Abandoning Anarchy (The Lost in Time Duet #2)

by Kamery Solomon

  Shoving my hands in my pockets, I kept my head down, heading for the outer edge of the city. If we were lucky, I would manage another wild pig while hunting. That, combined with what I’d been stockpiling and the items Olivia and Charlotte had amassed, should be more than enough to get us through the fight.

  We only had to make sure the hungry soldiers outside didn’t find out what we were hiding.

  Weaving through the crowds, I stopped at a few stands, glancing at the picked-over supplies and rations available to purchase. The sight of how little there was made me feel sick to my stomach.

  None of these people knew a siege was coming. They had no idea of the danger they were in or the fact that food would soon be scarce. When they thought of rain, it was of water from heaven, not bullets and cannonballs that would spray across the city without end, days and days of the storm, never ceasing until Cornwallis sent out the white flag of surrender. The ground I tread at this very moment would soon be filled with holes, the walls crumbling, smoke rising from the ruins that remained. Bodies would litter the streets, people would flee in terror, cries for help would echo out into the night, until, at last, only the beating of a solitary drum could be heard, marking the end of the hostilities.

  The thought of it both frightened and excited me. There was something about knowing what was going to happen that felt thrilling, but also left weight in my chest. How hard it must have been for Olivia when we first met, certain many would die and being able to do nothing about it.

  Steeling my nerves, I moved on, snacking on an apple that was somewhat past its prime from one of the vendors. It was easy enough to follow the flow of life here, even if I was preparing for the disastrous future.

  “Oye, Bancroft!”

  The voice called from a few yards away, my ears instantly picking up and recognizing my name. For a split second, I began to turn, wondering who would call out to me as such, and then I froze, damning myself for giving any recognition away.

  “I see you, Bancroft!”

  The angry tone of the voice allowed me to place its owner—Smith, the leader of my mess in the Seventeenth Foot.

  Cursing, I dropped the apple and ran, shoving through the crowd, turning every which way in an attempt to lose him before he could catch up.

  “Stop!” he shouted. “Stop that man!”

  Panting, I turned another corner, flying through an open doorway and startling a pair of school children as I rushed through their home and onto the next street. Knowing Smith and his uncanny ability to track people down, I didn’t stop there, though, darting in the opposite direction of the house I was staying in.

  If I were caught, at least Olivia would be safe from harm there.

  Sliding beneath a cart, I rolled into an alleyway, seeing the path to freedom ahead, the open field outside of town calling to me like a siren.

  And then Smith was there, blocking it, his hulking form holding a bayonet and rifle, chest heaving and eyes flashing as he slammed me into the wall next to him.

  “Stop right there,” he growled.

  Struggling to get away, I tried to wriggle out of his hold, succeeding in getting him to grab my throat.

  Squeezing my windpipe dangerously tight, he growled. “Don’t make me shoot you, Bancroft. I’ll do it.”

  “I believe you,” I gasped, holding on to his wrist as I went still. “You have my word.”

  Jerking his hand back, he glared at me, his frown deepening the longer our eyes remained connected. Taking a moment to really look at him, I was shocked to find he did look older. His uniform now bore the markings of a higher class within the regiment, and he had a scar across his cheek. My studying of him didn’t last long, as he invaded my space as soon as he was ready to speak, almost spitting on me in his rage.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” he demanded finally. “You must realize this is the last place you should be as a deserter.” His face twisted between anger and curiosity his free hand forming a fist. “Where have you been? I thought you were dead! I prayed you were, so I wouldn’t ever discover you’d become a turncoat for some woman!”

  “I’m not a deserter,” I snarled, straightening my waistcoat with a decisive tug. “And where I have been is none of your concern.”

  He grabbed my collar, holding me in place as he continued to glower over the top of me. “You are a soldier in His Majesty’s Army that failed to uphold his position and deserted in the dead of winter.” Glaring, he spat out the next word. “Traitor.”

