Naked in the Winter Wind

by Dani Haviland

  Just a few yards away was a slightly sloping glen that would be perfect for my pyrotechnics display. If I could get the explosions to shoot up past twenty feet high, they would be in the line of sight of anyone near the mill. Sight, sound, and maybe smell: a perfect distraction so we could rescue the hostages.

  The three of us worked in a well-coordinated effort and had the wagon unloaded, the kegs set in more or less a large circle, within minutes.

  I turned my attention to Simon. “Give me about fifteen minutes to do my thing, and then very slowly drive up to the mill. You can claim the horse has a sore foot or whatever. I just want them to be watching you as you make your approach. When you get there, ask them if they have your flour ready. Make up some story about how your brother brought in two bushels of wheat or something, and that you want the flour. Just talk, okay? And talk real slow and act stupid.”

  The indignant look on his face was priceless. I still didn’t know who this Master Simon fellow was, but he was definitely a ‘master’ of something, and didn’t look the simpleton at all. Maybe this would be harder than I thought.

  “Here, unbutton your shirt and re-do it wrong, you know, so you have one button too many left over. And put your hat on crooked.” I reached up to shove his hat askew and he pulled back, as if I was trying to wipe a smudge off his face with a spitty finger. That gave me an idea. I reached down and grabbed a juicy weed, pulled it between my thumb and forefinger, then picked up a pinch of dirt. “There,” I said, and used my dirty digits to paint the side of his nose and one cheek. “That looks much better.”

  Jenny was doing the ‘me too, me too’ dance, eager and more than ready to do anything to help. “Jenny, your job is to sneak around the building and get in the back door. There’s probably a guard there, so you’ll have to wait until the coast is clear.”

  I saw her tilt her head in confusion, so I reworded my instructions. “Don’t go in until it’s safe, and you know you won’t get caught. Here, use my knife to cut off the men’s bindings. Make sure you tell Jody, that’s the Big Red, and his son that I have a well-stocked wagon out front. They’ll know what that means. Now, this is how it opens up.”

  I opened up the Leatherman and turned it back on itself to reveal the hidden blades. I debated on whether to show her how to use the wire-cutter feature. That might be too complicated for her. I used my thumbnail to pry the blade up so she could see where it was. “When you’re ready, pull it out all the way. It’ll lock in place.”

  I looked up at her face to make sure she understood. She understood, all right. She was about to receive a magnificent piece of equipment and probably thought it was magic. “It’s Italian,” I explained casually with a shrug of my shoulder.

  “Oh, right,” she said, nodding politely, but obviously unsure of what I meant. I put the multi-tool in her hand and she straightened up with pride; she was going to help fight the British. “I can do this, I know I can. But how will I know when it’s safe to get out of there?”

  “Oh, I’ll give a big signal. You just listen for a really loud noise, one like you’ve never heard before. When you hear it, run like hell. The men will be able to take care of themselves.

  “Master Simon,” I said as I put my hand on his back. I had true admiration for this man who was putting himself in harm’s way for people I didn’t even know if he knew. He looked at me with an open face, waiting for his orders, “as soon as you hear the noise, I would suggest you find a good place to hide.”

  It wasn’t showtime yet, and we wouldn’t be able to have a dress—or any other kind of—rehearsal for our performance. It was definitely time to set the stage and wire the props, though.

  We had spaced the kegs about twenty yards apart. I found a soft spot for each one and quickly dug a hole, buried the keg, inserted the fuse, and covered it. If I couldn’t bury it completely, I piled rocks or wood on top of it. I wasn’t trying to disguise them—the kegs weren’t going to be intact long enough for someone to find them. I needed the added mass for compression, though, so the explosions would be big, loud, and hopefully, distracting.

  I heard voices down the road. One was Master Simon, talking slowly and stupidly. Well, at least slowly. I couldn’t distinguish his words, but could hear the soldier talking to him getting angry. “Spit it out, man,” he hollered.

  I didn’t want to eavesdrop, especially when I realized that I recognized the voice. “It’s just some soldier,” I mumbled. “It could be someone else.”

