The carriage lurched to a stop, and Lydia glanced out the window at the modest home of Mr. and Mrs. Lawrence Wilsby. She touched Daniel’s arm. “Please do not mention me or my name to the Wilsbys. Not yet.”
“Why? They have nothing to do with this. But if they did, why would you be willing to share information with me and not them?”
“Because the fewer who know of my involvement, the better. Not only because it endangers myself, but my whole family. If the British discovered…” Lydia let her words melt away and gave the tiniest shudder.
“Might they not recognize your carriage anyways?”
She shook her head, pleased at the measures she had taken. “I hired this one. These are dangerous times, Mr. Reid.” Lydia pulled a handkerchief from her reticule and began to wring it—anything to convince him how frightened she was at being discovered, to get him to trust her. “My family…” She honestly wasn’t sure what Charles’s reaction would be, but uncompleted thoughts couldn’t hurt her pretense. Daniel’s mind would hopefully paint a much more horrific picture of consequences than reality.
Two thin creases formed between his eyes as his expression softened. “Your secret is safe, but what proof have I that you speak the truth?”
Lydia’s pulse quickened. She could think of no harm that could come by divulging the direction Major Layton had taken, but if she was mistaken... “I overheard Colonel Tarleton is quite frustrated chasing Colonel Marion and requested Major Layton to head north toward Camden. That’s all I have at the moment.”
“I will see what I can find out about your major, but for now,” one corner of his mouth twitched upward, “I do need to go talk to a man about some land.”
Lydia relaxed into her seat. “How do you think you will take to our southern crops? I hear indigo is one of the most common this year. Indigo and rice.”
His dark eyes lit. “I admit I have a lot to learn, having spent my youth growing wheat and corn. But I enjoy a challenge.”
“I do not doubt it.”
Daniel scooted to the edge of his seat and gripped the door handle. “I know your name but not where you live or how to safely get a message to you.”
Lydia again kept her desire to grin suppressed. She’d spent some thought on this, as well. “In the livery, your horse is boarded in the third stall.”
“How did you—?”
“I will tuck a small pouch on the inside, under the manger with a note. No one should notice it, but it would be unwise to use names or divulge information. Just when to meet. The location will be in the woods southwest of town. Toward the center is an ancient oak. Trust me, you will not mistake it. I will be there.”
Daniel climbed down from the coach. His gaze met hers once more before he closed the door. The carriage pulled forward once again, and Lydia sucked a breath to her deprived lungs. Now to meet with Major Layton when he returned and convince him she had an asset worth bargaining for.
~*~
Daniel leaned into his cane as the carriage turned down the next street. He’d know soon enough whether or not he’d just hanged himself or gained a useful ally for South Carolina. Miss Lydia Reynolds seemed sincere, but something left him unsettled. Maybe he simply wasn’t comfortable risking her safety.
He pushed the thought aside and turned up the cobblestone walk to the comfortable cottage on the northern outskirts of town. A string of laundered sheets waved in the breeze along the side of the property, and a handful of chickens pecked at the ground. A fine home in his opinion, but he couldn’t help but wonder what a lady like Miss Reynolds thought of the place. Likely she considered such an existence below her. And if she did, how much harsher would she judge his family’s log cabin in the wilderness along the Mohawk?
Yet again Daniel forced Lydia from his mind and rapped his knuckles against the door. Footsteps approached, and a moment later the door opened to an older woman, a generous amount of gray pulled up under her linen cap. The wrinkles at the corners of her eyes deepened as she looked him over. Her gaze paused at the cane before returning to his face. “Good day, sir. What is it I can do for you?”
“I am looking for Mister Lawrence Wilsby. Is he at home?”
“Aye. He’s sitting down to his dinner.”
“Though I hate to interrupt a man’s meal, I do need to speak with him.”
The woman stepped aside and waved Daniel past her, through a poorly lit hall, and to the right into the small dining room. “This man is here to see you,” she told the white-haired gentleman seated at the head of the table, knifing butter across a thick slice of bread.
