by Michael Aye
“Yes sir, in the morning, first light.”
“Thank you, Captain,” Jonah said, as he turned and walked away.
Chapter Twenty
As the two walked off the back porch toward the little cabin, Jonah caught a whiff of the woman’s hair. It had been freshly washed, probably earlier that morning, as the scent of soap was still present. As he walked across the yard, Jonah found himself hoping Moses was out. He would like to spend some time alone with this rare beauty of a woman. Never had a pair of eyes moved him so much. They were a deep blue with thick lashes. The woman’s skin was tanned from being outside so much. She had full lips and her hair was almost a blue-black color and hung heavy and thick about her shoulders. Her dress was a simple off-white cotton dress. The neckline was open, revealing a graceful slim throat beneath which ample breasts stretched the material. She had a simple sash tied about her middle that accented her small waist. When she stepped to one side to allow Jonah to open the cabin door, her hair moved just enough to show a turquoise earring.
Opening the door, Jonah stood in silence and stared as she gracefully eased by him and entered the cabin. The flames of desire were so strong, he felt his heart racing and blood pounding in his temples.
Light from the windows did little for the dark interior so Jonah lit a candle and muttered, “Would you like to be seated?”
As the woman sat in one of the two chairs, Jonah said, “My apologies, madam. I have failed to properly introduce myself. I’m Jonah Lee.”
Smiling, she replied, “I’m Anastasia Greenville.”
“At your service,” Jonah replied and gave a bow. Seeing Anastasia smile, he realized how ridiculous he must look and suddenly they were both laughing.
“Do you often go looking for damsels in distress so that you may come to their rescue?”
Seeing the twinkle in Anastasia’s eyes, Jonah replied, “Only when they are as beautiful as you.”
“A gallant man who also knows how to flatter a woman.” There was a hint of French in her accent which made Jonah wonder if she was French Canadian.
“You’re French?” he asked.
“My mother,” she replied. “Her family were Huguenots, who preferred to leave France rather than change religious beliefs.”
Jonah knew very little about Huguenots, but decided he’d find out more about them.
“My mother married an American from Detroit, so I guess I’m an American now,” she continued.
“Anastasia…is that French?” Jonah asked.
Nodding, she replied, “Yes, it was my grandmother’s name.” A knock at the door interrupted the conversation.
“Enter,” Jonah sang out, embarrassing himself. The gentlemanly thing to do would have been to get up and answer the door. It was the sergeant.
“Captain said you wanted to see me, sir.”
“Yes, Sergeant. Do you know Captain Clay Gesslin?”
“Yes sir, he’s one of Colonel Johnson’s officers.”
“Yes, that’s him,” Jonah said. “Would you be so kind as to find him quickly and let him know if it’s convenient that he should call on me? It’s an urgent matter, Sergeant.”
Looking from Jonah to Anastasia and back to Jonah, the sergeant replied, “Sir, he’s with that spy in the general’s headquarters right now.”
By using the term ‘spy,’ Jonah guessed the sergeant meant James Hampton. However, he wished he’d not called the man such in front of Anastasia. Everything seemed to be on the up and up, but who knew? Up and up, Jonah thought. How the devil do I know? She may well be a British spy herself. A damn pretty one if she is.
“You did what?”
“Shhh…”
Clay Gesslin stared at his friend in disbelief. He then looked at the grandfather clock ticking in the corner. “You know the general has forbidden dueling among his officers.”
“I’m not worried,” Jonah answered his friend, seeing the alarm his news had caused him.
“Well, I am,” Gesslin offered and then gave a sigh.
“Technically, I’m not one of his officers, therefore the general’s rule of dueling does not apply to me,” Jonah mumbled, not wanting to cause trouble for his friend.
“Humph,” Gesslin snorted. “But it does apply to me.”
“Ah…I’ve not been asked,” Hampton interrupted the two, “but I would probably be a better choice as a second.” He had overheard the entire conversation and decided to rescue Gesslin, who was obviously out of his element.
“How so?” Gesslin asked before Jonah could open his mouth.
