Forever Ashley

by Lori Copeland

  “Time grows short. We must listen to her,” Aaron returned gravely.

  The men’s eyes now focused on Ashley. She could see by the somber expressions on their faces that they were willing to try to make sense of what she said.

  “According to your history books, what do we do now?” Aaron felt the question was absurd, yet if she spoke the truth, her knowledge could give the colonists an edge they would not otherwise have.

  “Paul must ride through the towns and villages warning the citizens to arm themselves,” she said. “He will do this as he rides to Lexington to make sure that Hancock and Adams have been properly notified.”

  “And me?”

  “I don’t know about you,” she admitted. “For the life of me, I can’t remember anything about you—although the history books don’t name all of Revere’s friends and associates.”

  She winced as she saw the crestfallen look on his face. “Nothing about me?”

  She shook her head. “Nothing…that I can remember.”

  “Oh.”

  Ashley could see that she had severely wounded his male ego.

  “If she speaks the truth, I should be on my way,” Revere said. “Gage’s troops grow near?”

  Ashley nodded. “But don’t worry: you’ll complete the mission in time.”

  Paul glanced at Aaron solemnly. “I hope she knows what she’s talking about.”

  “The hour grows late,” Aaron returned. “We have little choice but to believe her.”

  “How will the British attack? By land or by water?” Paul asked. “If we must divide our forces…”

  Aaron glanced at Ashley.

  “Water, but I can’t tell you anymore,” she told Paul, “or history will be altered.”

  “By water?” Paul asked again.

  She nodded.

  “Then we must have a messenger,” he decided. “Someone to watch the movements of the troops.”

  “Activity on the road this late at night will cause suspicion.” Aaron began to pace again.

  “Yes.” Paul fell into step with him. “And if we ring the church bells, the British will know something is amiss.”

  The men glanced at Ashley, but she only shrugged. “I’d really like to help, but I’m afraid you have to figure it out on your own.”

  Aaron’s brow lifted imperiously. “You are not willing to help us?”

  “I saw Back to the Future. If I say anything, then…”

  Ignoring her prattle, he added wearily, “History will be changed.” The two men cupped their chins.

  Aaron suddenly paused, turning to her again. “But will you inform us if we make the wrong decision?”

  “I think I could do that.” She felt she was pretty safe there. They had made the right decisions. History affirmed that.

  Satisfied she would do what she could, Aaron resumed pacing. “Paul, you’ll get a boat and row across the Charles to where the Somerset lays,” he directed.

  “I know we have spoken of this before, Aaron, but I was in Lexington last Sunday, at the Reverend Mr. Clark’s house? On my return I passed through Charlestown, where I had opportunity to speak with Colonel Conant and others. They were apprehensive that should this very event occur, it would be difficult for a messenger to cross the Charles River. They suggested that we devise a signal in case of trouble.”

  “Of course, a signal.” Aaron’s pace quickened. “If the British come by water—which Ashley says they will—”

  “I didn’t mean to let that slip,” Ashley defended quickly.

  “But you did. We will show three lanterns in the North Church steeple—”

  Ashley cleared her throat.

  “If they come by land, then we’ll show two lanterns.”

  Ashley cleared her throat again, a little louder this time.

  Aaron’s footsteps slowed as he turned to look at her.

  She shook her head.

  “That’s wrong?”

  She nodded.

  “What is it?”

  She shook her head again.

  “You can’t say?”

  She nodded.

  “Tarnation!” He resumed his pacing, then whirled to face her again. “Am I close?”

  She nodded.

  “Three lanterns by land, two by sea?”

  She shook her head.

  “One by land, three by sea?”

  She shook her head, smiling lamely.

  “One by sea, two by land!”

  She shook her head harder.

  “Three by sea, two by land?” Paul supplied, but again she shook her head.

  “Two by water, one by land!” the men parroted in exasperated unison.

  She grinned, nodding enthusiastically.

  “What difference does it make?” Aaron exploded.