  Yeah, right, I knew better, but worked at securing my last bomb, focusing on the task before me rather than speculating as to who was at the mill. That’s all I needed—another confrontation with Captain Asshole.

  I had precut all of the fuses on the wagon-ride in, each cord a little shorter than the one before it. This way, after they were inserted into the power kegs, I could light all of them at the same time, but they’d blow up sequentially. I was hoping for at least a two minute delay between explosions.

  “Thank you, Lord, for the lighter,” I said softly as I finished lighting the last fuse. “You’ve given me the ideas, Lord, now if You would just help me execute them, I’d appreciate it. The ideas—not the people,” I added to make sure He understood, “In Jesus’s name, Amen.”

  I ran to my next assault position. I was hoping to do a little shock and awe. At least, those were the words that came to mind as I raced to my next site. I didn’t know where that phrase came from, but it sounded like a good description for the misdirection I was trying to accomplish.

  Sound is an amazing property. If done correctly, it can both reflect and be directed—just like light with a mirror. My plan was to do just this. Hopefully, I had all the factors figured correctly.

  I stood behind my shield, a mammoth, odd-shaped boulder with a flat face. It was located at the edge of the clearing, about 100 yards away from the mill. The exterior wall of the building facing me had a tall, flat, uninterrupted surface. When the time came, this would be my sound mirror.

  I could see and hear Simon pleading with a soldier. He was getting pretty good at playing dumb. I had had my doubts about his acting ability when we first got started. Now it sounded as if he was immersing himself in the role. “But I have to bring home the flour or my wife will beat me. Please, sir,” he whined convincingly.

  I dared to peek out and verify that this was indeed the evil Captain Asshole beleaguering our Master Simon. It wasn’t. I must have imagined his voice. I knew fear played tricks with the mind, and I guessed mine had just been abra cadabra’d.

  All of a sudden, we heard a big ‘poof,’ then the noise of rocks and pebbles raining down from the sky. It sounded like I didn’t get that first charge packed tightly enough. Four of the Redcoats came out of the mill and looked down the road at the source of the commotion. They could see a big cloud of dust settling, but no people or animals.

  I looked back toward the mill again and saw Jenny’s blond hair move through the trees, but not the rest of her. Her little green calico smock was good camouflage. I probably should have covered her whole head. Fortunately, though, the soldiers were all focused on the unusual dusty apparition down the road. They hadn’t seen the fair-haired waif running to the back of the building.

  “Bang!” The second explosion made a much louder noise. Now two more soldiers came out to see what was going on. That meant that if Jenny really did see six new arrivals, and there were only three of them when she left, there were only two soldiers remaining inside.

  I looked at Simon to see how he was reacting to the show. I was glad to see that he was still in character. He had pulled his hat off and was shading his eyes with it, peering off into the area of concern. Just then, a third blast went off, not quite as loud as the second, but much better than the first.

  Evidently three explosions were enough to get the soldiers to take action. I heard orders shouted like ‘find out what’s going on out there’ and ‘hurry up’ and ‘take corporal so and so with you.’ Two men mounted up and rode out
toward my little Gunpowder Park. It was at this point that the officer came outside.

  Captain Asshole.

  “Where are the men going?” he barked. “Who said they could leave?” He was angry and wanted answers right away.

  “I sent the detail out to check on the source of the explosions, Captain. I’m Sergeant Josef Betz, and these are my men to command,” was the quick and concise reply, spoken in a broad German accent by the stocky blonde non-com.

  “They may be your men, but I am the superior officer here. You will do as I say! Now, I want the men sent out in twos. Take two and head that way, and two back behind, and two up there,” he ordered and pointed right to where I was standing.

  “Oh, shit,” I mumbled and hoped another bomb would go off.

  “Right. Now!” Captain Asshole screamed into the sergeant’s face.

  Sergeant Betz stood his ground, looked the captain right in the eyes, and sneered. “You are not my commanding officer, and my men will do as I tell them. Do you understand me?”

