My Lady of Doubt

by Randall Parrish

  CHAPTER IX

  TANGLING THREADS

  My surprise at this unexpected reference to the Lady of the Blended Rose,almost prevented utterance. What could this partisan ranger know of thegirl? How could he even have identified her from my vague reference?

  "Why do you say that?" I asked eagerly. "I did not mention the lady'sname."

  "There was no cause for you to do so," and the grim mouth smiled. "No oneelse in Philadelphia would have turned the trick so neatly; besides thefact that your opponent was Grant would have revealed the identity of thegirl."

  "You know them both then?"

  "Fairly well; he was a boy in these parts, an' I have shod his ridinghorse many a time. A headstrong, domineering, spoiled lad he was, andquarrelsome. Once I gave him a sound thrashing in this very shop, an'when his father called me to task for it the next day he went home with abroken collar-bone. That was ten years before the war, an' we have notspoken pleasantly since. A hard man was Frederick Grant, an' none of hisblood ever forgave an injury. Once the boy's company of Queen's Rangersraided this shop, but fortunately I was not here."

  "But Mistress Mortimer," I interrupted, "is her family also from thisneighborhood?"

  "To the northeast of here, near Locust Grove; the properties of the twofamilies adjoin each other, an' I have heard there is distant kinshipbetween them, although if that be true all that was good in the strainmust have descended to the one branch, an' all the evil to the other. Dayand night could be no different. Colonel Mortimer is a genial, pleasantgentleman, an' a loyal friend, although we are in arms against eachother. To tell the truth I half believe his heart is with the Colonies,although he cast his fortunes with the King. He even has a son in theContinental Army."

  "On Lee's staff," I interrupted. "The daughter told me he was a twinbrother."

  "Yes, an' as great a rogue as the girl, with the same laughing blueeyes."

  "And Mistress Claire," I questioned, "on which side is she?"

  "Can you ask that after having met her as a Lady of the Blended Rose?Pshaw, man, I could almost give you a list of the loyalist dames who makesport for the British garrison, an' Mistress Claire is not least in rankor beauty among them. What else could you expect of a young girl when herfather wears the green an' white, while her lover has made a reputationhereabout with his hireling raiders?"

  "You mean Grant?"

  "Certainly; they have been engaged from childhood, though God pity thepoor girl if they ever marry. His work in the Jerseys has been almost asmerciless as that of 'Red' Fagin, an' 't is even whispered about theyride together at times. I doubt if she knows the whole truth about him,though she can scarcely deem him an angel even at that. Surely you neversupposed her on our side?"

  "She helped me," I insisted, "knowing who I was, and even said she wishedmy cause well."

  "The inconsistency of a woman; perhaps the two had had somemisunderstanding, an' she was glad enough to outwit the fellow."

  "No, 't was not that, I am sure; I could read truth in her eyes."

  "In Claire's eyes!" he laughed outright. "Oh, I know the innocent blue ofthem, and warn you not to trust such blindly. Other men have thought thesame, an' found out they read wrongly when the end came--ay! many ofthem. When she was but a slip of a lass I found out her eyes played merrytricks, an' yet I love her as though she were my own daughter. An' she'sa good girl in spite of all the mischief in her."

  "And she is truly a loyalist?"

  "If not, I know no better. The rebel blood is all in the boy so far as Ican learn, yet I will not answer for what Mistress Claire might do."

  We fell silent, my memory with the girl, endeavoring to recall her exactwords, the expression of her face. It was not in my heart to believe shehad deceived me. There was no reason why she should, and it was easy toconceive how she had naturally become part of the gay pageant, herself anexile, and with both father and lover in the King's service. Her veryfun-loving disposition would lead her to take interest in the affair,while beyond doubt her friendships would all influence her in thatdirection. Yet down deep in her heart, I still believed, there wasloyalty to the Colonies, a desire to aid them in their struggle, and, Isincerely hoped, a distrust and growing aversion to the man, Grant.Certainly she could not love the fellow; that thought was inconceivable.Whatever prearranged ties might still bind, she was already in almostopen rebellion against them. 'T was not in woman's nature to love oneman, and then aid another to outwit him. And she had done all this, andof her own free will; done it with her eyes looking frankly into mine,knowing who I was, and my real purpose in Philadelphia. No statement ofanother could shake my confidence, or make me feel she had deliberatelydeceived. Only through some action, or some direct word of her own, wouldI permit my faith to be shattered.

  Plunged deeply in these thoughts, I had almost forgotten where I was, aswell as the presence of my companion, when he suddenly arose to his feet,and, pushing aside the wooden window shutter, looked out. A glance of hiskeen eyes was sufficient.

  "Get back into your box, Major," he exclaimed quickly. "Pull the papersover you."

  I was upon my feet, conscious of the distant sound of horses' hoofs.

  "What is it? The enemy?"

  "Rangers; fifty of them, I judge, an' they'll never pass here withoutrummaging around. Quick now, under cover."

  "But what about yourself?"

  "Don't worry about me; those fellows haven't any evidence againstme--yet. They're after you."

  I was through the intervening door with a bound, and an instant later hadburrowed under the crumpled papers. The shifting of the sun had left thiscorner of the repair shop in shadow, but I was scarcely outstretched inmy hastily improvised hiding place, when I heard the blacksmith calmlyopen his outer door, where he stood smoking, clad in leathern apron,awaiting the approaching horsemen. They swept about the corner of thesmithy almost at the same moment, pulling up their tired horses at sightof him. From amid the thud of hoofs, and the rattle of accoutrements, avoice spoke sharply:

  "So you're here, Farrell, you old rebel hypocrite. Well, what are youhiding now?"