He set both the bread and the knife down and rose to his feet. “Am I mistaken in assuming we haven’t met?”
“Not at all, sir.” Daniel stepped forward to extend his hand. “This is my first time south of Virginia.”
“Though from your speech I place you farther north.”
“New York.”
“Aye, that sounds about right.” Wilsby shook his hand and then pulled him toward a chair. “Have a seat. Would you care for some soup?”
Daniel took the chair but waved aside the offer of food. “I was told by Mrs. Richardson that you might be of assistance to me.”
“Oh?” Dark eyebrows rose, creating a field of furrows across his forehead. “The general’s widow?”
Daniel nodded. “The same.”
“And what did she think I could assist you with?”
He leaned forward with a glance behind to make sure the woman, though probably Wilsby’s wife, had left. He leaned his arms across the worn-smooth boards of the table and lowered his voice. “Finding Colonel Marion.”
The man sat back. “Marion?”
“Yes.”
Lawrence Wilsby stood and shuffled to close the dining room door, before rotating back to Daniel. “I think it is time to tell me exactly who you be and why I should help you.”
4
Daniel glanced to the sun’s colorful retreat below the horizon. His muscles tensed. After a full day of riding across unfamiliar terrain and trying to avoid swamps, all the while searching for the man known as the Swamp Fox, he could well understand the British soldiers’ frustrations. Even with the names and directions Wilsby had given him.
“Ho there,” a voice rang from a thicket, followed by the rustling of brush. Three men on horseback emerged from the trees and curtains of moss, pistols aimed.
Daniel raised his hands enough to be easily seen. “What do you want?”
The youngest, still a youth, kicked his horse near enough to seize Madam’s bridle while the others kept their weapons trained on Daniel. One, half hidden behind a monster of a beard, wagged the barrel of his pistol. “Your horse, guns and any powder you have.”
“First, inform me to whose cause I’m contributing.”
“To the Continental Army and Colonel Francis Marion’s brigade.” A straight line of yellowed teeth showed. “Now get down from your mount and don’t try anything. We’ll give you a voucher to redeem after the war.”
Daniel didn’t move. “You can have what you’ve asked for and more. I’m coming with you. After you’ve given me some proof that you are, in fact, Colonel Marion’s men.”
The men looked to each other and laughed. “You’re a Patriot?”
“I am. Why else would I wander alone in these marshes? I’ve been searching for Colonel Marion for two days now. But again, how can I be certain you are his men?”
The man waved toward the youth. “Why, this is the Colonel’s own nephew, Gabe Marion.”
Not exactly evidence, but Daniel didn’t doubt their word. Their tricorn hats sported the white cockades Marion’s men were becoming known for, and there were too many things about them that screamed ‘desperate Patriots who had spent far too long hiding in the back country’. “Then take me to him. I have messages for the Colonel from Colonel Sumter and General Washington.”
Gabe’s head jerked to him. “General Washington?”
“Yes.”
“Well
then, let’s get back to camp.” Gabe released Madam’s bridle and reined his horse. Daniel followed suit, matching pace. The others trailed behind. They rode for a while, before plunging back into the forest. Branches brushed Daniel’s arms and legs as they moved through the deepening shadows to the edge of a swamp. The surface glistened in the descending light. Then the water swirled as something moved. Daniel pulled Madam to a halt as a set of large eyes appeared in the ripples.
The others paused ahead of him and looked back.
“Is that a…”
Two nostrils appeared as well.
Gabe twisted in his saddle and chuckled. “Aw, that’s just a little alligator. He won’t bother you as long as you don’t stop.” He nudged his horse, water spraying as hooves sank into the marsh.
The other two men waited, watching Daniel.
He swallowed. The alligator hadn’t moved, but, though most of the body remained under the water, it appeared anything but little. Still, not much choice remained but to follow. He’d just make sure Madam kept her pace and her distance. Daniel didn’t look away from the long snout of the overgrown reptile as he entered the marsh.