  “A lot of difference!” Ashley defended. “History will be changed.”

  “We can delay no longer,” Paul warned. He moved to leave, and Aaron followed him.

  Ashley was suddenly seized with panic. What if Aaron never came back? What if he was killed as he tried to assist Paul? She had struggled all day to remember every shred of history she’d ever read about Paul Revere’s famous ride. Try as she might, she couldn’t recall ever reading a single thing about Dr. Aaron Kenneman.

  Fear coded itself around her heart as she tried to convince herself that history books didn’t record everything. But history books did record that two-hundred-forty-seven Englishmen, and eighty-eight colonists lost their lives in the first shots fired in the Revolutionary War.

  Tears stung her eyes as she watched Aaron preparing to leave. Oh, please, she prayed. Don’t let him be one of the eighty-eight who died.

  “I’m sorry, Ashley.” Aaron’s voice broke into her troubled thoughts. “You will have to come with us.”

  “Where?” Ashley said, automatically reaching for her bag.

  “I can’t leave you here,” Aaron said quietly. “You will be at risk when news of the attack spreads.”

  Ashley numbly slipped her arms into the coat that he was holding for her. Now she was going to become a participant in the Revolutionary War?

  Aaron extinguished the lantern, and the three slipped out the front door a few minutes later. Bright moonlight lit the now empty pathway as they mounted the horses.

  “I will go to North Church and see that the lanterns are lit. You can go by the house and let Rachel know where you’re going,” Aaron called.

  Picking up the reins of his horse, Paul sighed. “I won’t be long. I want to change my boots, and Joshua seems feverish tonight. Rachel’s concerned that he is developing a raw throat again.”

  “Would you like for me to examine him?”

  “I don’t think it’s necessary. You know how Rachel frets. Mayhap tomorrow, if the boy isn’t feeling better by morning.”

  Tinning the horse, Paul’s gaze met Aaron’s in the moonlight. “Mistress Wheeler could keep Rachel company while we’re gone.”

  “I want her in my protection,” Aaron returned gravely.

  Ashley tightened her hold on his waist gratefully. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  If anything was going to happen to him, she wanted to be there. She knew CPR and other life-saving procedures from a first aid course she’d taken a few months earlier. In an emergency, she might be able to save his life.

  Turning the horse, Paul muttered, “’Twould be easier if we knew Gage’s plans.”

  “I told you, he’s after the supply depot in Concord,” Ashley blurted without thinking again.

  “The fool,” Paul muttered.

  “And he wants Adams and Hancock,” she added, though she felt guilty for helping them. But she couldn’t stand by and let Aaron be hurt.

  Turning slightly in the saddle, Aaron winked at her. “But, alas, Gage will find nothing but a bum full of musket balls.”

  Ashley grinned.

  “Am I right?”

  She just grinned again.

  The three rode hard under the cover of darkness.


  “Three if by sea, two if by land,” Revere would call occasionally over his shoulder.

  “No, one if by land, two if by sea,” Ashley would call back, wishing like blue blazes he could remember the proper signal!

  At the crossroads, the horses turned and galloped off in different directions. Revere detoured toward his house while Ashley and Aaron continued to the Old North Church.

  A light was burning in the window as Paul rode into his yard.

  The door flew open, and Rachel, in her nightgown, bounded down the steps. “Paul, I’ve been worried about you!”

  “I’m sorry, love.” After dismounting, Paul kissed her absently. Arm in arm they started toward the house. Paul failed to see Elizabeth’s wagon, and he caught himself as he nearly stumbled over the toy.

  As he righted himself, his boot came down on the wooden cow he’d made for Joshua, and he went to his knees. His ankle twisted painfully, and he muttered a sharp obscenity under his breath.

  Rachel sent him a reprimanding look as they hurried toward the house. “Your language, Paul!”

  “I have told those children a hundred times not to string toys around the yard! If they must play with everything they own, make them keep them in the backyard!”

