by Jerri Hines
“Hold steady,” he said once more, too many times to count. Covered with blood almost head to toe, Jonathan wiped back his perspiring brow with his sleeve. “Get me the iron. Have to cauterize the wound.”
From behind him, a young lad, who at the moment worked as his assistant, handed Jonathan a scorching hot rod. Immediately, a foul odor of burning flesh filled the air along with a piercing scream. “Hold him tight.”
Hands seized the injured leg. Jonathan wrapped the wound with clean rags. Jonathan talked to the wounded as he worked, answering the fearful patient’s questions and assuring them when Jonathan realized that there was no reassurance. The fleeting thought of telling the man to watch for signs of gangrene and how the wound would hurt like hell when the effects of the hot iron wore off dissipated. Instead, he uttered, “Keep the wound clean. Change the dressing with clean rags only.”
The words echoed in the tent. Jonathan stretched his neck, looking up to see the next soldier.
“That’s it, Doc. At least for the moment. Doctor Montgomery arrived. Said he would relieve you as soon as he checks in with the general.”
Jonathan nodded to his assistant. Didn’t even remember the kid’s name. General Moultrie had given him a couple of recruits and the doctor in Beaufort, but none had any battle experience. He didn’t argue with the kid. He couldn’t remember the last time he slept.
Moans and groans reverberated around him. Thank goodness he had only a few serious injuries. He wiped his hands on his filthy scarlet apron. He wanted nothing more than to wash. He had to eat something and, if at all possible, he needed more than anything to check on Rebekah. So close, yet he didn’t know whether General Moultrie would grant him a brief time to check on her well-being, although the militia seemed at times to go and come as they pleased. The Continental Army would never allow such lack of discipline, but he wasn’t North at the moment and if it allowed him to see Rebekah…
Bright sunlight greeted Jonathan when he walked out of the tent’s entrance. Squinting his eyes, he breathed in hard and glanced around. He needed to get the bearings to General Moultrie’s tent.
“Doc!” A voice rang out behind him.
Turning, Jonathan’s features eased when he recognized the figure walking toward him. “Major Meador.”
“Look like shit, Doc,” Meador said bluntly, rumbling with a note in his hand. “Told to find you.” He handed it to Jonathan. “Looks like ya haven’t even got any sleep.”
“Haven’t. Don’t even know what’s going on except that I heard we made a fine showing,” Jonathan answered and accepted the paper.
“That’s what they say. Done good. Gotta say, though, ne’er seen a doctor shoot the way you do. Heard you’ve done it before. Got a reputation. Seems like the British know of it, too. The word is they want to take you down bad from the little conversation I held with that Colonel Woodland. Don’t take kindly to you, it seems.”
“Least of my concerns.”
“Suppose.” Meador laughed. He tilted his head toward the note. “Gonna read it or not, Doc? General Moultrie has requested me to escort you. I’m on my way out…”
“Escort?” Jonathan looked down at the note. Panic surged through him as he read.
Doctor Corbett,
If at all possible, could you withdraw yourself back to Evermont? An utmost issue has arisen that needs your immediate attention. I have requested your presence personally to General Moultrie.
Colonel Pierce Cutler
Rebekah! Nothing else needed to be said. His eyes rose slowly to Meador’s. “We can leave immediately?”
“Change and we’re gone.”
Within the hour, Jonathan found himself mounted next to Major Sumner Meador. Meador himself headed out to his home, Elm Bluffs, with family issues of his own, but neither man exchanged specifics of their issues.
Riding in silence for a time, Meador said directly, “Something bothering you, Doc?”
Glancing over at Sumner, Jonathan shrugged. “Just wondering about how the whole of the army is handled here in Charles Town. Doesn’t it bother you? Men coming in and out. Running in battle. No one listens to the commander of the army…”
“Hold on, Doc,” Meador cautioned. “You don’t know these men, lived with them. I don’t know how it’s been where you’ve been, but down here, we’ve always looked after our own. These men have their families to look after. Leaving them alone means they’re unprotected from a lot more than ’em Brits. You haven’t seen a farm after an Indian attack and you don’t want to. Or try picking up the pieces after a raid. These men take a stand and it leaves their families vulnerable and they ain’t at home to protect ’em. So don’t sit in judgment of people you don’t know anything about.”
