Fields of Fire

by Carol Caldwell

  She grabbed his hands again. “Do you truly think I would kiss anyone so easily?”

  “Nay. It’s just that I told you I care for you, and seeing you with Taylor—I lost control.” He moved his hands to cover hers and pulled them to his chest. “I planned to wait until we found Donnegan to ask you this, but I must know now. When this is all over, I’d like to call on you.”

  “Of course. I’d hoped we’d remain friends.” It was not what he meant, she knew, but she waited for him to continue.

  “I’m talking about courting you properly.”

  It was her turn to pull her hands away. “From the day we first met, I hoped you and I would become good friends. I truly am fond of you, but not in the way you want me to be.”

  He drew her to him and kissed her with much fervor. She didn’t fight him, for she sensed he needed to prove to her that their relationship went beyond friendship. When the kiss ceased, and he released her, he said, “Tell me my kiss didn’t move you.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Hug’s shoulders slumped, and the hopeful expression on his face faded. She might as well have taken a sharp knife and stabbed him in the heart. She placed her arm around the wide stretch of his broad back. “I care for you Hug, and I don’t want to lose your friendship. Have I ever done anything to encourage you to believe that I sought more than friendship?”

  He sat quietly, allowing her to rub his back. Finally, he spoke up. “It’s Taylor. All the time you two have spent alone. I’m a fool. You prefer him, don’t you?”

  Why hadn’t she anticipated this question? It was a logical deduction given the circumstances. She stood, and so she wouldn’t have to face him, she walked over to the wig, lifted it from the floor, and absently stroked the grey strands as if it were a fuzzy kitten. What were her feelings for the captain? Aye, she had to admit she cared for him, too, despite his suspicions of Blackwater Distillery and her brother, James. She tried to keep him and her growing attachment at a distance, but every time he touched her, she crumbled like fresh pastry. He made her come alive with feelings she’d never known before. But was it anything more?

  “I take it your silence means you do.”

  She heard Hug rise from behind her, but he didn’t approach her. She spun around. With his back to her, he stood before the washbowl removing the rest of the powder from his face. “I’ll not lie to you, Hug. I care for Taylor, too. Beyond that, I don’t know.”

  “I understand.” His words were clipped, dismissing her.

  “Hug ...”

  “You need say nothing further. I’m not a dunce.” He swiftly turned on her, marched to the door, and held it open. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to go to bed.”

  She walked through the entryway and whispered, “Good night. See you tomorrow.”

  Tomorrow. It would not be the same, and neither would their friendship. A great feeling of loss swept over her. She headed down the passageway to her room, and Taylor. He’d left the door unlocked. She entered and secured it behind her.

  “From the look on your face, I gather your talk with Hug didn’t go very well. What did you say to him?” Taylor lay sprawled on his bed with his arms folded behind a pillow under his head.

  She flopped down on the other bed, across from him. “I told him the truth about us, and in doing so I’m afraid I lost his friendship.”

  “He’ll get over it. What is the truth?”

  She averted her eyes. “That I was merely expressing my thanks and in doing so got overly zealous.”

  “That may be partially true, but you and I know there was more than gratitude in that kiss,” Taylor stated, in a serious tone. “If we’re going to speak about truth, let’s do so. I’ve tried not to touch you only to find myself wanting you more each time I do. You’ve denied that my advances have meant anything to you. But each time we kiss, your responses give me every indication they do. Gall it passion, call it curiosity, call it what you will—you can’t deny the physical attraction is there.”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.” Abruptly she stood and walked around to the other side of the bed.

  He sat up and casually rested his arms on bent knees. “Admit it and we’ll drop the subject.”

  Desperately wanting to change the topic, she conceded, “All right. I admit it, but that’s all. Can we go to bed now?”

  A seductive smile appeared on his face, and his eyebrows rose in a mockingly hopeful expression.

  “You know what I mean,” she exclaimed. She took off one shoe and threw it at him.

  He dodged it. “Aye, that I do, sweetness.”

