Turncoat

by Deborah Chester

  Noel gripped her wrist. “Your precious meeting has gone wrong, I think.”

  “But you said—”

  He shot her a look of exasperation. “Unlike you, I was lying through my teeth. Come on!”

  Chapter 13

  In the general uproar of hysterical guests and officers shouting for horses and weapons, no one noticed Noel leading Sally to the back of the house. At the rear door, a guard challenged Noel but backed off when Noel said, “She’s a prisoner, by Major Burton’s orders.”

  He plucked a cloak off a peg and threw it around Sally’s shoulders, then rushed her outside. She was still weeping and seemed not to care where he took her.

  As soon as they gained the safety of darkness, he gripped her by the arms and shook her. “Get hold of yourself,” he said urgently. “There’s no time to cry. I know you’ve got courage. Show it now!”

  She sniffed but her voice was steadier as she asked, “What do you intend for me?”

  “To save you, if I can.”

  “How—”

  “Don’t worry about that now. I’ve got to see what Leon’s done.”

  He strode on, keeping a tight grasp on her wrist, and she stumbled along beside him. She wasn’t dressed for the cold air, and her dancing slippers were too thin for the rough ground, but she made no complaint.

  Past the kitchen, all was a milling confusion of soldiers armed with muskets. Officers were shouting, trying to form them into orderly search parties. Noel looked at the other buildings and saw a furtive shadow flit by.

  “Keep your head down,” he said and ran.

  She kept pace with him until a volley of shots rang out. Noel slung her into the bushes. “Stay there!” he commanded and ducked low around the corner of the barn. The British were returning fire now, ragged and still out of order. Noel pressed his shoulders to the wall and tried to catch his breath. Inside he could hear frightened horses and cattle moving around. Soldiers were coming up on his left. He ducked to the right and dashed behind a stack of fodder. The moonlight was still bright, and he watched until he saw movement. Shots rang out again, and he ran as hard as he could toward the granary.

  He made it, but just barely, flinging himself flat to the ground beneath a barrage of musket fire. A huddle of the conspirators were grimly keeping the British from surrounding the granary, buying time for those at the rear who were mounting up.

  Noel started to get closer, then ducked as two men dragged a struggling figure toward the riders. “Got him, General!” said one in a triumphant whisper. “Damned sneaking spy, daring to take a potshot at you!”

  “General, this way!” whispered someone else. “There’s no time.”

  “Aye, go, sir. We’ll slit this one’s gullet—”

  “No,” said Washington’s firm deep voice. “Is he in uniform?”

  “Aye, a damned redcoat.”

  “Let him go,” said Washington. “We need no prisoners tonight.”

  “But, sir!”

  “Come, sir, please!”

  A yell came from the soldiers, and Washington and his entourage galloped away, splitting into two groups and forcing the British pursuers to divide themselves in order to follow.

  “It’s all or nothing, lads,” said one of the few remaining patriots. They opened fire again, and Noel had to duck low.

  “Orders or no orders, I’m not letting this dog go,” muttered one of Leon’s captors.

  “Bring him then, and we’ll hang him proper later.”

  Noel scooted closer as they force-marched the struggling Leon toward a horse. Leon was cursing them furiously, fear evident in his voice.

  “Fool,” mouthed Noel, well aware of what he’d tried to do. He was so appalled by how closely Leon had come to killing Washington that he was tempted to let them take Leon away. But one form of disaster didn’t justify another.

  Noel made a running tackle for one of Leon’s captors.

  Leon went down, shoved hard in the man’s surprise. Noel’s weight should have borne the man to the ground, but he was a burly fellow, built like Gibraltar. He staggered but didn’t fall. While Noel was still grabbing for a good hold on him, he twisted around and planted a punch deep into Noel’s stomach. Noel doubled over, gasping, and the man’s fist hit him in the jaw.

  Stars spun in Noel’s eyes as he went staggering, but he shook his head and fought back.

  “Run, Leon!” he yelled, ducking another blow.

