Ashley winced, vowing she wouldn’t drink the water even if it meant she’d die of thirst. Not wanting to worsen the already deplorable conditions, she gingerly lifted the bucket with the tips of her fingers, and carried it to the window. A few seconds later she was drenched, but she had managed to fling most of the water through the bars.
Then she flipped the bucket upside down and climbed on it, welcoming the whisper of fresh air.
Laying her head on the wooden sill, she stared bleakly at the deserted courtyard. She should have stayed with that arrogant American patriot.
At least he smelled better than this wretched place.
****
Lunch arrived through the slot in the door. Ashley hurried to catch the bowl, but it fell to the floor with a noisy clatter.
“Woe is me! Guess you’ll wait till supper,” the jailer quipped, then burst out laughing as he moved to the next cell.
Ashley stared at the mess in disgust. Great. She was trapped in a nightmare with Howard Stern
The afternoon seemed unending. Ashley spent most of her time standing on the bucket at the window or sitting on the pile of straw filing her fingernails with the file she’d found in her bag. She tried to imagine the look on Aaron’s face when he’d returned to the shed and found her gone. She tried to imagine the look on her face when she’d encountered the British soldiers and realized what a fool she’d been for trying to escape.
The evening meal arrived, and Ashley was waiting for it. After she caught the bowl as it shot through the slot in the door, she turned up her nose. The meager fare looked to be even worse than whatever still lay on the floor from lunch.
Studying the thin gruel and thick slice of dark bread, she realized she would have to eat it. If she didn’t, she would become too weak to escape if the chance were to present itself—which it probably wouldn’t, but she had to be ready just in case.
Holding her nose, she lifted the spoon to her mouth. She wouldn’t think about what she was doing. Someone would come to rescue her.
Someone just had to.
Night fell, shrouding the cell in almost total darkness. Ashley lay huddled on the straw, exhausted, but too scared to close her eyes. She watched as the rats crept out of hiding to feast on the gruel splattered on the floor.
Exhausted, toward dawn she finally covered her face with her hands and sobbed, losing hope now. No one would come. She would die in this nasty hole, and there would be no one to even claim her body.
As dawn broke, a loud clatter brought Ashley upright. She looked about her, realizing that she must have dozed off. She absently scratched her arm and sniffled.
A ray of pale sunlight filtered through the bars as she got slowly to her feet. She scratched again, glancing down to find something crawling up her arm. Leaning closer to the light, she saw it was some sort of an insect.
Lice.
Jumping up and down, she tried to shake loose the vermin that had taken up residence in her skirt.
Screaming, she jumped harder and faster, realizing that the straw was infested with the tiny bugs.
By now she was making so much racket that the jailer heard her and came to investigate.
“What‘s going on in there?” a voice outside her door demanded harshly.
“Bugs! In my skirt!” Ashley cried.
“Make her be quiet, gov’nor!” a disgruntled voice whined from a nearby cell. “The wench be a bloody annoyance, she is!”
Ashley didn’t care if she was being a nuisance. She wasn’t living with lice! She stomped harder, prancing up and down, screaming.
“Be quiet in there!” the jailer ordered.
But Ashley couldn’t be quiet. She felt as if there were thousands of the tiny insects crawling on her. “Don’t just stand there, do something,” she yelled.
After unlocking the cell door, the jailer stepped inside. “I want it bloody quiet in here, do you understand!”
“I want a bath—a shower! Do you understand?”
The jailer left, then returned a moment later with a hand full of cord.
Realizing what he was about to do, Ashley started backing away. “Oh, no you don’t. You’re not going to tie me up!
The jailer smiled.
“You’d better not.” She pressed herself against the wall, watching warily as he started toward her.
He wouldn’t tie her up. He wouldn’t dare.
Late that afternoon, Ashley managed to struggle to her feet, heavy cord bound tightly around her wrists and ankles. If it wasn’t for the rag stuffed in her mouth, she’d scream her head off.
