Leah went on after a moment, not giving him a chance to speak. "I need a man who can track. Indians took William and Edmund. The army won't be able to follow them. It's already been nearly two weeks! They waited two weeks to tell me, George!"
"Leah, I understand you're desperate, but this isn't a good idea. You're not thinking clearly."
"He's the only one who can help me." She went on faster than before. "Harrison could find William. He's an excellent tracker. He rescued a woman from the Iroquois some years back."
"Another Indian woman, not a white man, not a child."
"He knows the language. He—"
"Leah!"
Her gaze met his.
"Leah," he said softly. "Harrison's not going to help you."
"He has to," she answered stubbornly. "William is all I have on this earth."
"Leah, Harrison's not the man he was. He's not the man you loved, the boy I raised. He's bitter, he's angry." DeNay looked away and then back at her. "He's a cold man, Leah. You'd not like him much."
"I don't want to bed him, George. I just want him to find my boy. I want him to bring my boy home."
"You're going to ask a man who once loved you to rescue your husband, Leah?"
She folded her arms over her olive green stomacher stubbornly. "I'll pay him. Well. I'll give him anything he wants."
"I can tell you he wants nothing. Not from you, not from me—and I don't even know what I did wrong." DeNay choked on his last words.
Leah reached down and laid her hand on Harrison's father's shoulder. For a long moment they were both silent. Harrison had hurt them both deeply. Both mourned him still after all these years.
"Just tell me where he is," she finally said softly. "I have to talk to him myself. I have to ask."
"I don't know exactly," DeNay answered, suddenly sounding far older than his sixty years. "But I can get you a boat to take you across the bay to Annapolis. I'll send an escort. I know who will know where he is, a tavern owner by the name of Joshua.
"My men can come for you in the morning. They'll have all the information."
"I knew you'd help me, George." She squeezed his shoulder. "I knew you would understand as a parent."
"You mean as a parent who's lost his only child?"
She walked to the door and laid her hand on the smooth, cold knob. "Is there anything you want me to tell him when I find him?"
George lowered his gaze, shaking his head.
But then as Leah walked out the door and down the hall she heard George shout after her.
"Tell my boy to come home, Leah. Tell him I'll take him as he is. Tell him I love him . . ."
Edmund Beale leaned back, resting his head against the unplaned boards of the prison cell wall. Prison cell, hell! He gave a snort of derision. This was no prison cell. It was a horse stall, a stall not fit for the horses at Tanner's Gift. A horse stall, but where, he didn't know. Some English fort called DePounce. After the Indians had captured him they had dragged him blindfolded into the mountains. They had walked for days. First in circles, then north. He was certain of that by the cooling temperatures. Perhaps northwest. It was hard to tell in the unfamiliar hills.
Young William gave a sigh and Edmund forced one swollen eye open to look down at his son who slept with his head cradled in his father's lap. Edmund tugged at the ropes that bound his hands over his head, wanting to touch him, wanting to somehow comfort him. Of course they didn't pull free. All they did was rub at the raw spots on his wrists.
Edmund closed his eyes again. Filthy red-skinned futtering bastards! Bad enough they had taken him. At least he could understand that. The British needed information, information Edmund could provide. Edmund would have done precisely the same if the tables had been turned. But why William? Why had they had to take the boy, too?
Edmund opened and closed his mouth, wincing at the pain that shot through his broken jaw. So far he had been able to hold up under the interrogation, but how long would it be before they began to strip the flesh from his arms and face? How long before they began to pull at his finger and toe nails one by one?
Coward. He almost laughed at the sound of Leah's voice ringing in his head. Christ, the woman haunted him even here, hundreds of miles from her. She had called him a coward when he'd declined to remain in the room for the birth of William. The bitch. The whoring, red-nigger loving bitch. He'd never liked her. What kind of woman was she? She dressed like a maiden aunt in those dark, subdued colors. She hid her brilliant red hair with black hoods, scarves and other women's trappings. She covered her woman's curves with loose fitting skirts and shapeless gowns. She was ugly with her pale face and drawn mouth. She was cold. The only time she ever came to life was in William's presence and then her smiles were for him and him alone. Never for Edmund.