  The other colonial seized him from behind, pinning his arms, and his opponent got in several deep hooks to Noel’s midsection. His fists were like hammers, toughened by a lifetime of hard physical labor. Gritting his teeth, Noel curled up his legs and kicked out, knocking the man back. By then Leon was pulling the other man off Noel. Noel turned around and punched the man behind the ear, nearly breaking his knuckles but sending him down.

  A fist socked into his kidney. Noel grunted in pain and stumbled. The fist slammed into him again. He collapsed, the world spinning, unable to breathe for the pain. Leon pulled the man off him, but by then others had appeared in the darkness. They grabbed Leon by the arms.

  “Is he the one?”

  “Aye! We’ll hang him sure for daring to shoot at our general. Come on, lads!”

  Rough hands dragged Noel up. “What about this one?”

  “Kill him and be done. Let’s go!”

  The burly man standing over Noel pulled a knife and swung. A shot rang out in the darkness, and Noel’s executioner made a soft, surprised grunt as he fell.

  The others scattered. More shots rang out, and another man went down. The redcoats were charging now, yelling like Scotsmen, and the remaining conspirators ran for it. Leon was dragged away with them.

  Lying half underneath the dead man, Noel was nearly trampled as the British soldiers surged past him. He lay still, trying not to cough, and when they were past he slowly, painfully pulled himself free.

  It seemed suddenly, impossibly quiet. Noel crawled on his hands and knees, swayed, and fell facedown. He retched horribly, then felt a little better for it.

  “Where are you?” whispered Sally’s voice from the darkness. “Dear God, where have you gone?”

  “Hush,” whispered Noel back, and choked down a fit of coughing as he picked himself up again. He was wheezing for air, and his legs had no strength left in them. His adrenaline-based charge and the beating he’d taken had left him completely spent. He went staggering into the bushes and nearly stumbled into her.

  She gripped his sleeve, inadvertently touching one of his burns. “You were mad to rush them that way. They nearly killed you.”

  “Someone saved me,” said Noel, pulling free of her hands.

  “I did,” said a small, rather feeble voice.

  Noel looked around, unable to see in the dark. “Robert?”

  “Leave him alone right now. He’s being sick in the bushes,” said Sally.

  “See how you feel when you kill your first man,” retorted Robert.

  “Enough,” said Noel, wiping clammy perspiration from his brow. He wanted to be sick again. He wanted to lie down and let the world end. But there were others depending on him. He had to hang on. “We’ve got to get out of here.”

  “But surely now—”

  “Sally,” he said sharply, “this doesn’t change anything for you. If you stay here, you’ll be arrested for treason. And Robert too.”

  “No!” she gasped. “He’s just a boy.”

  “He’s man enough to shoot a gun,” said Noel. “For which I thank him. But his age won’t protect him. Now come on!”

  “Yes, Sally, don’t be stupid,” said Robert.

  “Horses,” she said.

  Noel glanced back at the stables. “We haven’t a prayer of getting any. We’ll have to walk.”

  “They’ll comb every inch of this country,” said Robert. “They’re stirred up like hornets.”

  “No wonder,” said Noel grimly. “We’ll just have to outsmart them. Hurry!”

  But although th
ey got away, they could make no time. Sally’s shoes were soon ruined, and Noel was so tired he was grateful for the slow pace she held them to.

  “I’m sorry. I’m so stupid,” she kept saying, angry at herself and mortified. “I shall get us caught.”

  “We can carry you,” said Robert with more optimism than practicality.

  “Never!” she said with scorn. Her teeth were chattering with cold, but she didn’t complain. “I’ll make it somehow. I—”

  “Hush!” said Noel, hearing hoofbeats. “Another patrol.”

  Together they ducked into a thicket, waiting huddled together while riders swept by.

  Crouched there with his chin on Sally’s back, her hair fragrant near his nostrils, Noel felt himself dozing off. It was Robert who roused him.

  “Sir!” he said, tugging at Noel’s epaulet. “They’ve gone on. It’s safe.”

  Noel dragged his head up. “Hmm? Yes.”

  He tried to get to his feet but it was easier to just sit there and let the mists swallow him again.

  “I think he’s hurt, Sally,” said Robert worriedly over him. “They beat him awfully hard.”

  “He was sick enough to start with,” she replied. “This night air can only do his fever more harm.”