“I think it is an excuse, Meador. We all have our issues and losses. No, here everyone wants to be in command. Seems to take offense when given an order. If you ask me, men are looking for a reason to justify a grudge. We fight more with ourselves than the British…”
“Suppose you may be right,” Meador interrupted. “I’ve been around it too long to notice.”
Just didn't feel right, Jonathan thought, but he didn’t have time to contemplate more. Sumner eyed him.
"Now, I'm just wondering, Doc. Do you do that often?"
"Do what?"
"Make friends like you did. You know what I mean. Rile up the troops like you did yesterday."
"Said what needed to be said."
"If you think so," Sumner said plainly. "But I'll give you fair warning. You won't do that often around here and live."
Chapter Twelve
The sun lit high in the midday sky. Jonathan wiped his tired eyes. He glanced at his riding partner. After his endearing advice of encouragement, he found Meador a man of few words. The most he had gotten out of him was he had a newborn son at Elm Bluff.
Progress had been slow, at least to Jonathan’s festering impatience. At last the two men turned down the path to Evermont. The worst of his fears lay down the winding lane he reined his horse down.
“Didn’t even know there was a house down this road,” Meador remarked, coming into sight of the farm. “Isolated.”
“Suppose so from the road,” Jonathan agreed. “But the waterway’s not far on the other side.”
Meador turned to gaze at a mounted man who nodded at Jonathan in a manner that said he recognized him. If Meador had questions, he kept them to himself. Jonathan kneed the flanks of his horse, urging him on to a faster walk. Rounding the bend near the edge of the lane, the lone house faced them. The sight momentarily took Jonathan by surprise.
A small band of men mingled on the front lawn; Daniel stood on the porch. Horses tied to the horse post indicated their arrival had only preceded his. Facing them on the near edge of the raised porch, Daniel gestured to Jonathan.
Jonathan rounded about the men. “What happened?”
Without answering Jonathan, Daniel acknowledged Meador with a slight nod; obviously the young lad recognized his companion. “Sumner, are you staying? Would you like refreshments of some sort?”
Meador gave a slow, deliberate answer. “Need to be going. Just seeing that the Doc here got to where he intended. Done himself proud.”
“Heard all did,” Daniel replied soundly. If Jonathan wasn’t mistaken, he heard a tad of envy. “Good news finally.”
“Got our work cut out for us. That’s for sure,” Meador said, but his eyes surveyed the men as he talked. “Good to see ya, Morse. If I’m going to get to my home by nightfall, I need to ride on.” He hesitated. His eyes fixated on one of the men. “Whose…?”
“Colonel Cutler, sir,” Daniel answered before Meador finished his sentence. “He’s up at Fairview at the moment. Be back shortly. Do ya’ want me to send someone up to get him?”
Meador shook his head, seemingly satisfied with the answer. He reined his horse, turning back to the lane. He edged up to Jonathan for his ears only. “Don’t know what’s going on here, but watch all around. Cutler’s a go
od man, but these men—some of them I recognize, Doc, and they’re trouble.”
Jonathan eyed Meador for a brief moment. The man was serious. Meador’s glare at the man at the far corner of the house wasn’t lost on him. The gruffly small man disappeared from view as soon as he got a look at Meador.
“I could stay…”
“What?” Jonathan countered with a half-smile. “Think I can’t take care of myself?” He chuckled a tired laugh and turn to a serious manner. “I understand, Meador, but it will be fine. You have your own issues to deal with…go.”
Meador eyed Jonathan intently. His eyebrow rose over his right eye toward the direction the man once stood. “Don’t trust him. Don’t trust anyone. Good thing ya’ know how to use a gun. Keep it close.”
