The dog whirled and was off again, racing back down the road with seeming purpose now.
“Will he mind?”
“On rare occasions.” Paul only hoped this was one of them.
Handing the pen back to Ashley, Paul viewed the blobs of black ink staining his fingers.
“Sorry,” Ashley murmured when she saw his blank dismay. “I forgot it leaks.”
Aaron and Paul busied themselves tearing Abigail’s flannel petticoat into strips, then tying the pieces around the oars.
Ashley watched for Mortimer’s return, praying the dog understood the importance of his mission.
Twenty minutes passed, and the dog failed to return.
“I can linger no longer,” Paul whispered. Reaching out, he took Aaron’s hand. “Wish me luck, friend.”
The two men shook hands. “Godspeed, Paul.”
“Thank you, good friend. I’ll need it.”
Aaron pushed the small boat out into the water with Paul, Henry, and David aboard.
“I surely do wish I had my spurs,” Paul muttered as Henry and Paul began rowing away from the bank.
Ashley suddenly spotted Mortimer coming back down the road, running like the wind.
“Wait!” Ashley whispered. “Here comes Mortimer!”
“Mortimer! Good dog!” Revere whispered jubilantly.
Two minutes later Mortimer bounded up to the group with Paul’s spurs tied to the strap around his neck.
“Bless you, Mortimer!” Paul cried out softly.
Aaron knelt and removed the spurs and hurriedly tossed them to Revere.
Paul caught them, smiling. “Mistress Wheeler?”
“Yes?”
“Do the history books mention my dog?”
Ashley grinned. “Yes!”
“That’s nice,” she heard Aaron grumble. “I’m risking my skin for a cause, and history’s never heard of Aaron Kenneman, just Mortimer, Revere’s dog.”
Chapter Eleven
The sound of the oars cutting through the water began to fade.
Ashley and Aaron stood arm and arm, watching the small boat holding the three men skim across the moonlit water.
When a few minutes had passed and Aaron had not spoken, Ashley squeezed his arm. “You want to be with them, don’t you?”
Disappointment tinged his voice now. “I have planned for a very long time to be a part of this night.”
Laying her head on his shoulder, Ashley focused her eyes on the English vessel. “You know, if we could find another boat we could follow them,” she said.
He turned, hope springing to his eyes. “It would not alter history?”
“Not if we keep a safe distance. We can stay behind Paul, and if he should run into any trouble, you can be there to run interference.”
“This ‘run interference’? What does this mean?”
“It’s sort of a football term—do you know anything about football?”
“I have heard of the game.”
“As long as you don’t directly interfere with Paul’s ride—”
“I would not interfere,” he interrupted shortly. “I have helped shape the events of this night.”
“I know.” She patted him reassuringly again. “Do you know someone who can lend us a boat?”
“Yes.”
“Someone nearby?”
“Yes.”
“Then let’s go, Kenneman. We have a very important ride to make.”
“I might have known,” Ashley complained as they climbed into the small boat a short time later.
The nearby “friend” had turned out to be yet another one of Aaron’s female acquaintances. Molly Rahaus had proved only too eager to be of assistance to the handsome young doctor.
“Petticoats and boats—what a woman won’t do for a man,” Ashley groused.
Aaron caught her waist as her foot slipped, nearly dumping her into the water.
Ashley seated herself on the board seat directly behind him as he picked up the oars then pushed the boat away from the bank. “How many women ‘friends’ can one man have?”
“I can only answer for myself.”
“And that is?”
“Not nearly enough.” He winked and grinned at her.
Ashley watched the tight ridge of muscles in his forearms as he began to cut the oars through the water noiselessly.
A hoot owl called and Ashley scooted forward anxiously wrapping her arms around his waist, she closed her eyes, holding on to him tightly.
“’Tis only an owl,” he consoled.
“’Tis a loud one!” she whispered back. Resting her head on his back, back used twice, change one she sighed. “I know this is going to sound crazy, but at times I almost wish I wasn’t dreaming.” Her arms settled more possessively around his waist.