  I got the feeling that Sergeant Betz believed that the captain was simply an asshole and not a captain of anything. I giggled at the exchange, and boy, was I sorry. No one had been talking, nor were bombs exploding, at that moment. It was dead calm except for the sound of my sniggering. I was sure I had been heard.

  I pulled back to the other side of the rock, scurried into the wooded area, and hid behind a low-branched tree. I wanted to climb up and disappear into its lofty branches, but realized that once I was up there, I wouldn’t be able to move laterally. I decided it would be better to stay low and mobile.

  The captain strode right up to where I had been, then another bomb went off. That made four. I looked to the mill and saw Jenny run into the woods, followed by Jody, Wallace, and some of the other men. I needed to move, too, but my escape was cut off by the captain’s advance.

  Kerboom! Another one of my bombs exploded, and it was the biggest and loudest yet. I really felt the ground shake with that one. I looked back at the captain and saw him spin around, checking behind himself nervously. He acted as if he was being chased, but I think it was only his paranoia catching up with him.

  The captain hadn’t found me or anyone else, so retraced his steps, going back the same way he had come in. I threaded my way through the trees, making a big loop, and returned to my original location as he headed back toward the mill, his head jerking from right to left, looking for his transparent enemies.

  Sergeant Betz and his four men had positioned themselves in front of the mill entrance, an apparent unwelcoming committee for the unpopular captain. It didn’t seem to faze him, though; Captain Asshole strode right up to the sergeant. I couldn’t see his face, but he was obviously angry by his gait. The sergeant’s other men remained stone-faced and at attention. I think they believed that they were still guarding their prisoners: the rabble-rouser Jody Pomeroy and his cohorts. It was too bad—no, it was a good thing—that they hadn’t gone inside and found out that all of their prisoners had escaped.

  Oh, crap. Sergeant Betz was ignoring the captain’s angry approach, turning away from a possible confrontation. He was leaving his men and heading back to the entrance of the mill. Shoot, why was he so smart?

  I held my breath and squeezed my eyes shut as he walked through the front door, as if my not seeing what was going on would help. After a long minute and no yelling, I cautiously opened one eye to see the fuming sergeant exit the front door and march toward the captain. Both of my eyes popped open when I saw how mad he was. Sergeant Betz was moving sharply, as if his thigh muscles were made of thunderbolts. I was sure glad he wasn’t coming at me!

  The sergeant screamed in the captain’s face, “You left the prisoners unguarded, and now they’ve escaped, you fool!”

  The captain didn’t back down an inch. He snorted and said, “Don’t call me a fool, you kraut-eating son of Satan. I was left with only one man, and he just left for a minute to take a piss. I can’t do everything by myself!” Apparently, the captain didn’t care for people of German descent nor was he fond of being yelled at.

  “He only left for a minute? And you didn’t ask for a replacement or to be relieved? Don’t you have any sense of protocol? I doubt you’re even an officer. You are such an asshole!” The sergeant’s face was ripe tomato red and looked like it was going to explode.

  The sergeant was right, and the captain knew it. He wasn’t going to admit it, though, especially since there were other soldiers watching the altercation. So the captain did about the only thing he could do under the circumstances. “Do not call me an asshole,” he said low and threateningly.

  The sergeant pulled himself as tall as his vertically-challenged body could, and glared back. What the man lacked in height, he more than made up for with intensity. “Ass. Hole,” he said coldly and clearly, belittling his adversary in front of the other soldiers with the drawn out, emphatic word.

  I was really getting into watching their little pissing contest, but before it could get any more intense, a soldier rode in at full speed. He stopped short, right in front of the two adversaries, his horse’s hooves kicking up a thick cloud of dust that blocked my view. When the dirt settled, I saw that there was another rider right behind him, his hand atop the green bundle across his lap.

  Jenny had been captured.

  The first rider gave his report to the sergeant. “Just up the road, it looks like someone rigged six kegs of gunpowder to explode. There’s still one left back there. I wasn’t sure if it was going to blow up or not, so thought it best to leave it there.” The soldier saw the look of scorn on the sergeant’s face and added, “Best to leave it there until you told me what you wanted done with it, Sergeant.”

