The Patriot and the Loyalist

by Angela K Couch

  The major stumbled back, and they both fell.

  Momentarily the world hazed. Then Daniel appeared over her, wrestling the dagger from Major Layton’s hand. The razor edge glistened with fresh blood and a wave of nausea collided with one of pain.

  Lydia cried out as Daniel dragged her away from the British officer. She rolled onto her back. Blood poured from a gash running across her collarbone and shoulder, soaking into the cloth surrounding it. Her hand shook as she stuffed a fistful of her cloak over it, and then looked to Daniel.

  One final blow to the major’s jaw, and Daniel left him unmoving in the dirt.

  “Is he dead?” Lydia could not hold her voice steady.

  “I don’t think so.” Daniel crawled to her and gathered her into his arms. He laid a hand over hers, adding more pressure to the wound. Probably needed, but it only hurt worse. “What were you thinking? That blade could have as easily cut your throat. If his hand hadn’t dropped that little bit when you struck him…” He nestled her head under his chin. “Next time just let him shoot me.”

  She tried to focus on his face when he looked down at her again, but it was getting harder to breathe as the pain worsened. “Does there have to be a next time?”

  He shook his head, the concern never wavering from those wonderfully dark eyes. Then he looked up.

  Someone approached. No, not just someone. A group. Scabbards slapping against thighs, boots on packed dirt.

  ~*~

  Daniel tightened his grip on Lydia as the British soldiers advanced, Lieutenant Mathews leading. Hardness lined the man’s face as he surveyed his fallen superior and then looked to where Daniel sat with Lydia stretched across his lap, his foot useless and her shoulder bleeding. No retreat or fight was left in them. Not against a dozen soldiers.

  “Is he dead?”

  Daniel shook his head. “No.”

  Mathews’s face remained stringent as he motioned his men forward. “Private Taylor, find the surgeon for Major Layton and fetch him to the Reynolds’ home.” He signaled to two more. “Bring a wagon. It will make conveyance more practical.”

  They did as they were ordered, while the others waited for the next command.

  Daniel didn’t have to guess what was coming. He pressed a kiss to Lydia’s head and began to lower her back to the ground. “Miss Reynolds also needs a physician. She’s more seriously injured than the major.”

  The lieutenant circled in front of them, and then looked at his men. “I will guard the prisoner and lady. You finish patrolling the area.”

  A sergeant saluted and ordered the remaining eight after him.

  As the area stilled, Lieutenant Mathews stepped near. “I can very well imagine what took place here,” he said, his voice low. “And in this thing, I believe Major Layton’s actions to be wrong.”

  The creak of an axle silenced him. He stood back while the first two soldiers returned and loaded the major, and then Lydia, into the back.

  Major Layton groaned, but his eyes remained closed.

  The lieutenant extended his hand and pulled Daniel to his feet, before giving the slightest nod. “Climb up there on the bench where we can watch you.”

  Daniel did as commanded, pulse speeding. A pistol remained trained on him as the wagon crept along the shore road toward Lydia’s home. There was still no sign of the surgeon when they arrived.

  “Take the major inside and make him comfortable, and then come back for Miss Reynolds.” Lieutenant Mathews made no move to climb down as his men disappeared into the house. He glanced behind. “Miss Reynolds, how does the situation stand with the deed?”

  Lydia’s breath hitched, and she glanced to Daniel. Her face appeared bereft of color, as though her usual rosy hue had leaked from the wound. “I told Mr. Hilliard to finish the documents. The cottage is yours. Your family’s.”

  “Good. And…thank you.” The lieutenant’s stoic expression sagged and his voice crackled. “Hopefully this war will soon be over, and we can all go home.” His ruddy complexion paled as he tossed his pistol to the ground and squared off to Daniel. “Your friends have not gone far, and I am now the only thing between you and your life.”

  Daniel only let himself hesitate for a moment. The other redcoats would return at any time, and the British officer needed an excuse for his prisoner’s escape just as much as Daniel needed to escape. “Thank you.” His fist caught Lieutenant Mathews square in the jaw.

  35

  Lydia flinched as the fresh bandage tightened around the deep gash on her shoulder. Pain resonated from the area, and already blood soaked the cream-colored cloth, but she focused instead on the man with his cane and halting stride as he paced the width of the modest living quarters. Gratitude flooded. Daniel was alive.

  Thank you, Father.

  “That is a mean looking gash you have, Miss Reynolds.” Mrs. Cordes, their hostess on the small plantation, gathered the stained cloths that had bound Lydia’s wound the long miles from Georgetown. “Rest yourself while I fix you and Sergeant Reid something to eat.” She propped the basin against her hip and started down the stairs from the large loft of the house.

  As soon as the door closed, Lydia pushed herself into a sitting position. “Daniel…” Maybe she shouldn’t call him that anymore. After everything she’d done, such familiarity was probably no longer condoned. He had said little on the road to this Patriot home. “Mr. Reid, I…you have every reason to be angry and…I…” I wish I could rewrite the past.

  Lydia shook her head as she pictured the first evening on the streets of Georgetown, her shin hurting and Mister Daniel Reid hefting her onto his pretty bay mare. The short conversation. She imagined letting him ride away. No secret meetings. No game of wits. No stolen kisses. Even if she lost him now, she couldn’t wish all of that away. Just as she could not wish away the memories of her family. Despite all the pain, sorrow and loneliness, she could not regret the sweet moments of love—gifts from a loving God. A loving Father. A flood of moisture obscured Daniel from her view and she looked away from his steady gaze.

