War of Hearts, A Historical Romance

by Lynn Hubbard

  On her breaks, Sarah would sometimes watch the drills. It was a bit humorous listening to him swear in French. When that lost the effect, he commissioned an interpreter to curse at the men in English. The men’s aim steadily improved, and with it, so did their confidence.

  As the weather warmed, Sarah’s trepidation grew. The men she had nursed all winter would soon march off to face almost certain death.

  Margaret sensed her mood and patted her back. “They are strong; they will do well.”

  A shadow passed over them, causing both to look up. Again it was Washington’s aide sent to summon her. With an apologetic glance to Margaret, she stood to follow.

  ***

  She had a sense of deja’vu when she entered the General’s cabin. Part of her wanted to run; however, the other part was eager for another adventure. A change of scenery from the endless sea of dilapidated men.

  Washington stood when she entered and he motioned for her to have a seat. “What is discussed here is for you only. Pearson spoke highly of you during the Philly trek, and I have come up with another proposition. The ground is thawing and Cornwallis is heading back to New York. I want you to go as well.”

  “Me? But Sir, I wouldn’t know what to do.”

  “Exactly, we need someone who appears innocent. Someone whom the British would never suspect of espionage. Someone like you. I’m not requesting that you infiltrate the army. I just need the feel of the land, so to speak. I at least want to know what the locals are discussing. If we can be hopeful for any support on their end. Any troop information would be an asset as well.”

  “So you just want me to go around and ask questions?”

  “No, I just need you to listen. To be my eyes and ears. I have a contact for you. John Baker, a barman, at the Youngblood Tavern on New York Island. You will not reveal yourself to him unless you have news. Trust no one else.”

  Sarah found herself nodding her assent. It did not sound terribly dangerous. A fact that made her a bit disappointed. She was dismissed with a nod and stood to leave.

  Her eyes fell on the fireplace and a flush stole over her face remembering Robert’s stolen kiss. She knew he would not be pleased, but this was her choice to make.

  She returned to the hospital to continue her work. Her mind was awhirl with anticipation as she bandaged a twisted ankle. They had been less busy since the weather had warmed a bit. To be truthful, she missed the chaos. She hated leaving the hospital, especially as they geared up to march into battle. She trusted the General that her time was better spent as a spy than a nurse. A spy. Such a small word to instill such emotion.

  An image of another spy hanging from a tree branch crept into her psyche, and she paused in her wrapping. Maybe following an army into battle would be safer. Nevertheless, she did not enter this war to be safe. She signed up to be free.

  “You need some help?” Robert asked, standing next to her.

  She looked up at him from her seat on the floor and shook her head, tying off the bandage with a flourish.

  The man hobbled away gratefully, leaving her alone with Robert. She looked around the room, surprised to find it completely empty. He offered her his hand. She hesitated just a second before taking it, and allowing him to pull her up to her feet. He was silent and she looked up at him, waiting for him to speak.

  “I heard you were heading to New York.”

  Her eyes widened. “Who told you that?”

  “It’s not important. What is important, is you. Don’t go.”

  It came off as a command rather than a request and Sarah dropped his hand and stepped away. “I gave my word.”

  “Are you willing to give your life?”

  “If it comes to that. Yes. I have nothing else to give. No family, no home, if I am called up by the grace of God, then so be it.”

  “You have me. Stay with me.”

  Her eyes flashed. “As what? Your whore? I am sorry, Robert; I could not accept those conditions from any man. If I don’t see you before I leave, I hope you find what you are seeking.” She turned to leave but stopped when he cried out to her.

  “Wait! I know I need to make amends for my past, and I will. My family lives in New York. If you ever need assistance, go to them. My brother, Tristan, owes me plenty of favors.”

  Sarah nodded her thanks and gave him a quick hug. She hurried out before he could see her tears. Margaret’s goodbye was even more difficult. She was the only confidant Sarah had. She packed her sack with her meager belongings and headed toward her future.

  Chapter 8 New York

  The wind blew through Tristan’s untamable locks as he stood on the pier. The salted air was refreshing and he inhaled deeply. It had been a long, dreary winter and he itched to be back at sea.

  He headed over to his ship, the Sea Maiden, and climbed aboard. Even though it was of great size to transport goods across the ocean, it seemed minuscule compared to the British warships on the bay.

  He warmly greeted Gabriel, his longtime friend and captain. “Good Voyage?”

  A hearty laugh was his reply. “Your family arrived safely. I must confess; the return trip was much more enjoyable.”

  “Indeed.”

  “How was your winter?”

  “Cold and dull.”

  “You know there are ways to keep warm at night.”

  “Ha! While the good Colonel snored away next door? I think not.” Tristan replied with disdain.

  “Any news from Robert?”

  “Not a peep. I can only hope he is well.”

  ***

  Sarah reigned in her horse so they both could have a respite. Ironically, it was one of the horses that they received in Philadelphia. She had named her Molly. It may seem quite mad to talk to a horse, but to Sarah it kept her sane. Even though grass was scarce, it was still in better shape than when they first met. Washington was a firm believer in taking care of their livestock.

