The Bastard Son (Winds of Change Book 2)

by Jerri Hines

  Sumner was set in his position, but watched as the other units tried to maneuver to theirs. Galling fire interfered with the action until Shelby called, “Press on to your places. Then your fire won’t be lost!”

  A few minutes later, the order was given. The battle had begun.

  * * * *

  Sumner fought ahead. He closely engaged to the frontline. Cries resonated; rifles exploded. Howls of the overmountain men erupted as they took vengeance on the British foe.

  A furious charge of bayonets was repelled. A band of rifle fire compelled Ferguson to order his men back to the top of the mountain. Within the destructive fire another charge sounded. Ferguson once more sent a platoon charging down the mountain, but once more was met by a wall of fire power.

  Being attacked on all sides, Ferguson had nowhere to turn. Ferguson met the barbarians he himself had ignited against him. His message to march his army over the mountains, hang their leaders, and lay their country waste with fire and sword, had been delivered. And this day, it had been answered.

  “Give them Indian play!” cried out loud and clear from the Americans. The frontiersmen, as was their custom, sought cover only to snipe their rifles with deadly accuracy toward their enemy.

  Sumner leveled his rifle and set aim on the man in a hunter’s shirt, blowing hard on that damn whistle. For a brief moment, Sumner admired the major for his courage because Ferguson had to have known the battle was over almost before it began. Being a good brave officer, Ferguson made every effort that could be done, but he was Sumner’s target. Sumner fired.

  The smoke cleared. In just over an hour, Major Patrick Ferguson lay dead. His entire Loyalist unit was either dead or taken prisoner. The battle won, decisively.

  Sumner walked the battlefield. Ferguson’s body lay spread out, having taken at least seven clear shots.

  A clear and dominate victory for the Patriot cause, one long needed within the South. The American Whigs decimated the American Tories. A cry arose from the mountain that the South wouldn’t go down without a fight.

  * * * *

  Sumner slept under the stars. He had been given the duty to stand guard over the prisoners. A rampage in which all the commanders had trouble containing ensued. A call for Tarleton’s quarter rumbled through the men. Sumner well remembered the massacre at Waxhaw, but Shelby stopped his troops before they descended down the road of vengeance.

  “What is better than victory over the Red Coats? In the end, the British will have to live with the defeat which will be the best of revenge,” Shelby declared. Then, he placed Sumner in charge of the prisoners that night, knowing duty would come before personal revenge.

  Sumner sat and watched the men. Several times he had repelled his own soldiers. Hard feelings on both sides offered little hope that the wounds created by the conflict would be soon forgotten even after the war. A great deal of healing would be needed.

  He himself harbored ill feelings and wondered if he would be able to forgive after the guns were laid down. Then his thoughts went to Jane and his son. To have the life he desired with them…then, yes, he could.

  In the morning sun, Shelby greeted him. “I have talked with Elijah. It is the thought to send the two of you up to meet with the army. Marion already asked if we had heard from you before the battle. The issues we have here now are not of your skills. They can be better served.”

  “I had hoped of making a detour for a few days,” Sumner replied.

  “Elijah told me you married before you arrived. Left her at the altar to join back up. You should have told me.”

  “We all have our issues,” Sumner said. “This was necessity, but I had retired from the militia until I recovered sufficiently from my battle wounds, but now I had hopes of...”

  “My friend. Marion wouldn’t have asked if he hadn’t need of you. Moreover, Elijah wants to meet up with Pickens. I’m certain there is where our need for you lies.”

  Sumner studied Shelby. He had marched his men for hours without refreshment, through torrid rain, to gain a much needed victory. Many of those men wanted to return to their homes and he understood. For years, he hadn’t contemplated his own life. He had only fought. Now, Sumner had someone at home…and the commander wanted him to stay.

  “I need only a few days…to ensure Jane is safe. I’ve got this uneasy feeling.”

  Shelby stood firm. “You need to address it with Marion.”

