But One Life

by Wyn Estelle Owens

  “You know the punishment for spying?”

  The cold spread from her stomach into her veins. She sawed faster.

  “Yes.”

  “Then, Guinevere Phillips, I, Captain Garett in the service of the Royal British Crown, sentence you to death for crimes against His Majesty. Do you have any last words?”

  Ginny licked her lips. “Yes.” She had to draw this out. “My father was born in Wales and was as much a subject of the British Crown as any man of you. But he came to this country as a child, and he grew to love it dearly. And when America declared her independence from the British crown, he gave his life on a battlefield in America’s service, so that she could be free.”

  Every eye was fixed on her. Her throat was dry, her heart trembling, but the ropes began to part beneath her knife.

  “My father raised me to love this country. My mother came from it; my father fought for it. When I was given the opportunity to fight for my country and her freedom, to do what little I could for the cause, I took it. I did it out of love for America, and to honor my father’s memory, so that his dream of a free America would not die. I had to do it, though I knew what fate most likely awaited me.”

  She didn’t know how much longer Garrett would tolerate her stalling, so she sawed frantically, but her shaking fingers made it hard to move swiftly. They could have at least given me gloves to keep my fingers from trembling, she thought.

  She resisted the urge to smile bitterly at that thought (in her heart, she knew better than to believe the brave posturing of her mind), and the ropes moved slightly beneath her fingers.

  “Even though my service may end here, I’m glad to have done it, and that by my life and death I have served my country.”

  The knife broke through a final strand and scraped along her wrist. She bit her tongue to keep from gasping in pain, and clenched the ropes between her fingers before they could slither free and draw notice.

  “You may kill me today, yet tomorrow more will rise up in America’s service. This is our country, and we will fight, and die, and others will fight in our place. In the end, no matter how far away that may be,” she lifted her head and stared off into the woods beyond, a smile tugging at her lips, “…In the end, we will be free.”

  Ethan grinned. That’s my girl. Then he stood up on the branch and yelled, “Now!”

  With a roar, the members of Major Tallmadge’s company charged into the clearing, and all was chaos. There was shouting and gunshots and screams of pain, and the snow beneath their feet began to sprout scarlet stains.

  Ginny’s heart thudded painfully in relief. I knew he would come. Ginny opened her fingers and let the ropes fall to the snow below. She tucked Ethan’s Barlow knife into her bodice and grabbed ahold of the hemp loop around her neck.

  Ethan put his Pennsylvania rifle to his shoulder, staring down the barrel across the clearing. There was Ginny, standing on the wooden crate, tucking his knife into her bodice with unbound hands. The Captain sighed in relief. She’s safe. We did it. We weren’t too late.

  He sat back on the branch and passed a hand over his eyes. Thank God. He was grabbing a branch above his head to stand upright when a flash of movement caught his eye.

  A figure in a red coat lunged toward Ginny with a drawn knife. In one swift movement Ethan brought his rifle to his shoulder, aimed, and fired.

  A gunshot cracked through the clearing and echoed in Ginny’s ears, cutting through the grunts, the yells, the calls of the wounded and the dying. Her fingers reflexively tightened around the noose, startled, and then something crashed into her, knocking her sideways off the box and into thin air.

  For one horrible moment, Ethan stood as the blood drained from his face. In the end, Ginny was going to die.

  Because of him. He’d failed.

  But Ginny was kicking and struggling, not giving up yet, and suddenly hope burst back to life. He scrambled down from the tree, half-climbing, half-falling, and jumped to the ground. He landed clumsily and fell, but leapt upright and charged across the clearing. A redcoat came at him, but Ethan lifted his rifle, slammed the butt into the lobsterback’s face, and charged on.

  Ahead of him Ginny dangled from the tree, the line swaying frantically as she struggled to free herself, like a fish jumping at the end of a line. Ethan surged forward, scooped up the redcoat’s fallen knife, and ran to Ginny. He wrapped his arms around her legs, trying to hold her up. “Ginny! Stay still, I have you!” He twisted around, trying to get a look at the reigning chaos in the clearing. “Benjamin!”.

