War of Hearts, A Historical Romance

by Lynn Hubbard

  Margaret caught up to her and patted her shoulder. From their spot, all they could make out was the taunt rope swinging slightly in the morning breeze.

  The crowd parted and General Washington himself walked past. His eyes lit on Sarah and he nodded to her before heading to his quarters.

  “You should be proud; he got what he had coming.”

  Sarah nodded, but Margaret’s words did little to dispel the doubt in Sarah’s heart. Needing comfort, she headed to the Hospital.

  Dr. Radcliff was checking the frostbite patient from yesterday. His coloring seemed to be better and Sarah was relieved.

  “Have you been here all night?” she asked Robert.

  “Might as well have been.”

  A soldier entered the room and headed toward her. “Ma’am, the General would like a word with you.”

  Sarah looked perplexed “With me?”

  “Come along.”

  Sarah looked frantically over at Robert, whom looked uneasy as well. When he did not respond, she turned and followed the soldier to Washington’s cabin. He motioned for her to enter, and when she did, she was surprised to find that he was alone.

  He was busy writing and Sarah stood awkwardly, unsure of the protocol when meeting a man of his stature. She watched his impeccable script flowing over the pages, only pausing periodically to dip his quill. He stopped suddenly and looked up.

  “Do you read?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And write as well?”

  “Yes, my brother taught me.” At the mention of her brother, her heart ached, but was a bit easier than before.

  “Excellent, have a seat.”

  Sarah sat on the chair he indicated. He returned to his work and with a flourish, signed the document.

  “As you know we are in great need of supplies. I have been given information recently where we can procure some.”

  “That is good news isn’t it?”

  “Perhaps.”

  Chapter 5 Decisions

  Bundling his cloak about him, Tristan headed outside. He could find better company at the local tavern. There were few people on the street. Most had sought shelter from the night. Even the soldiers had relaxed a bit, he passed one with his cheeks red from either drink or the wind, he could not be sure. He was guarding one of his neighbor’s houses; one that had left the country.

  What was worth guarding on a night like this? The rebels were far away, and from news of it, half dead at that. His brother again flitted across his mind, and he pulled his coat tighter to ward off the chill. Reaching the tavern he chose a seat at the bar. A whiskey was placed in front of him in a pewter cup. He hefted it to his lips and gulped. The burning reminded him that he was alive. He heard a lilt of laughter and turned his head toward the sound. The girl was barely of age, if that. He watched for a second, ‘til she trotted off on a gentleman’s arm.

  He glanced at the bartender whom was looking the other way, his mouth set in a grim line. Was there no solace to be had? He left a tip and headed back into the night. His heart was a bit heavier.

  ***

  Sarah sat waiting for General Washington to continue. He came from around the desk and sat in the chair next to her.

  “I have a crew made up to go into Philly. It would be more believable if a woman was with them.”

  Her eyes widened, crossing into enemy lines was akin to suicide. Would that be a quicker death than starvation or disease? She thought of the men she had treated who had been run through with bayonets; no it would not be easier. Especially as a woman.

  She heard someone speak, “I’ll do it,” and was shocked to find it was herself. After all, if there was any chance of getting more supplies, wasn’t it worth the risk? She knew Silas would have volunteered, and so shall she.

  George nodded to her. “You leave tonight.”

  After receiving her orders, Sarah headed back to the hospital. She tried to ignore Robert and Margaret’s prodding eyes. She knew she should be resting for the journey, but she had too much emotion built up. Oh, why couldn’t she have inherited some of her brother’s courage?

  She sipped some thin broth for supper, it wasn’t much, but it was warm. Margaret lumbered over and sat next to her.

  “Spill the beans.”

  “He needs me to get some supplies.”

  “Supplies? From where?”

  “Philadelphia.”

  “Are you senseless?”

  “Perhaps, but look at us! We’re half starved, half froze, what choice do I have?”

