Patriot's Heart

by Marzec, Penelope;

  Jonas squealed and swung his head back and forth.

  Margaret pulled a third apple out of her pocket. “Guard.”

  Jonas grunted, blew a giant puff of air out of his nostrils, and sat down about two feet away from Edwin.

  “Guard,” Margaret persisted.

  Jonas inched a foot closer.

  Agnes marveled at the pig’s intelligence. He intended to see how much he could get. How unusual!

  “Perhaps an extra crust would help?” She pulled the last crust from her pocket and handed it to Margaret.

  Jonas’s ears stood at attention and he let out a high-pitched, but soft squeal.

  Margaret held up the food. “Guard.”

  Jonas crawled to within an inch of Edwin’s sleeping form.

  “Guard,” Margaret repeated.

  The pig edged closer until his hooves touched Edwin’s torso.

  “Under the circumstances, I think he has a point,” Agnes whispered. “Edwin reeks of liquor. Jonas might have a strong aversion to potent spirits.”

  Margaret sighed. “Yes, I suppose you are right.” She handed the treats to the animal, who gobbled them up and promptly burped his satisfaction.

  Margaret laughed. “I am so glad Jonas was not killed or stolen.”

  “I am, too.” Agnes smiled at her sister. They would be forced to part with the pig, and soon, for they had nothing. Livestock was a valuable commodity, but they needed to keep the pig out of the hands of the greedy Loyalists. How?

  The roving marauders had no regard for anyone and that included women. Colleen had most likely been murdered by a band of thieves. Was there some way to protect themselves?

  Still, Jonas was a remarkable pig and she had some measure of comfort knowing he would watch over Edwin. She and Margaret walked away from the pair under the willow tree. After they had gone a few yards, the pig let out a loud grunt. They glanced back at Edwin and Jonas. The pig had flopped over to join Edwin in slumber.

  “I will run out of apples before he is properly trained,” Margaret moaned.

  “He likes potato peels, too,” Agnes suggested.

  “Apples are easier to keep in my pocket.”

  They walked on in silence for a while. Agnes thought about Jonas and how Margaret had trained him.

  “Do you suppose we could train the Tories not to rob us?” Agnes asked aloud.

  “They want more than apples, potato peels, and bread crusts.” Margaret shrugged.

  “Yes, they are greedy. Perhaps instead of a reward, we must trick them.”

  “That sounds like punishment.”

  “No, we have nothing to use that would chastise them in the least. We do not even have a pistol to frighten them away. We must think of some way to fool them.”

  “Remember the magician at the inn last year? He took a coin out of my ear,” Margaret recalled. “But he wouldn’t let me have it, even though it came from me.”

  “It was his coin. He hid it in his sleeve and pulled it out when he touched your ear, making it appear as if it came from there. However, it was his all along.”

  “That was a mean thing to do,” Margaret pouted.

  “Tricks can be entertaining or they can be cruel, like the ones the Zimmer brothers are fond of.” Why had no one taken them to task years ago? Had they never been disciplined by their parents? Did they not understand or care about the Lord’s retribution?

  “I was so mad at them!” Margaret kicked a rock in the path. “They hurt Edwin.”

  “I do hope their captain disciplines them.” Agnes also hoped the Zimmer brothers would not tell anyone about the kiss Edwin had given to her. A hot flush warmed her cheeks as she wondered if Margaret had seen it.

  “The captain should scare them just like they scared us, then they will never do that again.”

  “A good fright might work on our enemies, too. Perhaps what we need is something that combines both a trick and a shock to keep them away.”

  “Edwin told me how he had frightened the men at the inn by pretending to be a ghost.”

  “That was dangerous. What if they had walked up the stairs and found him?”

  “They had a cup too much, he explained.”

  “Yes, they were quite drunk, as he is now, but we cannot count on the Tories being in that state when they come to rob us.”

  “Where’s Jonas?” Ryan and Lewis had seen them coming and ran toward them.

  “He’s taking a nap with Edwin,” Margaret explained.