  “Don’t stare at me like that,” she retorted, and tossed her other shoe at him.

  He simply laughed and pushed himself off the bed. “I ordered some oat cakes and potted cheese sent up while you were gone. I’m afraid my hearty appetite overcame them. Are you hungry? Can I get you something else from downstairs?”

  “Nay. I’m not hungry.”

  At her words, he started to remove his breeches. She whirled away, as she cried, “What are you doing?”

  “Don’t worry. As tempting as you are, this is not the night. Soon though. I promise you. Good night, sweet Jalene. Don’t forget to snuff out the candle.”

  She watched the candle flicker on the bedside table. Taylor had prepared for sleep before her. Luck was on her side. Thus far, she’d managed to escape explaining the conspicuous need to have a candle burn all night.

  She sighed. Dear Lord, the man both worried her and excited her with anticipation about their inevitable love-making. How soon was soon? She risked a glance over her shoulder at him. It was impossible to tell whether he was facing her or not, because he had the bed linens pulled over his head.

  “I’ll be ready for you,” she whispered ever so softly to herself. “I’m not sure in which way, but I’ll be ready.” She quickly disrobed down to her undergarments and crawled into bed. The coolness of the sheets against her skin acted as a soothing balm and in seconds she was asleep.

  * * * *

  “Do you suspect her or not?” Hug asked Taylor and jumped down from the wagon to stand beside him.

  “From what I’ve seen so far, she knows nothing of any illicit dealings. If her brother was involved in smuggling, I don’t think Jalene knew about it.” I hope to bloody hell anyway, he thought as he bent over at the waist to stretch his back and legs. They had pulled off to the side of the road in order for Jalene to see to nature’s call. This was Hug’s first attempt at initiating a conversation with him since they’d left Tweed’s at daybreak that morning.

  “Did you bed her?”

  Taylor jerked upright. “It’s none of your business, Hug.”

  “You have, haven’t you?” Hug scratched at his wig and spread his hands in despair. “And, why not? You’ve only spent every night alone in the same room with her since we left Knights’ Head. Hell and damnation! She’s off limits to me, because we’re on assignment, but not to you.”

  “Enough, Hug.” Taylor scrambled back atop the wagon. Hug was pushing for a fight to alleviate his hurt feelings, but Taylor wasn’t going to accommodate him.

  “I’m not through talking to you,” Hug yelled up at Taylor, his hands clenched at his sides.

  “When you’ve calmed down, we’ll talk.”

  “You son of a bitch!” Hug waved his fist at him. “Come down here.”

  “What’s all the shouting about? What’s going on?” Jalene asked, hurrying back from her off-road trip.

  Hug turned around to face her. “Nothing. Just get back up in the wagon.”

  Taylor watched her give an inquiring glance first to Hug and next to himself. But all Taylor did was shake his head, as a warning to her not to pursue it further.

  Once Jalene was settled between Hug and him, he clicked his tongue and urged the horses to a start. Bloody hell, Taylor inwardly cursed. The tension remained thick between the three of them, as it had been all morning. The only time shades of the old Hug surfaced was when they st
opped at the taverns. There, he played his character well. When they were on the road again, the silent treatment prevailed. Neither Jalene’s or his own attempts to draw Hug into conversation worked.

  Taylor ruefully shook his head. The one time Hug did decide to speak out, it was only to quarrel. As long as it didn’t affect their work, he would let it be, he told himself.

  Yet, he could not let it be. Hug was his friend, and he understood the man’s feelings of rejection. Bloody hell, everyone experienced rejection in some form or another at some time or another. But he hadn’t planned on Hug’s becoming lovesick over Jalene. Christ, if he had given the idea a moment’s thought, he never would have considered bringing the wench. That was the problem. He hadn’t expected anything like this, and he hadn’t expected to become as attracted to her himself. Damn it to hell. Who needed these additional complications? He knew they’d all have to come to terms with each other, but for the time being, he hoped that the tension between them would lessen, in light of their strategy for finding Donnegan.

