He drifted off into an uneasy sleep.
Jeffrey dreamed. He felt the scratchy wool of his uniform, watched as those in the Indian camp danced and frolicked. As he waited, dread snaked down his spine. The Indians had massacred innocent whites. His orders were explicit. Cut their throats while they sleep. His own throat tightened.
His hatred blossomed, fed by the feverish excitement of the others. Jeffrey stood ready. The men snuck into the camp, toward the tepees where the Indians slumbered. Jeffrey lingered outside one tepee, feeding his rage until it became a writhing, living beast howling for revenge. Silently he pulled aside the flap and unsheathed his knife.
In the dark, the deed was brutally quick. He did it again and again until the slick, coppery scent of death tinged his nostrils. One victim fought back and gashed the back of his knee, but he died as the others did. As the first fingers of dawn spread on the sky, only then did Jeffrey glance down at the wetness upon his hands. They were covered in blood...
He woke with a strangled yell. Beside him, Amanda started and sat upright.
“Jeffrey, what is the matter?” she cried out.
He shook his head violently, trying to gather control. Couldn’t let her see him like this. He had to rein in his emotions. But the dream’s evil grip refused to let go. Jeffrey rubbed his face and felt wetness there. He jerked his hands back, certain they were still stained with blood. Splaying them, he held them out, unable to see in the dim light. He must find out!
Struggling to light a candle, his hands shook violently. Amanda did it for him. In the candlelight, he peered at his fingers. Relieved, he saw they were clammy from sweat, not blood.
“Jeffrey, please tell me what’s wrong. You are frightening me. What is it?” She placed a warm palm on his arm, concern etching her expression. So lovely. So innocent.
He drew in a deep breath. She deserved nothing less than the truth. The moment had come. He dreaded it. Time to tell her the truth. Tell her the evil he’d done. If she walked away like Caroline, so be it. But he couldn’t hide this any longer.
Grasping her delicate hands, he looked at her. “Mandy, ’tis time I tell you about the war and what I did...”
His eyes, still wild, whipping back and forth like a terrified horse, scared her more than anything else. Jeffrey seemed caught in a violent dream’s turbulent grip. What he seemed driven to confess must be dreadful to provoke such a reaction.
She grasped his hand tighter. Whatever he had to tell her, she would not release his hand and would listen until the end. He was her husband and the tight line of his jaw revealed his strain in sharing the tale. His gaze grew distant as if seeing his past. In a strangled voice, he talked.
Restless and jealous of those who’d already left for the war, Jeffrey had run away from home and joined Robert Rogers’ Rangers. At first they’d laughed and wanted to send him home straight away. But he spoke French. And even then, he had a prodigious height and a stealthy walk. His great knowledge of deer trails, and ability to shoot with deadly aim made him too valuable to pass up. Rogers signed him on. When another soldier mocked him because of his youth, Jeffrey proved he could fight.
“I beat him senseless. The others left me alone. They almost court-martialed me, but Rogers told me that I needed to leash my temper. Said to leave it for the enemy. ‘Memorize my rules and when you feel your temper coming on, recite them until you calm down.’ That’s what I did.”
He’d memorized Rogers’ Ranging Rules, a set of instructions on warfare. In September 1759, he’d set out with great excitement for his first taste of battle.
“About 150 miles north into Canada, the Abenaki Indian village we called St. Francis. Got to the St. Francis River north of the village. Forded the river. Five feet deep, cold as, well, ’twas cold. Set to do reconnaissance on the village.”
“What’s reconnaissance?”
He glanced at her. “Spying to see the lay of the land. Indians were dancing about. No idea we were there. We waited. Dead of night, they went to bed. That was our time to strike.”
She watched with dawning horror as his gaze became empty.
“We had been told to avenge ourselves, for the savages had taken many white settlers’ lives. I was so tense. Excited. And scared. Didn’t know how I could kill a man. I told my commanding officer I simply couldn’t do it. Then he spoke of all the women and children slaughtered in cold blood by these savages. Told me ’twas like killing a hog. ‘Let that temper of yours loose, Private Clayton. Avenge them.’ That’s when I took out my knife.”