  Sarah chewed on some dried beef and took a sip of water from her canteen. The weather was still chilly, but nowhere near the bitterness of winter. She stood and stretched her limbs before reluctantly climbing back into the butt numbing saddle. With a click of her tongue, they resumed their journey.

  The woods they passed already had buds on them while they strived for life. She was regretting her decision to ride alone, but she hated to put anyone else in harm’s way. She tensed up, moving along the well-worn road, jumping at every twig snap. She gripped the reigns tightly and tried to calm her beating heart as a rabbit hopped across her path. Shaking her head at her foolishness, she ambled on.

  Sarah could hear the city before she saw it. It was not the grandeur of Philadelphia, which she had expected. It seemed…somewhat darker. Perhaps her feelings were betraying her perception. Thoughts of retreat fluttered through her mind when she spotted the roadblock. With no other choice, she squared her shoulders and moved forward.

  “State your business,” the young soldier demanded, sounding more bored than anything.

  “I have come to stay with my aunt,” Sarah replied, remembering that less is more.

  He barely glanced at her, and not finding her a threat, moved to let her pass.

  “Hold up there!” a more seasoned officer called. Sarah somehow kept her face calm, even though her heart was pounding again. This man was keener, and his gray eyes seemed to glimmer in anticipation. She supposed he would have been considered handsome, to most, with his brown hair and strong features. Of course, the British Uniform quelled any passionate thoughts on Sarah’s part.

  She tensed as his gaze swept over her body. Her eyes met his, and narrowed, a sneer crossing over his face. “I think we need to check this one a bit more thoroughly.”

  He was close to her, too close. She wondered how far she would get if she kicked him in the face and set the mare into a run. Looking down at her feeble companion, she decided not far enough.

  The soldier grabbed her horse’s harness and placed his free hand on her ankle, running his hand up her leg and u
nder her skirt. She instinctively drew away from him, and with a shriek, toppled off the horse on the other side. Cursing, she pushed herself to her feet and turned on her offender.

  Her little display had attracted the attention of several passersby. Confronted by the extra eyes, he made a big show of helping her dust off her dress. In the process he leaned over to whisper in her ear. “We will continue this another time.” Her skin crawled and she slapped his hands away. He reluctantly took a step back as he nodded to her, handing over the reins with a wink.

  Sarah glared at him and ripped them out of his grasp. Not wanting to risk another fall, or show off her bloomers trying to mount, she turned her back on the men and walked the horse into town.

  New York was a bustling place. There was a constant murmur as everyone’s voices mingled together. She felt so out of place. Reflexively her hand moved to her pocket where she kept the small bag of coins. It included several months’ pay, enough to get her a room and necessities.

  Gale laughter floated from a home and she paused to listen. The sound was foreign to her ears. It had been so long since she had heard the sound of laughter. There hadn’t been much to laugh about. Molly neighed softly, and she moved on.

  A brisk wind swept past, bringing with it the taste of salt. It reminded her of New Jersey, her home. She hadn’t thought of home in such a long time, it hurt too much. Pressing on, she took in her surroundings while she walked. Her horse neighed again, and she patted its neck soothingly. She wasn’t sure what to do with the horse, or herself for that matter. She had seen no barns or stables near the homes on the street. Did they not own livestock?

  She could sell it; however she didn’t want to part with her new friend. They needed each other. She was tired from her trip, and her eyes eagerly looked for signs welcoming borders. The city was huge; she wasn’t sure which way to go, so she decided to head toward the sea. She remembered visiting the ocean with her family. She loved to sit in the sand and could watch the waves forever. With her new destination in mind, she picked up her pace and headed east. New York was a glorious place, at first glance with its imposing brick buildings lining the streets. As she walked, she took note of the people. Most of the civilians who were traveling on the street had their heads down, as if to avoid notice from the soldiers milling about.

  She turned a corner and was greeted by the sight of a man hanging from his neck in a park. She couldn’t help but stop and pay homage, wondering if he was a fellow rebel. His clothing was nondescript. Judging by the discoloration of his skin, he must have been there for days. For what reason? To teach a lesson? For the British to parade their power in front of everyone? The wind turned and her nose was met by the too familiar scent of rotten flesh.

  She watched a woman, dressed in finery, hurry past her, dragging an inquisitive child in her wake. Disgusted, she stood a little taller and marched on by; she had a job to do.

  Further down the road the scenery changed again. Rows of destruction met her eyes. She had heard about the great fire, the one that burned to the sea. However she was not prepared for the amount of the ruin. Burned out buildings in various states of destruction were as far as the eye could see. Some were burned flat to the ground, others collapsed into piles of bricks and mortar. About a quarter of the city was lost, and no telling how many lives. The smell of sulfur reminded her of when the British soldiers attacked her home, and she had little sympathy for the Tories that stayed. They were insolent people who chose convenience over freedom, and complacency over honor.

  ***

  Colonel Hill was on his way back from a meeting. The horse he was riding carried his bulk easily. His eye caught a flash of red and he tracked it to a solitary woman. Her glorious red hair peeked out from her bonnet and shone like embers where it was kissed by the sun’s light. Intrigued, he pulled up short just to watch her.