After hopping to the window, she peeked out between the bars again. The courtyard was still empty. She didn’t know what she hoped she’d find. The prison wasn’t exactly a hub of activity.
She was about to turn away when she suddenly heard voices. Standing on her tiptoes, she saw the jailer and Joseph Warren striding across the courtyard.
Joseph Warren, one of the men at the meeting! Spotting the medical bag he carried, she realized he must be there to attend to one of the prisoners.
Bouncing up and down, Ashley attempted to draw the physician’s attention.
“Dctor Warren! Doctor Warren!” Engrossed in conversation with the jailer, the doctor failed to hear her muffled cries. Look this way! Ashley agonized. “Doctor Warren! Doctor Warren!”
Oblivious, the doctor stepped through an entryway a moment later and disappeared.
Wilting with disappointment, Ashley tried to think. How was she going to make the doctor aware of her presence? She had to get out of there. Though it would probably mean being back in Aaron Kenneman’s care, anything would be an improvement over this rat and lice infested cage.
After hopping to the bucket, Ashley began to kick it toward the door of her cell with the tips of her toes. If Warren was here to treat a prisoner, then, with any luck, she might be able to attract his attention.
As she heard the sound of a door being unlocked and men’s voices as they came down the corridor, her feet worked faster. Hurry, hurry! They’re coming closer. Her feet dragged across the dirt floor as fast as the cord tightly binding her ankles would allow. The voices were very near now. The doctor would be approaching her cell any moment.
“Octor Warorjn!” Her face burned as she tried to be heard.
She dropped to her knees and worked the bucket upright with her nose.
Then she rolled to her feet, drew a deep breath, and lunged forward in a reckless attempt to hop on the bucket.
With a noisy clatter, the bucket went one way and her bound feet flew the other. “Ohd shoodt!” She rolled to her side, groaning. Just great. Now she’d broken her arm.
Warren’s stride slackened at the sounds of muffled cursing and frenzied thrashing coming from the end cell. He paused, frowning.
The jailer glanced irritably at Ashley’s cell. Why did he, Thomas Bulfoonery, have to be stuck with the idiots! “’Tis only the wench,” he told the doctor. “No need for alarm.”
“Is the poor soul in distress?” Warren asked.
“Nay, only a saucy halfwit.”
The two men continued down the corridor.
Warren was getting away! She had to stop him. Groaning, Ashley rolled to the door, banging her feet on the heavy wood, yelling “Octor Warorjn!”
Hesitating a second time, the doctor turned to look over his shoulder in the direction of the commotion. “I say, good man, are you certain the wench doesn’t need assistance?”
“Nay, only a sound thrashing, gov’nor.”
The doctor and jailer proceeded as the pounding grew more persistent.
“Octor Warorjn! Octor Warorjn! HeUhp meee! Pleadse!”
“Now see here!” The jailer lost all patience with the worrisome wench. He whirled on his heel, stalked back to Ashley’s cell, shoved the key into the door, and muttered, “The wench is nothing but a bloody nuisance!”
The door swung open, and Ashley nearly fainted with relief when she saw Joseph Warren staring down at her.
Recognizing her as the woman Aaron Kenneman was supposed to be watching, Warren looked aghast. “What is this woman doing here?” he snapped.
“She’s daft, Doctor, pay her no heed.”
“How long has she been here?”
“Only a spell,” the jailer replied, puzzled that the good doctor should inquire.
“Release this woman immediately!”
“Aye?”
“Release her. This woman isn’t daft,” Warren rebuked, pretending to be shocked by the man’s lack of compassion.
“She isn’t?”
“No!”
The jailer eyed Ashley suspiciously. “Then what be wrong with her?”
“Putrid fever.”
Ashley’s eyes widened. Putrid fever?
Bulfoonery viewed his ward suspiciously. “She don’t look feverish.”
“Are you a doctor?” Warren challenged.
“Nay, gov’nor.”
‘Then I would be well pleased if you would let me make the diagnosis.”
