by Tamara Gill
Dusk dwindled into darkness in the middle of this process and from that time on Jacqui’s nerves were stretched taut. The scow carrying the Fenians didn’t push off from the Fort Erie dock until two in the morning and although she knew it was not yet midnight, she couldn’t help worrying.
“Tell me again why the Fenians are going. Seems a bit odd when they won both battles,” Grandpa said, as the sturdy team of work horses picked their way down the road at a snail’s pace.
“Peacock is at Frenchman’s Creek. He’ll be in Fort Erie tomorrow. Or at least his cavalry arm, the Governor General’s Body Guard, will be.” Jaclyn’s hands were clutching the edge of the seat so tightly that she was losing feeling in her fingertips.
“Peacocke is the commander of the English troops out of Chippewa.”
“That’s right.”
“Now it seems right odd that you’d have all this detailed information about this,” Bailey said. “How did you come to hear of it when no one else knows?”
“Colonel O’Neill and his spy, Major Canty, told me,” she said carefully. “Canty had just returned from a scouting expedition when I went to ask O’Neill to help Sean.”
“And so O’Neill told you they were leaving, just like that?”
Jaclyn shot Grandpa an assessing look, though she couldn’t really see his face properly in the darkness. “No. I guessed and O’Neill agreed. What’s your point, Grandpa?”
He laughed. “I don’t have a point. I’m just trying to figure out this whole crazy situation and your part in it.”
They reached the rutted track that led to the ruins of the fort and turned onto it. A sentry challenged them, demanding to know their business. Jim Bailey told the man they needed to speak to Colonel O’Neill and they were passed through with a curt order not to get in the way.
The camp had changed since Jacqui had left. The Fenians were being formed up into their units by officers who must, by now, be in on the secret of the midnight departure. This was being done quietly, in much the same way it must have been effected the night before, when they left Newbigging’s orchard.
Grandpa drew the wagon to a stop where the path descended to the ruins. “I’m going to leave the rig here. There’s stone chips all over the place down there. I don’t want to risk breaking an axel or laming one of the horses in the dark. We’ll have to go down, get O’Dell and bring him on up.”
Bailey climbed down from the wagon. Captain Haggerty, emerged from in the midst of the troops and hurried over. “Jack! You’re back. I didn’t think you would be.”
“We’ve come for Sean.” Jaclyn jumped down from the seat.
“I don’t think Colonel O’Neill will permit Major O’Dell to be moved.”
“Sure he will,” Jacqui said. “Just ask him.”
Grandpa handed Haggerty the reins and followed Jaclyn down toward the ruins. Haggerty followed too.
Bailey turned on him, frowning. “What about my rig?”
“Now see here...” Haggerty began.
Grandpa stepped between the Fenian and Jaclyn. “I left you in charge of my horses,” he said, taking advantage of age and wagging his finger in the younger man’s face. “I expected you to see to your obligations.”
“My obligations!”
Jaclyn left them bickering and went to Sean. He was wrapped in a blanket and there was a small fire in the makeshift hearth the soldier had made, but he was still shivering. She said his name quietly as she stroked his cheek. It was rough with the black stubble of a day’s growth of beard, but his skin didn’t feel overheated and there was no flush on his cheeks. She told herself that was a good sign.
He opened his eyes with what seemed to be a struggle. For a moment there was no recognition there, only the torment of incoherent nightmares, then he smiled. “Back again, Jack?”
His voice was thin and weak and he shut his eyes again almost immediately. Jaclyn bit her lip. “Grandpa! Let’s get a move on, okay?”
Abandoning his argument with Haggerty, Jim Bailey came over to help Jaclyn. Haggerty followed, clearly uncertain what he should do, but unwilling to leave them alone while he sought council from his senior officer.
Grandpa Bailey took one look at Sean’s white, strained features and said, “I think we ought to let Kempson do what he has to do, boy.”
“No! Don’t bail on me now, Grandpa. I need you!”
Both men stared at her in amazement. Bailey said, “I swear, Jack, I don’t know what you’re saying half the time. What are they teaching you in that university you go to? Some new-fangled language?”
