by J. P. Bowie
“Which of course, he is.” Jamie took the proffered eyeglass from Matthew and peered at the assembled soldiers. “There he is, all feathers and finery. It makes you wonder how he managed to reach colonel status when he lacks basic common sense.”
“Wealthy family, no doubt,” Matthew muttered. “Standard practice, I’m afraid, in all armies.”
“Do you have a wealthy family?”
Matthew laughed. “Most definitely not. I’m afraid my parents and elder brother disapproved of my joining the army and have avoided all contact since. They most likely think me long dead.”
“Surely not,” Jamie said, staring at the captain. “Do they know you are in America?”
“I did send a letter telling them of my promotion but received no reply.”
Jamie shook his head. “I find it hard to understand that way of thinking. Parents should be proud of their sons’ achievements.”
“In my case, only if my achievement was something they could have approved of. Joining the army was not what they wanted for me. A doctor or lawyer was more what they had in mind for my future.” He chuckled then added, “What I have achieved I have done by being in the right place at the right time, and to be honest, a bit of luck, and for that reason I’ll probably never rise higher in rank than captain. Not that it matters really. I don’t intend to die serving in the army.”
He looked at Jamie for a moment or two before asking,” And you, MacDonald, what of your family?”
“All dead, I’m afraid. My faither and brothers at Culloden, my mother at the start of our journey. It was her dream to sail to the New World, and the reason I am here now.” He said this without the bitterness he used to feel when talking of them. “And as for them being proud of my achievements, I’m not sure serving on board a pirate ship would bring a flush of pride to their cheeks.”
Matthew laughed lightly. “You have indeed had a varied career.”
“Aye, that I have. Nashoba mentioned that you and he might venture north together to the land they call Canada.”
“Mayhap that is but a dream.”
“Not if you want it enough.”
Matthew glanced at Jamie. “You and Tanaka…what do you intend to do when you leave here?”
“Want rid o’ us, eh Captain?” Jamie asked, chuckling.
“Not at all, but I’m not naïve enough to think that you and he could learn to live among we English.” Matthew smiled wryly. “I have a feeling it goes somewhat against the grain for you to be working alongside us, even if it is against the French.”
Jamie nodded. “Aye, I must admit that I wasna’ fully certain it was what I wanted to do, but I have learned that not all English are wicked. I made a few friends in London afore I was press-ganged onto the pirate ship, and Captain William McBride at Fort Sumner was a decent man. As for you…well, you have my respect, Captain. You’re a sound leader, if a wee bit foolhardy. What y’did last night could have gone very wrong for you, but it didna’ and if you must ken, I’ve been known to do some reckless things in my time. Ask Tanaka. He’ll be delighted to tell you how much I have set his nerves on edge.”
They laughed together then Matthew said, “Call me Matthew. I think we have reached the point where a certain friendship has been forged. And if I may call you Jamie…?”
“Aye, you may, and we’ll shake on it. It would seem Tanaka and Nashoba have also forged a friendship out of mutual respect.”
They joined hands, but their conversation ceased as the French cannon boomed, the resulting shot falling short of the gates, but closer than before.
Matthew ordered all available soldiers to the ramparts. “Wait for my signal to fire.” He turned to Jamie. “I don’t want to waste valuable ammunition.”
Jamie watched as the French troops dragged supply wagons to the fore for protection, and made a steady advance from behind them. The cannon roared again, but still the shot fell short. A volley of rifle fire from the soldiers behind the wagons had the same effect.
“They havena’ got our range yet,” Jamie said. “Where’s yon marksman?”
“Private Fletcher,” Matthew called out. “Over here, Private.”
“Yes, sir?”
“See if you can take out a couple of those men behind the wagons.”
Fletched primed his rifle, taking aim. He waited until one French soldier stood to help push the wagon nearer, then fired. The soldier went down, but shots were returned, some bullets hitting the fort walls.
“All right, men,” Matthew shouted. “Fire at will.”
Tanaka joined them at the wall and soon the air was filled with the sound of guns and the occasional roar of the cannon.