  “We’ll leave it there then,” the sergeant agreed. “Did you see any sign of who might have done it?”

  “No one was there, sir. But there were lots of footprints there at the site, and a wagon had stopped there recently. There were three sets of footprints including those of a barefoot small person. Apparently they unloaded the gunpowder from a wagon,” he said, glancing over at Master Simon and the wagon as he finished his report. The sergeant also looked at the wagon and driver, but before he could say or do anything, a ruckus started.

  “Let me go, you rotten Lobsterback!” The green package slung over the front of the other soldier’s saddle suddenly burst into screaming, kicking, and writhing.

  “Let me have her,” ordered Captain Asshole as he strode over to the mounted soldier who was struggling to keep the little dynamo contained. “She’s mine,” he growled.

  The sturdy sergeant stepped between the captain and the squirming young girl. “She is not yours. Here, put her down,” he ordered the soldier, who was more than ready to be rid of her. He let loose of her wrists, and Jenny immediately fell to the ground, landing hard on her bottom. The sergeant stepped up to her and congenially offered his hand to help her to her feet.

  “Thank you,” she said courteously as she rearranged her makeshift dress, shifting it around to re-cover her partially exposed body. She looked over at the captain, sneered, and covertly stuck her tongue out at him. She then turned around to face the sergeant, sporting a sweet smile to match her now polite and ladylike behavior.

  “You little bitch!” the captain screamed and grabbed for her.

  The sergeant picked her up by the armpits and swung her away, out of the captain’s reach. “Men, restrain the captain,” he ordered. He set her down and turned back to address the officer held in check. “I think you have forgotten what your mission is,” he paused then added, “Sir.”

  Two of the foot soldiers approached to apprehend him, but he ducked and spun around, grabbing Jenny by the hair as he did so. He yanked her hair so hard, he pulled her off her feet, tugging her into his grasp like a trout on a fly line. He held her close and high, so her feet couldn’t touch the ground, his inner elbow clamped around her neck. He clutched her so tightly that her face began to turn scarlet. Her little hands clawed a
t his sleeve, futilely trying to penetrate the thick cloth to get to his skin. She was kicking with the fury of a newly branded mule, but to no effect. She was barefoot, and although she may have inflicted some minor bruising to his shins, the captain was oblivious of anything but keeping her away from the good sergeant and his men.

  “Let her go,” the sergeant said calmly. “We have a job to do, and she will only be in the way.”

  Captain Asshole felt her body go slack—she was as limp as a rag doll. He lessened his chokehold to let her get a breath. He didn’t want to kill her. Yet. He knew she was either unconscious or pretending to be.

  Jenny took a couple of shallow breaths, and then I saw her body tense.

  Evidently, the captain felt the change because he resumed his iron-armed hold on her…but not before she had moved her head enough that she could sink her teeth into his bare hand. She wasn’t loosening her bite, either. He released his chokehold, and was now batting at her head, using one hand to try to knock her off the other. That didn’t work, so he literally swung her away from his body, pivoting in a tight circle, causing her body to fly away from him as if she were on a carnival ride. Even the centrifugal force of her own body weight wasn’t enough to cause the little viper to let go, though. Captain Asshole stopped the flinging, reached down, and grabbed the knife out of his boot. “Bite this!” he yelled as he brought the blade to a spot just under her left ear, piercing her skin.

  I saw the flow of blood from where I was, but didn’t know what I could do. I had no idea if Jody and his crew had had a chance to get to the rifles in the wagon yet. This wasn’t the distraction that I had planned.

  Distraction! That was it! Now was the time!

  I squatted down in front of my broad-faced rock pillar and pulled out the smartphone. It was fully charged. I had made sure of it by covertly placing it in the sunlight on the ride in. I pressed the little treble cleft button and the screen lit up. I found the little American flag emblem and tapped on it once. I slid the volume bar all the way to the right, tapped the icon of the fuzzy-haired hippie twice, and set the phone on its little rock stand.