As he knelt beside her, Warren removed the rag from Ashley’s mouth, then reached into his bag.
“What are you going to do?” she hissed.
“Don’t say a word,” Warren whispered as he bent closer to peer into her eyes. “Yes…ummm…definitely putrid fever.”
“Ach, we’ll have an epidemic!” the jailer exclaimed. He backed into the hallway, his face a mask of horror.
Ashley remembered that spotted fever had been almost epidemic in Boston at one time. She struggled to recall how it was treated, but could not.
“I must purge her,” Warren announced. “And I must do it immediately.”
Purge? Purge! Oh, good Lord! “No!” she wailed, but Warren was already rummaging in his bag.
“Remain quiet,” he threatened in a low voice, “or I shall leave you here.”
“You wouldn’t dare…I’ll scream all I know about you and Kenneman and Revere—!”
Warren clamped his hand over her mouth. He had no doubt that she would. Even though she was considered daft, he could not afford to leave her there. If she babbled about the meeting and those in attendance, her words might strike a chord of truth with the wrong people. He could not permit that to happen.
In a louder voice, the doctor said, “This should do it.” Ashley watched wild-eyed as he poured a vile syrup from a brown bottle into a large tablespoon.
“This should make you feel better,” he soothed. Ashley’s stomach turned, and she clamped her mouth shut tightly.
‘Take it!” Dr. Warren warned.
Ashley’s mind raced. If I swallow that stuff, I’ll be sick as a dog. If I don’t…I’ll still be in jail and sick as a dog.
She opened her mouth, gagging as the doctor spooned the concoction down her throat. Whatever the medication was, it tasted worse than castor oil, worse than coal oil, worse than…She swallowed, wishing she were dead. Shuddering, she struggled to keep it down.
“That should do it,” Warren said, tossing the bottle and spoon into his black bag. After helping Ashley to her feet, the doctor smiled as he collected her bag. “I must move her to the pest house so the fever doesn’t spread.” Ashley’s head spun and her stomach lurched. Pressure to relieve herself of the vile syrup was building in her stomach. She wouldn’t have to pretend to be ill by the time Warren escorted her out of the jail. She was sick
The jailer’s keys jangled loudly as he snatched them from his belt. “Aye, Doctor. The sooner the better!”
“It would be wise to clear the halls to avoid anyone contracting the fever,” Warren advised.
“Aye, gov’nor, to be sure…but there be no one in the halls,” he said blankly.
‘Then stand back, my good man. ‘Tis a most infectious and nasty scourge,” he confided.
Minutes later the doctor emerged from the jail, escorting a pale-faced Ashley.
Warren hurriedly assisted Ashley into his buggy, then took his seat. He snapped the reins against his horse’s rump, and the carriage lurched forward. Ashley’s hand shot to her mouth and she glanced at him frantically.
‘Try to restrain yourself until we are safely down the road,” the doctor cautioned.
But they were only a few yards from the jail when she hung her head over the side and let go.
When the violent seizure finally passed, she struggled to right herself again.
The doctor, looking straight ahead, grinned.
“What was that horrible stuff you gave me?” She groaned weakly.
The doctor’s grin widened. “Puke.”
“Puke?” Ashley bolted to hang her head over the side again.
“Tis only a purge,” the doctor said cheerily. “You shall feel ill for a few hours, but I can assure you that you will live.”
Ashley leaned back, spent. That’s what she was afraid
of.
****
Lying limply back against the seat, Ashley watched the road roll by. They had been riding for over thirty minutes, but they didn’t seem to be getting anywhere.
“Why did you rescue me?” she finally asked.
“Because you are a danger to our plans. What has happened to Kenneman? Why are you not with him?”
“Dr. Kenneman tied me up in a cow shed—stop the buggy!” she suddenly demanded.
Warren pulled to the side of the road, and Ashley scrambled out of the carriage and headed for the bushes again.
Warren called after her. “Be quick about it—”
He broke off as the sound of a horse approaching at a gallop caught their attention.