  “Why is Edwin napping at this time of the day?” Aunt Sally demanded from the doorway of her house.

  “Hobart gave him strong spirits to ease the pain in his leg,” Agnes explained.

  “Your mother’s cousin is more trouble than he’s worth,” Aunt Sally pronounced.

  “Edwin is nice,” Margaret stated. “Puddles likes him and so does Jonas.”

  “They are animals,” Aunt Sally sniffed.

  Agnes, Margaret, and the twins stepped into the kitchen. Margaret sliced the bread. Agnes lifted the kettle to pour the tea, but beside her mug on the table lay two pieces of a chain. The one Aunt Sally used to hang her pot over the coals.

  “The twins broke that,” Aunt Sally said as she ladled stew into the bowls. “I’ll be needing it fixed by this evening. The stew nearly burned.”

  “How did they break it?” Agnes held up the chain and examined each link.

  “Ryan did it,” said Lewis.

  “Lewis broke it,” said Ryan.

  “There will be no trifle for either of you,” Aunt Sally scolded.

  The twins lowered their heads and sobbed in perfect unison.

  Agnes did not believe they did it. They were so cute and sweet. Too tender to be so destructive. Besides, Aunt Sally seemed to watch over their every move.

  Setting the broken chain to the side of her bowl, she sat. Everyone said the blessing, and ate.

  Agnes stared at the links as a sudden inspiration came to her. “I know what we can do!”

  “You have plenty to do.” Aunt Sally glared at her.

  “The last time Father and Uncle Fitz were home they talked about a great chain that would be built to keep the British from sailing up the Hudson River into New York. If we put a chain in our river it would keep the Tories away.”

  “They don’t always use boats,” said Aunt Sally.

  “They do when they come here. They load the livestock into the boats and head for Sandy Hook,” Agnes said.

  “If they run over the chain with their boats, it would make a lot of noise,” Margaret added. “It would scare them.”

  “It might also put a hole in their boat,” Agnes stated.

  “Where would you get a chain big enough to put across the river?” Aunt Sally scoffed.

  “I’ll make it.” Agnes smiled.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Edwin awoke from a nightmare in which his father stood at the gates of Hell and grabbed his arm to pull him inside with him. In struggling to escape his father’s grasp, he opened his eyes and realized he lay beneath the willow tree by the forge, not at the entrance to doom. However, something had pushed him and shifted the position of his leg, which caused a sharp stabbing pain at the site of his wound.

  Through the fluttering leaves, the stars twinkled overhead. Day had turned to night. He had wasted hours lying on the ground in a drunken stupor, but he was not alone.

  He squinted, for his head throbbed with an ache rivaling the one in his leg. He remembered drinking with Hobart at the inn, first ale and then strong spirits. He had a hazy memory of walking back to the forge with Hobart’s assistance. Was Hobart lying next to him?

  He reached out and touched the hulking shape behind him. His fingers found hair and skin. Was Hobart lying on the grass naked?

  A loud snort startled him. The German language had some harsh guttural aspects, but did not involve nasal grunts.

  With infinite care, Edwin raised himself to sit despite the ache in his head and the pain in his leg. Squinting, he stared a
t the massive animal beside him.

  “Jonas.” He shoved the pig, but the Jonas only grunted. “Wake up and go back to your barn! I don’t want to be sleeping beside a pig!”

  He gritted his teeth. The third son of the Duke of Dalfour on the ground next to a pig! He remembered the story of the Prodigal Son who longed to eat the food of the pigs in his care. The pigs ate pods. Carob pods. He had some from the vicar’s collection at home in Dalfour Castle.

  Had he sunk that low? Was he the Prodigal Son?

  A huge wave of self-pity swamped him. Yes, his harebrained idea of running away had been the stupidest thing he had ever done. Although, he had to admit he had learned a great deal and he had met Agnes.

  “Edwin, are you awake?”

  She called to him from within the forge. He turned his head. Her lithe figure stood beside the anvil. On her left side, she was bathed in the soft yellow glow of candles. On her right side, the fiery orange of the ever present charcoal lent its hellish light to the scene. His mind spun with the image. Was she angel or devil, goodness or evil?