It was all her father's fault, of course. He'd allowed her too free a rein growing up. It was his fault she'd lain with the Indian. It was her father who had ruined her, God curse his soul.
Edmund only married Leah for her money. Being the third son, even of a wealthy man, his own inheritance would have been meager. Tanner's Gift, even a portion of it was worth more than he would ever see in a lifetime. Who would have guessed his good fortune? When her old man had died suddenly, leaving her heir to the bulk of the estate, Edmund's net worth had tripled.
Yes, despite his distaste for his wife, his life had been good. He had the obedient, dark skinned, feminine Flora to see to his sexual needs. He had money for his cards and horses . . . and he had William.
He glanced down at the boy again. Begrudgingly he had to give credit to Leah for his dark-haired son. At times like this he could pretend . . . He pushed those ugly memories from his mind. William was a fine boy who would grow to be a fine man. As cold-hearted as the bitch was, she had always loved William and she'd been a good mother to him, a strong mother. Though he didn't like Leah, he had to be grateful for the life she had provided.
Edmund sighed. He had to save William for Leah, for himself. He knew that.
That was why he had to do it.
"Wills," he murmured softly so as not to disturb the red-coated guard who was sleeping on his watch outside the prison cell. "Wills, wake up."
The boy stirred. His dark brown hair was matted and his face was dirty, but his health was still good. If he'd survived this long, he had a chance to make it back to civilization.
"William . . ."
The boy blinked. "Father?"
"Shhh, listen."
William rubbed his eyes with his fists. He still wore a portion of the blue tick nightshirt he'd been kidnapped in. Edmund had insisted he be given moccasins and a pair of breeches, but the top of the nightgown still served as his shirt.
"William, you must listen to what I tell you and listen carefully."
The boy nodded solemnly.
"I want you go over to that far wall and pull one of those loose nails out."
"Now?"
"Yes. Hurry."
William leapt up and went to the plank wall. The first nail he pulled on refused to budge, but the second came free. He brought it back to his father, the shiny metal glistening in the moonlight that poured in through the wide cracks in the walls and roof.
"I want you to cut the threads of the rope that binds my hands."
"I thought you said I wasn't to turn you loose, Father. You said they would hurt me if—"
"William!" Edmund kept his voice low, but his tone sharp. "Do as I say!"
The boy stood beside his father and began to scratch at the rope with the nail. Thread by thread he cut through the thick hemp. Twice he tried to stop, complaining his hands were tired from holding them over his head, but Edmund insisted he go on and finish the job. A man always finishes the job, he told his young son.
Then, when Edmund finally felt the ropes loosen, he pulled his hands free from the ring in the wall. "Good, good," he praised. "Now come down here." He patted the dirt floor directly in front of him. "Sit."
William sat d
own, facing his father, his dark eyes fixed on his face. "Yes, Father. What is it?"
"I'm going to tell you things, things that will not make sense to you. They need not make sense, do you understand me, William Edmund?"
He nodded slowly. "They need not make sense," he repeated.
"Good. If—when you get back to the camp you must repeat all I will tell you, word for word. Lieutenant Ross will understand."
He gulped, his eyes wide. "But what if I can't remember?"
Edmund grasped his forearm. "You will remember. Your memory is better than mine. Always has been and you know it. Remember all the games we played? It's just a game, a memory game. But word for word, do you understand?"
"Word for word . . . "
"That's right." Edmund glanced at the guard who slept on. Then he leaned forward and spoke carefully. When he was done, he made the boy repeat the sequence of sentences twice, then a third time. It was not until the moon had begun to fall in the night sky and William had begun to get sleepy that he was finally satisfied.
