Love’s Betrayal

by DiAnn Mills

  “There is nothing to be afraid of. Those soldiers are merely passing by. I witnessed them myself.” Papa spoke in the gentle tone he reserved for the women in his household. “Do not concern yourself. Take Bear outside and engage him in a game of sorts.”

  “But what if they come here?” Mercy’s eyes pooled with tears.

  “If you see a soldier draw near to our home, Bear will surely alert me immediately.”

  Once the door closed and the two girls disappeared, he shook his fist. “Dirty redcoats, scaring my girls.” He kissed Mama on her cheek and smiled at Delight, but his gestures did not disguise the anger on his face. “I will be about my business.” He exited through the doorway, but not without Delight hearing him mumble beneath his breath. “I’m ready to use my musket.”

  Twenty minutes later, Bear’s barking grasped everyone’s attention. Mercy and Hope shouted for Papa. Delight opened the door to see a small band of soldiers moving their way. A wounded soldier was slung between two compatriots, his white breeches stained red with blood from a wound to his upper leg. Papa met them as they plodded toward the house. Mercy and Hope lingered behind, holding onto Bear.

  “Absolutely not!” Papa said. “Take him elsewhere.”

  A soldier pointed his musket at Papa’s chest. The little girls screamed, and Delight rushed outside with Mama right behind her. All of her sisters had gathered in the front yard, staring in horror at the scene unfolding before them.

  “Calm your dog, or it will be a dead animal,” the soldier said.

  Papa narrowed his eyes. “Bear, quiet.”

  “General Burgoyne has issued an order. You, Elijah Butler, are to keep this soldier until he is well and we return for him.”

  “And if I refuse?” Papa lifted his chin.

  The soldier pricked the scarf tied about Papa’s neck with his bayonet. “Would you like to face arrest?”

  Chapter 3

  Delight stood speechless and admired her father’s proud stance in the face of the redcoats’ demands.

  “We will nurse him properly,” Mama said. She had grown so large with the baby that she could scarcely walk.

  Papa’s gaze remained fixed on the soldier, and he ignored Mama. All the while, the bayonet rested within a hair span of his throat. “I have seven daughters and another child due any day. What do you expect from me?”

  “You deal with his care,” the soldier said. “I have my orders from General Burgoyne. Take your complaints to him.” He thrust a piece of paper into Papa’s hands.

  “We will find a place for him.” Mama stepped to Papa’s side and lifted a defiant chin.

  “He can have my bed,” Delight said. Although it consisted of a small rope structure in a room shared with Charity and Remember, the bed could be moved into the hall downstairs, and she could make a pallet with her sisters.

  The wounded soldier lifted his head, covered in a thick mass of auburn hair, most of which lay over his eyes. “Thank ye, lass.” His words were spoken in a thick Irish brogue. “I’ll not be troublesome to ye.”

  He looked ghastly pale, and she might have felt some sympathy if he hadn’t worn the despised uniform. Two soldiers half-carried, half-dragged him inside, where Mama directed them to the hall. They eased him to the floor, being careful not to further injure his leg.

  “Has a doctor tended to him?” Mama peered into the wounded soldier’s face.

  “Briefly. Too many others needed the doctor’s attention,” said the soldier who had previously aimed his musket at Papa. “Fortunate for him, the doctor did not see fit to amputate his leg. See to it he does not grow worse.” He gave Papa his attention. “Or it will not go well with you.”

  Lobsterback pig! Delight thought. How dare you talk to my father this way? I wish I owned a musket. I’d show you.

  She studied her mother’s face. Earlier today she had experienced pains, and now she had the enemy to nurse. When Mama attempted to bend to the soldier’s side, Delight stopped her. “I will take care of him to my utmost. There’s no need to make more work for you.” She stole a glance at the soldier’s bandaged leg, soaked in fresh blood.

  “I can assist,” Remember said. “I don’t mind, really.”

  “I can manage.” Delight promised herself that none of her sisters would be subjected to the atrocities of the British. “It shan’t be toilsome to change the dressings.” She reached for Remember’s hand. “You can help me bring my bed downstairs.”