  "I was not aware that I had anything to hide, Captain Grant," was thedignified response. "This is my shop, an' where I should be."

  "Oh, hell! We all know you well enough, you old fox, and we'll catch youred-handed yet, and hang you. But we're not hunting after your kindto-day. Did you see anything of a fellow in scarlet jacket along herelast night, or this morning?"

  I failed to catch Farrell's answer, but the voice of the officer wassufficiently loud to reach me.

  "A rebel spy; the sneaking rascal must have swam the Delaware. We'll lookabout your shop just the same before we ride on. Mason, take a half-dozenmen with you, and rake the place over."

  I heard the sound of their boots on the floor, and burrowed lower in mybox. Two or three entered the old shop, and began to probe about amongthe _debris_. One kicked the box in which I lay, and thrust a bayonetdown through the loose papers, barely missing my shoulder. With teethclinched I remained breathless, but the fellow seemed satisfied, andmoved on, after searching the dark corner beyond. At last I heard themall go out, mumbling to each other, and ventured to sit up again, anddraw a fresh breath. They had left the door ajar, and I had a glimpsethrough the crack. Farrell was leaning carelessly in the outer doorway,smoking, his short legs wide apart, his expression one of totalindifference. A big fellow stepped past him, and saluted some one justout of sight.

  "Nobody in there, sir," he reported.

  "All right, Mason," and Grant came into view on a rangy sorrel. "Get yourmen back into saddle; we'll move on."

  "Think he went this way?" asked the blacksmith carelessly.

  "How the hell do I know!" savagely. "He must have started this way, butlikely he took the north road. We'll get the chap before night, unless heruns into Delavan's fellows out yonder. See here, Farrell," holding inhis horse, "we'll be back here about dark, and will want something toeat."

  "You will be welcome to all you fi
nd."

  "You impudent rebel, you see that you are here when we come. I know you,you night raider, and will bring you to book yet. Forward men--trot!Close up the rank there, sergeant; we'll take the road to the left."

  I watched them go past, the dust-covered green uniforms slipping by thecrack of the door, as the men urged their horses faster. Farrell nevermoved, the blue tobacco smoke curling above his head, and I stole acrossthe littered storeroom to a cobwebbed window, from which I could watchthe little column of riders go down the hill. They finally disappeared inthe edge of a grove, and I turned around to find the blacksmith leaningagainst his anvil waiting for me.

  "Genial young fellow, Grant," he said. "Always promising to hang me, butnever quite ready to tackle the job. Afraid I shall have to disappointhim again, to-night."

  "You will not wait for him?"

  "Hardly. You heard what he said about Delavan? That was the very news Iwanted to learn. Now I think both those lads will meet me much soonerthan they expect."

  He stepped forward into the open doorway, and blew three shrill blasts ona silver whistle. The echo had scarcely died away, when, out from a thickclump of trees perhaps half a mile distant, a horse shot forth, racingtoward us. As the reckless rider drew up suddenly, I saw him to be abarefooted, freckle-faced boy of perhaps sixteen, his eyes bright withexcitement.

  "So it's you on duty, Ben," said Farrell quietly, glancing from the boyto his horse. "Well, you're in for a ride. Have the men at Lone Tree bysundown; all of them. See Duval first, an' tell him for me this is a bigthing. Now off with you!"

  The boy, grinning happily, swung his horse around, and, jabbing his sideswith bare heels, rode madly away directly south across the vacant land.Within five minutes he had vanished down a sharp incline. Farrell wasstill staring after him, when I asked:

  "What is it?"

  "A little bit of private war," he said grimly. "If you'll go with meto-night, Major, I'll show you some guerilla fighting. You heard whatGrant said about Delavan. We've been waiting five days for him to headback toward Philadelphia. He has twenty wagons, an' a foraging party ofless than fifty men somewhere out Medford way," with sweep of hand to thenortheast. "If he an' Grant get together the two commands will outnumberus, but we'll have the advantage of surprise, of a swift attack in thedark. In my judgment that is what Grant was sent out for--to guardDelavan's wagons. His spy hunting was a personal affair. My advice toyou, Lawrence, is to lie quiet here to-day, and go along with usto-night. It will be in the same direction you'll have to travel, an' youmight have trouble by daylight. No objections to a fight, have you?"

  "None whatever."

  "I judged so from your face. Better get what rest you can; we shall havetwenty miles to ride before dark. I'll go over into the timber there an'feed the horses."

  I watched him cross the open land, impressed by the man's immenseshoulders and short limbs. I could scarcely analyze the influence healready exerted over me, but I felt him to be a natural leader of men, anintellectual as well as physical giant. I picked up a book lying open onthe bench--it was an English translation of a famous French treatise onDemocracy; within its pages was Payne's pamphlet on the Rights of Man,its paper margins covered with written comments. This blacksmith was notonly a man of action, but a man of thought also. I lay down on the bench,pillowing my head on one arm, thinking of him as I first saw him kneelingalone in prayer, and the simple words of his petition came back to mewith new power. Then my mind drifted to the strange commingling of humanelements in this adventure--to Mistress Claire, and her connection withGrant, and the intimate knowledge Farrell apparently possessed of themboth. Somehow I was becoming more and more deeply involved in theselives, and I began to wonder how it was all destined to end. Was thecoming night to add a new chapter? If so, would it be the last? Reviewingit all, lulled by the silence, I fell asleep.