“Fletcher, take out the fusiliers as often as you can,” Matthew ordered. “Those shots are getting too damn close for my liking.”
“Yes, sir,” Fletcher muttered, and, taking careful aim, brought down the soldier manning the cannon followed by the one who jumped in to replace him.
The wagons were being inched closer to the fort and some of the shots from the French side found their marks, two of Matthew’s men going down.
“Looks like Marchand is out for all or nothing,” Jamie remarked.
Matthew nodded. “They’ve got scaling ladders on top of those wagons, should they get close enough to use them. Fletcher, keep your eye on the cannon. Shoot anyone who goes near it.”
“Yes, sir.” Fletcher fired off a shot but cried out as he was struck by a bullet from a French soldier’s rifle.
Matthew knelt by his side. “Shoulder wound, Fletcher. You’ll be all right, but we need to get you to the doctor right away.” He signaled for Lieutenant Barrows to help Fletcher down from the ramparts and over to their makeshift hospital. The boom of the cannon was followed by the sound of the gates being blown apart, wood shards and splinters flying everywhere.
Jamie and Tanaka jumped down from the wall and ran to join Matthew’s second line of defense. As the French soldiers breached the gates, they were met with a salvo of rifle fire from the English troops that decimated their front ranks causing them to fall back in confusion. From behind them came the rallying cry from Marchand and his officers as he led the rest of his infantry in a charge toward the ruined gates.
“En avant! Charge!”
The French troops seemed to gain courage from Marchand’s commands, climbing over the bodies of their fallen comrades in an attempt to enter the fort. Another volley of English fire brought down more French soldiers and the line wavered then fell back despite Marchand’s bellowing commands.
Another sound was added to the chaos—wild war cries from behind the French lines.
“Nashoba and his Choctaw reinforcements,” Matthew drew his sword and yelled. “Forward, men!” He leapt into the fray, slashing and thrusting at any blue uniform in front of him. Jamie and Tanaka followed hot on his heels and in moments it was a battle fought hand to hand, the French surrounded by English and Choctaw alike.
Marchand was pulled from his horse by Nashoba and Tahman, and Mercier went down, an arrow in his chest. Jamie dodged a bayonet aimed at his stomach then dragged the French soldier to the ground, straddling him and rendering him unconscious with a blow to his chin. All around him was a blur of red and blue as English, French and Choctaw struggled in a fight to the death. The battle was bloody but brief. Without a commander to urge them on, the French soldiers began throwing down their weapons in surrender. Marchand, trembling with rage, was held captive between Nashoba and Tahman, stripped of his sword and pistol.
“Captain Garland,” he ground out through lips twisted with bitterness. “It seems you have won the day.”
Matthew smiled wryly. “It would definitely seem so, Colonel.”
“I hope you will treat us honorably as your prisoners.”
“I’m afraid I have no way of dealing with prisoners, Colonel. The fort is too small to accommodate you and your men. You will leave your weapons, provisions and horses behind, and make the march back to Fort Louis.”
&
nbsp; “But…but that is many miles,” Marchand sputtered. “Without provisions and weapons we will be at the mercy of hostiles and the elements.”
“Then you must learn to survive and live off the land.”
“What about their boots?” Jamie whispered.
Matthew chuckled. “It is tempting, but the terrain is rough between here and their fort so I will afford them their footwear…this time. So, Colonel, gather up your men and be on your way. Oh, and be careful of the Choctaw as you pass their village. They are quite angry about the way you treated their women.” He moved as if to walk away.
Marchand stared with desperation at the two Choctaw men who still held him in vise-like grips by either arm. “Captain…”
Matthew turned back. “Oh yes, Nashoba, Tahman, be so kind as to release the colonel. He is very sorry for treating your women with such disrespect, are you not, Colonel?”
Marchand threw a mutinous glare at Matthew and said nothing.
“Colonel…” Matthew sighed. “I should inform you that Tahman—he’s the man holding you by your right arm—is the husband of one of the women you held captive the other night. He has vowed vengeance on those responsible, but perhaps an apology would go a long way toward quelling his anger and the need for revenge.”