Aaron rode up, reining his horse to a halt. “Warren, I have been looking for you!”
“And I can well imagine why,” Warren returned. “Are you missing something?”
“The woman.” Aaron’s face colored. “Have you seen her?”
“Mayhap I have.”
“Where?”
Warren nodded toward the bushes.
“Where did you find her?”
“I discovered our comely spy in the jail.”
‘The jail!”
“’Tis a lengthy tale that can be explored later. I’m taking her to Church in belief that he will be capable of restraining her until a decision about her fate can be decided.”
“He’ll need God’s speed,” Aaron grumbled.
Ashley heard a squeak of leather and the sound of someone walking through the weeds toward her, but she couldn’t have moved if her life depended on it. She lay supine on the grass, staring glassy-eyed at the clear blue sky.
“Ashley?”
She managed to open one eye a narrow slit and found a familiar pair of pewter-gray eyes looking down on her. “So, we meet again.”
“Yeah, how about that.” She rolled to her side, holding her stomach.
“Are you ill?”
“I’m dying,” she croaked.
“What happened?”
“Ask Dr. Frankenstein.”
Aaron frowned. “Who?”
Ashley motioned feebly toward the buggy.
“What’s the matter with her?” he called to Warren.
“In order to remove her from the jail, I had to convince the jailer that she had putrid fever. To make it convincing, I gave her a puke.”
“You gave her puke?” Aaron whistled sympathetically. “’Tis a powerful purge.”
“There was no alternative. It was imperative that she be moved without arousing suspicion.”
Ashley opened one eye. Was that a chuckle she heard? “I gave her only a half dose,” Warren called again. Half dose?
“Are you all right?” Aaron leaned forward, touching her forehead to make sure she wasn’t feverish.
“No, I’m sick!”
“Can you sit up?”
“No,” she whispered, afraid he was going to insist.
“Warren, Church isn’t home. I saw him on the road to Lexington early this morning,” Aaron called.
Church. Ashley tried to think. Why did that name trouble her?
>
“Then what shall we do with her?” Warren asked.
After drawing a long breath, Aaron released it slowly. “I’ll assume responsibility for her again.”
“You tried that once. It didn’t work.”
“I will be more alert this time.”
“You want this responsibility?”
Aaron stared at Ashley determinedly. He was not going to let a little slip of a wench best him. “Go about your business, Warren. The wench will be safe with me.”
“Very well.” Warren picked up the reins, eager to have the woman off his hands. The carriage started off, then paused. Ashley’s bag suddenly came sailing out the side, and she heard it plop into the grass. “She’ll be wanting this,” Warren predicted. “I don’t know what she has in it, but it weighs more than a plump turkey.”
Ashley groaned, rolling back to her side as his buggy headed off down the road.
Aaron Kenneman might be a brute, but at least he hadn’t poisoned her yet.
“Come on,” Aaron urged quietly. “Sit up and sip this.”
“What is it?” Ashley asked warily.
“Just water. Try some.”
“I can’t. I’m dying.”
A smile touched the corners of his eyes as he smoothed back the damp tendrils sticking to the sides of her face. “You’re not dying.”
She took a small sip, then lay back in the grass with her arm across her eyes. A moment later she protested as she felt him lifting her upright again. “No…please…”
“Sit up.”
“No, let me die in peace.”
“Sit up, Ashley.”
She finally managed to open her eyes and found to her surprise that the world wasn’t spinning so badly.
“Open your mouth.”
She drew back. “Not on your life!”
After grasping her chin, he spooned the liquid into her mouth. “It’s only pennyroyal. It will settle your stomach.”
“It isn’t puke?” she asked gratefully.
“No. You’ll feel better in a little while.”
For once, Ashley believed him; she couldn’t feel any worse.
Chapter Six
Where are we going this time?” Ashley clung to Aaron’s coattail as the horse trotted through the countryside. She was sucking the piece of peppermint he’d given her.
Forever Ashley Page 9