  “Yes, dear.” Noting the urgency in his steps, Rachel become worried. “Has something happened?”

  “Come inside,” Paul murmured. “Time is of the essence.”

  Rachel’s brow furrowed as she followed her husband into the house.

  A moment later Paul rushed out the door again, pulling his coat on.

  “How long will you be gone?” Rachel called as she tried to keep stride with him. By now most of the children were awake, some pressing their noses against the windows, others trailing after their father, babbling incessantly.

  “I’m not sure, dear—watch the dog! Mortimer—” Before Paul could finish the dog had bounded out of the house and struck off down the road.

  “Oh, dear, Paul! Mortimer is out again,” Rachel called to Paul Jr.

  “Mortimer!” Paul snapped his fingers. “Get back in there, boy!”

  Mortimer paused only momentarily, then turned and bounded off in the opposite direction again.

  A grumpy Paul Jr. appeared in the doorway, trying to rub the sleep from his eyes.

  “Get Mortimer back in the house,” Paul called.

  Paul Jr. yawned. “I’ll fetch him, Papa.”

  Patting little Joshua’s head, Paul sidestepped him only to stumble over Elizabeth as she headed back to her wagon. “You children be good,” he called. “Mind your mother!”

  The confusion had awakened all the children by now, and they poured out of the house to tell their father goodbye. It was several minutes before Paul could kiss them all and get on his way again.

  “You be careful,” Rachel fretted as she helped to push him back up into the saddle.

  “I’ll be fine,” he promised. He leaned down and kissed her, then gave her braid an affectionate tug. “Keep my side of the bed warm, Momma.”

  After turning his horse, he galloped out of the yard, clapping his hand to his hat, coattails flying.

  Aaron and Ashley were just returning from the church when the three met up on the road again.

  Dust fogged the air as they pulled the horses to a halt.

  “How is John?” Ashley asked.

  Paul looked completely blank for a moment. “I forgot to ask.”

  “Time is passing swiftly,” Aaron cautioned. “We must be on our way.”

  “I have a boat hidden near Charlestown ferry,” Paul supplied, “but I will need someone to row me across.”

  “I can row you across.” Aaron lifted the reins and was about to be off again when Ashley called to him.

  “No, you can’t.”

  The two men glanced at Ashley.

  “History doesn’t record it that way,” she said meekly.

  Aaron thought for a moment. “Why can’t I row him across?”

  “Because…” She prompted their response with her fingers.

  “Because…I’m not mentioned in the history books?” Aaron guessed.

  She shook her head no.

  He thought for another moment. “Because…someone else did?”

  She smiled.

  “Who?”

  She held up her finger. “Temper, temper.”

  “We don’t have time to play games!”

  Paul shook his head, marveling at how the two could cross swords so often.

  “Please, friend, let me try.” Paul cleared his throat, accustomed to dealing with a woman. “Aaron can’t row me across, but someone else can?”

  Ashley nodded.

  “David and Henry live not far from here. I can have them row me across,” Paul said simply.

  The two men glanced back to Ashley, and to their relief, she nodded.

  A short time later, four horses and five riders galloped toward the dock near Charlestown ferry where Paul’s small boat was kept hidden in the shadows. The small craft bobbed in the water as the riders came to a stop.

  A bright moon was hanging overhead as the four men and one woman viewed the large English transport lying in the harbor.

  “It’s the Somerset,’’ Ashley whispered reverently. Aaron’s grave gaze fixed on the English man-of-war. “That it is.”

  “Is it armed?”

  “You tell me.”

  She sighed. “It is. Sixty-four guns.”

  Aaron glanced at the moon, disturbed to find it so bright. Paul would have to row right by the British ship to reach the other side.

  Paul muttered, “I meant to bring a cloth to wrap around the oars to muffle the sound. I left the house in such a hurry, I forgot to get one.”

  He muttered again a few moments later. “I’ve run off without my spurs too!”

  Henry nudged Aaron, winking knowingly. “Doesn’t Abigail Watson live just down the road?”