  The terror of his nightmare left him shaken. He tried to shove the fear away, but it haunted him. Was he bound for eternal punishment? After all, Agnes tempted him, and he had been unable to resist. They had been caught in an embrace. Would the Zimmer brothers pass that information on to others? Would he be thrown into prison or hung?

  He rubbed his eyes and vowed never to drink so much liquor again.

  The loud hiss of a hot iron dropped into a water bucket sounded inside the forge. A minute later, Agnes stood beside him.

  “How are you?” she asked.

  “Why is Jonas sleeping next to me?”

  “Margaret told him to guard you.”

  “Please tell Margaret I would prefer to be left unguarded,” he grumbled. “Why didn’t you wake me up? Why did you let me sleep on the ground?”

  “Drunken men are best left to sleep until their senses are restored.”

  Edwin opened his mouth to tell her she should have thrown a cold bucket of water at him, but he decided against it. While the Duke had an irascible temper all the time, when he had a cup too much he became a veritable monster, unless he fell asleep, which everyone hoped he would. Agnes made a prudent decision since she had no idea what sort of reaction icy water might elicit.

  “Why are you working in the forge at such a late hour?” he asked.

  She sat down beside him. “I have a plan to stop the Tories from coming here.” Her voice held unsuppressed excitement.

  “I can’t get a boat moved less than a mile to the river. How will you prevent the Loyalists from taking whatever they please? Are you going to build a fort and line it with cannons?”

  She laughed and the tinkling melody thrilled him, despite his painful maladies. They were all alone in the night, except for Jonas. Edwin leaned toward her, captivated by her beauty. He longed to taste her once more, even if the gates of Hell waited for him.

  Jonas grunted, rolled his immense bulk over, and awoke. He sat, squealed, and stared at them. Edwin checked his ardor.

  “Good, Jonas.” Agnes gave the pig a loving pat and handed him a crust of bread which he swallowed whole. “I am going to make a large chain and place it across the river to prevent any vessel from navigating the waterway.”

  “A chain? That’s it?” Edwin rubbed his temples, but that did not rid him of the pulsing agony in his head. Maybe this scene lay in his imagination, a part of the nightmare he thought he had escaped.

  “Father and Uncle Fitz spoke of a giant chain which would be placed across the Hudson River to prevent the British Navy from sailing into New York.”

  “The construction of similar blockades did not work.” He closed his eyes, realizing nothing would end this headache except time. He should have refused the liquor. Hobart did not pour the spirits down his throat. Had the quantity of drink been the cause of his terrible nightmare?

  “My captain spoke of a barrier consisting of logs sunk underwater. The submerged logs were supposed to put a hole in the hull of any British ship passing overhead, but the British learned of the obstacle from a resident and later they captured Fort Washington.”

  “What if they had not been informed by a spy?” she asked.

  “He wasn’t a spy, he was a loyal citizen,” Edwin retorted.

  “Loyalist. Tory. Spy.” She stood. “I shouldn’t expect you to understand.” She turned in a haughty manner and went back inside the forge.

  Jonas grunted his disgust and trotted after her.

  “You’re wasting your time,” Edwin called after her. “It won’t work.”

  He glanced around in the darkness and wondered what had happened to his crutches. He grabbed onto the willow branches to pull himself up, but the light from the forge did not reach out very far into the darkness.

  “Do you know where my crutches are?” he asked.

  “Crutches.” Agnes spoke to the pig.

  Jonas grunted, trotted out of the forge, snuffled about on the ground, and shoved the crutches toward him with his nose.

  “Thanks.” Edwin bent to pick them up. The pig eyed him with what appeared to be disdain.

  “Hobart’s the one who got me drunk. He was very insistent and thought it would take away the pain in my leg, and it did…for a while,” Edwin told Jonas. “Though now I feel as if a sledgehammer is pounding on my skull.”

  Jonas snorted and trotted back to Agnes’s side.