  A gunshot blasted out behind him, a redcoat fell to the ground, and Benjamin dropped his rifle and ran forward. “What should I do?”

  “Take Ginny and hold her up while I cut her free. Hurry!”

  Benjamin wrapped his arms around Ginny’s skirts and Ethan jumped onto the crate, grabbing the rope in his hand and sawing frantically. Some of his soldiers gathered around them, protecting them while they frantically worked to save Ginny’s life.

  The last thread snapped, and Ginny collapsed backwards into Ethan’s arms. “Do you have her?” Benjamin cried.

  Ethan nodded and slowly sank down onto the ground. Ginny lay limp in his arms, her face pale and her eyes closed. His heart clenched in fear as he carefully lifted the noose away from her head. Blue-black bruises were already beginning to color her fingers and neck.

  Benjamin collapsed limply to his knees next to Ethan, biting his lip. “Is she…?” His voice was a cracked whisper.

  Ethan sighed and smiled faintly. “She’s fine. She just fainted.” He stared down at her face then shook his head, lifting her gently and laying Ginny’s head in Benjamin’s lap. “Take care of her for me, would you?”

  Benjamin blinked up at him. “What are you doing?”

  Ethan swung to his feet and unslung his rifle from his shoulder. He set his jaw grimly. “I think it’s time Mistress Phillips and I have a little chat.”

  He pointed to one of his soldiers. “Alfred, come with me. The rest of you, watch over Benjamin and Miss Phillips and help him get her to safety.”

  They saluted, and Alfred jogged up to his side. “What now, Captain?”

  Ethan jumped back up on the crate, examining the crowd as he reloaded his gun. The battle was nearly over and the Americans stood triumphant, which was hardly surprising, considering their superior numbers.

  The Captain twisted back and forth several times before he spotted her—standing by the edge of the fire, holding a burning branch in her hand to ward off any attackers. She had been left untouched in the battle by virtue of her sex, and because the battle had resorted to the grim and brutal contest of bayonets due to the close quarters.

  Ethan grinned. “There. Come on, Alfred!” He sprinted across the clearing, the red-haired Sergeant Major close at his heels. When Mistress Phillips saw that two soldiers were aiming straight toward her, her eyes widened and she took a step back, holding up her branch warningly.

  “Don’t come any closer, you rebellious scum!” she snarled. Ethan slowed and held out his hands placatingly.

  “Calm down, mistress. I mean you no harm.” He took a careful step forward.

  She stumbled back another step, waving the branch back and forth for good measure. “No further!”

  Ethan took another step. “I’ve an idea, mistress. How about you put down the branch and I’ll not shoot my rifle and we’ll discuss your surrender like civilized folk?”

  “Never!” she snarled again and stepped backwards. Ethan’s eyes widened and he stepped forward, reaching a hand out warningly.

  “Mistress Phillips, be careful, you’re—”

  “Stay away from me!” she screeched, and stumbled backward—right into the fire. Her screech of anger morphed into a scream of pain as her dress caught on fire, and she fell back, her entire dress catching alight. Ethan rushed forward to aid her, but she climbed to her feet and, still screaming, fled into the forest.

  Ethan and Alfred chased after her as she ran amongst th
e trees, a bright burning brand in the early morning dimness, her screams echoing amongst the silence of winter. Suddenly, they stopped, and the muffling silence of snow and emptiness descended upon the wood. Ethan and Alfred paused and looked at each other, wide-eyed and pale. They broke into a run.

  Ethan had grown up in the wilds of New York. The woods were as familiar to him as his ma’s own kitchen, so he quickly outran his city-born companion. This proved to be a bad thing. Suddenly, the ground opened up before him and he almost tumbled head-first into a deep ditch. He stumbled and windmilled his arms wildly at the brink, but Alfred grabbed him by the back of his coat and yanked him backwards onto solid ground.

  “Thanks, Alfred,” Ethan said. “Without you, I’d probably have broken a leg.”

  Alfred grimaced. “Apparently, you would have gotten a little more than that, if precedence is anything to go by.”