“At what times are those?” he asked.
“Times like now.”
“What is tempting about this hour? We are in a small boat, praying to get by an English man-of-war before we are blown out of the water. Seems an unlikely event to relish.”
Snuggling closer, she hugged him tighter. “I know, but even though we are in danger, I enjoy being with you, and I suspect that even if you are troubled about who I say I am, you have enjoyed me.”
She had seen the way he listened with rapt interest when she talked about some event or amazing medical occurrence in the twenty-first century.
Noting the way he stiffened at her remark, she whispered, “What’s wrong?”
“What you said…it is improper.”
“What?” Ashley tried to think what she might have said to offend him.
“That you…enjoy me,” he murmured. “’Tis not true.”
“But, I do.”
“’Tis not true,” he snapped. “I have acted as a gentleman—no matter what the circumstance!”
“I didn’t say you hadn’t.”
“You did. You said that I have enjoyed you, and you me—and…we haven’t.”
“You don’t like me?”
“Like you? Yes. Enjoy you? I have not—although I do not find the thought disagreeable,” he admitted.
She frowned. “You don’t find the thought of enjoying me disagreeable?”
“’Tis not the thing a man speaks of with a lady,” he bristled.
“Wait a minute.” It suddenly dawned on Ashley that they’d hit another communication gap. “Exactly what does ‘enjoy’ mean—to an eighteenth-century man?” Aaron continued to row, his jaw set tightly. “It means…What does it mean to a twenty-first century woman?”
“It means to have a good time or to take pleasure in. What does it mean to you?”
“It means—well, to a man it means that he…enjoys his wife.”
“He should.”
“Physically.”
“Oh.” She grinned. “Well, he should.” Wriggling closer to him, she rather liked the thought that he wouldn’t find “enjoying” her all that bad.
“Stop wiggling, wench. You’ll dump us both in the river.”
“I was just thinking”—she deliberately made her breath warm against his ear now—“that being out here with you is really quite romantic.”
“We are on a grave mission. There is no time for…this.” He squirmed as she hugged him closer.
“But this doesn’t take much time, and it’s so…tempting, wouldn’t you say? The river, the moonlight…”
“The British waiting to level us with their cannon,” he returned dryly.
“Being here with you,” she continued. “Moonlight always makes me…feel romantic, doesn’t it you?” She smiled when she felt him tense again. “Am I making you nervous?”
“I am not accustomed to having a woman be so—”
“Forward?”
“Yes.”
Sighing, Ashley shifted back to her seat as Aaron resumed rowing. If circumstances were different, she’d show him how daring a twenty-first century woman could really be.
“Stay well to the right of the ship,�
� she whispered.
“’Twould be easier to go to the left.”
“No, to the right. I can see men standing on the left side of the ship,” she murmured.
A man’s voice carried occasionally on the air, and the smell of pipe tobacco came to her.
Silence filled the small boat as the English man-of-war loomed closer. Since there was nothing in the history books about either her or Aaron, she wasn’t at all sure how this spontaneous little outing would turn out.
After lifting the oars from the water, Aaron rested them on the sides of the boat, allowing it to drift silently beneath the bow of the Somerset.
Holding her breath, Ashley shut her eyes and prayed that fate was as committed to keeping history intact as she was.
She was practically certain that history hadn’t mentioned the man-of-war firing on anybody…or almost certain.
The small boat bobbed along, slamming lightly across the water as it sailed past the English ship.
When they were safely on the other side, Ashley wilted with relief. “Bingo!” she whispered.
“Bingo?”
“Never mind.”
Grinning, they exchanged a brief victory kiss.
“Good job, Kenneman!”
‘The credit goes to you, Mistress Wheeler. You’re an excellent navigator!”
Their gazes suddenly locked in the moonlight.