Marchand bowed his head. “I am sorry,” he muttered.
“Louder, Colonel.”
“I am sorry.”
Nashoba translated the words quickly to Tahman who grimaced, but released his grip on the colonel’s arm.
“You have seen fit to humiliate me, Captain,” Marchand seethed. “Be assured that this will not be forgotten.”
“I am pleased to hear that,” Matthew said quietly. “One should always remember mistakes, and learn from them.” He looked around at the defeated army. “You may use the wagons to transport your dead and wounded. That is all.”
Chapter Nine
Now that the French army had marched away, or as Jamie later remarked, stumbled out of sight, Jamie felt it was time for he and Tanaka to continue their journey to the ‘great ocean’. In truth, he had grown to enjoy the company of Captain Matthew Garland and his companion, Nashoba, but the urge to move on was strong within him. Sometimes he wondered wryly if there had been gypsies in his ancestors. He would talk to Tanaka about it. After all, it had to be his decision, too.
Matthew had decided to release Colonel Fowler from captivity as long as the man kept away from liquor. And now Jamie watched as Matthew and the colonel conversed outside the officer’s quarters. Fowler seemed subdued as he listened to whatever Matthew was telling him, no doubt concerning the battle with the French, although he must have been aware of the chaos that had reigned all around the day before. The colonel stood silently listening to Matthew, his head bowed, a sharp contrast to the blustering drunk they had first encountered.
Mayhap he’ll lay off the drink now that he’s had time to think things through in a sober state…
Jamie smiled as Tanaka appeared at his side. “Nashoba tells me that Matthew and he will talk of their future together now that the French have been sent away,” Tanaka said quietly.
“And we must talk of ours also.” Jamie put his hand on Tanaka’s shoulder and squeezed it gently. “Is it still your desire to find the great ocean your grandfather told you of?”
Tanaka nodded. “I have been trying to persuade Nashoba to join us on our journey, but he says the decision must rest with Matthew.” He narrowed his eyes as he gazed at the captain and the colonel. “I think Matthew is too much the soldier to give up his career easily. I’m not sure that Nashoba will understand if Matthew has changed his mind about moving on.”
Jamie shrugged. “He told me it is not his wish to bide with the army, but of course, a man can change his mind if he so wishes. We’d best leave a’ that to the two of them to decide what it is they want. Personally, I’d be happier with just the two of us making the trek together, but I’ll not gainsay their joining us if that’s what they decide.”
They fell silent as Matthew approached them. “Good morrow, gentlemen.” Matthew was all smiles, and so he should be, Jamie thought. He and his men had done well here, and he had handled the drunken colonel with far better grace than the man deserved.
“I hope you’re not thinking of leaving us now that the battle is over,” Matthew said. “I’ve sent a messenger off to Fort Sumner to let the powers that be know of our success here, and how you both had a great deal to do with that success. I have also asked for new orders. I informed Colonel Fowler that I did not send a bad account of his behavior, merely said he had been taken ill and I had assumed command until he recovered. He seems to be grateful for that, at least.”
“And so he bloody well should be,” Jamie exclaimed. “We can but hope he doesna’ fall back into dissolute ways as soon as you are gone.” He gazed sharply at Matthew. “When you say new orders, does that mean you are staying on as captain?”
“For a time.” He grinned at them. “I have to admit that the confrontation with the French fired my blood. I’m not as ready to give up active duty as I once thought I was.” He worried at his lower lip. “Nashoba, though… I will have to talk with him about it.”
“He will want to serve with you,” Tanaka said.
“You think so?” Matthew looked hopeful. “But I don’t want him to think he must do so out of a sense of duty to me, or anything like that.”
“No…” Tanaka shook his head. “It will be because of the love he has for you.”
“And yet…” Matthew frowned. “A life scouting for the army would take him from his people, sometimes for long periods of time. He is their chief and they need him.”
“But were you not both thinking of journeying to Canada?” Jamie asked. “That would take him from his people, would it not?”