  Margaret set her lips together in a grim line. The one Sarah had seen countless of times. With a sigh, she reached into her ragged clothing and pulled out a hatpin.

  “Well if you must go, you better arm yourself.”

  “How will a pin help?”

  “A good jab to the throat or eye will get their attention.”

  Sarah carefully grasped the sharp piece of steel and hugged her friend. She could feel her bones through her clothing and knew she had made the right decision.

  “I’ll be back before you know it.”

  “Be safe,” Margaret replied, watching her scamper out of site.

  Sarah made her way to the quartermaster’s tent. She was a bit early but unable to calm her nerves. She attached the pin to her skirt within easy reach of her hand. Several men were gathered around and she nervously looked for Pearson, her contact.

  “I’m looking for Mr. Pearson,” she stated, her voice sounding thin and weak even to her own ears.

  “You found him,” the burliest one of the bunch replied, stepping forward.

  “General Washington sent me to accompany you.”

  The man eyed her grimly, “Come along then.”

  A bit wearily, she ducked into the tent after him. He had a map laid out on his bedroll and quickly went over the plan. They were to pick up a wagon in town and ride to Philadelphia. There would be men in the woods, to give them cover, if they were discovered. The cover story was that the rebels had run them from their home and they needed to seek shelter within the city.

  He handed her a pass into the city, a pass that had cost several of their lives to procure.

  “Just let me do all the talkin’. And don’t look them in the eye.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s best for them not to notice how pretty you are.”

  Sarah nodded, her eyes widening as she thought of the soldiers who attacked her farm.

  He patted her on the shoulder with his large, boney hand. “You listen to me and we might just get back alive.”

  The two began their journey on foot. Sarah was bequeathed a pair of ice creepers. The bent metal was tied to her shoe to steady her on the slippery ground. They hoped to make it before nightfall.

  Snow started to fall. It acted as an insulator as well as covering their tracks. The less people out and about, the better. She hardly noticed when their accompanying guards slipped silently into the forest.

  “And how are we to carry the supplies back?” Sarah asked.

  Pearson chuckled. “Steal a wagon.”

  A bark of laughter escaped Sarah. “Of course, they won’t notice that at all!”

  The two were silent as they marched on through the deepening snow, each lost in their own thoughts.

  Sarah had never been to Philly; in fact she had never been much of anywhere, until they joined the army. She had heard tell of the grand city with the towering mansions and buildings lining the streets.

  Thoughts of the red coats growing fat and strong, gave her energy and her steps became more determined.

  The walking kept her body warm enough, however she had to keep wiggling her fingers to keep the blood flowing. She was trying desperately to keep up with her companion’s effortless strides and she soon began to pant.

  Finally noticing her peril, he slowed down a bit. She wanted to ask him about his life, if he had a family, why he was on this mission. But her fear of being overheard kept her quiet. She knew their people were in the
woods, and if she couldn’t see them. There could be others.

  She heard him curse out loud as he came to a halt, holding his boot up. Sarah risked a peek to see a thin, spiked piece of metal sticking out of the sole of his boot.

  A caltrop. The bent metal was thrown on the ground to deliberately injure horses. They must be getting closer if the British were worried about cavalry attacks. She watched as Pearson plucked it out and put it in his pocket.

  Their pace was slower after that, due to looking out for more caltrops, or favoring his sore foot. She wasn’t sure, but she was grateful for the break.

  Sarah’s legs were leaden, since they had reached camp in December; she had no reason to march recently. The soldiers had their drills, but her camp was close to the hospital, so had become more complacent. No matter how uncomfortable the camp was, it was her home now, and she considered the men and Margaret her family.

  The snow stopped and the sun shone down brilliantly in orange, red, and purple. The shadows of the trees grew longer, and Sarah started walking faster; she did not want to be in the woods after dark.

  A halt was sounded, and she instinctively gripped Pearson’s arm. Her heart beat faster, the Red uniforms shining brightly against the fallen snow, reminding her of blood. There were four of them, and as they drew closer Pearson held his arms up, showing he was unarmed, and he shouted to the heavens.