  “I will find some fresh bandages.” Charity disappeared with Faith behind her. Patience snatched up Mercy and Hope’s hands and hurried toward the house.

  A soldier who had helped carry the wounded man kneeled at his side. “We will be back for you soon, Henry. I’m sorry about all this—and Adam, too.”

  The man they called Henry nodded and closed his eyes, obviously in more agony than he cared to state.

  Nearly an hour later, Delight dabbed at the soldier’s brow. Huge droplets of sweat had beaded upon his face. She’d helped to lift him onto the bed, and once there, he fainted. She hated to admit that she had actually taken pleasure in his pain. Certainly God must be disappointed in her.

  The time had come to change the man’s bandage. She had a basin of water ready to cleanse the dried and fresh blood and a box of dried herbs that might be needed for a poultice. Not given to a squeamish stomach, Delight picked at the tear in the white breeches surrounding the wound to better examine the injury. As she pulled aside the bloodstained material, Charity, Remember, Faith, and Patience looked on.

  “If you cannot watch this without becoming ill, I suggest you leave me be.” She knew full well only Remember might remain—to pray for the man.

  “You girls have chores,” Mama said from the doorway. “If Delight needs assistance, she will summon you.” She placed a mug of feverfew tea next to Delight.

  Another concern crossed Delight’s mind. “Is the baby coming today?” she said, remembering the look of pain that had swept over her mother’s face earlier when Papa spoke with the soldiers.

  Mama nodded and offered an endearing smile. “I believe so. Please pray for a boy—more so a healthy, whole child. Your father would be so pleased if he had a son.”

  “Of course. And perhaps you need to be in bed?”

  Her mother turned from the doorway and moved into the kitchen without a reply. She appeared to forget Delight had questioned her.

  I know where I get my stubbornness. She focused her attention on Henry, who appeared to be studying her curiously.

  He drew in a quick breath as she slowly unwrapped the blood-soaked bandage, which looked more like a shirt ripped into strips. “I be a thanking ye again for the care.”

  So the redcoat knows a few manners when it is imperative, Delight grudgingly acknowledged to herself. She looked at him and said pointedly, “I don’t recall having much of a choice.”

  He said nothing in response, so she began washing the area around the open wound. A musket ball had grazed the leg deeply enough to cause a lot of bleeding, but he would recover as long as infection didn’t set in. The flesh around it showed no signs of reddening, a good sign. Yet a poultice of yarrow was in order.

  “Aye, ye have a gentle touch,” Henry managed to say through a ragged breath.

  His comment amused her, especially when she could have been a sight more tender. “You will heal, if you take care.”

  “I will be talking to the Almighty about that. We’ve already held a few conversations.” He dug his fingers into his palm. For a brief moment, compassion seized her, but she refused to let that show. After all, Henry was the enemy.

  “What is your last name?” she said as she mixed the dried yarrow with some water and applied the herbal mixture to the wound.

  “O’Neill. I’m from Ireland.”

  She smirked. “I can tell.”

  “But I intend to stay in the colonies after—”

  “The patriots secure our freedom.” She lifted a brow and met his attention without the least conc
ern about hiding her agitation.

  Henry scowled.

  “We may not want the likes of those who contend with the king living here,” she added.

  “Your brashness might secure your family a wealth of trouble,” Henry said.

  She tightened the bandage around his upper leg a little rougher than necessary. Admirably, he did not complain or wince. “I daresay your wound may get infected, or you might eat something poisonous, or our dog might not like the way you converse with the members of this family and eat you.”

  He stiffened. “Aye, woman, ye don’t frighten me.”

  Delight gathered up the soiled bandages and dropped them into the basin. “I am not about to be threatened by a pompous redcoat. Go tell that to your General Burgoyne!”

  If Henry had been able to stand, he would have dragged himself from the Butler household and reported the whole lot of them to his captain. But since he had no choice, he was forced to endure the insults aimed at King George. The thought made him feel even more furious—and helpless.

