'd never observed him to smoke. She sniffed again. The tobacco had been blended with something else, and the combined scent nagged her with its familiarity, even while eluding identification.
She forgot about it after the soldiers set a steady pace that made excellent time and didn't exhaust the horses. By late morning, owing to the good condition of the King's Highway, they'd covered more than half the distance to Cow Ford.
On occasion they journeyed more than a quarter hour at a time meeting only a startled deer or wild hog and surrounded by the whisper of wind in the live oaks, pines, and palmettos. In just such a deserted stretch of highway about eleven o'clock, they rode over a rise to find a Lower Creek warrior beside a horse in the road, examining the horse's shoe. The Indian eyed them with wariness and led the horse to the side of the road to allow them to pass.
Edward signaled a halt. "Everyone dismount and stretch. Mr. Hale, be so good as to examine the horse's shoe for that fellow."
"I may not be able to communicate well with the warrior, Major. They have a different dialect here."
"Still, you can try."
Sophie dismounted, stretched her arms over her head, and turned her head from side to side. Mathias had almost reached the warrior when the Creek vaulted on the horse's back, dug heels into its sides, and sped from their midst with a whoop.
David frowned after the warrior. "Touchy fellow, eh?" Then he sucked in a breath. "Ye gods."
She followed his stare, and chills chiseled her back. More than thirty warriors on horseback emerged from concealment, muskets and arrows trained on them. Fairfax and the privates looked about in astonishment.
In a calm voice, Edward said, "Steady, everyone. Take no aggressive action." He walked within plain view of most of the Creek. "What do you want?"
A warrior spoke in their dialect, pointed to Mathias, Sophie, and David, and signed for them to come with the warriors. Fairfax sounded annoyed. "Mr. Hale, what are they saying?"
Mathias wagged his head in wariness. "They seem to believe we three owe them a debt and insist that we come with them."
"A debt? What sort of debt?"
"I've no idea. I've never seen any of them before." The spokesman grew irritable and made more hand gestures, punctuating them with strings of words. "It's something about theft."
Edward's tone hardened. "Did you steal from them?"
"Certainly not. I told you I've never seen them before."
"Nor I," said Sophie, and David agreed.
"Well, then, I suggest you convince them of their error so we may be on our way."
Mathias scowled. "Major, I barely understand their dialect. Why should I interpret for someone who intends to execute me?"
Edward regarded him sensibly before addressing the spokesman. "Do any of you speak English?"
The warrior twisted about and signed behind him. A Negro on horseback walked his horse forward into clear view and halted it to the right of the warrior.
Sophie stiffened, saw David do the same, then lowered her gaze to the ground until she could look back up at Ulysses, the former slave, without recognition screaming from her expression. "I don't believe it," David whispered to her.
The warrior growled, pointed to Edward, snapped out more dialect, then gestured to the prisoners. Ulysses scanned them with no recognition and addressed Edward. "Bear Up The Tree say these people stole a horse from our village more than two weeks ago. He say they also steal weapons and lie to Mico. We take the stolen weapons and bring the thieves back to the village for justice."
Edward shook his head. "Tell Bear Up The Tree that he has mistaken them for others. These people claim they've never seen any of you before."
Ulysses made the translation. Bear Up The Tree responded in a belligerent tone, and Ulysses addressed Edward again. "Bear Up The Tree say a third man was with them more than two weeks ago, an old Frenchman."
Accusation narrowed Fairfax's gaze on Mathias. "Mr. Hale, you've lied to us."
Wide-eyed, Mathias spread his hands and shot a glance of bafflement at Sophie and David. She saw from his expression that he understood enough of the dialect to comprehend subcurrents of a scheme the redcoats didn't perceive. David said under his breath, "What the devil are these Indians trying to do?"
"Lieutenant, as you were." Edward pinned Bear Up The Tree with the commanding expression of a statesman. "Our people have a treaty with yours. These three are Mico George's prisoners, spies for the rebels, our enemies and yours. They have the sentence of death upon them. We are transporting them to the Georgia colony for execution. You must allow us to pursue Mico George's justice in this matter."
Ulysses translated. The warrior bared his teeth at Edward and raised his musket. Sophie backed half a step from the Creek leader, her breath reedy in her throat over his response, venom that needed no translation.
"Bear Up The Tree say our justice more important. You release the thieves and weapons to us, or he shoot you."
Fairfax stomped the road. "Sir, this is absurd! The savages are supposed to be allies! I say this is a trick! Mr. Hale is a liar. All along he's understood them. They're his friends who would rescue him."
Edward never took his eyes off Bear Up The Tree. Pragmatism entered his voice. "Look around you, Lieutenant. Tell me their motivations matter. We're very much outnumbered."
A snarl exposed Fairfax's teeth. "You're just going to give them up? After more than four weeks, you're going to surrender to rebels?" Etched into his expression and voice was his contempt for Edward's mercy toward prisoners and acquiescence toward savages. And Fairfax clearly believed the Creek bluffed with their threat to shoot.