  The inside of Edwin’s mouth had the texture of his old wool uniform, though the taste was far worse. Agnes always kept a fresh bucket of water nearby to refresh herself when she worked. With his lame shuffle far slower than usual, he stepped into the forge and begged for some of her drinking water.

  She nodded. Jonas snorted.

  He picked up the ladle and gulped down a great volume of the cool liquid. He imagined it tasted better than any other water because her lips had kissed the dipper.

  “Perhaps the man wasn’t a spy. Perhaps he had been tortured by the British and forced to tell them of the barrier in the river.” She pounded at a glowing hot rod and the sound of the hammer hitting the iron sent another splitting pain through his head.

  “That is possible.” He did not wish to cause her to be out of sorts, but she should be getting some rest and not working late into the night on a project that would not be of any use.

  It occurred to him that her work in the forge might assuage the sorrow in her heart from the tragic death of Colleen. So despite the agony in his head, he went to the bellows and pumped them for her.

  “I know the chain cannot guarantee that the Tories would not take our livestock, for they can walk away with them, but that would be more difficult. It is several miles from here to another landing place further down the river. They might lose track of several animals on the way. In addition, the militia might have time to catch up with them.”

  “Do you have enough iron to make this big chain?”

  “The Newtons have an old gate and part of a fence rusting away behind their barn. They said I was welcome to it. I know others who would be happy to contribute to the chain. It is worth a try. We cannot live with the Tories taking the food from our tables…and killing…any who oppose them.”

  She choked with emotion on the last few words and Edwin sighed. He thought of putting a hand on her shoulder and giving her a tender pat, but he restrained the impulse to give her any further physical comfort because Jonas watched him with suspicion in his eyes.

  “The war should not last much longer.” The king’s army will end this rebellion. He did not wish to antagonize her with the truth, so he kept the thought to himself. Nevertheless, he decided it couldn’t hurt to offer up a prayer for the rebels to lay down their muskets and go back to plowing their fields.

  Here in a strange land with nothing to his name but a pair of boots, he thought more about the God who had allowed him to live through several battles and made Agnes an instrument of His mercy in helping him heal from his injuri
es.

  He added another prayer so that someday his leg might be right again. Then he decided to ask forgiveness for his rash action in running away. He prayed for his father, too. Maybe that would help to prevent him from any more nightmares of the Duke. The man had a tendency to be fearsome, but in dreams he resembled the devil himself.

  After another hour, Agnes appeared too weary to lift her hammer. Edwin promised to walk her and Jonas back to Aunt Sally’s house.

  “That would be too much for your leg,” she admonished.

  “Sleeping here in the forge is too much for my leg. I’ve already slept most of the day away on the grass and it’s a pleasant evening. Besides, I’ve never been to Aunt Sally’s house.”

  They made their way along the path. Edwin knew she could have walked the distance in half the time without him, but it comforted him to know she wasn’t alone. After all, they had no idea what had happened to the Zimmer brothers and he did not doubt for a moment that when those two had the opportunity, they would seek out revenge once more.

  Jonas followed them. He peered into the barn, but since it was empty he gave a bit of a sigh.

  “All his friends are gone.” Agnes sighed, too.

  Edwin wondered if he had any friends left in the world. He had considered the vicar his best friend. Or perhaps the cleric had been more like the father he wished he had. He had not developed close relationships with the other young men who had gone to that wretched school with him. He enjoyed the company of his fellow soldiers, mostly because they told wonderful stories, but he spoke little in their presence, for his highborn accent confused them.

  Like a boat without a rudder, he had set himself adrift and felt more alone than ever. He shook his head with regret.

  They turned away from the barn. The pig trotted into the woods and appeared to be rooting around for a light meal. They continued on in silence, save for Agnes’s yawns.

  “Don’t stay up late anymore,” Edwin warned her.

  “Don’t let Hobart drown you in strong drink,” she retorted.

  In the moonlight, a small dwelling appeared ahead. “Is that Aunt Sally’s house?”

  “Yes.” Agnes yawned again.