  His leg felt like someone had touched him with a hot poker. To be sure, the pain had not ceased for four days. At first he’d worried the doctor might amputate, then he’d worried infection might kill him. And now he had this! This insensitive rebel woman assigned to nurse him would rather see him dead.

  He narrowed his eyes. Everything inside him wanted to explode, and she looked as though she felt the same. He’d met better company among Ireland’s landowners than he now faced living with these disagreeable colonists. Delight was her name? Quite possibly the woman served as a handmaiden for the devil.

  Taking a deep breath, he reached for the mug of tea while Delight swished her skirts and left the room.

  Lord, help me with these dire circumstances. The rebels here in the colonies are most difficult. And I know the woman assigned to nurse me regrets her position. I am imploring Ye to heal me quickly so I can rejoin my regiment.

  He lay back on the bed. War was not at all what he had expected. Men died, men were wounded, and friendships ended in a half breath. But he hadn’t been prepared for the passionate loathing of so many Americans.

  Henry persuaded his thoughts to turn to other matters, so he studied the neatly kept room. What few furnishings the Butlers owned were simple and plain. Two straight-back chairs rested against one wall with a spinet setting between, a deep wine-colored sofa against another, and a mirror hung to reflect the light from the fireplace and candles. A far wall held the portraits of Elijah Butler and his wife in their earlier years. He noted the kitchen was connected to the rest of the house, not like some he had seen where the cooking was done separately. He imagined the second story to be as neatly kept. This family did better than most.

  Hours later in the twilight, he heard a commotion.

  “I’m going after your aunt Anne,” Elijah Butler said. “Delight, Charity, tend to your mother until I return.”

  Ah, the mistress is in her confinement. He slowly tried to raise himself, but he found no strength for the task. The sounds of excited female voices filled the house.

  “Hush,” Delight said. “Mama does not need us scurrying about like a bunch of chickens. Come, let’s pray for her and the unborn babe.”

  Henry strained to hear the woman who had vexed him so. Could she be a follower of the Lord and Master, Jesus Christ?

  “Heavenly Father, we are gathered here in concern over our mother and the unborn child. We are asking Thee to guard her and keep the babe safe in the shelter of Thy wings. Papa wants a son in a powerful way, so we’re asking Thee to bless him with a boy.”

  “And mend the leg of the soldier we are keeping here,” another voice added.

  “That is very thoughtful of you, Remember,” Delight said a moment later. “Lord, help me to hold my temper with him so I shan’t disappoint Thee. In Jesus’ name, amen.”

  Henry chuckled. Some aspects of this family were a bit amusing.

  He slept fitfully during the evening. The events of the impending birth had the Butler family bustling about, and they seemed to forget him in the excitement, which suited him just fine. When darkness settled, Elijah entered the hall. He towered over Henry, the expanse of his shoulders outlined by the firelight from the kitchen.

  “Mr. O’Neill,” he said with a slight edge to his tone.

  Henry ached from the day’s journey and the endless pain in his leg. “Yes sir.”

  Elijah bent beside him. “Let me give you a word of warning. Are you a family man?”

  “No sir. I have never married.”

  “My family means more to me than you could ever imagine. If I find out that you have harmed one of them in any way, I will cut your other leg off myself. My wife and daughters are the reason God gives me breath. They come second only to God, and my beloved country is third. For those considerations, I would gladly give my life.”

  Henry heard more passion in this man’s words than from many of his commanding officers. He didn’t doubt for one minute that Elijah Butler would take an axe to his good leg if he upset his family. Visions of the man’s daughters, especially Delight with her quick temper, raced across his mind. “I understand perfectly.”

  Elijah rose to stand over him again. His mood instantly brightened. “This is a fine night. A new birth is a blessing, and my sister-in-law says it shan’t be too long.” He turned and walked from the hall.

  “Mr. Butler,” Henry called out. “I will be praying for your wife and the babe. My mother birthed fifteen children, twelve living, and I well remember how we prayed for her.”

  The man spun around. “I’ve been lucky that all of my children have survived save a twin sister to young Mercy.”