  Noel heard himself coughing. Pain sawed through his lungs and throat. He told himself he sounded pathetic and forced himself to his feet.

  “Oh, sir, I’m sorry we got you into this,” said Robert. “Do you think you can keep going? There’s a family who’ll take us in, if we can but get there.”

  “We can’t put anyone else at risk,” said Sally sharply. “We have no right.”

  “Sweet remorse from you now that there’s a price on your head,” retorted Robert. “I warned you—”

  Noel parted them before they could get into an argument. “We’ll put no one in danger, but we do need shelter, a fire, and warmer clothes. I suppose they’ll hang Leon at dawn. If you know anyone, Robert, who can tell me where that will happen, I want to seek him out now.”

  “Indeed I—I don’t, sir. I’m sorry. Do you really think they’ll kill your brother?”

  “I know it,” said Noel grimly. “The only question is, can I get there to stop it.”

  “I suppose we cannot let them kill your brother,” said Robert with a sigh. “But he did a most dishonorable thing, shooting in cold blood like that. I’d never credit it had I not seen it.”

  “My brother,” said Noel grimly, “has no honor, no conscience, and no sense of shame.”

  “And still you would save him,” said Sally.

  Noel looked at her. “Wouldn’t you if he were your brother?”

  She drew in her breath sharply. “I thank God I have Robert instead. Oh, Robert, I’m sorry I’ve been so stupid.”

  “Here, don’t cry now,” said Robert, throwing Noel a look of appeal.

  Noel put his arm around her, although it hurt him, and she gathered herself against his chest and wept in silence as they walked on slowly.

  They followed the river that night since they could not cross it. Just before dawn they came to an unguarded footbridge and went over it. The rising sun found them at a snug farmstead, listening to the chickens crow. A young boy was outside, cutting firewood for the kitchen hearth. Noel and Sally hid themselves in a gully while Robert sneaked off to steal some eggs.

  Sally was as tense as wire while he was gone. Her gaze never strayed from the buildings. Noel closed his eyes and let his exhaustion absorb him, yet he could not get comfortable. He was either cold or hot, the fever made his head swim, and it hurt so much to breathe that all he could do was wheeze.

  “He is coming. He is coming,” whispered Sally. “No one has seen him. There is no alarm. Oh, hurry. Hurry!”

  Minutes later Robert came hurtling over the side of the gully, breathless but triumphant. He was carrying a cloth bundle in his arms and handed it to Sally with a wide grin.

  “There,” he said. “See if that’s not better than any eggs.”

  She unwrapped the cloth, nearly spilling the contents in her amazement. “Why, Robert, here are johnnycakes and a tub of butter and ham and apples. How did you get so much?”

  “It was all on the table in the kitchen and no one in sight, so I just popped in and wrapped up the tablecloth. They’ll catch on in a minute so we’d better clear off.”

  In the distance there came a shout and voices raised in discovery. Robert grinned. “See?”

  “You’re enjoying yourself far too much,” said Sally with mock severity. “You know what the Bible says about thievery.”

  There came a tug on Noel’s uninjured hand. “Sir?” said Robert. “Sir, wake up.”

  “Not asleep,” mumbled Noel without opening his eyes.

  “Come, we can’t stay here. I know you’re tired, but you’ve got to get up.”

  “Go on,” said Noel, coughing. Before, his LOC had always had emergency medical programming to help him if he got in trouble. It wasn’t working, of course. Nothing was working. Between Leon and Qwip, home was out of reach. “Trapped,” he said. “Finished.”

  “No, we aren’t trapped, and we aren’t finished,” said Sally. She pulled Noel upright and helped Robert get him on his feet. “We owe you our lives and we aren’t going to abandon you. Do try, please.”

  Her voice had long since lost its haughty tone. She sounded genuinely worried about him, and Noel tried to look into her eyes to see if she’d changed. But the sun dazzled him, and he couldn’t see her face for the golden haze that shone over her. Behind her, another shape seemed to hover, watching.

  He frowned, his wits coming back to him in anger. “Go away!” he said sharply. “Qwip, go away!”

  Robert looked around in puzzlement. “Who’s he talking to?”