  After some twenty minutes of dismal contemplation, the scenery captured his attention. The shimmering green of the hilly countryside had changed, and the road was cutting through a woody area that Taylor guessed to be one-quarter to one-half a mile long. Almost as soon as they entered this tree-canopied stretch of road, the temperature changed. Taylor welcomed the cooler air and hoped it might be calming to his cohorts as well. He breathed in deeply and was reminded of the forest surrounding Knights’ Head. It seemed more like four months rather than four days since he’d been home. Worse yet, it would be even longer. As lucky as they had been peddling the whiskey—none of it brought them information on Donnegan. The man seemed to have been swallowed up by the earth. No one had seen him. Was he still in the north? What really were their chances of finding him? As Taylor pondered such questions, the booming shot of a firearm broke through the tranquility of the wood. Taylor slowed the horses to a stop off the road.

  “What is it?” Jalene asked in alarm,

  “I don’t know. Let’s have a look, Hug.” He retrieved two muskets from underneath the seat and handed one to Hug.

  “I didn’t know we carried weapons,” Jalene said in surprise, as if she had suddenly been reminded of the possible danger they faced every day. “What do you plan to do?”

  “Wait here,” Taylor ordered her. He jumped down from the wagon. Hug silently followed suit and together they swiftly but cautiously stepped down the road.

  Taylor glanced over his shoulder at Hug. He wanted some reassurance from Hug that he could still depend on him—that what had recently transpired between them would not affect his sound judgement. He wanted to ask, but would not add insult to injury. Instead, he would assume it was business as usual.

  When another shot exploded from nearby, Taylor said, “It sounds like it’s coming from in front of us, but down the road a ways.”

  “Aye, it’s coming from near the end of this wood where the countryside is open meadow once again,” Hug added, breaking his silence.

  A noise that sounded like a muffled sneeze caused them both to turn at once to check behind them.

  “Damn it, Jalene! Get back to the wagon.” Taylor spoke in as loud a voice as he considered to be safe. “I told you to wait for us.”

  “I know what you said, but I’ll not sit by myself wondering about the two of you. Besides, I thought I was supposed to be safer with you.”

  With her arms folded across her chest, she stood in a way that suggested she was prepared to battle with him. Her dyed-black hair was windblown and tossed about her shoulders. She changed gowns and now wore the new midnight blue gown he’d given her. A wisp of hair caught on the midnight blue crescent patch. He reached to brush her cheek—time enough for her to let down her guard and for him to catch the glimpse of fear in her eyes. Despite the cocky stance and the hopeful expression on her face, Jalene was frightened.

  A tightness gripped his chest. He was worried—not about the gunshots or what lay ahead, but should any harm come to her ... Christ! Was he right to have brought her along? If anything happened to her ...

  She meant more to him than he realized, but now was not the time to analyze to what degree.

  He touched her cheek with the back of his hand and said, “Aye, to be sure, you are safer with me. I’ll not let any harm come to you. Stay close behind Hug.”

  Jalene obeyed. Five minutes later, as they neared their objective, she hoped all her trepidation was for nothing, but even as the thought occurred, evil-sounding male laughter rang through the air as they neared the source of the shots.

  Taylor paused and put his finger to his lips, gesturing for them to be especially quiet before he gingerly led them through a section of trees and thick underbrush. They were almost to the open meadow. He peered through the branches then motioned for Hug to take a peek. Wondering what they saw, she moved to Taylor’s side and quietly did the same.

  She momentarily covered her mouth with both hands to prevent from making any sound. Within easy hearing distance, she watched as two highwaymen on horseback—each wearing a hood and a grotesque mask of a distorted wolf face—held at gunpoint a tinker family who’d camped with their caravan at the edge of the wood. She noticed a skittish horse tied to a shrub near a narrow stream a short distance beyond the conveyance and realized that the tinkers had chosen this spot for the water. A woman, perhaps a few years younger than herself, held a fearful, clinging toddler in her arms. Apparently, she had been returning from the stream and became caught halfway between it and the caravan. An elderly woman and a man nearer Taylor’s age stood helplessly alongside the caravan as one of the highwaymen dismounted, shoved his pistol into the waistband of his breeches and approached them.