  She was as bedraggled as her horse, and just as thin. However, her stance belied her emotions. She was not looking upon the ruins in sadness, but in grim determination. She somehow reminded him of his own daughter back in England. It was unusual to see a woman alone in town. It just wasn’t safe.

  Captivated, he dismounted and approached the girl. “Are you in need of assistance?”

  Sarah jumped at the sound of his voice. Spotting the uniform first she paused, her mind blank.

  “Pardon?” she asked, turning to look up at him. He was taller than her, and almost as wide. She felt quite sure she could out run him if the need arose. Even then, she slowly moved her hand into position to grab her straight pin.

  “I didn’t mean to frighten you; I was asking if you needed assistance. You seem to be a bit lost.”

  “What makes you say that?” Sarah asked, aghast that she was failing her mission to blend in already.

  “No one has paid any heed to these ruins in a long time.”

  Sarah, feeling no threat from him, lowered her hand and looked back to the scene. Looking closer she could make out tents set up to house the living.

  “I was looking for my aunt’s house. I have just arrived to stay with her,” she purported, adding a hitch to her voice, covering her face with her hands.

  “Have you heard from her recently? The fire took a fair number of people.”

  She shook her head. “We lost contact, my home was ransacked by rebels, and I thought I would find safety in New York. I have found no such thing.”

  “What is your aunt’s name? They have a list at headquarters.”

  “M-Margaret Smith,” Sarah replied quickly, much pleased with herself.

  “And yours?”

  “Sarah Smith.”

  “Colonel Hill at your service,” he added with a bow. “Well come along, Sarah, we shall see if we can find your aunt.”

  She complied and mounted her horse. “Are you sure your horse will make it?” he asked, trying to lighten the mood.

  “She’s tougher than she looks.” And so am I, she added silently. With a nod, he climbed on his stallion and led the way. The British headquarters was the last place she expected to go, yet she did not have much choice without appearing peculiar.

  As they moved into the city, the scent of fresh baked bread and spiced pies wafted toward her. Her stomach grumbled in response. She was glad that the Colonel was far enough ahead so he could not hear.

  She studied his back while she rode; his powdered hair was plaited down the nape of his neck and tied with a blue bow. What a nice touch, she chided herself at her sarcastic thoughts.

  He pulled up sharply and she almost ran into him. She had not even noticed the stately building they had stopped in front of. Soldiers were everywhere, dressed in their fine woolen red coats and white powdered wigs. Their muskets gleamed brightly, the bayonets sharp and deadly.

  Sarah had seen first-hand the destruction these weapons could carry out, and it overwhelmed her how close they were.

  The Colonel was at her side and helped her dismount. He handed the reins off to a young boy, to have the horses fed and rested. Sarah normally would have refused any charity, but the poor horse deserved what comfort it could get.

  Silently she nodded her thanks and let him lead her to her fate.

  The inside was just as splendid; it would have been more so if it were unoccupied.

  He walked over to a desk and greeted the lieutenant by name. “Baxter, Miss Smith is looking for her Aunt Margaret Smith. Can you search the list from the fire?”

  “Yes, sir,” he replied. He stood, did a quick bow, and headed to a back room.

  It was odd hearing the new name applied to her. She was leery to reveal her real name; she had no idea how thorough their record keeping was. Would they have a record of the missing soldiers buried on their land? She doubted it, but preferred not to take any chances.

  She stood awkwardly while they waited. She wasn’t sure what to do with her hands. She ended up clasping them together in front of her as she looked around the room.

  She was glad for the Colonel’s silence as well. She d
idn’t want to answer a bunch of questions she had no answer for. Luckily, he seemed content to check the paintings and windowsills for dust.

  She heard the front door open and instinctively turned to see who it was. Recognizing the arrogant man who accosted her this morning, she quickly turned away.

  Unfortunately, he had recognized her as well and walked over to join them.

  “Madam, so nice to see you again. Can I be of service?”

  “Major Johnson, there is no need, I am assisting the lady.”

  “Well let me see if I can speed things along,” he said, turning sharply on his heel with a click and heading down the hall in search of the desk clerk.

  Sarah exhaled, not realizing that she had been holding her breath.

  “You make friends quickly,” he commented.

  “It’s a gift,” she replied and smiled reluctantly when he laughed.

  The major returned rather quickly with a sheath of papers. The lieutenant was suspiciously absent. She took in the hand written list and was taken aback by how many pages there were. So many had perished.

  “Perhaps we should move to a more private area,” he said, and Sarah reluctantly followed. She glanced at the exit wistfully, the Colonel put his hand on her back and was guiding her to another room.

  The Colonel sat behind an ornately carved mahogany desk. She sat in the chair closest to the door and the major stood next to the desk.

  “Your aunt’s name?” he requested in a soothing tone.

  “Margaret Smith,” she supplied without a hitch. He searched through the names so slowly Sarah wanted to rip the list from his hands.

  He went through the entire list before stacking the papers neatly in a pile and looking down at Sarah’s anxious eyes. “I am sorry to report that your aunt has passed.”