Forever Ashley

by Lori Copeland

  “When did the pain begin?”

  “ ’Bout an hour after I ate.”

  “What did you eat?”

  The woman sent a suffering look toward her husband. “Cabbage, rutabagas, and beans, Doctor. Nothin’ else,” the man assured him.

  Ashley puffed her cheeks out. Gas, she thought.

  Aaron smiled, patting the woman’s shoulder reassuringly. “Well, we’ll see if we can’t make you—”

  Beebeepp. Beebeeppp. Beebeeppp. Beebeeppp.

  The woman drew back warily. “What…is it, Doctor?”

  Ashley froze as the alarm on her watch began to play a perfunctory seven o’clock wake-up call. The watch had been a gift from her sister, who found it amusing that the alarm played an old World War I tune, “I hate to get up, I hate to get up, I hate to get up in the morning!”

  She glanced up to find four pairs of stunned eyes transfixed upon her.

  Aaron shot her an I-don’t-know-what-it-is-but-stop-it look. Now. “’Tis nothing to concern you, Rebecca.” Smiling lamely, Ashley slapped at the alarm, trying to silence it. She could see the noise was upsetting the old man and woman.

  “It’s nothing…just my watch.” She pointed at her wrist apologetically.

  Rebecca drew back on her pillow, her eyes growing very large. “‘Tis a witch, Hubert…’tis a witch!” she breathed. “Mayhap the same witch who sent a pox on me!

  “See here, Doctor! You had no call to bring a witch into our home!” Hubert accused.

  Ashley slapped the watch more forcefully, mumbling under her breath. “Shut off, you stupid thing.”

  Rebecca began to weep and wail, thrashing about upon the bed in an effort to escape the evil power.

  The tired-looking woman sprang bravely forward to try to knock the watch off Ashley’s wrist while Hubert bolted toward the bed to throw himself protectively over his wife’s body.

  Swearing softly, Aaron stepped between the bed and Ashley and took her firmly by the arm.

  “What?…Oh, for heaven’s sake, it’s only a watch,” she explained as he proceeded to drag her from the room.

  Aaron didn’t know what it was that this strange woman was wearing strapped to her wrist, but it was leaving.

  “This is stupid…I can explain…let go of my arm!” she demanded as he hauled her out the doorway, past the two round-eyed children sitting on the hearth, and out the front door.

  Her indignant shrieks shattered the serenity of the quiet countryside as Aaron dragged her toward a small lean-to. She had to run to keep from falling on her face in the blasted cloth slippers!

  “Where are you taking me?”

  “I’ll tell you where I’d like to take you,” he snapped.

  “And I’ll tell you where you can go,” she shot back. “You’re not my keeper!”

  He jerked the door and pushed her into a small shed that was dark and smelled of…cow! Before she knew what he was about to do, Aaron had found a length of twine and bound her hands like a Christmas goose. “Now stay here, and be quiet!” he ordered.

  “You jerk!”

  He strode out of the shed and slammed the door without so much as a backward glance.

  “Ooohhhhh!” She was mad enough to spit. How dare he tie her up in a smelly old shed and leave her there!

  She sat for a moment, trying to figure out what to do.

  Moooooo.

  She lifted her gaze to find a cow placidly chewing on a mouthful of hay, staring at her.

  “He thinks he can get away with this,” she seethed.

  Moooooo. The cow contentedly munched on hay, apparently agreeing.

  Ten minutes later Ashley had managed to loosen with her teeth the twine tied around her wrists. In the process she’d lost a hairpin, the cow had trampled it into a pile of manure, and she’d caught her skirt on a nail and it now had a jagged three-corner tear in the front. But it didn’t matter. She was free, and she’d love to see the look on the schmuck’s face when he came back and discovered that she had outsmarted him.

  Ashley snatched up her canvas bag and crept out of the shed. Luck was finally with her. A narrow lane ran behind the shed, and all she had to do was follow it back to town.

  After kicking off the tight slippers, she started off down the road at a brisk pace. It was still early, and few people were stirring. She had no idea where she was going, but she would not permit a man to treat her with such disrespect.