“Yes.” Matthew gazed at them ruefully. “It may be that we will have to rethink our plans for the future. Well…” He turned to look across the parade ground to where the colonel was talking with Lieutenant Andrews. “I’d better go see to his needs. I’m sure a bath and fresh clothing will be welcome after the days spent in the cell. I’ll see you later…and again, my thanks for all you have done since we’ve met.” He saluted them then strode off to join the colonel and Andrews.
Jamie watched him go with a sad expression. “There’s the difference between him and me. I wouldna’ for one minute consider leaving you in order to pursue some other ambition.”
Tanaka chuckled. “Nor I you, but we do not have the same responsibilities, Jamie. Matthew has his career, Nashoba his people. They may find that leaving either one is not so easy. They have their love and their dreams, but sometimes life gets in the way and they must choose a different path.”
“So you and I, who have nothing but each other and what we stand up in, are the luckier, yes?”
“Yes.”
* * * *
Matthew rode out to the Choctaw village to thank the elders for sending their warriors to help defeat the French. That, and he wanted time alone with Nashoba, to thank him in every possible way…and to ask him what he foresaw for them. He wondered if he was being fanciful in his belief that Nashoba could see the future. Twice before Nashoba had warned him of attacks. Was it his scouting skill or had there been a flash of intuition, or perhaps, more…a vision? He had asked, but Nashoba had been evasive. Mayhap he thought it might evoke a wariness in Matthew toward him. He was aware that some people within Matthew’s culture still considered seers to be in cahoots with the devil.
He smiled. Nashoba’s gentle soul could never be in league with the devil. The man was an enigma, yes. A fierce and brave warrior when those he loved were threatened, on one hand, a loving and caring leader of his people, on the other. Matthew thought himself privileged indeed to be loved by Nashoba. The times they had spent together in each other’s arms, few as they were, were more precious to him than any fortune. Just the memory of his lithe and agile body in Matthew’s embrace, the smoothness of his skin, the scent o
f musk and clean sweat as they writhed together, was enough to bring an arousal to Matthew’s groin and make the hard leather between his legs more than just slightly uncomfortable.
The people greeted him with friendly waves as he rode into the village. Children ran alongside his horse, laughing and clinging to his legs as he passed. It was an amazement to him that the Choctaw tribes, so badly treated by the British government, could find it in their hearts to forgive, now that hostilities had ceased under King George’s treaty. Long may it last, he prayed. It was Matthew’s opinion that the British government could learn a lot from Choctaw philosophy. Not that those old fossils in parliament would ever deign to converse with them. Just hand over your lands, behave yourselves, be good savages and you’ll have no trouble from us.
The elders came out to meet him, their wise old faces wreathed in smiles. The victory over the French would be a sweet revenge for the loss of their chief, Nashoba’s father, and the intended humiliation of their women. Matthew dismounted and greeted each elder. The ease with which he spoke their language relaxed them when he was in their company. Nashoba, clad only in leggings and breechclout, smiled a welcome and embraced him. The press of his smooth cheek against Matthew’s, the feel of his bare skin under Matthew’s hands, caused inappropriate sensations to flare in Matthew’s blood. He stepped back, slightly flustered and very glad when Nashoba gestured that they should all enter the meeting lodge.
The meeting was cordial, a cup of spicy, herbal brew passed around. The elders were pleased with the French withdrawal, but Matthew could barely contain his impatience for the moment when he and Nashoba could be alone. His time with him would be brief, but he craved his lover’s touch and needed desperately to talk with him about their future. He breathed a silent sigh of relief when at last the elders stood, indicating that the meeting was over. Matthew stood and bade them farewell before following Nashoba to his lodge.
“Alone at last,” he whispered, with a wry grin and pulled Nashoba into his arms. Their kiss was long and passionate, Nashoba’s almost naked and willing body grinding against Matthew’s. Matthew framed Nashoba’s face between the palms of his hands and kissed him with even more fervor. Their tongues tangled and twisted, their cocks perfectly aligned, pressed together, yet for Matthew, even then it seemed there was no closeness close enough.