“You—”
“’Twas brutal, Mandy. Brutal. We descended on them in a swarm. Crept into their homes and killed them. I was so angry. After my first one, I became numb and just kept doing it again and again. One fought back, got me with his knife.” He twisted and lifted his leg so she could see the small scar on the back of his calf.
“After, the men congratulated me on getting the most. Some Indians tried escaping. We shot them.”
“Oh Jeffrey.” Her heart twisted at his flat tone.
“Dawn came. The place was a slaughterhouse, the stink of death everywhere. We saw the scalps of white settlers then, 600 on poles around the camp, waving in the breeze like damned flags. Should have made me feel better.” He paused. “It didn’t.”
Jeffrey stared at his hand held tightly in her trembling grip. “That’s when I looked down. My hands were covered in blood.”
He tried twisting his hand away. Amanda stubbornly refused. She clung to his hand with all her might. If she let go, she’d lose him.
“What happened next?” she asked in a steady voice.
“They pursued us. We headed back through the woods over mountains and slogging through swamps. More than one hundred miles.”
Jeffrey took a deep breath and continued.
“Robert divided us into squads. I went with him. Got to Coos Meadow. Cold, tired, hungry. All our provisions were gone. Damned Brit stationed there heard the guns we fired as an alert. He and his men fled like girls. Took all our food. I knew it then. We were going to starve to death.”
“Oh my God,” she whispered. Saw the scene, the young, proud Jeffrey, despairing of killing another human being, now facing death in the wilderness.
“Robert left on a raft he’d made from pine trees. Promised to come back with supplies. He was desperate, leaving his men behind, knowing when he’d return few would be alive. Ten days later, he returned. Not many survived. I did. Weak and barely able to stand, but alive. Later he said my youth and cunning saved me. I’d found a comb of honey and ate plant roots and even insects.”
He fell silent, looking down at her hand. His lips twisted into a grim smile. “That was my boyhood, Mandy. Slaughtering Indians while they slumbered. Watching men die around me from starvation. I celebrated my birthday in that field. I had just turned 16.”
Her heart twisted with pain for him. “Jeffrey...”
“That is the man you married, Mandy.” He raised his hands, her fingers still curled around one. “These hands are the hands of a man with a violent temper who has killed many. Every time I touch you, you are touched by a man with hands stained with blood.” His voice rang low with deep shame and agonized remorse.
“Jeffrey, you had orders, you did what you were told!”
She ached with pity and love. Such a burden for one so young. And all these years, guilt rode on those proud, muscled shoulders. Amanda knew what to do. She lifted his hands to her lips and began kissing each finger. She rubbed them against her cheek, not caring that he would feel the wetness of her tears.
“These are not the hands of a killer. They are the hands of the man I married. A brave, strong man who was willing to fight and lay down his life for a just cause.”
Torment filled his eyes, along with doubt. Instinctively she knew what to do. Words are nothing. He needed to see. For her to demonstrate she did not fear him.
Amanda pushed him back so he lay against the pillow. He complied with a questioning lo
ok as she straddled him. She kissed him, her hair curtaining his face. His lips felt so cold. He sighed beneath her mouth. Kissing his throat, she felt the slight bristle of his whiskers. Amanda stroked a hand across the wiry hair on his chest. Sucking in a trembling breath, she stroked lower and then encircled his shaft. Her strokes were awkward as her fingertips caressed the length. Beneath her touch, he hardened to steel.
“Love me, Jeffrey. Let me banish the nightmare for you so you’ll never have it again,” she whispered.
Memories of her mother’s censuring voice made her pause. Shame from the past rose, mocked her. Amanda swallowed convulsively, then straightened her shoulders. She locked inhibition and propriety into a dark closet, letting her love for Jeffrey lead her on. Taking his stiffened shaft in hand, she carefully slid onto him, sighing with pleasure as he filled her. She placed her hands on his muscled chest to brace herself. Amanda began sliding up and down, her body quivering with passion. Incredulity filled his wide eyes as his breathing became ragged and sharp.