Jaclyn bit her lip. She lifted Sean’s shoulders so he was in a sitting position. Though she tried to be gentle, he groaned and protested. “Put your arm over my shoulder, Sean. We’re taking you to the Baileys’ place.”
He blinked and rubbed his eyes. “There’s two of you,” he said. “And you keep swaying. Stop it.”
She slipped his good arm over her shoulder. “One of you help me lift him. Sean is going to get well and not with the aid of Kempson’s crude medical practices. As to my language,” she added, huffing a little even though Haggerty had decided to assist her. “I’m studying at McGill University in Montreal remember? If I speak somewhat differently than you it’s because of the, er, cultural mix of French and English you find there.”
Haggerty had no idea where Montreal was, so he accepted her explanation without protest and Sean was too out of it to care. Grandpa, however, said with a snort, “I know when my leg’s being pulled, boy.”
O’Neill showed up as they slowly half-carried, half-dragged Sean from the ruins. He was leading the third horse that had been taken from the Bailey farm. He gave the reins to a soldier whom Haggerty had evidently detailed to hold the team’s harness and between Grandpa Bailey, Haggerty and O’Neill they lifted Sean into the wagon as gently as possible. Jacqui had jumped into the back and when Sean was settled she wrapped the bedclothes Sara had thoughtfully provided around him. Colonel O’Neill took the reins of the black horse from the soldier and handed them to Jim Bailey.
“I will not be needing this fine animal any further, Mr. Bailey. Thank you for the loan of it.” Then he held out his hand for his Canadian adversary to shake.
Slowly, perhaps reluctantly, Jim Bailey accepted the Fenian leader’s hand and said, “I can’t say it’s been a pleasure meeting you, Colonel, but I will wish you good luck.”
O’Neill looked as if he wanted to say something, but he merely shrugged and nodded. His gaze swept to Sean, lying very still on the feather mattress. He reached over the side of the flatbed and took Sean’s hand. “I trust these good people to look after you, O’Dell. When you’ve returned to full health I look forward to serving with you again.”
Sean’s face was white with pain, but he managed to say, “Thank you, Colonel.”
O’Neill turned to Jaclyn. “He’s your responsibility now, Jack. See that he returns to America a free man.”
With nothing but intuition to go on, Jacqui could only say, “That’s the plan.”
They moved out slowly, the team plodding along at what seemed to be a snail’s pace to Jaclyn, the black horse, now tied to the wagon, trotting along behind. The moon was high and Grandpa said it was nearly midnight by the time they reached the farm.
Getting Sean up the stairs to the spare bedroom proved to be a severe trial, with Grandpa huffing, Jaclyn swearing under her breath, Sean groaning and Sara trailing along behind wringing her hands. They eventually maneuvered him into the bedroom and settled him on the bed.
“Sara, honey,” Grandpa said, “fetch me one of your papa’s nightshirts, will you please?”
“We’re going to strip him?” Jacqui said as Sara hurried out.
Bailey nodded. “Then we’re going to burn his uniform. It’s no use to him the way it is anyway.”
“What about his trousers?” Jaclyn asked, tugging at one of his well-worn black boots.
“He’s about the size of my son, Sara’s papa. He can wear Adam’s
trousers if he needs them.”
“When I need them,” Sean said weakly.
Jaclyn pulled off the other boot while Grandpa dealt with the ruined blue tunic, cutting it away with a straight-razor Sara had thoughtfully placed on a low table beside the bed. Sean gritted his teeth, but couldn’t stifle the odd grunt of pain.
Sara arrived with the nightshirt, which she dropped at the foot of the bed. She looked at Sean, his clenched jaw, the beads of sweat on his brow. “I don’t think we need this for the moment. It’s warm enough that Major O’Dell needs nothing more than the bed covers to break the night chill. Now, Major, we’ll remove those trousers of yours and you can slip under the covers and be comfortable.” She leaned over the bed.