  “I will see what the need is,” Sumner replied, frustrated. “But I’ll not guarantee what I will do when I get there.”

  * * * *

  “No, I don’t understand,” Marion said simply. “What in the hell were you thinking, Sumner? Getting married in the middle of a war! Couldn’t you have waited until we have run these damnable British out of our land?”

  Sumner leaned back in his chair. He hated wasting time and the last couple of weeks had been spent searching for Marion. He kept missing him. Finally, he caught up with him in this deserted cabin, which didn’t offer much comfort, only shelter for the meeting.

  Sumner knew the one known as the Swamp Fox well. He had been with him often after the fall of Charles Town. The short, gritty man didn’t know the word defeat.

  “I didn’t need your permission.” Sumner scowled. “Moreover, I didn’t ride up here to get a lecture. If you have a need for me to do something, tell me quickly.”

  The one time Indian fighter had led a small group of no more than sixty men in a campaign of annoying raids against the British. He had become a thorn in the side of Cornwallis.

  Tarleton had been ordered to capture the allusive Patriot, but he hadn’t been able to do so. Marion was a sly opponent and had no love for the British, stating many times it would be the British arrogance which would be their downfall.

  Suddenly, Marion guffawed, a full hearty laugh. “Come now, Sumner. When have you gotten so touchy? I find myself now wanting to meet this lady that you have lost all your patience for. I think you are fortunate to have found a semblance of happiness in these times.”

  Sumner’s manner relaxed. He had resented the fact of his summons each mile he had traveled…it was in the opposite direction he wanted to go. He had no inclination to waste his time unless he had a vital mission to complete. He was in no mood for the jest.

  “The reason I called for you may serve both our objectives at the moment,” Marion said and took a huge gulp of his ale. “What do you know of the situation with the commander of our Southern army?’

  “Rumors only. Gates won’t hold. That I’m certain.”

  Marion nodded and motioned for Sumner to pour himself an ale. “I have it on good authority that the next commander will be General Nathaniel Greene. Washington wanted him to begin with. I’ve heard good things.”

  Sumner shrugged slightly. He had no knowledge of the man, but he had to be more skilled in the art of Southern warfare and men than Gates. “And this means?”

  “It means we will be mounting a campaign soon, but we can’t forget the ones that put their lives on the line every day supplying much needed information.” Marion’s manner changed. He became deadly serious. “I was sent a letter by a mutual friend, Dr. Jonathan Corbett.”

  “I know of him…I have served with him. So he survived.” Sumner felt relief. “The last I heard was when Charles Town fell. Despite being a physician, he hadn’t made many friends with the British with his abrupt manner toward them. I heard they wanted to hang him.”

  “As much if any have hands upon either of us. I hear that the British have us both well in their sights and want nothing more than to dangle us upon the highest tree, my friend. What I have to ask of you will put you in the utmost of danger,” Marion stared upon Sumner. “Dr. Corbett had to leave his wife behind and believes she is in danger because she is his wife, but I know she is helping us as well.”

  “Rebekah?”

  Marion nodded. “It seems that Rebekah made a trade to save her husband, giving away a secret location. But after Corbett was exchanged, she
warned those affected. He wants to get her out of Charles Town. He is on his way back to the Southern Campaign even though if caught he will be hanged on sight.”

  “Does he know what Rebekah is doing?”

  “That I am unsure, but he is quite insistent. He is afraid of repercussions of a British general, Marcus Durham.”

  Sumner realized there was more. He had known Jonathan too long. “What has Corbett done?”

  “Would it surprise you to discover that Corbett was mixed up in the situation when Arnold betrayed our cause? He feels Durham holds him responsible for Major Andre being arrested for espionage and executed for the act. I do know General Durham has returned to Charles Town as the British commander of the city.”

  Sumner winced. He had heard the rumblings of Arnold’s betrayal that was felt deeply in the north. “Corbett is afraid of Durham’s mood?”