Edward reached to his side, drew his curved sword, and held it up, striking a courageous and indomitable figure. To Sophie, his actions seemed to create less of a challenge than a signal to Bear Up The Tree, for the warrior's belligerence faded into resolution and understanding. She shrieked, "No!" the second before the warrior fired his musket.
"Aaaaghh!" Th
e sword clanged to the road. Scarlet blossomed across Edward's right thigh and he collapsed, rotating his torso as he did to make eye contact with her for one second, enough time for his expression to communicate the command, "Go!"
Stupefaction speared Fairfax's surliness. "Major Hunt — sir!" The lieutenant sprinted to Edward's side, knelt along with several privates, and raised his fist to Bear Up The Tree. "You filthy, traitorous savages! Treaties and honor mean nothing to you, do they? Take your thieves, then. Be welcome to them. We shan't stop you."
David shoved Sophie toward Samson, uprooting her from her paralysis. "On your horse," he muttered in her ear. "Nothing here is as it seems. The sooner we're away, the sooner we'll find out the real story."
Chapter Thirty-Seven
THEY RODE WEST hard, permitting no leisure to dwell on the shooting. Bear Up The Tree signaled a halt in the middle of the swamp. Muck sucked at Samson's shoes, turkey buzzards circled, and insects found the taste of sweat irresistible. Bear Up The Tree gestured south. All but he, Ulysses, and four Creek abandoned Sophie's party and trotted their horses in that direction.
The leader nudged his horse over to where his prisoners caught their breaths and fanned away bugs. Sweat slicked his bronze, tattooed skin. His eyes were the color of onyx. "We go north now. Ground soft here." He guided his horse away.
Sophie gaped to hear English spoken where she'd never expected it. Above the stink of grease on the warrior, she recognized the familiar scent of the tobacco-herb combination the Creek smoked during discussions. Shock flooded her brain.
Edward's business Thursday had been with the Lower Creek. While passing the pipe around, he'd arranged their escape. He'd taken a ball in his leg to allay Fairfax's suspicions. Never would he have done so had he believed them rebel spies, or had he trusted the courts to deliver the correct verdict. In silence, she implored any deities listening to allow him to survive his act of justice and mercy.
Her gut roared by the time they paused in a copse of pines for corn cakes and dried venison. Nothing had filled her stomach since the predawn slop that passed for corn mush in jail. Soon after they finished eating, Ulysses, who had helped several warriors confiscate their weapons from the redcoats, ambled over and returned their weapons. David produced a smile fit for a cotillion and motioned for the Negro to sit cross-legged with them. "My good man, how are Lila and the baby?"
"They fine. Lila be helping the women in the fields, sharing some things we know. That child be growing like a weed."
Mathias gestured to the Negro's horse. "You've done quite well for yourself in just a few weeks."
"Yessuh. I teach English to folks who want it. They teach me to hunt, find my way round. Got my first deer with the musket two days ago. Ain't no massuh ever going to find us."
He lowered his voice. "We taking you to the Georgia colony so as them redcoats don't find you at least as far as the St. Marys River. Yesterday the major ride into the village to talk to Mico. Mico ask me and Bear Up The Tree to join them, make the English words. We smoke the pipe, and I wonder where I seen this redcoat before. I remember the night Lila have the baby, just before we met you folks, we sneaked round their camp.
"The major say he be escorting three prisoners that he know be innocent, but he afraid Mico George rule otherwise and they get executed. He throw money on the mat before Mico. More money than I ever seen in my life. He say help me save them, Mico. They got to escape.
"He describe you. They plan the ambush. He say things may go bad, so if I give you the signal, you shoot me in the leg to make it look better. I think, man, how bad do things got to get when you want somebody to shoot you? Then I see. The lieutenant want all of you dead." He regarded Sophie. "Or maybe worse. Lila tell me what happen in Cow Ford."
Mathias and David glowered. Sophie waved it away and thanked Ulysses, but she knew Mathias wasn't finished with Fairfax.
After Ulysses left them, Mathias spoke up sounding chagrined. "I misjudged Hunt. He's truly a warrior."
David scraped venison from between his teeth. "I called him 'a mediocre soldier.' Zounds, how wrong I was."
She flicked her gaze back and forth between them — brother of her blood and bones, brother of her heart and spirit — two of the most remarkable men she'd had the fortune of knowing. And Edward — never would she have expected him to step so far outside regulations. In the final look he'd given her, she'd recognized that his actions hadn't been based solely on his convictions of their innocence and the court's shortcomings. The agony it brought him to let her go ripped him as much as the musket ball.
David snorted. "We've returned a fortune to an ungrateful Spaniard and escaped the gallows. Where do we go? We're in exile."
"To my home village." Mathias held up a hand to divert their protests. "My aunt communicates with Beloved Women from Cherokee villages in the Carolinas. The Cherokee may be able to hide us."
David eyed Mathias as if he'd hit his head and wasn't thinking clearly. "Aren't the two tribes at war?"