“Love me Jeffrey. Let me show you exactly how much I desire you. I want your hands all over me.”
She placed his hands upon her breasts, rubbing them against her bare flesh. He thumbed her nipples gently. Amanda began moving faster. They achieved a rhythm and pace, his hips surging upward to meet her. A low moan rippled through her throat as she tossed her head back. Abandoning herself totally, Amanda felt her pleasure intensify. As she climaxed, she gave a strangled moan, which Jeffrey echoed as he met his release.
Gasping with exertion, she collapsed upon his chest. Jeffrey embraced her, stroking her hair.
“Mandy, you amaze me. Being with you is everything I could have ever dreamed of. My wife. My darling, sweet wife.” He took her hand and kissed each finger with a tender expression, the emptiness gone from his gaze.
Amanda smiled down at him. “’Tis so nice, being locked together like this. I don’t want to leave you.”
A ghost of his old grin returned as she eased off him. “Not a fine way to sleep though. I’ve a better way.”
Jeffrey rolled over. Tucking her body against his, he tunneled his fingers through her tousled hair.
“I’ve another confession as well. Last time I told a woman about what happened, Caroline, my betrothed, she left me. But before she did...” He fell silent.
“Jeffrey, please tell me.”
A deep hiss escaped his lungs. “I should have seen it. She told me I scared her with my temper and my passions. Caroline had fallen in love with a British officer. She told him what I had told her, about my taking part in the tea party. So he led his men to burn my house and told me to think twice about destroying property again, even my own.”
Outrage filled her. Amanda scowled. “Bloody strumpet.”
He gave a husky laugh and traced her mouth with a finger. “Such a tongue. Such a fierce tongue, my beautiful Mandy. ’Tis in the past and best forgotten.”
“Caroline did not love you.”
“Aye. ’Tis best, perhaps, I found out before ’twas too late.”
Amanda summoned all her courage. Stating her feelings scared her more than completing the marriage act. But she felt compelled. When Jeffrey had cried out in his sleep, she knew it as surely as she knew life would never be the same again after marrying him.
“I love you, Jeffrey,” she whispered into the dark.
She felt him stiffen. He brushed a kiss against her temple. But he did not speak.
“Jeffrey, can you not say the words in return?”
He settled into the covers, pulling her against his muscled abdomen. She felt a tear leak out. Why could he not say it, even now?
“Mandy,” he whispered in her ear, “’Tis much affection I have for you, sweet wife.”
She felt a brief regret. He couldn’t say he loved her. But close enough. For now, she felt content to lie in his arms and sleep, confident his nightmares were banished.
Chapter Twenty
JEFFREY’S CONFESSION HAD deeply moved Amanda. It was as if he had opened his heart and soul, trusting her with a secret scar. His thoughtful gestures, such as purchasing Sage, spoke of a man who hid his feelings, but showed his love. She wished she had some way of returning the favor.
Amanda paused as she swept the broom over the cabin floor. Her gaze fell upon Jeffrey’s silver walking stick. Curious, she picked it up and noticed again the broken beak. Of course! Jeffrey had mentioned the cane had been his father’s. What better gift than to repair it?
She used the excuse of stocking the almshouse to visit town. Jeffrey helped Jake load the farm wagon with food.
“Mandy, ’tis no problem for me to bring this on the morrow. I cannot do it now, for I’ve a task at the smith’s shop.” He dug out his pocket watch. “Should leave soon. I promised Jim I’d have the job finished today.”
“Nay Jeffrey, ’tis no trouble, for I thought to visit Mother as well.” She beamed at him as his face crinkled into a grimace.
“If you must visit that old witch,” he muttered.
She kissed him swiftly. “She is still my mother. And I intend to inquire what she did with my grandmother’s necklet. Mayhap I can purchase it back from the person who bought it. I will not let her browbeat me.”
He tenderly caressed her cheek. “That’s my Mandy.”
In Williamsburg, she stopped at the store first. Her mother at first denied taking the necklet, but under Amanda’s relentless questioning, finally admitted selling it to a local shopkeeper who desired it for his wife.