  “Corbett believes Durham is out for a semblance of revenge. I worry if he discovers what Rebekah has done for us…is doing for us…he will show no mercy. You need to know that Corbett wrote if we could find you. He asked personally for your help…I would like you to do so before Corbett makes his appearance.”

  “I have no choice but to help him. I owe Corbett, but I also have my own family’s welfare to consider.”

  “It is why it is of the utmost importance that no one knows you are in their midst. I know of no other with the means to do what is asked. You are the most capable of entering in and out without detection.”

  Clear and strong, Sumner said, “I will do so, but be aware I will see that my family’s safe.”

  “Be warned, Sumner. Corbett says that Durham has lately suffered great personal loss. It doesn’t give to being merciful to any.”

  “What is your plan? When you say retrieve, where do you plan for her to go?”

  “Bring her back into my hideaway. By then I will have a plan. Corbett is returning with now Brigadier General Daniel Morgan. He is my source who has told me that Greene is relieving Gates.”

  The news brought a smile unto Sumner. Morgan, Corbett had talked often of Morgan. He held the man’s ability and courage above no other. It was good.

  “I can leave before the morning light.”

  “Take Elijah with you. And Sumner,” the Swamp Fox added, “don’t tarry. Be swift and quick in your mark.”

  Chapter 11

  Jane looked a sight: her dress torn, barefooted, her hair fell loose about her shoulders. Her cheek was bruised. She didn’t care about her appearance, only about Caleb’s welfare.

  Handing Caleb down to Colonel Leckie, she dismounted. She couldn’t help but smile as Caleb’s eyes looked around the place of his birth.

  “Where is my horse?” he turned and asked Jane.

  “Pony,” she corrected him once more. “First though, young man, I need to change and you need to eat something.”

  “I want to see all of my home, Mother,” he said with impatience.

  “Why don’t you let your mother change and I will show you down to the stables, unless you want to eat first?” Colonel Leckie offered. His eyes set upon Jane. “He will be safe.”

  She nodded slightly. In some way she didn’t understand, she trusted him. “I won’t be long.”

  * * * *

  Caleb ran all the way back up to the house and the corridor looking for Jane. Finally finding her in the kitchen, he shouted, “Mother! I have two horses! They are grand, but I want to ride one now. Colonel Leckie said I had to wait. I don’t…”

  “Caleb,” she began. “It will be better if you aren’t tired. Eat. And after a nap…”

  “A nap? I can’t sleep.”

  Jane didn’t relent. She made Caleb a breakfast while he watched from the table. Like most plantation homes, the cooking house was detached from the main house because of the heat and smoke it created.

  Within the main house, the kitchen served more as a prep area to finish off meals, having a large fireplace and a pantry. Jane was a skilled enough cook to whip up the young man some eggs to eat.

  His excitement was contagious. Caleb loved Elm Bluff. Why would he not? It was his father’s. But Caleb didn’t make it through his breakfast. When Jane turned back around his little head lay down on the table. He had fought against sleep until he had nothing left.

  She carried him up the stairs and laid him on her bed. She would have to fix a cot in her room for him to sleep. The nursery was set well beyond her room, too far away. She couldn’t have him that far away. Had they not only each other? Her heart swelled with love for the brave little man who had come to her rescue.

  Tucking Caleb into bed, Jane realized she needed to write to Henry and explain the situation. She walked over to her secretary, but she paused when she passed her mirror.

  Bruises had begun to appear on her arms. She would have to wear a long sleeve gown to hide them, but there was no way to hide the bruise on her cheek. She didn’t even remember how she got it.

  She never dreamed that Joseph would make another appearance in her life. She had no desire to ever see him again. How could he have shown his face to her? To tell her he loved her? The vision of Joseph riding up while she held her brother’s dying body in her arms was etched in her memory.

  Had he done all he proclaimed? For the life of her, she couldn’t remember. Was it the reason Mrs. Matherson kept asking her if her beau was coming back for her? She had thought Mrs. Matherson strange at the time, but had the woman reason for the questions?