"It depends upon our perception of the enemy. I'd like to try strengthening relations between my people and the Cherokee. I shall be honored to have your company in such an endeavor."
How welcome did the Creek feel in the land of the Cherokee? Sophie imagined Mathias an ambassador among them. A thrill of apprehension and anticipation spiraled through her.
David scratched his head. "Sounds interesting, however, I have a plan of my own. I haven't visited a card table in weeks. Fairfax, rot his soul, denied me the pleasure of cleaning out the Spaniards in Havana. I've always enjoyed cards in Williamsburg, and there's a widow there whom I'd like to visit."
Sophie smirked at him. "Abby, right?"
"No, Nancy."
Mathias nodded. "Williamsburg is far enough away that you shouldn't be conspicuous."
"Of course, I need to visit a widow in Augusta before I head to Williamsburg."
Sophie grinned. "Martha, right?"
"No, Abby's the widow in Augusta."
Mathias frowned. "That visit will put you at risk."
"So I won't advertise." He studied Sophie, sobered. "Betsy must be frantic about you. Come with me. You could see her in Augusta. And Nancy's family owns the press in Williamsburg. With your experience, you'd be a tremendous help to them."
She was spared making a decision when Bear Up The Tree signaled for them to resume traveling. David rolled to his feet, and Mathias helped her up. "No matter where we three end up, let us have a few days' respite among the people first."
She smiled at him. "Agreed."
"I've no objection." David braced his hands on his hips and gazed southward. "But someday after all this is over, I must discover just how easily the Spaniards in Havana lose their purses."
***
They arrived exhausted in the Creek village just before sundown on Friday, July 7. Within a minute, Sophie and David were shown to the guest portion of Laughing Eyes' hut. Mathias and his aunt sought a conference with the mico, and the travelers' horses were led away to receive care. David began snoring almost before he'd flopped into the hammock in the guest hut.
On a mat at the other side of the hut, Sophie lay awake, her belly full of beans, corn cakes, and melon, every muscle aching. Her mind gyrated with the adventure and flashed places, faces, and events through her memories.
Zack MacVie's ambush. Wolves and peddlers. Fairfax's attack on the outlaws. Esteban Hernandez. El Serpiente and El Escorpión. Ulysses and Lila. Cow Ford. Luciano de Herrera. Miguel de Arriaga and the Gloria Maria. A tropical storm and a moonlit beach. Imperial haughtiness on Don Antonio's face. Jacques's dying words. Her father's swim for safety. Edward's mercy.
The journey from East Florida had been as placid as the trip down to St. Augustine had been horrific. She'd spend the rest of her lifetime sorting out June 1780. If the people of Alton but knew what they'd been through — ah, but they'd never believe it.
After Mathias slipped inside the hut, they lay side-by-side on the mat, listening to Davi
d's snores intensify. Mathias snickered. "Listen to him. He's pushed the past four weeks clear from his mind so he can make room for card tables."
"A remarkable skill, eh?"
"Indeed. Here, now, I've much news. Most importantly, Will spent last night in this very hut."
She gasped and pushed up on her elbow. "Uninjured?"
"Yes, except for his being travel-weary."
"Thank the heavens." She felt jittery with relief, love, heartache. "We must find him. Where did he go?"
"All my aunt knows is that he's meeting rebel friends in the Carolinas."
Sophie lay back, frustration emptying her in a sigh. "Father wouldn't have said more. Protect the people."
"Yes. So do you truly want to pick up his trail and follow him?" Mathias sounded reluctant.
She considered a moment, trying to find a path through her swirl of conflict, at last deriving insight from what Runs With Horses had once said to her: The journey of Will St. James separates from yours for awhile, but Creator will again unite your paths. For now, she'd continue her own journey. "No."
"Wise woman." Mathias stroked her brow. "Tomorrow at dawn, my aunt shall dispatch a messenger with information about us. He'll ride to a Cherokee village in northwestern South Carolina. They should be able to give us refuge there.
"Locally, Alton's been quiet beneath the command of Captain Sheffield, although tongues still wag over how Will dug up Mr. Carey's corpse. The official finding of the murder investigation is that the Spaniard was flayed alive by his Spanish partner."
From Sophie's brief contact with Lieutenant Stoddard, she'd judged him astute enough to figure out who really murdered the Spaniard. A pity if the official statement meant the redcoats intended to protect their own. Fairfax had acquired a taste for dispensing his own "justice."
"A convenient finding for all parties. El Serpiente won't be contesting it. Has there been word of Major Hunt and his men yet?"
"None."
"Excellent. And how is the war going?"
"Mid-June, General Horatio Gates was commissioned by the Congress to assume command of the Southern rebel army from Johann de Kalb. Aside from a skirmish in North Carolina, the southern colonies have been relatively quiet. Perhaps everyone's being reasonable about the heat and lying low. Too bad Major Hunt didn't let us hear more of his conversation with the captain of the Zealot. With Gates's commission and all of Cornwallis's activity, something enormous must be building in South Carolina."
Paper Woman: A Mystery of the American Revolution Page 29