  Giving him a warning look, I struggled to pull away, succeeding in putting a few feet between us in the process. His words had riled me, but I knew keeping calm was imperative if I wanted to get out of this alive.

  “My aim is for no trouble,” I stated cautiously. “But I believe you must do as you see fit and just, as a man of honor.”

  Smith snorted. “Honor. There is little honor in war, Bancroft. You’d know that if you’d been here to see it.”

  “I appreciate that it has not been easy,” I countered.

  “You appreciate nothing!” Fuming, he threw his gun on the ground, angrily retrieving something around his neck. When he produced the charm Woodhall had carried for luck, I felt my heart sink.

  “After you disappeared, we marched all across these damn colonies. Woodhall was killed at Monmouth. It was so hot that we hadn’t the strength to go back for him by the end of the day and he was eaten by wild animals. Young and Peterson were taken prisoner in the months that followed. I am the only one who survived it all.” Glowering, he shook his head. “I thought you were dead, Bancroft. You should have been dead.” His voice trailed off, a minor hint of sorrow over running into me again in the words. If he had never seen me, we both could have gone on without a conflict arising between us. Now, he was required by law and his sense of honor to act.

  Shaking my head, I held my hands up, silently pleading for patience as he reached for his gun. “I cannot explain what happened,” I admitted. “But understand this; I did not intend to desert. Through it all, I worked to return to where I belong. I apologize for the worry I caused—”

  “Worry?” He snorted. “I felt no worry for you. You who allowed himself to be captured so he could be with his woman, he who put everything, even his own messmates, behind her. I should have recognized when you left the dance with her that Christmas that I was never going to see you again.”

  Bending down, he snatched up his gun, pointing it at me, the bayonet flashing in the afternoon light. “March,” he ordered me. “Or have you forgotten how after all this time?”

  Sighing, I faced the street, keeping my hands aloft as I walked out as ordered.

  A loud clang sounded behind me, followed by a crumpling body and gun, and I turned, surprised. Where Smith had once stood, he now lay in a rumpled heap, Olivia leaning over him, a heavy pan in her hands.

  “He’s breathing,” she muttered in relief, glancing up at me. “But we’d better get going before he wakes up enough to follow.”

  Shocked further by her calmness, I stared at her, bewildered. “How did you—”

  “It’s a pan, August,” she replied, somewhat cross. “All I did was hit him with it. Come on!”

  She grabbed my hand, towing me out of the alley and into a street that felt much more agitated than the one I’d just run through.

  “How did you find me?” I questioned, threading my fingers through hers and doing my best to look unobtrusive as we walked as quickly as possible toward our apartment.

  “I follow you to the edge of the city every day,” she clapped back, as if she couldn’t believe I hadn’t noticed her actions. “Trying to make sure you weren’t discovered. I knew something like this was going to happen. Thank heavens it was today, out of all the time we’ve been here.”

  The statement put me off. Peering at the people around us, I realized they were all frightened and rushing, street shops closing, people running to their homes, shouting to those inside. In my relief and desire to get away from my fello
w soldier, I hadn’t been paying any attention to those around me.

  “What’s going on?” I asked, moving quickly to keep up with her and glancing over my shoulder periodically to make sure Smith wasn’t following.

  “The news barely reached the city,” Olivia replied grimly. “Washington and his troops have arrived in Williamsburg. The Battle of Yorktown is in its early stages.”

  It was difficult to tune out the pounding of hammers and the shouts of soldiers throughout the city. While Yorktown had been undergoing fortifications since we arrived, they occurred in earnest now. Ditches appeared in various places, as did some abatises. The spiked logs rose up from the ground, daring anyone to try and get past them.

  Behind the preparations in the field, the redoubts were also being outfitted, earthworks filling in the spaces between and closest to the town. Cannons of varying sizes peered from the tops of dirt mounds and fortresses, and those who weren’t tasked with readying for war drilled in the city itself, the sound of their boots marching across the ground echoing between the buildings.