Old Jim Bailey’s face went purple and he said hastily, “O’Dell could use a glass of fresh water, Sara. Off you go.”
Sara looked up, astonished. “Grandpa!”
Jaclyn stifled a giggle. Sean turned his head, winced, then said, “She needs help, Jack. Go with her.”
“What! Come on, Sean. Get real.”
“Go,” he said, closing his eyes with a kind of finality. “Between us, Bailey and I can manage.” There was no force to the words, he didn’t have the strength for it, but Jacqui figured his Victorian inhibitions were kicking in and that he was embarrassed about being undressed by two young women.
“Okay, okay.” Jacqui grabbed Sara’s arm and headed out of the room.
Sara shrugged her off. “Well, I never! You are as bad as they are, Jack!” she said as they traipsed down the stairs.
“Look,” Jaclyn said, as she watched Sara barge around the kitchen acquiring a glass, then pouring water into it from a jug, “They didn’t want us there. Either of them. Sean’s had enough stress for one day. I figure whatever works for him we ought to go with.”
Sara put down the jug. “Possibly.” She thrust out her pretty pointed chin. “I’m going to sit with him tonight.”
Sara was staking a claim. Jaclyn wondered if Grandpa had any idea what was going through his granddaughter’s head. Probably not. “Makes sense.”
Sara nodded decisively. “I will need my needle work. Take the water up to Major O’Dell, Jack, while I gather my things.”
Jim Bailey looked up when Jacqui entered. He was sitting beside the bed watching Sean, whose eyes were closed. There was a blanket in a jacquard pattern over Sean’s torso. His injured arm was over the bedclothes, the bandage white against his skin. “He fell asleep right after we got his trousers off.”
“Sara plans to sit with him tonight.”
Bailey stood and scooped up the discarded trousers and the ruined tunic. “Good idea. I’m going to burn these right now. I don’t want to take any more chances than I have to.”
Jaclyn said abruptly, “I’m going back to Fort Erie.”
Bailey straightened. His eyes were assessing as he looked at her. “It’s the middle of the night, Jack. Can it not wait until morning?”
“No. Grandpa, the Fenians plan to leave tonight. In the morning George Denison and his horse guards will be swarming all over town. All over the area, in fact. They’ll be looking for stragglers. They’ll arrest anybody they can find who they think might be a Fenian. I need to learn where they are, what they are doing and what their plans are. Until we know that Sean won’t be safe.”
“It’s been a long day, boy.”
Jaclyn groaned. She was already feeling the effects of her mad ride on Sunny Girl in her thighs and shoulders, not to mention all of the walking and lifting she’d done throughout yesterday and today. “Tell me about it. I’d like nothing better than to settle down on one of your beds and sleep for months, but I can’t. Not until this thing is settled.”
Grandpa wadded the material in his hands into a ball. “Go fix yourself a bite to eat, then. I’ll be along in a minute. I haven’t unhitched the team yet. I’ll drive you down toward Newbigging’s farm. You can walk into town from there.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Although the route that passed Newbigging’s farm, ending up on to River Road, was the quickest way from the Baileys’ place to Fort Erie, Jaclyn convinced Grandpa that this evening it wasn’t the best idea to travel that path. After what must have been an altogether frustrating day, Colonel Peacocke and his troops had camped by Frenchman’s Creek when night fell. They had never connected with the Fenians, they had missed two battles and they had spent the day marching under the scorching sun dressed in hot wool uniforms and carrying heavy packs. Now they were bedded down for the night outside of the main town in the area, which was known to be an enemy stronghold. The next morning Peacocke planned to retake the town and his troops knew they would be fighting an enemy who had already won two battles. All in all, Peacocke’s men were bound to be jumpy.
If the British perimeter guards caught sight of Grandpa Bailey’s wagon, or Jaclyn flitting about the countryside, they were sure to arrest them as Fenians. Then Grandpa and Jaclyn would have the burden of proving that they were not. While this would not be a problem for Grandpa, it could be for Jaclyn, as she was known to the local people only as the kid who had been hanging around the Fenian camp. She’d probably end up spending months in one of Canada West’s jails waiting to be tried. That wasn’t exactly what she had in mind for her near future activities.