“While I do hold a commission, it’s more for convenience. I’m not really a serving officer but more an agent for the war department,” Hampton replied. “Also, not only did I take fencing in school, but I have been involved in a duel or two previously.”
As Jonah and Gesslin look at Hampton in disbelief, he quickly added, “Nothing more than trifling matters really. More to the point, if I was asked, I would be pleased to act as your second, Mr. Lee.”
“Oh yes, by all means… that is, if you don’t mind, Clay?”
“Oh no, I’ll bow to experience.” While his words sounded disappointed, the look of relief was also obvious.
“Good, it’s settled then. Now, Mr. Lee, if you don’t mind, I shall instruct certain friends of mine to make inquiries into Mr. LeRoche’s background. We will also see if there is any basis for his remarks and behavior toward the lady, Anastasia.”
It’s amazing, Jonah thought. How the other night Hampton was just one of the boys from Kentucky. And here in the last few minutes, he had shown a completely different side of himself. This led Jonah to think his earlier thoughts were correct. There probably was a connection between Colonel Mentor Johnson, the war hawk congressman, and Hampton. That’s where John Armstrong and the president are getting their information. Jonah was sure of that. Then, another question came to mind. Am I a decoy; openly sent by the president to be an encouraging force. Someone General Harrison could point a finger at, as taking news, when it was really Hampton or one of his cronies. No, he didn’t think so. He had known Armstrong too long. Well, he couldn’t worry about that now. He had to prepare himself for a duel. Still, he wouldn’t completely dismiss it… not yet anyway.
The smell of fresh coffee greeted Jonah when he opened the cabin door. Moses was back and had obviously introduced himself to Anastasia. He could be charming when he wanted to. He had proved a good host as the two were drinking coffee and what was left of an unfinished pastry was in a plate sitting on the hearth. If Anastasia had been fearful of the half African, half Indian, it did not show at this point.
“There’s coffee in the kitchen,” Moses volunteered. “We saved you an apple turnover, as well.”
“Thank you,” Jonah replied.
As there were only two chairs, he sat on the edge of the bed hoping Moses would find some reason to vacate the cabin.
Finally, Jonah asked, “Did you find that cat?”
“Cat… what cat?”
“The cat Captain Todd almost stepped on last night. The one you said you wanted to see about this morning.”
“I didn’t go looking for a cat,” Moses replied. “I went looking for firewood.”
“Well, it doesn’t look like you got enough.”
“Enough? The box is running over now. It wouldn’t hold another stick.”
Damn you, Jonah thought. He then spotted the plate on the hearth. “Do you think the cook might need his plates back? It’s getting on toward lunch.”
A little giggle came from Anastasia.
Rising, Moses said, “Well, let me go see if I can find that cat and give it these scraps. I’ll take these plates back to the cook so’s he can add them to his stack of four or five hundred. While I’m at it, I will check his fire box and see if there’s enough wood to cook the general’s noon meal.”
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By this time, Anastasia was laughing so hard that tears came to her eyes. Jonah felt awkward and flushed but soon he was smiling as well.
“Would you like me to get your coffee and pastry?” Anastasia asked. “Then we can sit and talk if you’d like.”
Before long, Jonah had learned Anastasia had been married for five years when her husband and his father had been killed by Indians. They had never had children. Her mother-in-law worked at the trading post until the British came and took everything that was worth taking. Food had been scarce. Two older officers had been billeted in her home. They had been nice, and their presence kept food on the table. Neither of them liked General Proctor, thinking him a coward and afraid of Tecumseh and his Indians. They did like Proctor’s deputy, Lieutenant Colonel Warburton.
Warburton and his men had been ordered to destroy the town and everything in it when the Americans came.
“Only you got here sooner than expected,” she said. “But don’t think they’ve given up,” she warned, her voice suddenly trembling with emotion. “Especially the Indians. One of the Indians said Tecumseh was spoiling for a fight. He’d even insulted Proctor trying to get him to attack. While the British may be retreating, Jonah, don’t expect the Indians to give up easy. They’ll fight and take scalps.”