  Joseph had to be crazed to even consider that she would have held to their engagement. He was as mad as his brother to treat her in the fashion he had last night! Why, Joseph had never even kissed her before, having only held hands.

  “I can’t disrespect your grandfather in his home,” Joseph told her.

  How foolishly happy she had been. She had been naïve, so naïve! Her own anger grew upon the thought of the words. He couldn’t disrespect her, but he had no issue murdering her entire family?

  After she finished her note, she decided she would ask Colonel Leckie to send the message. Halfway down the stairs, she heard voices. The foyer seemed to be filled with Red Coats. Had she killed Joseph? Were they here to arrest her?

  Jane slowed her pace, but she had already been noticed. To her dismay, General Marcus Durham was at Elm Bluff.

  “Mrs. Meador, you do not listen well.”

  Standing within the foyer, Durham looked at her with irritation, but as he studied her, he paused. “What happened to your face?”

  Jane glanced over at Colonel Leckie and gave him a pleading look. She was tired and had no desire to defend herself.

  “Is it not what I have been telling you, General Durham?” Henry Peterson emerged from the study. He sighed when he glanced over at Jane. “Oh, my dear girl, I’m so sorry. I had no idea what had happened until Careen told us. How is Caleb?”

  “He is sleeping,” she said. Her eyes, though, fixed on Durham. “Tell me that you did not ride here because you felt I disobeyed you. Pray, don’t you have more important issues pressing upon you?”

  “It may be well if we talk in private,” he said. He gestured for her to go into the study, but held his hand up to halt Colonel Leckie from following. “It will be only a moment, Colonel. Prepare the others as I requested.”

  Closing the door, Durham moved to the middle of the room then turned to Jane. “First, let me make your situation clear. You are at my mercy, not I you. You will not disrespect me again.”

  She glared at him, but didn’t retort. She wanted only for him to leave. Jane made her way to the window. To her surprise, Red Coats swarmed the plantations. Filing into lines, they seemed prepared to leave.

  “Mrs. Meador, are you listening?”

  She turned back to Durham. “I hear you.”

  “Then tell me what are you doing here? Did I not tell you to stay within Charles Town?”

  Suddenly, her eyes welled up, but she refused to show weakness to this man. She fought back the tears. “I didn’t like it the
re.”

  He walked over to her and held up her chin to the light. “You were attacked last night?”

  She jerked back. “What do you want me to tell you, General Durham? You told me that my husband sent me here to be protected and that was a mistaken assumption. It was, wasn’t it? If you know my story, you know well that the Williamson gang killed and murdered my family. The leader of that group of Loyalist Militia, Benny Williamson walked into the party. What did you want me to do? You were correct that I have no one to protect me here. I did the only thing I knew how to do.”

  He studied her for a moment and then said thoughtfully, “I will handle the Williamsons. I want you back in Charles Town.”

  Upon the utterance, she burst into tears. She found a seat and sat in it. Her hands covered her face, “Pray, no. I can’t take all.”

  “This is ridiculous! What could you lack within Charles Town?”

  “I know no one, but moreover, General Durham, I don’t belong there. I belong here. I know only of farming and keeping a home. You know why I didn’t dance, because I don’t know how. I don’t do well in the company of a lot of people. Everyone’s eyes were upon me last night and look what happened.”

  “It is not up for discussion. I have to leave for a few days. When I return, I want you in Charles Town.”

  “For what reason, General? I can assure you I’m no danger to you or the British. I want only to create a home for that little boy upstairs. He needs to be here. I need to be here.”

  She could well see that Durham was also tired. His red eyes and the lines of strain on his face betrayed his lack of rest. He relented somewhat.

  “I have to think upon everything that has happened. I don’t like complications to something that should be simple, but given you were attacked last night and I haven’t had time to look into it, I will let you stay until I return. Be mindful of all, though, Mrs. Meador.”

  A knock disturbed their conversation. “General,” Colonel Leckie eased the door opened. “I hate to interrupt, but we have received an important message from the backwoods.”