  Henry watched the man disappear. Someday he wanted a wife and children, if God saw fit. And from what he had seen of the Butler family this day, they were a good Christian family, although he didn’t know how they could reconcile their faith with their rebellion against the king.

  Dozing off to sleep, he dreamed of his regiment and the constant drilling. Always the soldiers talked of breaking the will of the colonists who refused to obey King George. What did these people hope to gain by their rebellion? No finer life existed for those who fell under the jurisdiction of the crown. A twinge of something long-since past pierced his heart. He remembered the oppression of family and friends in Ireland, the starvation, and the endless work. He had elected to leave his homeland and make life better for himself. What price was freedom? For the first time, Henry wanted to know how these people viewed their circumstances—not that he intended to change his mind. After all, he’d made an allegiance to England, and he was an honorable man, willing to do whatever necessary in the service of His Majesty, noting Elijah had declared earlier the same about himself. Nothing more.

  Much later, Henry awoke to Elijah’s shouts of, “It’s a boy!” Thrilled voices filled the house. “He is a fine-looking lad,” Elijah continued. “Praise God.”

  “Oh Papa, this is wonderful,” Delight said.

  “What is his name?” a much younger daughter questioned. “Will it be the same as yours?”

  “Of course, my sweet Mercy. Elijah Paxton Butler.”

  The man’s words tugged at Henry. How often had he heard the same gratitude to God expressed by his own father? These people were enemies, but they all prayed to the same God. The thought confused Henry to the point he could not go back to sleep. If we all pray to the heavenly Father for protection and victory over our enemies, how does God decide who is the victor? Who is really on the side of God?

  Delight’s eyes burned from lack of sleep. She stirred eggs into the huge skillet laden with bacon grease. Biscuits baked, and the aroma teased her senses. How good they would taste with freshly churned butter and a generous helping of the berries Mercy and Hope had picked the day before.

  For two nights, she had stayed up much later than her usual custom and talked with Papa, Charity, and Remember. Papa loved reminiscing about the birth of each of his children. But when the
clock struck twelve, she and her sisters went to bed. Papa spent the remaining hours seated by Mama’s bedside, holding little Elijah just as he’d done with her sisters.

  The baby’s birth had caused so much excitement in the Butler household. New friends in Chesterfield and Papa’s brother, Matthew, and his wife, Anne, visited and brought their hearty congratulations along with a wooden rattle carved to look like a fish. Another neighbor brought a pudding cap for the baby, although it would be months before he would be toddling about and need the cap to cushion his fall.

  The last time Delight had checked this morning, Papa had fallen asleep and Mama held the baby. What a true blessing for Mama and Papa. They loved their daughters and often exhibited a fierce protectiveness toward them, but now they had a dear son.

  A smile spread across her face and a few tears of joy sprinkled over her cheeks at the thought of little Elijah. She knew God had blessed them despite the orders to house the redcoat.

  Delight picked up the mug of chamomile tea she had brewed for Mama. The herbal liquid would help her get much-needed sleep. The other women in this family could take care of everything while Mama recuperated from childbirth. They would all be fussing over who would hold Elijah.

  Much to her distaste, she needed to check on Henry. Secretly, she’d named him the prisoner. His bandages should be changed again, and surely the man was hungry. Papa said it would take several weeks before his leg healed. Not a day too soon.

  Midmorning, she heard the pleasant sounds of Mercy’s and Hope’s laughter. They were nowhere to be seen, but she soon realized they were in the hall with the soldier. Angry that the girls had sought company with Henry, she stomped into the passageway, prepared to save her sisters from the enemy. Instead she found Mercy and Hope seated on the floor with their cornhusk dolls, conducting a tea party with the wounded soldier.

  Chapter 4

  What are you doing?” Delight stared in disbelief at her younger sisters’ wide-eyed innocence.

  Henry lifted a walnut hull teacup to his lips. “We are enjoying a spot of tea.” His thick Irish tongue sounded humorous with his English statement, but she was in no mood to be jovial.