  “God Bless us, and God Bless our king!”

  Sarah cried out, the one closest to them was lunging forward, striking Pearson in the head with the butt of his rifle. Pearson fell to his knees and Sarah jumped in front of him holding the piece of parchment up high.

  “We have a pass, we have a pass!” her shaking voice repeated the mantra until it was grasped out of her hand.

  The soldier squinted at it in the failing light; Sarah snatched it from his hand and stuffed it into her bosom. Her eyes glared at him defiantly. The soldier eyed her a moment before nodding, and stepping back.

  Still wary, Sarah grabbed Pearson’s collar and helped heave him to his feet. He swayed and leaned heavily on her; whether it was an act or not, she couldn’t be sure.

  They slowly shuffled down the path, and out of site. Darkness was upon them; the lights from the town were their guides. They passed by the second post without a hitch, and then they were in Philadelphia.

  Sarah couldn’t help but gaze around at the richness of the city. A fitting capitol for a new nation. Too bad the British were occupying it.

  “Are you all right?” she asked, even her whisper sounding loud in the still night.

  She received a grunt in reply, and decided to take it as a yes.

  Suddenly, Pearson turned, pulling her into his arms. She gasped in surprise, but instead of a kiss, he hugged her tightly. His mouth was firm against her ear as he whispered instructions.

  Moisture remained when he pulled away, and she fought the urge to wipe it off. Instead she headed up to the next door and knocked, leaving him leaning against the wall.

  A shaft of light split the night when the door opened, revealing another soldier.

  “Do you have oil for my lantern?” she asked, repeating the odd words she was told.

  “That and more,” he said ushering them quickly inside.

  She watched as Pearson clasped hands with him, and began discussing the plan. Sarah raised a quizzical eye upon learning the plan was to drive a wagon full of supplies, back the way they had come.

  “Do you think they are daft?” she asked.

  “No, but at dawn, new guards will be posted. They will not question a respectable merchant, and his wife, returning to his village.”

  Sarah still felt doubtful; however she was too tired to argue. Her feet ached, her clothes were cold and wet, and the fire in the hearth was way too inviting. With the hope of bringing medicine back to her boys, she lay down to rest.

  Chapter 6 Philadelphia

  Dawn broke, bringing with it a slow steady drizzle. Sarah strained her eyes in the dim light as she rose. The men were already awake and whispering.

  She frowned at being left out. A cup of bitter tea was thrust into her hands and she gulped down the hot brew. She didn’t see what all the fuss was about over tea; since traveling with the army, she had learned to enjoy coffee, when it was available.

  Her stomach growled with hunger and she received a stale biscuit for her embarrassment. She listened in on the plans as she nibbled. The food and tea warmed her spirit; when a wagon arrived in front of the house full of supplies, she was ready. Pearson guided her up onto the high bench and crossed to the other side. The bench dipped when he sat next to her and she grasped the seat to steady herself.

  Thin beams of light peeked through the town and Sarah readily took it all in. It was a beautiful city. Stately some would call it, with its large homes and sturdy brick buildings.

  The wagon creaked as the horses moved restlessly. Sarah turned her attention to them. They were as ragged as any horse she had ever seen. She doubted if they would even last the trip. She glanced at Pearson wordlessly and he shrugged a shoulder. What choice did they have?

  He let out a yip to get the horses moving and they soon were off. They made their way toward the gate they had entered. There was much scurrying around the gate and she recognized the soldier that hit Pearson. She grabbed his arm in warning and slightly shook her head.

  His mouth set in a grim line as he expertly guided the load down a side street. They would need to go through town and exit to the north. It was longer, but less risky.

  Sarah, remembering her part, repeated the mantra in her head. My sister has fallen ill, and we are heading to New York.