So they drove along the Ridge Road then turned onto the Garrison Road. The night was very still and out of deference to the quiet they spoke little. The wagon jiggled over the dirt road, bouncing every now and then as the wheels slipped on a stone. Despite this, Jacqui felt her eyelids drooping. She fought to stay awake, but she was losing the battle.
The Niagara River glittered in the light of the moon when Grandpa pulled up the horses. “Fort Erie is a mile or so down the road. Mind your footing, Jack, and you’ll do fine. I’ll look for you tomorrow. In the meantime I’ll make sure nothing happens to O’Dell.”
Jaclyn stretched and came awake. She climbed slowly down from the wagon, stiff in every joint and muscle. “Thanks. If the Fenians do leave tonight all of this will be settled soon. Grandpa...” She hesitated. “If Sean gets worse you’ll call in Doc Brewster, won’t you?”
The night sky was cloudless. There was just enough light from the stars, the moon and the lantern that hung from side of the cart for Jaclyn to make out Jim Bailey, but not enough for her to read his expression. She saw him nod and she was certain she heard a rough reassurance in his voice when he spoke.
“I told you, lad, that I’d look after O’Dell, didn’t I? Now, off you go and let me go back to my farm where I can take care of my granddaughter and my visitor.”
Jaclyn smiled. “Yes, sir!”
Bailey guided the team onto a path that intersected the road, turned the wagon, then he headed back toward Ridgeway. Jaclyn started walking.
She had no idea what time it was when she reached the outskirts of Fort Erie. The town was quiet, making her wonder if O’Neill had finished loading his army onto the scow and it was already out on the river. She fingered the watch in her pocket and drew it out. Peering at the dial, she could hardly make out the numbers, but she was pretty sure they had not changed since she’d last looked at it. Still, she pushed the button that worked the illumination feature, just in case. Nothing happened. Signing, she shoved the watch back into her pocket and tried to figure out what was going on now, when she wasn’t sure when now was.
She checked the old fort. It was deserted. Disappointment washed over her. She had wanted to see the Fenians embark on their rusty old bucket and sail away. It was one of those wonderful, odd parts of the Fenian invasion that made it so ridiculous and so real. The victorious army stealing out of town in the dead of night, like a thoroughly trounced enemy. She comforted herself with the knowledge that a great deal of interesting stuff was going to happen the next day and she would be in on that. Still, she’d been there when the Fenians arrived in Canada West. She felt she should be there when they left.
As she plodded from the old fort toward the
dock she wondered if she was the only person awake in Fort Erie. The place was so dark and so damned quiet. There were no street lamps to bring perpetual day to the main drag, just the moon and stars to light her way. The river slapped softly against the shore, her feet crunched on the dirt road and there was the distinct clunk of boots striking against a wooden surface. She frowned. Something was out of place.
What was it?
She puzzled about that for a minute or two until suddenly she realized that it was the crisp click of boots on a hard surface. She stopped and held her breath, listening carefully. Yes! It was there. Boots on the wooden dock and a carefully lowered voice giving orders. She increased her pace as much as she dared in the darkness and reached the dock in time to watch the last members of the Fenian army marching onto the scow.
The moonlight sparkled on the river, providing extra illumination, but the scow was still nothing more than a huge black shadow looming up at the edge of the dock. The retreating Fenians were swallowed up inside like stars being sucked into a celestial black hole.
With a groan and the squeal of metal, the scow set sail, drifting out into the Niagara River. Jaclyn scanned the scene, looking for the dark shadow that would be the waiting Michigan. Though she didn’t find the Michigan, she wasn’t surprised when she noticed the scow was not the only vessel leaving the Canadian shore.
Not all of the Fenians had been willing to trust their fate to the scow. Some had split off, finding small boats that they were now rowing over to the American side. These enterprising individuals would avoid capture, unlike Colonel O’Neill and his officers on the scow.