When the boy had repeated the sentences correctly one last time, Edmund grabbed both of his arms. "You must get back to the army. They were retreating to New Jersey when we were taken. They'll be camping somewhere near Trenton, New Jersey, that's where you're headed."
"I don't know where Jersey is. I don't know how to find the army."
"You'll find it."
"But I don't want to go to New Jersey. I want to go home." William sniffed. He had been a man for a short time, but now he was just a frightened boy again.
Edmund shook him gently. "No. No, you want to go to the American camp. They'll be settling in for the winter. Mama will be there."
William looked up, his face brightening. "Mama's not at Tanner's Gift? She's at the camp?"
"She's there waiting for you, Wills," Edmund lied. He knew the boy wasn't old enough to care about army secrets, but he was old enough to strike out in search of his mother.
"Why are you telling me these things?" Tears welled in the child's eyes. "You're going with me, aren't you? You said we would escape together. You said you'd take me home to Mama at Tanner's Gift if I was a good boy and I did what the bloody savages tol' me to do."
Edmund grasped his shoulders and shook him. "You listen to me and you do as you're told. You escape. You use your head and you figure out a way to escape. You're smarter than any one of those redskins out there. You travel southeast. Rising sun on your left shoulder and into your face. You go to New Jersey. You ask people where the Americans are. You tell Lieutenant Ross what I told you. Then your Mama will fetch you home to Tanner's Gift. You understand?"
William's lower lip trembled.
Edmund pulled back his hand and struck the boy hard across the face. He winced as his hand met with the boy's dirty cheek. "You understand?"
A tiny sob slipped out of William's mouth.
"Shht!" Edmund growled. He had never struck the boy, not once in his life. But it was that slap that Edmund knew would make him remember all he had told his son tonight. He would remember this night forever. "Do you understand, I said?"
William's eyes glistened but not a single tear fell. He reached up to touch his cheek where his father had hit him and nodded.
Edmund rose up on his knees and pulled the boy into his lap. He fought his own tears as he held his son against his chest and kissed the back of his head. "Now lay down and put your head in Papa's lap and go to sleep," he soothed.
William followed his father's bidding. Edmund leaned back against the wall again, stroking his son's head until the boy drifted off the sleep.
Then, checking on the snoring guard one last time, he carefully slipped William off his lap and rested his head in the dirty straw. Edmund picked up the rope that lay on the stable floor and walked to the far end.
At dawn's first light the guard woke to find the lad sleeping and his father hanging by the neck from the barn rafter, dead.
Chapter Three
Leah tugged at the skirt of her grey linsey-woolsey gown. It ripped and then finally pulled free from the fallen log on the path. Cursing Eve and the blessed apple, she yanked up the torn tail of her skirt. As she ran to catch up, she tucked it into the leather belt she wore around her waist. What did she care if her escorts saw her calves? They were barely recognizable as being part of the female anatomy covered with her baggy woolen stockings and her French calfskin riding boots.
Slowing to a walk again, Leah wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. Despite the chill on the autumn wind, she was overly warm. She pushed the hood of her cloak off her head, thankful for the shock of cold air. She had been walking since dawn's first light and now twilight was setting in. Although she had brought several fine horses with her to Annapolis, she had been unable to ride into the wilderness on horseback. Even with the summer foliage dying back, the forest was just too dense for travel, except by foot.
She glanced ahead at the two broad male backs she followed. Her escorts were half Indian, one Shawnee, the other Delaware. She had hired them in Annapolis after speaking with a tavern owner, Joshua, who was a friend of Harrison's. Joshua had found the escorts for her. The two half-breeds had been willing to lead her to the Shawnee camp Harrison was supposed to be at, but they insisted either she would keep up, or they would leave her behind. The forests of western Maryland were no place to dally. There were rag-tag renegade bands spread across the Colonies and they liked nothing better than to come upon strangers in the forest, especially Indians. These men, mostly deserters of the armies, both English and American, were beyond the law, any law. They tortured; they raped; they murdered.
