Adam said nothing, but went to the stairs to the left and called loudly, “Molly! Come on—it’s time to go!”
She must have been waiting, for they heard her light footsteps as she came down the stairs. Charles looked up and almost gasped.
“Why, Molly—you look lovelier than ever!”
She was wearing a gown made of a light blue material, with lace at the bosom and around the hem. Her ash-blond hair was lighter than he remembered, and her lips fuller. She smiled suddenly at him, and there was little left of the teenaged girl he’d seen in Boston. This was a woman of twenty, with all the fullness of figure and mystery of expression he had rarely seen.
“I’m glad to see you again, Mr. Winslow,” she returned, her voice lower than most women’s, with a vibrant tone that suggested great power.
“Well,” Charles said finally with a smile, “you have grown up—which I believe I told you the last time we met, didn’t I, Molly?”
“Yes, you did. You’re looking very well.”
“Now, shall we go?”
As they came out of the building, Henry Stirling took one look at Molly and quickly limped out of the carriage. The indolence that had kept him half asleep in Charles’s presence vanished. As he took Molly’s hand and kissed it, there was an alertness about him—a predatory air that he could not quite conceal.
He greeted Adam with a word, then insisted on seating Molly in the frontward facing seat, sitting down beside her and waving the Winslow men to the other seat with a laugh. All the way to Mount Vernon he kept the conversation going, and Adam noticed that Stirling sat closer to Molly than was absolutely necessary.
Charles noticed as well, and he engaged Adam in conversation about business. He told him, in effect, that there were some wealthy planters who were not yet investors in the Ohio Company, but were interested. “We’re expecting you to convince them it’s a good proposition, Adam.”
“Do they know there’s going to be a war?” Adam asked.
“Why, no—and neither do you!” Charles said in alarm. “Don’t say anything about that, Adam!”
He was so alarmed that Adam stared at him. He said nothing, but as Charles continued to urge him to give a good report to the potential investors, it became clear that he’d been brought in to sell them on the idea. The idea depressed him. For the past few years, he’d lived on the cutting edge of life—one day at a time, all he could be sure of. It had been a simple matter—just stay alive—and now he was being drawn into a complex world of business that he had no taste for—and he hated it.
But it was too late, so he followed the two men and Molly inside when they arrived at the magnificent mansion with the large white pillars in front. When they went inside, Adam had an impulse to flee, for there was an opulent air to the house that was unlike anything he’d ever seen. Everything was rich and gilded, and the dress of the men and women made him feel like a poor relation.
Molly caught a glimpse of his face and knew at once that he was miserable. But Lord Stirling pulled her into the large ballroom and, with the assurance born of much dealing with women, led her onto the floor and began to dance.
It was a strange evening for both of them. Adam lurked on the outskirts of the ballroom, feeling totally out of place. Charles stayed with him briefly, then went off to his own devices. Adam watched Molly, who was like a stranger to him. He was accustomed to seeing her in simple cotton dresses, and this girl in silk, who moved with such grace in the complexities of the dance, was not his Molly at all.
She saw him from time to time, his dark face in the shadows along the walls, but there was no opportunity to go to him. Stirling monopolized her time, and she had seen enough of men to recognize that he was in full pursuit of her. Even though her experience was limited to the rural scenes, men are men, no matter what the station, and she saw the same hot desire in his eyes that she had seen in the eyes of the hunters of the Ohio Valley.
The hours sped by and Adam was almost ready to leave and walk home when Charles touched his arm, saying, “Come with me!”
He led the way to a door at the end of the large room, then as they went down a broad hall, whispered, “Be careful what you say to Washington, Adam. He’s a fox!”
They went into a room that seemed small after the large ballroom, but was actually fifteen feet long and almost as wide. There was a long table around which seven men were seated. The man at the end stood up as they entered, and Charles said, “This is my brother, Adam. Adam, I want you to meet Colonel Washington.”
“Happy to have you, Mr. Winslow,” Washington returned. “Won’t you join us?” There was a rawboned look of power about him—blunt features, including a broad nose and heavy forehead. His pale blue eyes looked inquiringly at the young man. “Your brother tells me you’ve just spent several years in the Ohio Valley.”
“Yes, Colonel. In the fur trade.”
“Ah, we would be most interested in your thinking on how things are going in that area.”
Washington leaned back, and Adam, feeling very uncomfortable, began to speak. He had not gotten far before Washington began to ask him specific questions, and that made things much easier. He found out at once that the colonel knew the area well.
Finally, one of the other men asked, “What about trouble with the French? If we sink our money into this venture, can we expect peace from them?”
Adam felt Charles’s intense gaze on him, urging him to deny any possibility of trouble, but he was looking into Washington’s face. There was such a power in the colonel’s gaze that it could be felt, and he heard himself saying simply, “There will be trouble with the French until the Crown of England settles the matter of who owns the land.”
Washington slapped the table so hard that the rest of them jumped. “Exactly what I’ve been trying to make the House of Burgesses understand!” He smiled at Adam and said, “I’m very happy that you have settled in our area, young man. Would it be possible for me to enlist you under my command in the militia?”