Encouraged by the thought she might recover the treasure, Amanda thanked her. She wished to say more, but people began entering the shop, asking about the new local cloth the Reeves sold.
While her mother busied herself with a customer, Amanda took the cane and put it on the counter, admiring the intricate craftsmanship.
“Beautiful,” a familiar voice said.
She whirled to find William, gazing not at the cane, but at her. Amanda flushed from discomfort.
“William. How nice to see you,” she murmured.
“Amanda. I had hopes of running into you. Your mother informed me of your recent marriage. Congratulations.”
His voice held no resentment. William’s face was a careful mask, devoid of expression. He might as well have been congratulating her on purchasing a fine breed of cow.
“Thank you, William. Are you well?”
“Well enough, considering.” He seemed to sink into his jowls for a moment. He looked at the cane, and then at her.
“I do sincerely wish you well, Amanda. My only desire is for you to be happy. Does Clayton make you happy?”
“I am happy, William. Truly.” She bit her lip, marveling at the words. Jeffrey frustrated and vexed her, and they still lived at opposite poles of political beliefs, but she loved him. And suspected he did the same, but still feared to tell her.
“Good. ’Tis all that matters.” He glanced at the cane. “A purchase? ’Tis a strange one, for the tip is broken.”
“Nay, I am taking it to the silversmith’s for repair. ’Tis Jeffrey’s.”
She turned as a well-dressed woman came into the shop. “Elizabeth!” Amanda ran up to Elizabeth Wythe, and the women exchanged greetings.
“Amanda, I had hoped to find you in town. I have two old mattresses I plan to donate to the almshouse, but no wagon to bring them. Can you find a way to transport them?”
“I have use of the wagon and was headed there. If your servants may accompany me to load and unload them, I can bring them there.”
Amanda glanced down at the cane. Stopping off at Elizabeth’s and then returning her servants gave her no time to visit the silversmith’s.
“But I am running late and I must drop this off to be repaired.” She beckoned to her mother. “Mother, please do this for me. Take this to the silversmith’s.”
Her mother frowned at the cane. “Can you not do it?”
“Not if I am to stop by Elizabeth’s and secure her gift for the almshouse. P
lease, mother. Two feather mattresses, soft as down, would surely feel pleasing and bring much comfort to some of the old folks there,” she cajoled.
Her mother gave a brusque nod. “Thank you,” Amanda said. With a nod to William, she left with Elizabeth to fetch the mattresses.
His morning was not proceeding well. First he could not locate his cane. Jeffrey had torn apart every inch of the cabin. He’d had to leave for the shop without it. Then, on the way there, Liberty had thrown a shoe. Jeffrey had to slow and upon reaching the shop, reshoe his horse.
Muttering curses as he banged out a piece of iron, he heard a gentle cough and “Pardon me, kind sir, may I have a moment of your time?”
His irritation melted upon seeing Amanda’s happy smile. Jeffrey laid down his hammer upon the anvil, grinning as he wiped his hands.
“’Tis a much prettier sight I behold than this greasy iron,” he said, stepping away from the anvil. “What makes you so happy Mandy? Certainly not your mother?”
She told him about the donated mattresses, then frowned. “You look much too solemn for your task, husband.”
“Just a few minor things going wrong. I can’t find my cane.”
She paled and glanced away with a guilty look. His suspicions arose.
“Mandy...”
“’Tis no use keeping a secret from you. I am having it repaired.”
At his narrowed gaze, Amanda added defensively, “’Tis my wedding gift to you. I know how much you treasure it. I only wanted to give you something as precious as you gave me when you purchased Sage.”
Dread at losing his valuable cane lifted in a tremendous rush. He thought of the previous night when she’d released her passion as she made love to him. When she’d whispered the endearment, he’d wanted to shake from the incredible emotion those three little words caused. Joy. Disbelief. And a nagging fear. Love. A word Caroline had used that led only to betrayal. And yet Amanda’s voice rang with sincerity, a sweet whisper in the dark that filled his heart with happiness.
Jeffrey gave her a tender smile. “Thank you, Mandy. ’Tis a fine gift.”
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