Her words caused Anastasia to shiver. Without thinking, Jonah placed his hands on hers. When she looked up, tears were in her eyes. He took out his handkerchief and handed it to her. Wiping her eyes, she said, “You be careful, Jonah. I don’t want to see you hurt.”
Chapter Twenty-One
The place was under a large walnut tree not far from the river. The sun was on the western horizon and would be down in less than an hour. Jonah and LeRoche stood face to face, their blades in hand and pointed toward the ground. LeRoche had a rapier. It was a much smaller, slender blade with a fine point and a cutting edge. The blade was made for thrusting. Five men stood to the side under the large walnut tree… Five men and one woman. As hard as he tried, Jonah had not been able to talk Anastasia out of attending the duel. She now stood between Moses and Captain Hampton. A sixth man, a doctor, was also acting as referee. He was a portly, red-faced man with a huge nose.
As the two duelists stood toe to toe, the sight of his opponent almost caused Jonah to laugh. He was able to control the laughter but a smile broke out. LeRoche’s nose was blue and swollen as was his left eye. Seeing the smirk on Jonah’s face caused the man to clinch his teeth. His face grim, his eyes burned in rage at Jonah’s behavior.
“Monsieur,” he hissed with a French accent. “I will kill you.”
“You will try,” Jonah replied with more conviction than he really felt.
“Gentlemen… gentlemen,” the physician referee spoke. “Insults are not needed. Is first blood sufficient to satisfy honor and end the contest?”
“It is not,” LeRoche swore, the French accent was a shade more pronounced.
Jonah saw out of the corner of his eye that Anastasia clutched his handkerchief to her breasts. Moses looked stricken with fear. His long rifle standing at his side, firmly gripped in his right hand. Right or wrong, Jonah thought, if I fall there will be a dead Frenchman as well. The referee had been speaking, but as Jonah’s mind had been wandering, he hadn’t heard.
“Mr. Lee… I say, Mr. Lee!”
“Yes.”
“If there are to be no apologies, are you ready to begin?”
“Yes.”
“Then you may begin.”
At this, LeRoche stepped back. He was elegantly dressed in a silken shirt, tight breeches, and a ruffled stock. Hampton had loaned Jonah a silk shirt.
“It is better if you are wounded,” Hampton had advised. The shirt was a tight fit and was opened at the neck.
As LeRoche took a step back, he swished his blade back and forth in the air. Satisfied, he raised his rapier in salute with an elaborate gesture. Jonah returned the gesture with as much flourish as he could master. Suddenly, LeRoche leaped forward, his blade poised. Caught off balance, Jonah raised his blade just in time to deflect the initial thrust of his foe. Cruel eyes sparkled as LeRoche had all but ended the contest before it began.
Jonah’s blade was a much heavier officer’s sword. Single edged with a good hilt, there would be little clatter of blades. The rapier could not hold up against the army sword, therefore, LeRoche would do his best to inflect wounds without tying up blades in riposte. While Jonah’s sword was superior in strength, it was also more awkward for this type of fight. It was made for cut and slash fighting, not a duel.
Realizing he would tire sooner than his adversary, Jonah decided to let LeRoche be the attacker, and he would, he hoped, parry the attack until such opportunity arose to end the duel or his foe grew tired. Then he would have the advantage… if only he could live so long.
Seeing Jonah had been caught off balance and surprised by his swift attack, LeRoche pressed his attack. He came forward with a fury causing Jonah to give ground. He parried three rapid cuts, and then felt a sting to his left side along the ribs.
Delighted, LeRoche giggled… almost a woman’s giggle. “You will weaken now, m’sieur, as your blood flows, so will the knowledge that you will die this day.”
“One of us will, Frenchman,” Jonah retorted.
Angered, LeRoche attacked again. It was all Jonah could do as he parried several cuts trying desperately to fend off LeRoche’s lightening fast attack. A sudden thrust aimed at his throat was wide, causing LeRoche to lose balance. A backward slash connected and Jonah felt his sword bite into the Frenchman’s flesh. LeRoche stepped back, clutching his left arm; blood now staining the white silk shirt. A look of alarm caused by the unorthodox maneuver replaced LeRoche’s previous look of confidence. As the two men circled, Jonah was suddenly aware a crowd had gathered… was still gathering. How had word gotten out, he wondered.