A second set of eyes rose—even closer.
Daniel laid his heels to Madam’s ribs. With his luck one of those massive jaws would take off his boot, foot included. His head felt light with relief as they reached the next swell of dry land. Unfortunately, that was not the only marsh they had to pass through, and with each the sun sat lower, making it impossible to tell if there were more alligators. The only comfort he had was that Gabe rode on ahead and seemed confident in his path. Finally, glints of fires flickered between the trees, and the way opened up to a small clearing filled with men and horses. Most paid the newcomers no heed, while others shouted greetings.
“Young Gabe.” A lean man, not overly tall, pushed up from a fallen log and circled a smoldering fire. He took hold of Gabe’s horse. “Anything?”
The youth swung down. Likely thirty years separated them in age, but they shared the same prominent nose and dark, low set brows. “No. Tarleton’s burning the countryside, though. Any known Patriot farms between here and Jack’s Creek.” He turned and motioned to Daniel. “And we met this man on our way. He insisted he needs to speak with you.”
Daniel took that as his cue and joined them on the ground. He saluted. “Colonel Marion?”
“Yes.” Francis Marion returned the gesture. Though not a large man, the way he carried himself denoted command. “You are?”
“Sergeant Daniel Reid. I fought with the Connecticut Line, Sixth Regiment, until two weeks ago.”
“And what brings you this far south, Sergeant?”
“General Washington wanted to let the remaining troops in North and South Carolina know that he is not unaware of your situation here. He plans to send General Greene to take over leadership of the area. I have letters from him and also Colonel Sumter. I reported to Sumter first, and he requested I bring them on to you.”
“Very well, Sergeant. That is good to hear.” Marion smiled and then waved to one of his men. “Morgan, take care of Sergeant Reid’s horse,” he ordered before turning back to Daniel. “Why don’t you come rest yourself, and let us know how the war goes in New England. This past year has left us feeling rather detached.”
The man took the reins from Daniel’s hands and led Madam away. Uncertainty sank to the pit of Daniel’s stomach, residing there even as he found an unoccupied length of log.
The Colonel crouched beside the fire and speared what appeared to be a potato. He passed one to Gabe, who also plopped down, and a second to Daniel. “You are in time to join us for supper.”
The vegetable’s hot skin burned Daniel’s hands, and he dropped it to his lap while he drew his knife. Pa’s knife. The blade had been a gift the evening before Daniel left. How did his family fare now? Last winter had been especially cold. Did they have enough food put away for the one approaching? Was Pa’s leg allowing him to keep the farm going? Daniel eyed the knife. It was wrong of him to stay away for so long.
Marion’s voice pulled him from his mulling. “So, Sergeant Reid, what do you think of our fair South Carolina?”
Strangely, Lydia Reynolds came to him.
Gabe chuckled. “He wasn’t so sure about the ‘gators.”
“Only because I’ve never seen the likes of them before,” Daniel mumbled, digging into the pale orange flesh of the sweet potato.
“You don’t have to worry about them unless you plan to pause and have a chat.” A smile stretched across Colonel Marion’s face. “You said you are not with the army anymore? How did you get enlisted to mail service?”
“I volunteered.” Daniel took another bite, the texture a little dry from roasting over coals, but the flavor and his hunger more than negating that. “I finished my three years of service, but wasn’t ready to head home.”
“Well, you are in good company, Sergeant. Most every man here is giving his time freely. The men will probably return to their farms in a few weeks, but you’re welcome to join as long as you have the mind. That is, if you’re done delivering messages.”
Daniel stabbed his potato and reached with his free hand to yank off his boot. He rolled down his sock, baring the letters, and passed them to Marion. “Now I am.” He pulled his boot back on.
“And do you have something waiting for you up north, or will you consider lending us a hand?”