  She held her breath as they arrived at the next waypoint. The solider walked up to question them and Pearson held up his papers. Just as the soldier went to grab them, the sky opened up and a freezing rain drenched them all.

  Glancing at the sodden mess, he waived them through, hurrying back to shelter. Sarah said a silent prayer, pulling her cloak tightly around her and leaned into ‘her husband’ for warmth. The horses protested, and Pearson lay heavy on the whip until they were out of sight.

  Cold rain ran down her neck, but they pressed on. Before long they were forced to stop and rest the horses. Sarah offered them some sugar cubes she had taken from the house. The horses greedily ate them as she patted their thin necks. She wasn’t sure whose horses these were, but she silently cursed the owners for letting them become so emaciated.

  The trip home, if you could call it home, seemed to take even longer. The rain kept up a steady deluge and thankfully kept most people off the road. By the time they arrived home, Sarah’s teeth were chattering and she could barely feel her hands. She barely recalled being lifted down from the wagon and wrapped in a blanket.

  She awoke to the sound of a crackling fire. Robert was sitting on the side of her bed with a worried expression on his face. She looked around at the cabin, wondering where she was.

  “You’re in the General’s quarters,” he spoke, answering her silent question. “He requested I tend to you and Pearson.”

  At the mention of her partner she sat up, looking around until she spotted his large frame on a mat by the fireplace. His snoring almost made the walls shake. She smiled in spite of herself.

  “I’m fine,” she replied

  “You are lucky.”

  “Look at the supplies we brought back.”

  He guffawed, “What? A dozen blankets, some dried beef, bandages and rum? Is that worth risking your life?”

  Her eyes narrowed angrily. “Yes, if my journey brought comfort to just one man it would be worth it.”

  Robert leaned toward her, his voice low and husky. “I would give anything for you to comfort me.” He pulled her close and kissed her soundly on the lips.

  Sarah’s eyes widened in shock, she had never kissed a man before. The only other time she had been kissed was when Billy Johnson, a neighbor boy, had tricked her into meeting him behind his barn. He got a black eye for his
trouble.

  But this was different; his arms crept around her back and pulled her close. So close she could barely breathe. Everything was in slow motion as she put up her hands to push him away. Her still sleepy mind was struggling to make sense of these new sensations.

  Pearson grumbled in his sleep and broke the spell. Sarah turned her head to break contact, pushing desperately at his chest.

  “What are you doing?” she spat in an angry whisper. He reluctantly released her.

  “I was showing you my feelings.”

  “Your feelings? What about mine? Or your wife’s?” Sarah retorted.

  “She was not truly a wife, which is why I left.”

  “Indeed? And here I thought you left to defend your country.”

  “Sarah, I apologize for taking advantage. However, I can stay silent no longer. When you left, I was afraid I would never see you again. Never hear the lilt of your voice; never see your smile brighten even in the darkest days. I confess…I am in love with you.”

  During his speech, Robert had sunk to his knees on the floor, and grasped her hand. Sarah sat motionless on the bed, not sure how to respond. She admired Robert greatly, but love him? No. The only man who filled her thoughts was Silas, her brother. Her heart was still mourning her loss. It was in no condition to be given away.

  “Robert, neither of our hearts are free. I cannot accept yours, and mine is too shattered to offer.” She pulled her hand away and watched as Robert silently stood and headed out into the cold.

  Chapter 7 For Liberty

  The winter wore on; Sarah could not keep track of the days. Each one was as long and arduous as the next. She had kept Robert’s advances to herself. It was awkward enough without Margaret adding to her confusion.

  Since their encounter, Robert was a bit quieter than before. Every once in a while she would catch him watching her, and she wasn’t sure how to respond.

  She awoke one morning to see a robin pecking at the hard ground. The birds had returned. Spring was near. The men had been hard at work in their battalions. A Frenchman had come weeks earlier and set about making changes. He reorganized the camp into rows and set standards for sanitation. This task, in itself, reduced the number of ill sent to the hospital.