  Ethan blinked and glanced down into the ditch. At the bottom lay a frozen stream, with sharp rocks poking out of the ice. Then he saw her, and felt a grimace of his own cross his face.

  The snow and rocks scattered on top of the ice were stained red, and a crumpled, smoking figure lay still and alone.

  “Is she… do you think she could…?”

  Alfred slowly shook his head.

  Chapter The Tenth

  When they arrived back at the clearing, everything was quiet. The snow was churned up and stained brown and red, and the bodies of the wounded and the fallen were being tended to and accounted for. Ethan surveyed the clearing and let out a sigh of relief when he didn’t see a single redcoat standing—Ginny’s secret would be safe again.

  Ethan marched up to his second-in-command. “Where’s Miss Phillips, Hunter?” Hunter pointed off-handedly towards the woods, leaning on his rifle and eyeing the British prisoners.

  “A couple of them orphans came and carried her off that-a-way. She was still asleep then.”

  Ethan forced himself to nod calmly. “Stay here and help Lieutenant Hunter, Sergeant Major Alfred. I’ll be back in a bit.”

  “Yes, sir!” Alfred said, and saluted smartly. Hunter smirked and waved him away. “Go on, Captain. We’ve got everything under control here. Go and be with your lady.”

  Ethan felt his cheeks begin to turn ruddy, and suspected he wouldn’t be able to pass off the color due to cold, so he fled the scene in the direction the boys had gone, his heart thrumming with barely restrained panic. She was fine. She had to be.

  He pushed through snow-laden branches into a clearing and stumbled to a stop. In the center of the clearing was a big, flat rock beneath an old willow tree. Its branches were gilded with ice, like a curtain of glass surrounding a stony bed. Crowding around the rock were seven small, shivering figures. At Ethan’s approach they looked up and backed up slightly.

  He stepped forward and stared at the figure that lay still on the rock, Benjamin’s old tattered coat cushioning her repose. Her skin was ice-cold and snow-white, save for the bruises that marred it, like drops of blue ink on white paper.

  Hesitantly, Ethan stepped forward, brushed aside the tinkling chains of glasslike ice and gently took up one of her hands. It laid cold, limp and bruised in his hand. He wrapped his other hand around it and squeezed gently, bowing his head.

  Oh, Lord Almighty…

  There was a tiny flutter of movement beneath his fingers, and suddenly the hand in his stirred and gripped his own. It was a weak grip, but it was real and it was there. His head shot up, and his heart leapt for joy.

  Her eyes were open, and she was smiling at him.

  They strolled through the orchard as the sun began to slip down towards the west. The air was crisp, the snow crunched under their feet, and the rays of the sun draped the surface of the snow in a fine layer of brilliant gold. Ethan looked around him at the exquisiteness of the winter afternoon, then looked down at the young woman on his arm, who was smiling happily at the beauty of her orchard. She fitted in perfectly with the scene, he thought—her hair echoed the blackness of the empty branches against the sky, her lips were as red as the old windfalls that lay scattered about, and the whiteness of her skin was remarkably like snow.

  “Will you be safe now? Or will you have to go into hiding?” Ethan asked quietly.

  Ginny hummed thoughtfully and looked around the orchard, before shaking her head. “I think… I think hiding will not be necessary. Mother-in-Law would not have wished for my unpleasant fate to become public knowledge. The only British soldiers who would know would be the ones who were captured or killed today.” She bit her lip, tilting her head to one side, her face nervous. “Still, it’d probably be best for me to lay low for a while. And I’ll have to think up something to explain my ‘miraculous’ return.”

  “Ah…” For some reason, Ethan was having trouble actually forming words. He steeled his nerve and managed to continue. “I’m sure Mr. Culper or his friends will be quite willing to help you with that.”

  “Oh, good,” Ginny replied, smiling with relief. “That takes a bit of worry off my mind. If we do that, I’d be able to properly care for my boys, and it’d be much easier to continue my work if I have ownership of the house in town.”

  Ethan resisted the urge to simultaneously roll his eyes and grin. Of course her main concern would be to continue their work, not her own safety or security.