  She walked for over a mile before she dared to lessen her pace. The sun was up now, and the day promised to be a muggy one.

  Slogging along, head down, dejected, weary, and just plain exhausted, she swore to give up sauerkraut and pepperoni for the rest of her life.

  A man’s voice suddenly came to her from behind.

  “Well, well. And who might this be?”

  “A pretty young maid,” a second man’s voice answered.

  Ashley whirled, her heart slamming against her ribs as she discovered the source of the masculine voices.

  The first voice belonged to the incredibly handsome dragoon leading the mounted infantry; the second belonged to one of the fourteen British soldiers riding with him.

  Ashley’s heart dropped five stories. British soldiers. Fifteen of them. Dressed in the uniform of the English ordinary soldier, they stared back at her, but it was the captain leading the mounted infantrymen who commanded her rapt attention.

  The man sat upon his horse with a jaunty air that fairly shouted his importance. He wore a bright red frock coat, the skirt rakishly held back by the hilt of his sword, and knee britches. His black boots had been shined carefully, and the white gloves he held in his right hand were immaculate. He was quite a magnificent sight, this masculine specimen of over two hundred years ago.

  “Good morning, mistress,” he said with a slight nod. “I am Captain Benjamin Browning. Where might a maid such as yourself be going so early in the morning?” he asked.

  “I’m…”Ashley’s mind raced feverishly for a reason he would find plausible, “taking a walk,” she said, summoning up her most winning smile for him. “’Tis a splendid morning, isn’t it?”

  Captain Browning leaned easily on the pommel of his saddle. “It is rather early in the day for one so fair to be taking a walk, is it not?”

  Chapter Five

  “Well…I didn’t plan to walk this far.” Ashley turned, gazing about her with innocent confusion. “I don’t seem to know where I’ve wandered, kind sir.”

  His brow lifted with concern. “Mayhap you are lost?”

  She lifted her hand to her temple, pretending to be hopelessly mixed up. “Oh, dear, mayhap I am.”

  The men shifted in their saddles, exchanging amused looks. The untidy doxy was clearly from one of the local nunneries. A couple of the men chuckled as they viewed her dirt smudged face, flyaway hair, and tattered dress. Though winsome, this lovely one obviously commanded little coin for her skills.

  Thinking to tease her a bit, the captain leaned forward again, smiling. “Or mayhap you are a spy, and you are walking the back lanes to carry messages?” His eyes sparkled devilishly as his experienced eye measured her from head to toe.

  Ashley shook her head mutely.

  “No? Mayhap you’ve gained some bit of information from a British dragoon well into his cups?” the captain needled.

  Oh, Lord, he knew, Ashley thought hopelessly. She might as well be honest and just pray that she could gain his sympathy. “Well, no, I’m not a spy, but listen, I’ll be honest with you.

  I’m…I’m not just taking a walk, I’m trying to escape from someone,” she admitted.

  If she was in the protection of fifteen British soldiers, Aaron Kenneman wouldn’t dream of trying to recapture her.

  The captain’s smile faded slightly. “Oh?”

  “Yes, a—a doctor. Please.” She stepped forward, holding her hand out to him. “You must help me.”

  “You are trying to escape from a doctor?” he inquired.

  “Yes, and he’s an arrogant p
ig!” she snapped, shifting the strap of her bag higher on her shoulder.

  Fifteen sets of brows rose simultaneously this time.

  “A…pig?” the captain repeated.

  “You wouldn’t believe what a pig—but we don’t have so much time that we can stand here wasting it.” She glanced down the road. It was imperative that she remain calm and not say anything that would alert the soldiers to the fact that in some circles she was thought to be crazy, although she knew that it did sound strange that she was attempting to escape a doctor. Maybe she shouldn’t have told them that. “Uh…the man will be coming after me any minute now. We’ll have to hurry.”

  “This…doctor is holding you against your will?” the captain asked, his eyebrows climbing.

  “Listen.” Ashley thought that the captain looked like an understanding type. “I know I can’t explain this sensibly, but there was this small misunderstanding about my watch —the one my sister gave me for my birthday? It plays this silly little World War I song: I hate to get up, I hate to get up, I hate to get up in the morning…

  The captain nodded as if he’d heard the song.