Leah ran several strides to fall in between her escorts, both long-legged and black-haired. "How much further?"
The leader, Little Possum, shrugged. "Not far." He wore filthy buckskins that smelled of skunk.
"But you said than more than an hour ago. Are you certain you know where you're going?"
He glanced at her out of the corner of his pitch black eyes. He had made it plain what he thought of a woman traveling alone looking for an Indian. But the weight of the gold coin she had offered him had convinced him and his partner that this was a worthwhile venture. "You want to go back?"
"No. No, of course not." She stretched one leg in front of the other, trying hard to match the men's strides. "I told you. I have to find Harrison."
"Yes, well, something tells me he's not going to like being found," Little Possum commented.
His friend chuckled.
Leah drew her attention to the narrow game path ahead. She didn't care what Harrison wanted. She was going to find him and he was going to help her find her son.
He had to.
Darkness began to settle on the forest and Leah's escorts walked faster. The sounds of the forest had changed from the chatter of birds and the clatter of squirrels scurrying to store food for the winter to the eerie sounds of scraping branches and the distant snarl of a wildcat. Leah couldn't resist a smile. It seemed for all their daylight banter about what fierce men they were, it was obvious her escorts wanted to be within the safety of the Indian village by night.
It was Leah who heard the man approaching. Just a rustle of tree leaves and the feeling of another presence, then suddenly the Indian brave appeared in the center of the path ahead.
Both escorts took a step back.
Leah stopped. "We mean no harm," she said smoothly, raising her hands to show she was unarmed.
The brave stared at her, his hand resting on a long-bladed knife that hung in a sheath at his waist.
Leah prodded Little Possum. "Are you addlepated? Tell him! You speak the language. Tell him we mean no harm before he scalps us. Tell him I seek Harrison." She hesitated for barely a second. "Tell him I'm an old friend."
Little Possum shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Lennape . . . Lennape n . . . n'hackey," he stammered awkwardly.
The Shawnee brave stood stone still, his cold black eyes boring down on Little Possum.
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"N . . . N'tschu—"
The brave held up a bronze hand. "Enough, Geptschat. The moon will come again before you can manage the words of your own people," he scoffed. "You should feel shame that you do not even speak your mother's tongue."
Little Possum squared his shoulders. "I will ignore your insult." He pointed to Leah. "We bring this woman to your camp. She looks for a man called Harrison. You know him?"
The brave took a step toward Leah, watching her carefully. She didn't allow her gaze to stray from his angled face.
"He knows you come?"
She almost smiled. Harrison was there! She'd found him! She shook her head. "No. But he'll want to see me," she lied. "I'm certain of it."
The brave's black eyes narrowed until they were slits. "No. He will not." He turned and walked away. "Go back to you home, white equewa. This forest is dangerous. Soldiers. Bad men."
Leah brushed past her escorts, running to catch the Indian brave by his leather sleeve. "Please, just take me into your village. It's a matter of life or death to someone I care very deeply for."
He stopped, but did not look at her. "I tell you you waste your time. The Harrison, he will not see you. He does not like white equewa."
"If he will not see me, then let him tell me to my face. Please, just take me to the village."
The brave looked at Leah, then at the two half-breeds, then back at Leah again. After a moment's consideration, he spoke. "You, yes." His palm sliced the air. "Them, no. We must be more careful who we lead to our village. There has been a traitor among us. Much blood has spilled. Senseless blood."
Leah looked back at her two escorts. Did she tell them to stay and wait for her here? No. Harrison would lead her out of this wilderness. She wouldn't need these two men. To think otherwise, would be undermining her own capabilities. "You heard him. I'll have no further need of you." She dug into the small leather bag she wore on her waist to carry her personal belongings in and pulled out two coins. She pressed one into each man's hand."
"Hey, this is half of what you owe us!"
Whispered Promise Page 3