Daniel glanced into the fire, his mind on the larger ones spotting the countryside. How many more had he seen over the past three years? And before that? Farms and homes that had taken months and years to build up reduced to rubble in under an hour. Weariness laid itself over him, but the thought of home brought no comfort. And who knew, maybe he’d be able to help turn the tide of the war down here. If Miss Reynolds told the truth and was willing to feed him information about the British…
And, he couldn’t deny the urge to see her again.
“Well, it looks like you’re at least considering it.”
“No, I’m not, sir. I mean, I already have. I think I just might have something to offer South Carolina.”
~*~
The cuff of her gown cascaded with ripples of lace from her elbow. Lydia set a hand against her abdomen, her stays cinched far too tight, and managed a shallow breath. Adorned in folds of crimson muslin−one of the last gowns her father brought her from France−she’d wasted no efforts in dressing for dinner. Major Layton had returned, and she had a proposition for him.
Both Charles and the major, with their powdered wigs and fine coats, stood as she entered the dining parlor. She gifted the latter, clad in red, with a smile. Charles would learn his best efforts to thwart her independence were in vain. She’d find passage to England without his help.
“You look most lovely, my dear.”
Lydia sent him a glare and tipped her chin away.
“Quite correct, Mr. Selby,” Major Layton agreed. “Your sister-in-law glows this evening.”
The look in his eyes as they toured her from head to hem and back unsettled her stomach, but at least she had his attention. She sat and dinner began, both men conversing over the shipments expected in the next few weeks and other items of business. Lydia only partly listened as she picked away at her food, more than her stays constricting her appetite.
“So what will Colonel Tarleton do now?”
Lydia’s attention perked at Charles’s question, and she slipped a tiny cut of roast into her mouth as she listened for the answer.
“I am honestly not sure. He was so frustrated after trying to catch that fox, Marion, that he had us burning houses and barns across the countryside to warn rebels. When I left Colonel Tarleton, he was on his way back to Camden and felt quite confident that the rebels were subdued for now—wrote as much to General Cornwallis.”
“You sound less than convinced, Major.” Lydia set her fork beside her plate. There was no way she could eat another bite.
“Marion has a loyal following among the pla
nters in the area,” Major Layton replied. “Burning barns will not endear Colonel Tarleton to anyone. No, we need to strike at the heart, root out the leaders of the rebellion and the others will simply follow like sheep.”
“Hard to do when you can’t find the leaders. When they are as sly as a fox or, what was it Tarleton called Sumter? A gamecock?”
He chuckled. “Yes. Colonel Tarleton does seem to enjoy comparing our enemies with animals.”
“The problem remains.” Lydia glanced to the large clock hung over the fireplace as the door to the dining parlor sighed open and Eli stepped in. His timing was perfect.
Eli glanced to her with the a subtle nod before approaching Charles. “The Captain of the Zephyr is here to see you. He waits in your study.”
Charles pushed up from his seat. “Excuse me, I am sure it is nothing.” He gave a slight bow and followed the slave out.
As soon as the door closed, Lydia turned her full attention to Major Layton. It would not take long for Captain Hues to question why he had been sent for. He would inform Charles about the note sent to the Zephyr and Charles would return with questions, but hopefully no way to attach the deed to Lydia.
“Major.” She gave Major Layton a smile as he looked her way. “Tell me, what would information regarding Marion’s camp, his plans, and his tactics, be worth to His Majesty’s army? Or to you?”
“A great deal. But why the interest?”
“Would it be worth passage for myself to England?”
His look of surprise melted away to disbelief. “You want to trade information of Marion and his brigade to me for passage? Pray tell, how are you to acquire this information?”
Lydia raised her hand, flattening her palm to him. “I will not tell you. Not until you agree to my terms and conditions. I will not allow you to shove me aside and leave me with nothing. I will find that sly fox, Francis Marion, and you will find me a way back to England.”
“So it’s passage you desire?” Major Layton sat back in his chair and gave her an appreciative look. “You know, we needn’t complicate things. I am sure there are other exchanges that could be made to pay for your passage. A beautiful woman like you need not resort to a dangerous game of spying to get what she wishes.”
The Patriot and the Loyalist Page 3