  …And that brought him back to things he desperately didn’t want to think about, but couldn’t avoid any longer. The guilt was crushing enough as it was.

  Summoning all his courage, he finally broke the silence. “My sincerest apologies, Miss Phillips, on my failure to keep my promise. I would understand… if you never wished to see me again.”

  Her head tilted up towards him, her brow creasing in confusion at his use of her last name outside of mixed company, and at a loss about what he was referring to.

  Ethan clenched his free fist and stopped, the muscles in his jaw bunching as he clenched his teeth. “I failed. You were captured.” He reached out and touched the bruised hand that lay on his arm. “You almost died.”

  She laid her free hand on top of his. “But I didn’t. I’m still here—because of you. You saved me, Ethan.”

  Ethan shook his head. They walked in silence before Ginny said gently, “I waited for you, and you did not come. Why didn’t you come?”

  He sighed and bowed his head. “I was sick, and I must confess I forgot to tell anyone else to come meet you.” There was a little silence, then suddenly his head shot up, his eyes wide with horror. “Wait! Ginny, did you… you ventured into the center of New York because of me?—“

  Her silence was all the confirmation he needed.

  “It’s all my fault!” he groaned, leaping back from her and letting go of her hands. “If only I had been more diligent, you would not have had to go into the city and your mother-in-law would never have found you—"

  “You can hardly help the fact you were ill!” Ginny interjected hotly.

  Ethan ignored her. “I failed to free you from the noose in time—and you almost died because of my shot! My promise is in ruins—Not only did I fail, but my actions are directly responsible for your capture! The only reason you’re still alive is the Lord’s kindness.”

  Ginny shook her head. “Your shot saved me, Ethan. I’m a spy, you know this. I routinely venture into the city, and each time I risked being recognized.” She reached up and touched his cheek gently. “I don’t hate you, Ethan. You saved me. You kept your promise. And even if you had truly broken it, I’d still forgive you.” Ginny tilted her head to the side and smiled up at him. “ ‘Tis what friends do. And we are friends, are we not?”

  Ethan didn’t answer at first, just merely stared into her eyes, his expression vaguely detached. Her forehead creased in concern, Ginny reached up and laid a hand across his forehead. “Do you feel well, Ethan? You seem distant.”

  The captain’s eyes focused suddenly, and he grinned, his mouth half-quirking in that odd way of his. “No, I’m fine.”

&
nbsp; Ginny began to lower her hand, but suddenly Ethan reached out and snatched it. “Ginny…”

  Ginny froze, wondering what was happening. Her heart started to thump wildly, and she lifted up her free hand to quell it.

  Ethan looked down, desperately gathering his courage. “I… I have felt…” He trailed off, at a loss, but finally, he said, “For a very long time, I think, maybe ever since you first saved my life, I’ve thought that you were most wonderful girl in all the world.” He paused. “And now, I think that I feel something rather stronger.” He rubbed his gloved fingers over her knuckles gently. “Ginny—Guinevere… would you ever consider doing a soldier who loved you the honor of marrying him?”

  Ginny blinked, her mind frozen in confusion. Ethan seemed unable to look at her and instead focused on her hand, rubbing it soothingly. Finally, Ginny found her tongue. “Ethan, I… am not sure what to say. It’s so soon, and with the war...”

  Ethan closed his eyes. “I understand. I… I’m sorry for saying anything and intruding upon your privacy, Miss Phillips. I’ll leave now and bother you no more.” He let her hand slip from his fingers and turned away, but Ginny reached out and grabbed his hand.

  “Captain! Ethan, wait!”

  He slowly turned back to face her. Her cheeks were rosy from the winter chill, tears trailed down her cheeks shining in the sunset, and she was smiling. “It is rather soon, Ethan, and the war needs us. But wars end, you know. In time.”

  Ethan took a deep breath and gathered her pale, bruised hands in his own. “You’ll wait for me?”

  She nodded solemnly. “When the war’s over, come to me, and I will have an answer to your question.”

  Ethan smiled brighter than the setting sun, lifted her hurt fingers to his lips, and reverently kissed them. “Until the war’s over, then, Ginny.”