  At times, it felt like I was in Northampton, owing to the number of Hessian soldiers also stationed here. Their large, metal helmets reminded me of the few men who had stayed with us on the Anderson farm, Bauer and his dented cap, particularly.

  Smiling to myself as I continued on my way home, a basket full of roots, rum, and whatever other scraps I could scavenge from those fleeing the city hanging from my arm, I reminisced about nights spent sitting around the fire at the Big House. I’d listened to Koch sing to his son in German, or Sommer retelling The Tale of the Stinky Stink—his adventures in happening upon the skunk who’s pelt he’d tacked to his door in victory.

  Even though they had been prisoners, forced to work on the farm or rot in poorly constructed tents set up on a prison lot, the people from the Anderson farm had felt like my family. The Hessians were more than parolees. They were my friends.

  My features fell as Noah and Emma Anderson entered the mix. I considered the three of us friends too, but I’d failed Emma the last time I was here. Even when I could have searched the records in my own time to find out their fates, I hadn’t done it. They could both be dead, and I would have no idea of it.

  Noah had been at Brandywine, and I’d sworn to Emma I would do my best to find him and make sure he lived through the battle. In the end, I’d been captured with the remaining Americans and reunited with August before I ever got the chance.

  There may have been someone who knew their fates out there, waiting with the Continental Army for the right moment to strike. Perhaps Noah himself was there, well and eager to do his part for his country. Maybe Emma had decided to march with him, and they were both near, safe and healthy.

  In my heart, I knew it was unlikely. Emma would not leave her brother behind to take care of the farm without his leg. Paling, I suddenly realized it was possible Caleb was not alive anymore. What then?

  Slowing, I glanced around the streets, watching as civilians left their homes with everything they could carry, fear in their eyes and hesitation on their lips as they looked at all they had in the world.

  It was all I could do to hope August was right about staying within the walls. I’d seen battle, stared into the whites of its eyes, and I wished I would never have to do it again. This would be different from Brandywine and Germantown, but the same in many ways as well. Death would be knocking on every door, and we would have to do our best to keep it from our home.

  Having lost the pep my step had gained from my successful gathering, I moved against the flow of people, heading deeper into the city, toward the small, one-bedroom apartment we’d rented upon our arrival here. August had remained cooped up inside, desperate to help but forbidden to set foot in the streets after being recognized.

  He would be a good listening ear to share my struggles with. He always was. Even when in disagreement or not sure of what to say, my love was patient and kind with me. August deserved much more than to be a prisoner in his own place of residence. Perhaps, if we left at night, and he wore a cloak, we could get him out for some fresh air before the siege began. The riverside would be risky but could prove romantic. We would be able to see the moonlight on the water—

  “Oof!”

  In my musings, I’d stopped paying attention to where I was going, resulting in practically bowling over another woman who’d been desperately making her way to the gates of freedom. My basket of things exploded onto the ground, items rolling every which way,

  “I’m so sorry!” Choosing to steady the woman over going after the supplies, I grabbed her arm, keeping her from stumbling over. “I was preoccupied and not watching where I was . . .”

  Turning my head to the side, I stared at the woman, recognition flooding through me as I took in her curly, light brown hair, and somewhat plump figure. Her dress, a plain maroon skirt with matching bodice and jacket, was covered by a heavy cloak, the cap on her head marked with dust. It was the same uniform I’d seen her in many times when I came to help her make dinner at the Big House.

  “Missus Lewis?” My voice squeaked out as I said her name, surprise filling me, and I laughed, throwing my arms around her. “Missus Lewis!”

  “Miss Blake!” She sounded equally as surprised to see me here, her trembling slowing as she embraced me. “Why, if you aren’t the last person I would have expected to see here.”

  “You as well!” Pulling back, I grinned. “What are you doing here, if you don’t mind my asking? Are you not staying on the Anderson farm any longer?”