The crowd had made a circle so that the two men fought in a ring made of humans. Moses now had Anastasia by the hand, the long rifle still firmly gripped in the other. LeRoche was more cautious now. During the next few minutes the men circled, feeling out each other’s style.
While LeRoche was quick and agile, Jonah had excellent reflexes and a natural instinct, plus he was stronger. However, LeRoche’s experience and enthusiasm for cruelty made him very dangerous. As the men circled, it dawned on LeRoche that his blade was longer by several inches. He now went on the attack again, yet keeping his distance away from Jonah’s shorter blade. Intent on Jonah’s death, every thrust was now aimed for the heart or throat.
After a parry knocked LeRoche’s blade upward and caused a small cut to Jonah’s face, the Frenchman seemed delighted again. “Your eyes may be next,” he hissed.
LeRoche’s comments angered Jonah and suddenly he went on the offensive. Disbelief that the American would do so caused LeRoche to back up until the crowd had to give way to keep from interfering in the fight. After a minute of cutting and slashing, Jonah got control of his anger and slowed his attack. Mistaking Jonah’s let up was from fatigue rather than gaining control of his anger, the Frenchman drove forward. He slashed, cut, and thrust. As Jonah backed away, LeRoche threw caution to the wind and drove forward, all consumed by the desire to kill his foe. Nothing else mattered.
Jonah had watched his attacker and realized every time he made a thrust for his throat he’d plant his left foot then lurch forward. The two men warily circled each other. At some point, Jonah had been cut on the back of his hand but didn’t feel it. Blood now oozed from the wound making the hilt of his sword slippery and sticky. Without meaning to, Jonah glanced down at the wound.
Taking advantage of the distraction, LeRoche lunged forward with vigor. The shift of the man’s feet was just enough to warn Jonah. As LeRoche lunged for the throat, Jonah ducked down and with all his might thrust upward with his sword impaling his enemy. The blade went in just under the sternum. A look of dism
ay swept over LeRoche’s face. Sure that victory was his; he looked down at the sword in his chest. As he fell backward, the slippery handle was jerked from Jonah’s hand.
As his eyes glazed over, LeRoche spoke defiantly, “Tell the whore it was my Indians who killed her husband. His scalp lies in my drawer. Ha… hum.
Captain Hampton walked forward with the physician. “Please care for my friend’s wound, Doctor, before he is attacked by ill humors.” He then reached over and tried to pull the sword from the dead Frenchman. As he pulled, the body lifted with the sword. Hampton then placed his foot on the dead man’s chest and snatched the blade free. He wiped it on the dead man’s britches then picked up the fallen rapier. He offered it to Jonah, who was still being tended to by the doctor.
“No, thank you,” Jonah said. “It’s yours if you desire it.”
Hampton smiled, “A gift for my services.” He then handed Jonah his sword. “I wiped it off, but I’d have it thoroughly cleaned before it was placed back in its scabbard.”
“Thank you,” Jonah said, wincing from the doctor’s administrations.
Moses and Anastasia walked up from behind. Seeing them, Hampton said, “LeRoche was a double agent. Your killing him kept us from a hanging. We’ll talk about it more later. You have visitors now.”
Jonah held out his left hand as the right was being bandaged. “Thank you, James.”
“My pleasure, sir.” With that, Hampton walked away.
Two arms enveloped Jonah from behind. “Thank God you are alive. I was so worried.” Anastasia hugged Jonah tightly, crushing her breasts against the back of his head.
Suddenly, his wounds didn’t hurt anymore. Looking up as Moses stepped around the stool he was sitting on, Jonah said, “I saw you watching with the long rifle in your hand.”
“He was a dead man,” Moses said, by way of an answer. “One way or another, he was a dead man. He just didn’t know it. The general was here… watching,” Moses said. “Might be some explaining to do.”