  “Oh, you have heard it?”

  He glanced over his shoulder, flashing his men a wry smile. Turning back to Ashley, he nodded. “Of course. Please, go on.”

  Encouraged by his astute perception of her situation, Ashley continued. “Well, Rebecca really lost it. She started screaming and carrying on, accusing me of being a witch, and so…the… doctor,” Ashley carefully refrained from revealing Aaron’s name, realizing the soldier could still decide to hand her back to him, “he drags me out to this stinking shed, ties me up, and leaves me with a cow! Can you believe it?”

  The captain shook his head sympathetically. “You are Rebecca?”

  “No, my name is Ashley Wheeler. Rebecca is Hubert’s wife.”

  The captain nodded again as if he understood perfectly.

  “Can you just please call me a cab?” Ashley finished wearily.

  The captain turned to look at his men again.

  The men shrugged, then nodded charitably.

  The captain turned back to Ashley. After clearing his throat, he complied gruffly. “You are a…cab.”

  “What?”

  “You are a…cab.”

  “Oh…no, I mean…” Ashley froze, realizing the serious slip of the tongue she’d made. She wasn’t in twenty-first-century Boston, she was in eighteenth-century Boston, and these men had never heard of a cab!

  “I…meant to say, could you call me a…horse,” she amended quickly, knowing that sounded even more stupid, but she had to have some form of transportation to escape.

  The captain turned to look at his men again. This time their faces clearly indicated that this is where they drew the line. Daft or not, they were not going to call any woman a horse.

  “I’m afraid I am unable to assist you,” the captain said at last.

  “Then could you just take me with you, and drop me off at the first town we come to?” At least she would be safe from Kenneman, and would have more time to decide what to do.

  “Of course,” said the captain. “I’ll have one of my men take you wherever you wish to go.”

  “Oh, thank you!” So he didn’t think she was crazy after all.

  “Bennett, there is a jail nearby,” the captain said quietly. “See to the young lady’s comfort while she is escorted there.”

  “Yes, sir!”

  The captain lifted his hand, and the line of troops began moving forward.

  “Jail? No, wait a minute!” Ashley shouted to the captain’s retreating back. Why had she asked him to call her a cab? Where was her mind? Of course he would think she was crazy!

  “You’re a danger to yourself, my lovely, wandering about, babbling like a demented magpie,” he called.

  “No, listen to me, please!” she cried. “I’m telling you the truth! I’m having this crazy dream…you have to help me!”

  “The guards will find someone to assume responsibility for you,” he promised.

  Stunned, Ashley felt herself being lifted off the ground and placed on a horse behind one of the soldiers. Dear Lord, they were really going to put her in prison until someone came to claim her! And no one would ever come! Aaron would have no idea what had happened, and, even if he knew, there wasn’t a prayer he would come after her. Not after the trouble she’d caused.

  In all too short a time, the small infantry reached the jail. Ashley looked at the solidly built stone building with thick bars on the narrow windows, and she knew she was going to be sick.

  Clamping her hand over her mouth, she bolted toward the bushes, and, while the men looked on, she threw up.

  The soldiers wrinkled their noses, stoically trying to keep from gagging as they listened to the anguished heaves, strangled gasps, and muttered oaths coming from behind the bushes.

  Returning a moment later, Ashley, pale and shaken, marched past the white-faced men, determined to see this thing through.

  Captain Browning emerged from the prison a few minutes later followed by a surly looking fellow who smelled as if he hadn’t been near water in weeks.

  “This is the young woman. She says her name is Ashley Wheeler, though we can’t be certain. She babbles madness.” The captain’s eyes swept over Ashley’s pale face with regret. “’Tis a waste of womanhood, to be sure.”

  “My name is Ashley Wheeler, and I’m not crazy,” she insisted. “You can’t throw me in jail just because I was walking along a road.”

  “’Tis better to hold your tongue, woman!” Captain Browning commanded.

  “I will not! You have no jurisdiction over me. I am a United States citizen, not under British powers!”