Meador didn’t say another word, but clicked his horse. Immediately, he was off. Jonathan stared after him until he disappeared down the lane.
The sun was just touching the tree tops by the time Jonathan finished meeting with Cutler and the others. It took an effort of sheer will to draw herself from Jonathan while he talked with Cutler. She was leaving South Carolina. Of that she had no doubt. She had been scared before but never, never had she felt the panic-stricken terror as she did when she heard the gunfire the night before last. She still trembled when she thought of what could have occurred.
The memory of soothing Eliza during the chaos was etched in her heart forever. A fear as she had never known gripped her. In the back of her mind, she had never fully accepted Rory wanted her dead or the baby, his own child…not the man she thought she knew, but all doubts vanished during the gun battle. The whole of her life had been turned upside down in the last year. All she had believed in, trusted, held faith to was no more, except for Jonathan.
If something happened to her daughter, she would have never forgiven herself. She hesitated when told to leave; she had to see Jonathan again. She couldn’t leave without seeing him again; she couldn’t. She needed his strength, his belief that their love would survive…but her hesitation…her need almost cost Eliza her life.
Jonathan blamed himself. “I should have insisted, Rebekah. It is mine to own. I am guilty also of wanting to see you and be with you.”
He was wrong, she thought. She was Eliza’s mother. She should have placed her needs first…her safety. Four months old. Four months of holding, loving, caring for a small one who she loved more than life itself. In that time, she allowed herself to dream of a life with Jonathan. A life of happiness filled with children’s laughter and joy.
But Jonathan had come. He had come! Never had she needed anyone more than she did him at this moment. She clung desperately to him when Cutler described the incident.
“The men responded quickly. The assailant got only as far as the barn before he was shot dead.” Cutler’s words cut through her. “According to the men, there was another but he escaped. The two assailants sneaked through the woods. The men found the dead one’s horse tied to an old elm tree about a half mile up the road. Other than being wakened from a sound sleep, no harm was done. Though now there is no putting off the plan.”
All eyes shifted on her. She buried her head in Jonathan’s shoulder. “I couldn’t leave…without…without seeing you again. I couldn’t…”
She felt his arm round her shoulders, pulling her closer. “You’re safe. Eliza’s safe. We can’t put it off any longer. As much as I hate it, you have to go,” Jonathan said, stroking her head. He turned his attention to Cutler. “When can they go?”
“Daniel is set to sail her out as soon as the word comes the waterway is safe. Those blooming British have been irritating as of late. We may have to move the point down the waterway closer to the Atlantic.”
Jonathan nodded in agreement, but he grimaced. Something worried him. Rebekah could see it in his eyes when he talked. “The whole of the incident bothers me. Why would Black Rory hold back and send only two men? Would he not have done a raid as he has done in the past? Why would he hold back?”
“Perhaps he wasn’t sure whether Rebekah was here?”
“No,” Jonathan disagreed. “I doubt he would have cared if she hadn’t been. He would have made his point and kept looking.”
“I can’t answer for the man,” Cutler said. “I can say that this has gone on long enough.”
“I agree. The more quickly Rebekah and the babe get to Williamsburg the safer for everyone. If not Black Rory, we have the British breathing down our necks.”
“I’ll take care of the arrangements with Daniel. No more than two days, though.”
“Make the arrangements. They both will be readied.” Jonathan spoke the words firmly. “My family is set. I received a letter from Peter Lanson, my sister-in-law’s husband. He is set to respond. He’s a good man. A man to be trusted.”
She left the two of them to hash out the details. She had no interest in when and how. She would go, but she would leave her heart with her husband.
Night descended with a thickening mist that enveloped the farm. Rebekah laid a sleeping Eliza down in her crib. She had been such a good baby this day, Rebekah thought, having spent her time watching her daughter play with her feet, coo with the most delightful of voices, and laugh so easily at the simplest word from her mother. She bent down and caressed the soft cheek.
“She’ll be fine. You both will be safe.”