“Like you, Mistress Wheeler, I suddenly find myself wishing that we were sharing more than what you claim is only a dream,” he said softly.
“Ditto, Dr. Kenneman, a big ditto.”
Paul and the two other men were just pulling their small craft onto shore when they heard Aaron and Ashley approaching.
They called softly to Paul, who was just starting to climb the steep ravine. Turning, he quickly made his way back to the shoreline.
“What are you doing here?” Paul asked.
Aaron helped Ashley out of the boat, then turned to Paul. “I will stay close behind you, for I cannot let you make this ride without my protection.”
Paul glanced at Ashley. “Can he do this?”
Ashley nodded. “We’ll be nearby if you need us.”
“Then we must be off,” Paul whispered.
Aaron stepped forward, his features grave as the two men’s eyes met.
“If anything should happen…”
“Rachel and the children will be cared for,” Aaron returned quietly. “Ride well.”
“This night we begin our fight for freedom.”
“And fight we will.”
The men shook hands again, then bidding the others goodbye, Paul, Aaron, and Ashley scaled the ravine, then struck off down the road on foot. When they’d gone about a mile, Ashley and Aaron dropped back, leaving Paul to proceed to Charleston alone.
Within a few minutes, lanterns came into view. Paul quickly proceeded to a white clapboard house where a man was waiting in the shadows with a horse saddled and ready to travel.
“I have seen the signal in the church.” Colonel Conant stepped out of the shadows and handed Paul the reins of the horse. “The redcoats come by sea?”
Paul nodded.
“’Tis what we have feared,” he breathed.
“The British are on their way to Concord to destroy supplies and take Adams and Hancock. I must rouse the countryside,” Paul gathered the reins.
“Of course. God’s speed, my good man.”
“I will need two more swift horses,” Revere requested as he mounted.
Colonel Conant hurried away and returned awhile later leading the horses.
Pointing to Ashley and Aaron, Paul tipped his hat, then whirled and was off in a fast gallop.
Five minutes later Ashley was warily eyeing the black gelding she was to ride. The animal looked hostile to her, and she wasn’t crazy about the thought of keeping company with him for the next few hours.
“I can’t ride this thing,” she declared.
“There is little choice unless you ride with me,” Aaron whispered as he swung into his saddle.
Ashley thought about the harrowing rides she’d taken with him lately and suddenly the horse didn’t look so menacing.
“I’ve never ridden alone before,” she warned as she tried unsuccessfully to hook her foot into the stirrup.
“Then ’tis a good time to begin, wouldn’t you say?” He looked at her and grinned as she danced around, struggling to hoist herself aboard the beast.
Grunting, she finally heaved herself into the saddle. Glancing at Aaron, her face flushed with victory. “I guess it ’tis, pilgrim.”
“Pilgrim?”
“That’s my John Wayne impersonation.” He was about to open his mouth when she stopped him. “John Wayne was one of the best cowboys that ever rode the big screen, pilgrim.”
This time he didn’t even bother to ask.
Ashley managed to find the reins, which Conant had thoughtfully tied over the horse’s neck.
“How do I make him turn?” She studied the bridle as if it were a long, repulsive black snake dangling across the saddle.
“If you want him to go right, pull the reins to the right. If left, pull to the left. Kick his sides to go, and pull back evenly on the reins to stop.”
“Oh, sure thing.” Ashley lifted the reins gingerly. Right, right. Left, left. Brakes, pull back.
“Ready?”
“No.” Ashley moaned as they started off at a bone-jarring trot. But by that time, it didn’t matter. They were off.
****
For the first mile, Ashley’s horse contentedly loped along behind Aaron’s. Managing to sit up straighter in the saddle, Ashley decided that this wasn’t going to be so bad. It wasn’t going to take her long to get the hang of it.
But five minutes later, she was forced to amend her optimistic view. She was in trouble. Big trouble. The stirrups were too long, and she had difficulty staying in the saddle. With each bounce, she slid sideways, which seemed to annoy the horse. In retaliation, he tossed his head and made strange whinnying noises that in turn annoyed her.