Adam stared at him. “Why, I’m no soldier, Colonel Washington!”
“But you know the Ohio Valley—and you know guns.” Washington nodded at Adam’s surprise, and added, “Your brother has told us much of your efforts to come up with a superior firing system for the musket. I would very much like to see your work. But I would more like to see you in my company. Can I count on you, Mr. Winslow?”
Adam felt the power of the man, as did the others in the room, and as many others would feel it in the days to come. It was almost perceptible, a tangible thing, the force of George Washington, and Adam found himself assenting.
“Why, I’d be proud to serve under you, Colonel!” When Washington took his hand, he knew at once that something had come into his life—something new and different.
Much, much later, he and Molly were deposited by Stirling and Charles at the shop. James and Hope Tanner were still up as Adam and Molly entered, and Adam thought—not for the first time—how their presence in the house made it possible for Molly to stay there. A young woman living alone with an unmarried man would be impossible otherwise! They got up, said good night, and he turned to her.
“Molly?”
“Yes?”
The candle guttered and threw a golden gleam over her face, and her eyes looked enormous as she faced him.
“You—looked very lovely. I didn’t know you could dance like that!”
“Robert taught me years ago. Although he wasn’t very good at it, I learned the steps. It just seems to come naturally to me.”
“Everybody was watching you. You were quite popular.”
“I was disappointed.”
“Disappointed?”
“I thought you’d come dance with me—at least once.”
“Me?” He seemed shocked at the thought. “Why, Molly, I’d have been a poor show—with all the fine gentlemen in their fancy clothes.”
“I—I wish you had come,” she whispered. She was standing so close that he could smell the fai
nt odor of the violets she wore, and it made him suddenly nervous.
“Well if I’d known that—maybe I’d have come.”
“Will you dance with me the next time?”
He nodded, and suddenly his throat seemed tight. At a loss for words he simply said, “Go to bed, Molly.”
“Good night, Adam.” She went up the stairs without another word, and for a long time he stood there, in a trance, thinking of her. Then he smiled and shook his head. “Me dance with her! Now wouldn’t that be a sight!” He turned and went to bed.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
THE BULLETS WHISTLE
Molly put down her quill, rubbed her eyes, and picked up her journal to read the entry she had just made. Her fingers, she noticed, were trembling and the lines across the page wavered in a manner quite unlike her usual even script.
April 2, 1754
Woodbridge
Adam left this morning with Lieutenant Colonel Washington. They are part of the force to drive the French out of the Ohio Valley. I was so proud that Washington made Adam his aide! But they are too weak a force, Adam says (and the colonel agrees), to push the enemy out. I pray that he will be safe!
I am glad that Adam is gone, for he was so angry with Lord Stirling that there would have been trouble. Oh, what can I do? I have avoided Stirling, have told him I do not care for his company, but he forces himself on me. I have tried for the past few months to hide this from Adam, but two days ago he came home and found Lord Stirling here—and my face was flushed, for he had been—well, he had been no gentleman! It hurt me, for Adam thought I had been encouraging his attentions—that I was kissing him, when in fact I had just managed to pull myself away from him.
Charles is no help. He encourages the man, telling me that I must be nice to him, for he can help with the family business—that’s his answer!
Somehow I must free myself of his attentions—I must! My heart pounds even now as I think of how he forces himself on me as if I were a common girl!
And Adam—I cannot bear for him to believe I like the man—yet if I told him the truth, he would beat him. And for a common man to strike a member of the nobility would be a tragedy!
What can I do? Lord, help your servant!
“You’re impatient, Adam,” Washington said quietly. He had come up to stand beside Adam, who was looking over Great Meadows—an open plot of land in the midst of the forest lush with grass for horses and cattle.
“Well, I guess I’m guilty, Colonel,” Adam nodded ruefully. “We’ve been on the march for two months almost, and we’ve only been within striking distance of the enemy once.”
“I know.” Washington looked westward to the gap in the woods that marked the road they’d hewed out, and there was a frown on his heavy features. “If we could have followed the first plan, we’d have been there by now, but when Colonel Fry got lost, we had no choice but to hack our way through.” He looked down at Adam with a smile and added, “At least you can tell your grandchildren you had a part in building the first road west—for that’s about what this is!”
“We could have taken a party of riflemen through the woods, Colonel.”
“I think now that’s what we should have done,” Washington admitted. “By this time we’ve been seen by enough enemy scouts to carry the word to the French at Fort Duquesne. They’ll be waiting for us.”
Adam pulled a weed, bit it off, then asked sharply, “We going on, Colonel—anyway?”
“Yes! You see that hill?” Great Meadows was about 200 to 400 yards wide and two and a half miles long. At a point about 100 yards from a forested hill on one side and 150 yards from another on the other side was a rise. “I’ve marked off an outline there. We’re going to build a fort.”
“A fort? Why, that’ll take even more time, sir!”
“I know—but we may need it, Adam. If we get overwhelmed, we can’t run all the way back to Virginia, can we?” A smile touched Washington’s firm lips, and he put his hand on Adam’s shoulder—an unusual action for him, but he had grown to trust the young scout during the past two months. “We’ll call it—Fort Necessity.”