  She shook her head, not bothered at all by my questions. “After Noah returned from Brandywine, he sold the Big House and all its land back to the council. Said he couldn’t handle it and the parolees any longer, what with the missus falling ill.”

  “Emma was ill?” I asked in surprise.

  Missus Lewis raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t know? She was frightful sick the first couple months, couldn’t hardly get out of bed. I came to help when the baby was born and—”

  “Baby?” Surprised, I let go of her, not having expected such news at all. Emma wasn’t old, but she certainly wasn’t in the prime of her youth. I’d always assumed she didn’t want children or couldn’t have any.

  “Yes,” the woman continued, either unaware or not caring I’d not heard any of this news. “A beautiful little boy. They named him Sampson, after the Bible. Child has a mess of black curls, just like his father.”

  A breath of relief flowed from me as I smiled. “They are well then? The whole family?”

  She shrugged. “As well as they could be. I’ve not seen them since I left Northampton at the beginning of the year. My cousin needed me here, but now. . .” She motioned toward the fields. “’Tis not safe to stay here any longer. I’ve seen what those men look like, coming from battle. I’ll not sit here and allow something like that to happen to myself.”

  Nodding, I stepped to the side. “I’ll not keep you then.” I gave a short laugh, motioning to my scattered possessions. “I have business I must attend to as well.”

  She smiled kindly, lifting her skirts some as she stepped around the mess. “Stay safe, lass,” she stated. “And get out of this place while you still can.”

  Waving, I bent down and began picking up after myself, saving what hadn’t been trampled or muddied beyond repair. Thankfully, I hadn’t lost much.

  In truth, I felt as if I’d gained more.

  The pep returned to my step as I made my way home, humming to myself, matching the beat of hammers. When I appeared in the doorway of our place, I greeted both Charlotte and August with a happy smile and hello, the action surprising the both of them if their expressions were any indication.

  Removing my cape, I took the basket to the bedroom, setting it among the piles of potatoes, dried meat, flour, a small amount of sugar, and whatever else we’d been able to stockpile. There hadn’t been much, but I felt comfortable enough with it all to think we would make it the next three weeks without issue.<
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  Charlotte had done her best to make sure we had plenty of water to drink, and ever since August had been sequestered he had made himself busy constructing a type of bathroom in the corner, digging up the foundations and tunneling beneath the ground so we wouldn’t have to scurry back and forth between the outhouse. Before I’d assisted in gathering food, I’d collected blankets and candle pieces, wanting to assure we wouldn’t freeze while we waited.

  “Your mood seems much lifted.” August’s arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me against him as he followed me into the room. For a moment, he only stood there, holding me gently, peace settling between us.

  “I ran into Missus Lewis,” I offered, grinning as he pulled away in surprise. “She said Noah and Emma are well. They’ve had a baby.”

  “Is that so?” The news seemed to please him, though it was clear he hadn’t thought about the pair as much as I had lately. “We will have to send them our congratulations when this is all over.”

  It was my turn to be surprised, as I suddenly realized I’d not considered what we would do once this whole time travel debacle was finished. “You mean to return to Northampton?”

  Shrugging, he sat on the bed, pulling me down beside him. “I’ve not considered every option, no. But if you wish to visit, or even settle there, I would be happy to do so.”

  Curious, I took his hand in mine. “What things have you considered?”

  Smiling, he kissed my forehead and then rested his against mine. “I want nothing more than to be married to you at last,” he breathed. “I have considered nothing else, for it does not matter where we go or what we do, so long as we remain together.”

  “Nothing?” Giving him a teasing smile, I shook my head. “Before you made it sound like you had a plan.”

  Chuckling, he kissed me briefly. “Not for where we will go, or how we will live. Only how I intend to love you for the rest of our lives.”

  Blushing, I bit my lip, pleased by his words. “And how might you do that?”