  “Ah-ha! You are a colonial spy!”

  “No!” Ashley retorted warily. “I’m not a spy.”

  ‘Then what are you?”

  “Nuts,” she conceded. It was better that they think her crazy than a spy.

  “See how she babbles. I will leave her in your command,” the captain said to the jailer. “I will notify the authorities in case someone should be looking for her.”

  “’Tisn’t likely,” the jailer conceded. “But she can stay.”

  His beady eyes studied her from head to foot, and Ashley instinctively drew closer to the captain’s side.

  “You can’t leave me here with this…this man,” she whispered. “I don’t like the way he’s looking at me.”

  “There is nothing more that can be done with you,” Captain Browning said, tugging his cocked hat lower on his forehead. “Take her,” he directed the jailer.

  Ashley struggled to elude the jailer, but he pried her from the Tory’s grasp and marched her, screaming, into the prison.

  As the burly jailer pulled her inside the dank building, her senses were assaulted by myriad terrible sights, sounds and smells. Her feet slid on the slimy floor, and her stomach rolled.

  “I’m going to be sick again,” she warned.

  Laughing, the jailer snagged a ring of keys off a hook and unlocked a thick wooden door leading to a narrow passageway. After yanking her through the doorway, he dragged her along a small corridor where the darkness was broken by low-burning torches. There was the sound of wings fluttering overhead and tiny feet scurrying across the stone floor.

  Ashley’s heart was beating wildly as she stumbled along behind the jailer, her eyes growing wide as voices from dark cells called to her.

  Poor, tortured souls dragged themselves to their feet to peer through the narrow bars on the doors, their hands extending beseechingly to her.

  “Help me…help me…the voices pleaded weakly from the bowels of the blackened cells.

  At the end of the long row, the jailer unlocked a door and thrust Ashley inside. She cried out as she tumbled onto a pile of damp, dirty straw.

  “Oh, please, you can’t put me in here,” she pleaded.

  The jailer laughed, his round belly jiggling merrily. “If there be anything I can do to make y
ou more comfortable, just let me know, my lovely! Thomas Bulfoonery be at your service!”

  “No, please!” Ashley raced toward the door as it swung closed with a dull clang. Doubling up her fists and sobbing now, she beat on the heavy wood, but her hysteria only made the jailer laugh harder. He turned and walked away, leaving her in the darkness.

  A damp cold penetrated her body as she huddled on the straw. She closed her eyes, refusing to accept the fact that she was in an eighteenth-century prison. It couldn’t be, it just couldn’t be.

  Sounds closed in around her. Low moans, wailing, a man’s voice babbling gibberish in a nearby cell.

  After what seemed like hours, Ashley summoned enough strength to pull herself to a sitting position. She was thirsty. Her eyes located a wooden water bucket with a gourd dipper to one side, and she wondered how long it had been there. A filthy metal pot was set in the opposite side of the cell. Apparently, the pot was the only bathroom facility available.

  Ashley closed her eyes. Oh, please, she prayed. Just let me wake up. I’ll do anything. Anything. But when she opened her eyes, the same dismal sights confronted her.

  A squeak in the corner made her freeze. Rats, three of them, scampered across the floor, their red eyes watching her warily. Ashley leapt to her feet, pressing herself against the door. “Help! Help! There are rats in here!”

  A burst of laughter came from the cell opposite her. “Rats, you say? Then you’ll have meat for supper, my lovely!”

  The rats scurried into the cracks, but it was several minutes before Ashley could move. Rats. She shuddered.

  Spotting the tiny window, she edged her way around the cell, still pressed to the wall. Standing on tiptoe, she peered between the bars at the small court enclosed by stone walls. Her heart sank when she saw that the courtyard was empty.

  Wrapping her hands around the bars, she tried to pull herself up higher, hoping to catch a breath of fresh air. She was so out of shape! With a groan of disgust, she dropped back to the floor, heartsick. She swallowed a cough that persisted in tickling her throat. Great! All she needed now was a case of pneumonia.

  She glanced around and spied the water bucket again. After moving closer, she hesitantly peered inside. Three large, black, bloated bugs floated on top of the water.