Building the fort was not such a big job, for all the men were expert axmen. They simply dug a trench three feet deep, placed logs twelve to fifteen feet long upright in it, and then packed the dirt around it. Loopholes were cut through the logs, and in less than a week, Fort Necessity stood ready for action.
“Wouldn’t take but one cannon to knock it down, Colonel,” Adam said as the two men stood inspecting it early one morning.
“No, but we could hold it against any massed infantry attack—and there are no cannon in this part of the world.” Washington turned to see an Indian runner emerge from the trees on the western side of the clearing.
The Indian approached one of the soldiers, who waved an arm to where Washington stood with Adam, then ran at once to the rise. “Colonel Washington?”
“Yes.”
“I am Silverheels. Message from Davidson.”
Washington took the leather pouch the runner had handed him, pulled out a parchment and scanned it. He looked at Adam, his pale blue eyes alive with excitement. “You won’t be bored anymore, Mr. Winslow! Get the men out!”
Forty men left Fort Necessity—with the colonel after less than an hour. As they made their way through the thick woods, Washington said little, but as heavy rain set in, he told the men to rest. “The message was from a man who was with me last December, Winslow. He tells me that an expedition of Frenchmen are on their way to attack. But I don’t think we’ll wait for that.”
“Do you know where they are, sir?”
“The messenger will lead us to their camp.”
“How big a force do they have, Colonel?”
“Davidson wasn’t sure—but it could be over a hundred.”
Adam surveyed their unit, rubbed his chin, and said, “We’ll be outnumbered.”
“We’ll have the advantage of surprise, though—and if we wait for the other men, we’ll let them get away!”
Adam smiled at the tall man, for he had learned much about this aristocrat over the past two months. They were facing an enemy that outnumbered them two to one, and Washington was afraid they would “get away.” At a time when other men would be thinking of retreat, this soldier feared only the loss of an opportunity to do battle. In years to come, Adam was to think often of this moment, but as they stood there in the dripping rain, he could only think, He’s going to get some of us killed—but he’ll be right in the middle of it too.
It was a bedraggled, hungry lot who saw the sun rise. They marched single file with Washington, who was following Silverheels. The guide led them to a depressed glen, rimmed with rock that concealed the French army. “A perfect hiding place!” Washington whispered to Adam as they circled the camp. Breakfast fires were burning, but the dense overhanging foliage absorbed their reflections.
Colonel Washington glanced around, saw that his men were in position, then yelled, “Attack! Attack!”
The French threw down their eating utensils, grabbed guns, and made a dash for the protection of the rocks. The French commander fell in the attack, but Washington did not rush the makeshift fort because the French put up a furious fight.
Adam loaded and fired again and again; he heard for the first time the cries of the wounded and dying. He fired and saw a shadowy figure drop; then as he stood up to reload, a ball whistled by his head and he heard a thunk. Turning around he saw a soldier named Jake Kilrain still standing, but mortally wounded, a musket ball in his forehead. Suddenly the man fell like a tree, slowly, his unbending body slamming into the ground. Adam’s heart went out to the wounded but there was no time to tend them. The battle was fierce and he wondered if he would survive.
“Cut them off!” yelled Washington as he walked from tree to tree, ignoring the vicious whistling musket balls. He signaled a sergeant with a small squad to fill in a breach where the enemy was running to escape.
The battle lasted about fifte
en minutes, though it seemed much longer to Adam! Finally a cry went up asking for quarter, and Washington bellowed out, “Hold your fire! They’re surrendering!”
A tense moment passed, but the French rose slowly, hands over their heads, and their officer, Captain La Force, came forward to stand before Washington. “We will fight no more,” he said with tears of anger in his eyes. “You have win these fight—but you nevair get back to your country!”
There was celebrating in the camp that night. Colonel Washington and his small force remained at Fort Necessity to search the forest for signs of the enemy, for they were certain that some of the French troops had escaped to Fort Duquesne with word of their defeat.
A week later, Silverheels departed on a scouting trip and came back at twilight with one of the braves from his own tribe. Washington listened carefully as the Indian spoke, then to Silverheels’ translation: “He says that the French with many Indians have left Fort Duquesne—he says they have heard how you beat La Force and they vow to kill all of you.”
The colonel believed the report and drove the men to strengthen the fort. The water had become contaminated and dysentery spread through the camp, but a construction crew never had greater incentive to work. Every now and then a man would drop out because of illness.
In the center of the fort was a stockade 57 feet in diameter, loopholed for rifles and muskets. Within the stockade was a hut 14 feet square, roofed over with shakes, which offered protection to the most seriously ill and the dangerously small supply of powder.
The scouts kept them posted as they built, and finally Washington told Adam, “They’ll be here tomorrow.”
That night it rained, and day broke to reveal the first signs of three French columns advancing on the fort. Their Indian allies had put aside their blankets and came naked in the rain.
“There’s too many of them,” declared the colonel. Adam stared at Washington, not believing his ears. He knew the colonel was stating the truth, but he never once considered that the tall Virginian would agree. “There are too many for us, but it won’t be very glorious if we don’t fight, will it?”
The Indentured Heart Page 21