  “Get over here,” the highwayman on horseback yelled to the young woman. His partner immediately started to investigate the wagon.

  The tinker caravan was bow-roofed, box-shaped and not so large that a single horse couldn’t pull it. The outside was brightly painted in red, with green and black bits of wood trim that outlined the narrow entrance in the front behind the driver’s seat and a wider means of entering the caravan at the rear. Concealed along the length of the conveyance was a board that the highwayman jerked open to display pails, cups and assorted tinware hanging inside. The clinking noise they made as the highwayman rummaged his way through them sounded loud in the open air.

  She felt a tap on her arm and turned towards it. “Stay here, Jalene, or you’ll pay dearly for disobeying me,” Taylor spoke so softly she could barely hear him, yet there was no mistaking the threat his words carried. He whispered to Hug. “You know what to do.”

  “Aye,” Hug answered, and they both took off in opposite directions.

  Once more, she peered through the branches and underbrush in time to hear the highwayman who had been searching the caravan jokingly say to his accomplice, “Want to play catch?” He tossed a tin cup up at him and threw several out across the field.

  His partner laughed, but remained seated on his horse.

  “Please, don’t be doin’ that now,” the tinker man said. “I made it all wi’ me own hands, and ‘tis hard enough to sell without dents and repairs.”

  “Is that right?” the highwayman said in a jeering tone. “I’m sorry.” He immediately reached into the wagon and pulled out one of the larger bowls, tossed it upside down to the ground and stomped on it with his boot heel.

  What could the poor tinker man do? Jalene asked herself. If he tried to defend himself, one of those horrible men would harm them. Would they kill them? Dear Lord, she hoped not. Silently, she pleaded for Taylor and Hug to hurry to the rescue.

  The tinker man held his arms out in supplication, “This is me only way to keep me family fed. Why would you be wantin’ to do that?”

  “Pickings were meager today. We needed a bit of fun— just that simple,” the highwayman said, and laughed through his mask. “Right?” he glanced at his friend.

  The voice behind th
e other frightening wolf mask grunted a “Yeah,” and added, “But let’s be on our way now.”

  “I haven’t even searched the caravan completely,” the highwayman on foot whined. “I’ve never seen a wagon like this before. It’s like a room on wheels.”

  “There’s too many small villages not far from here which makes the odds greater for someone to come along,” the mounted highwayman answered.

  “You’re a bit late for that,” Hug spoke in a loud commanding voice. Slowly, he approached the highwayman on horseback from behind while he kept his musket aimed at the man’s back. “Drop your pistol.”

  Relief washed over Jalene as she watched the weapon tumble to the ground, but no sooner had that action transpired when the other highwayman grabbed his pistol from his waistband and caught hold of the older woman, wrapping his arm around her neck. He shouted at Hug, “I think you better drop your weapon, or I’ll shoot this old crone.”

  The young woman and man came forward both talking at once, begging the highwayman to do her no harm. The captured woman, to Jalene’s amazement, said nary a word. Hug tossed his musket aside, and her heart sank into her stomach at the turn of events. Her only source of consolation was that she knew Taylor was waiting to appear at the right moment. But what if something went wrong? What if Taylor became captured, too? Concern for his welfare overcame her, and she knew her feelings for Taylor were more than simply attraction. Dear Lord, where was he?

  From the woods near her, Taylor sneaked behind the armed highwayman before his partner on horseback could warn him.

  “Don’t move except to release the woman, or you’re a dead man,” Taylor commanded.

  “I’ll shoot her first,” the highwayman nervously answered.

  “And, you’ll be dead,” Taylor responded in a matter of fact way. “Unless you’re ready to meet your maker, I’d drop the pistol.”

  The highwayman did so and with tears of relief on their faces, the tinker family scrambled to embrace each other. Meanwhile, Taylor and Hug saw to the highwaymen.