  She bit her lip and placed her hand upon Noel’s hot cheek. “He’s burning with fever. I fear for his reason.”

  “It’s Qwip,” said Noel, irritated with them for not understanding. “Don’t worry about him. I can keep him away. It’s Leon I can’t save.”

  The sound of a cocked musket made them all freeze. Noel and the others looked up and saw a man with a grizzled beard standing over them on the bank. He held a gun pointed down at their heads.

  “It’s yourselves you should be thinking of saving,” he said. “Thieves and a redcoat. Now that’s a fine thing to find before a man’s breakfast!”

  At once Robert stepped in front of Noel. “If you please, sir. He’s no redcoat.”

  “Got one on,” said the man, squinting at them.

  “It’s—”

  “Robert,” said Noel and gently pushed him to one side.

  “Well, sir!” said the man loudly. “Are you going to speak up for yourself? You’re a soldier, are you not?”

  Noel shook his head.

  “Hah!” The man spat. “Deserter?”

  Noel shook his head.

  “Spy, then. Mangy thieving sneaks. I know the type, and I don’t hold with ’em!”

  “No, he’s not a spy,” said Robert hotly. “Stop being such a dolt and listen—”

  “Be quiet,” said Noel, and with a furious blush Robert held his tongue.

  “Lad’s a bit hot under the collar,” said the man.

  Robert stirred, and Noel put his hand on his shoulder and squeezed.

  “The uniform is borrowed,” said Noel.

  “Aye, you’re a spy all right. But on the right side, I gather. Now why’d you send that young ’un to steal my breakfast? Ain’t you decent enough to come to a man’s door and ask for food?”

  “In a red uniform?” asked Noel.

  A reluctant smile tugged at the corners of the man’s mouth. He gnawed on his beard a moment, then nodded and lowered his musket a fraction. “I see your point. Well, bring it all back and the wife and me’ll share with you.”

  With the danger over, things got foggy for Noel again. Robert and Sally bundled up the food and climbed out of the gully, pulling him with them. The farmer finally gave a han
d, steadying Noel when he would have fallen.

  “Whew, you’re in a bad way, son.”

  “He swam the river and got an inflammation of the lungs,” said Sally. “And now we’ve walked all night in the air.”

  “No, that’s not good. Well, the wife’s fair at nursing.”

  He led them to the house, where they were met by a plump woman with apple cheeks and a little bun on top of her head. Three small shy girls in pigtails peeped around her skirts.

  “Well, Mrs. Kinkiddie!” he said loudly. “I’ve brought three vagrants to eat breakfast.”

  “So I see, Mr. Kinkiddie,” she said in a grim voice. “Did you get our breakfast back?”

  Robert held out the bundle. “Yes, ma’am,” he said, his face bright red. “I’m sorry I took it. We were so hungry, you see.”

  Her brows shot up. “Oh? And how long has a morsel like yourself gone without food? A few hours? What of Washington’s fine soldiers starving and dying over in the valley? What of poor folks who have to give all their cows and winter stores to the British? What of them? And you stealing from honest folks. Shame on you, boy.”

  “Now, now, no more of your scolding,” said Kinkiddie. “The lad’s sorry, and there’s no harm done.”

  “No harm?” she said, her eyes snapping. “And me to serve a redcoat in my own home? I’ll not do it! No, sir,” she added to Noel. “For all you bring the whole regiment down on me. I won’t do it.”

  “He’s a sick man, wife!” bawled Kinkiddie. “Enough of your tongue. He’s no redcoat for all he’s got one on. Now set the table and act like a Christian.”

  “I see,” she said, not giving ground. “He stands there in a uniform and tells you he’s not one of them, and that’s all you need to believe him? Well, sir, I—”

  “Please,” said Sally in a soft voice. “Please. He did it to help us escape. He’s very sick, and I think if he stands much longer he’ll faint.”

  “Sick?” cried Mrs. Kinkiddie in alarm. She drew her children closer to her. “And what has he brought into the house? Plague? Smallpox?”

  “Ah!” said Kinkiddie in disgust. Stomping into the house past her, he stood his musket in a corner and sat down at the table. “He swam the river and took sick in his lungs. Now give over, woman, and set out my breakfast!”