Just when she was convinced that she would be able to keep up, Aaron would kick his mount into a faster canter. There was nothing she could do but follow, her teeth jarring with every hoof beat.
By the time they’d ridden a half hour, it was all she could do to hang on to the saddle, keep hold of the reins, and attempt to keep her feet in the stirrups. By this time, her thighs were raw, her ankles bruised and bleeding from being beaten by the wooden stirrups, and her feet and calves locked in one long painful cramp from the unnatural strain.
Turning to glance over his shoulder at her, Aaron grinned. “Are you okay?”
“Fine,” Ashley muttered, losing all hope now that she would ever bear children. “Just peachy.”
“Well, bear up, ‘pilgrim,’ ” he called. “We have a long ride ahead of us!”
The horses continued their rapid pace. The night was pleasant with the moon climbing high above them in a diamond-studded sky.
Just outside Charleston Neck, Aaron suddenly reined his horse to the side of the road. Straight ahead of Paul, he could faintly detect two men on horseback sitting under a tree. He watched, wondering if Paul had spotted the two riders.
Trotting up beside him, Ashley pulled back on the reins, trying to halt her mount. “Whoa…whoa…whoa!”
Aaron turned to look at her, scowling. “Mistress Wheeler, your shouting is distressing.”
“You want to talk distressing? Ride this nag for ten minutes, then we’ll talk distressing.”
Aaron turned back to watch as Paul galloped closer to the horsemen hidden in the shadows.
Suddenly one of the riders sprang out ahead of Revere, while the other attempted to overtake him from behind.
Swinging around, Paul raced back toward Charlestown Neck with the two men in hot pursuit on his tail.
Aaron caught the flash of a red coat as he spurred his mount into action. Groaning, Ashley held on for her life as her horse broke into a ga
llop to follow.
The two English officers rode hard, but Revere managed to outmaneuver them as they sped along the moonlit countryside.
“Slow down,” Ashley shouted as her horse rounded a bend at breakneck speed. Her fingers dug into his mane as she hung on, reciting prayers.
“Keep up!” Aaron shouted over his shoulder. After lifting his pistol, he fired at the officers who were in a close race with Revere now. The shot rang out in the darkness, then another.
“Oh, Lord!” Ashley closed her eyes tightly and hung on. “Yea, though I walk through the valley of death I shall fear no evil….forget that! Yes, I do! Help me!”
A pond sprang into view directly in Paul’s path, but his horse never broke stride. Paul nimbly reined his mount around the perimeter of the muddy water and raced on.
Pulling their horses to a standstill, Ashley and Aaron broke out laughing as they watched the two English officers plow straight into the water.
Swearing and flinging hot accusations at one another, the officers fumed as they found themselves sitting waist deep in mud.
As Aaron and Ashley rode past them a moment later, the two men were still trying to pry each other free of the muck.
Chapter Twelve
By the time the riders approached the next town, Ashley was ready to shoot the horse she was riding. Each time Aaron glanced back to make sure she was following, she smiled gamely and pretended she was just fine, but she had gained a new respect for those old-time western stars Roy Rogers and Dale Evans.
If those two could stay in a saddle for eight hours a day and still sing “Happy Trails to You,” they had her undying admiration.
As they rode through the night, Paul dashed down the narrow lanes, calling out the alarm to each farmhouse he came to until a light appeared in a window.
Ashley sighed with relief when she saw the small wooden sign into which the name, MEDFORD, had been crudely carved. The men would surely stop here to catch their breath for a moment, she thought.
Her horse slowed, and she closed her eyes for the briefest of moments.
A second later she was jolted in her saddle, aware that someone had called her name. “Yes?”
She could see Aaron sitting on his horse in the shadows, watching for Paul’s return.
“Did you say something?” she called. He shook his head, motioning for her to fall silent.
Forever Ashley Page 16