  Ashley glanced up and frowned when she saw Henry and Aaron grinning at each other. “Who’s Abigail Watson?”

  Aaron’s face sobered immediately. “No one.”

  “No one?”

  “Just a woman I know,” he said easily.

  “Another ‘widow’ woman?”

  The four men chuckled uneasily.

  “Aaron, why don’t you see if Abigail has something we can wrap around the oars?” Paul said with just a hint of a grin still lingering at the corners of his mouth.

  As Aaron returned to his horse, Ashley followed him. After swinging into the saddle, he glanced down to find her standing there looking at him. “I’ll be back momentarily.”

  She smiled nicely. “I’ll go with you.”

  “It isn’t necessary.” He paused as guilt flooded his face. “Do the history books mention Abigail?”

  “Not by name.”

  “Oh.” He finally offered his hand and lifted her onto the horse behind him. Moments later they galloped off down the road.

  “Who is this Abigail Watson?” she asked, trying to make herself heard above the thunder of hooves.

  “Just a friend.”

  “How good a ‘friend’?”

  A smile curved the corners of his mouth. “Does it matter?”

  Ashley was surprised to realize that it did. She had known Aaron Kenneman only days, but she was beginning to think of him as hers.

  “How much are you going to tell her?” Ashley whispered as they crept around the corner of Abigail Watson’s house a short while later.

  “As much as I need to.”

  “How do you know she won’t run to the British?”

  “She won’t.”

  “You seem to know your ‘friend’ well.”

  She could see his wry grin in the moonlight. She reached out and punched him soundly.

  Stooping down, Aaron selected several small stones, straightened, and tossed them at a second-story window that glowed with a faint light.

  “Is this Abigail’s bedroom?” she mocked.

  �
��Has anyone ever told you that you talk too much?” He picked up another handful of stones and tossed them at the window again. A moment later, the window was thrown open and a pretty young woman poked her head out.

  “Aaron! You goose! Why are you standing out there? Come in, darlin’.”

  Aaron started forward, but Ashley latched on to the back of his coat. “Hold it, ‘goose,’” she threatened. “You’re here on business. Remember?”

  “I can’t stay, Abby,” he called back with more regret in his voice than Ashley thought necessary. Stepping from the shadows, Ashley eased closer to him so that Abigail would be sure to see her.

  “Then why be bothering me so late, darlin’?” Abigail’s pretty features grew petulant as she spotted the young woman standing with Aaron.

  “I need a favor,” Aaron called.

  “Of course. Anything…you know that.”

  “Just anything, you silly ol’ goose. You know that.” Ashley smirked under her breath.

  “Jealous?” he returned under his breath before he lifted his head to Abigail. “A friend and I must cross the river, but we need something to muffle the oars. Some kind of cloth?”

  “A cloth?”

  Ashley punched him in his side.

  “I’m in a bit of a hurry,” he added.

  Abigail hurriedly stepped out of her petticoat and pitched it out the window. “Will this do?”

  Catching the garment in his hand, Aaron grinned. “Thank you—”

  His words caught in his throat as Ashley jerked his arm and turned him firmly back in the direction of his horse.

  When they arrived back at the boat, Paul was still muttering to himself about leaving his spurs behind.

  “‘Twould make the ride easier if I had the blasted things,” he complained.

  “I could ride back and get them for you,” David offered.

  “No, we haven’t the time.”

  Mortimer suddenly came into view, loping down the road, his tongue hanging out in a heavy pant.

  “Mortimer!” Paul stood up in the small boat, a smile breaking across his face. “Quick, a pen and paper.”

  “For what?” David asked.

  “I need to send Rachel a note.”

  Ashley fumbled in her canvas bag and came up with bank deposit slip and a ballpoint pen, which she quickly handed to Paul.

  Paul gazed at the strange implement, then hurriedly scribbled a note and tied it around the dog’s neck. “Go home, Mortimer. Home, boy!”