Turning to the voice, Rebekah quickly found herself in Jonathan’s arms. She stared up at his handsome face and smiling blue eyes. For the first time since his arrival, Rebekah studied him. His reddened eyes, his shadowing beard, his disheveled hair betrayed his tiredness. From Daniel’s ramblings, she discerned he had done battle and in turn patched up the wounded long into the morning. She doubted he had managed much sleep, if any.
“I’ve missed you,” he murmured huskily.
Taunting, warm lips played with hers. His hand slid down the smooth curve of her back. She could feel his breath against her skin, the bristles of his unshaven face.
“How am I supposed to live without you?” she whispered and kissed him back. She wrapped her arms around his neck.
“This is not goodbye, Rebekah.” His lips lingered over hers. “No, not goodbye. It is our beginning. Remember that. All we have gone through has brought us together.”
She brought her hand to his face. Caressing it gently, she said, “I trust you. I just didn’t want to be separated from you.”
“No more than I from you.” He smiled with disarming gentleness. “But you are going to my home. Our home.”
She laid her head on his shoulder. “Tell me again about it. All of it.”
“My home lies in the heart of Williamsburg. My father ran his silversmith shop from our house. The house is large, not elegant or grand as in Charles Town, but sufficient for our needs. Lydia and her husband, Peter, run the shop now.
“Lydia is my dear sister by marriage to my brother William. I don’t know what I would have done if not for her. I would have lost little William. She came to me before I left for Saratoga. She herself heartbroken after the death of my brother, William, and the babe she lost on the news of his demise. Peter rescued both little William and Lydia from Gannon’s clutches.
“You will love Lydia. She has been a mother to my child, given her heart to my son. Lydia and Peter live in my old home. It is large enough for two families and I hope you will find all comfortable. On my return, we will build our own home if you like. In Williamsburg—close by would be my wish. I love Williamsburg and its people. I have lots of cousins and friends. There is only one family to avoid.”
“The Witherspoons, Gabriel. I remember him from when you stayed in Philadelphia,” Rebekah uttered in a low voice. “He was your best friend, but betrayed you.”
“Hannah,” Jonathan said, unable to contain the bitterness festered in his soul. “He betrayed Hannah. Tricked her into staying in New York. She should never have been there to begin with. Hannah went into New York with some wild scheme on finding out who betrayed us. I wasn�
�t home to stop her. Her fiancé sold her out. The network used her as a spy. My impulsive, fool-hearted sister. She wanted only to find the leak that destroyed my…our family. The leak killed both our fathers.”
“But she is safe also. You told me she married and has a son.” She heard the animosity and hurt in his voice.
“Safe?” he echoed her thought. “That I’m unsure.”
She looked up at him and saw the sadness etched in his features. “Tell me, Jonathan. Tell me what bothers you about your sister.”
An odd expression crossed his face. He took in a deep breath. “I have never told another soul, but I trust no one as I do you. You know that, Rebekah. I love you. I thought I would never love another and I found a love like I’ve never known.”
“You are my life, Jonathan. I would never betray you. Ever. I would die first,” she answered serenely.
He gazed at her uneasily for a moment. “Hannah…Hannah lives within British territory under agreement. Under agreement. Can you believe such an agreement? Her son isn’t her husband’s, but her lover’s. She took up with him in New York. A British officer, an aristocrat by all accounts. She was going to England with him until she was rescued by the underground. It is a long story, Rebekah. From what I understand, she did much for the cause. She risked her life for it.”
“I don’t understand, Jonathan. I thought you said she was safe and married.”
“She is as long as this British officer doesn’t find her. Both sides want them separated, but for some reason they want to keep an eye on the child. It is why they insisted she stay in Setauket. Her husband owns a general store and tavern. I have been told she is in the arms of the resistance. On the first sign of trouble, it is set for her to be withdrawn across the Sound. Yet, I live in fear. I know the bastard.”
“Hannah’s lover?” A wave of empathy encompassed Rebekah.