  “Tell me why,” he said.

  She scooted back and sagged against the bed’s solid oak headboard. “I thought England would give me a new life. I thought I needed to escape. I had no affection for Patriots when I first met you. My father was killed, his ship sunk by the Continental Army, and you were my passage across the ocean. Charles would not help me, though now I understand why. Deceiving you, convincing you that I—”

  “That’s not what I’m asking.” He blew out his breath and perched on the chair beside the bed. “Why did you help Charles? Why did you bribe the lieutenant?”

  He vanished behind a haze of tears. Lydia tried to blink them away, not caring if they fell to her cheeks so long as she could see the tenderness smoldering in his brown eyes.

  His fingers brushed her arm below the bandage. “Why did you risk your life to save mine?”

  Lydia slid her feet off the bed so she could face him. Her shoulder throbbed as she straightened, and the room momentarily faded to dark. “I already told you,” she said when the haze cleared. “Somewhere along the way, in the midst of everything wrong, I fell in love with you, Daniel Reid. I love you.”

  He leaned forward, his fingers sinking into her hair fallen from its pins, and touched the tip of his nose to hers. “Lydia…”

  “Yes,” she whispered, closing her eyes. Please kiss me.

  A chuckle rose in his throat and he pulled back. “I wasn’t planning to ask this time.”

  Lydia looked at him as heat rose in her cheeks. “Then what—”

  “I wanted you to say it one more time. That you love me. No more agendas, no more lies, no more pretend. Just the truth.”

  Ignoring his request and the sudden stab of pain across her shoulder, Lydia closed the inches between them and lifted her mouth to his. She moved her lips, letting herself become lost in the kiss and everything she wished to convey through it. Love. Hope. And even faith.

  Thank you, Father.r />
  Lydia touched his jaw as she opened her eyes to his. “There is your truth, Daniel Reid.” Hopefully he would never doubt it.

  From the grin spread across his face, it appeared he didn’t.

  ~*~

  Daniel fastened the cane to the back of the saddle. Not as nice as the one he had intended to take home, but it had served him well the past three weeks. He released the air from his lungs. His jaunt southward had cost him much. His horse with all his belongings, including the knife Pa had given him, several pairs of boots…and his heart. The corners of his mouth pulled upward as he hurried to fasten a bedroll over the cane. Only one thing remained before he could be on his way north. Daniel glanced up at the heavily laden footsteps upon forest debris.

  “You ready yet, Sergeant?” Colonel Horry stepped over fresh proof of the horses’ residence and drew near.

  “Almost.”

  “Are you sure you do not want to stay? I could use another good man in my new light horse regiment.”

  Daniel shook his head and moved to the second mount to straighten the packs behind the saddle. Lydia would have little from her former life to take with her. Only her mother’s Bible and a couple of novels Lawrence Wilsby had been good enough to bring from the Hilliards’ for her.

  “Well, best you hurry with that, or one of those men may make off with your bride before you have a chance to marry her. Even General Marion is in need of a good wife.”

  “And I’m sure he’ll find one for himself one of these days.” As much as Daniel liked the Swamp Fox, there was only so much he was willing to sacrifice for this war. His feisty Loyalist wasn’t included. “Tell them I’ll be along shortly.”

  “Yes sir, Sergeant.” The colonel whipped out a salute, and then turned, chuckling his retreat.

  Daniel finished with the last strap and followed Horry’s trail back to the campsite in the back wooded area of the Cordes Plantation. Lydia sat at the fire, her bandaged arm nestled against her chest while she forked sweet potato into her mouth with her good hand. She noticed him and smiled. Maybe it was still too early to let her travel, but after imposing on the hospitality of the plantation owner for this long and being underfoot up at the house, Lydia insisted it was time to leave. Mostly, she wanted news of Eli, Charles and her niece.

  Daniel promised her a month in Virginia with her family. That would give the weather a chance to clear and the snow to melt from the valley before they started up the Mohawk. He would be home in time to help Pa with the planting as he had promised.

  Lydia held out the fork as he approached and nodded to the vegetable. “Would you like to finish it? I think I’ve had my fill.”

  “No, thank you.” He lowered his voice and shot a glance to where General Marion stood with his officers, the Cordes family, and a patriotic clergyman. “I’d had my fill of those by the beginning of December.”

  She laughed and set the sweet potato aside. “Are we ready, then?”

  “I am.” He had no reason or wish to hesitate.

  Francis Marion waved them over. “Let us finish here so we send you on your way before the morning is spent.”

  Daniel intertwined his fingers with Lydia’s and they stood side by side while a simple ceremony was performed, binding them together. He took his bride in his arms and kissed her while men cheered. Easy enough to ignore the raucous with how good this woman felt in his arms…as his wife. Together they would face whatever remained of the war…and their lives.

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  THE TORY’S DAUGHTER

  Burying his wife is the hardest thing Joseph Garnet has ever done. Then he's called to leave his young son and baby daughter to fight Iroquois raiders. When Joseph tackles one of the marauders trying to steal his horse, the last thing he expects is to end up tussling with a female. The girl is wounded, leaving Joseph little choice but to haul her home to heal—an act that seems all too familiar.

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