“The Lord liveth; and blessed be my rock; and exalted be the God of the rock of my salvation. It is God that avengeth me, and that bringeth down the people under me. And that bringeth me forth from mine enemies: thou also hast lifted me up on high above them that rose up against me: thou hast delivered me from the violent man. Therefore I will give thanks unto thee, O Lord, among the heathen, and I will sing praises unto thy name.”
Clayton nodded. “Amen.”
Several others breathed soft amens as well.
“Let’s load up the wagons.” Faith picked up her bags again and led everyone out the back door.
Marie touched her elbow. “Ma’am. Once we’re in the wagons, do you think we could pray?”
“Of course. That’s a wonderful idea. I’m sorry I didn’t offer it myself.” As her gaze went to all the people piled into the wagons, she noted the fear and hesitancy on their faces. Many of them had never been outside Boston. With the war and everything else, this was quite a challenging experience.
“Could we recite the Lord’s Prayer, ma’am?” Marie bit her lip.
“Yes, Marie. Thank you for the suggestion.”
Faith climbed up in to the front wagon with Clayton. She was responsible for all these people, and she wouldn’t hide. If they came upon danger, she would meet it head-on. “Let us pray.”
With heads bowed, their little group began the whispered prayer.
“Our Father which art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done in earth, as it is in heaven.”
Faith looked around and her eyes swelled with tears. Lord, protect us, please.
“Give us this day our daily bread. And forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil: For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, for ever. Amen.” A hush fell over the group.
Faith nodded. “We are in God’s hands.” She faced forward, and Clayton lifted the reins. The horses moved ahead.
Would they make it out of Boston? She wasn’t sure. And Virginia was such a long way off. The thought of the journey worried her, but they’d brought plenty of provisions. And she had lots of gold and silver coin sewn into the hem of her dress. So did Sylvia, Marie, and several of the others.
God would go before them.
Of this she was certain.
As Clayton steered them to the outskirts of town, they stayed hushed in the wagons. Faith had time to let her thoughts go to Matthew. There had been no word from him, but how could there be when she and her household had been under the watchful eyes of guards every hour of the day.
Her heart ached for him. Prayerfully he knew that she was all right.
As soon as they reached Virginia, she would find out how to get word to him. George would have to know.
But for now, she had to get all these people to safety.
Her butler broke the silence. “You are concerned about Mr. Weber, are you not?”
Faith turned to Clayton. “Yes. How did you know?”
“I know everything, ma’am. ‘Tis my job, remember?” His voice sounded weary.
She gave him a little smile. “Well, do you know anything of him?”
“No.” he shook his head. “Sadly, all anyone knows is that he disappeared. But as soon as we get to our destination, rest assured, I will help you find him.”
“Thank you.” Her heart plummeted. Disappeared? No one knew where he was? She wanted to cry but couldn’t allow the emotions to take over.
Oh, Matthew. Where are you?
The walls closed in on him again. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t keep them from moving. Matthew prayed for relief, but none had come so far.
Oh, Father…how long do I have to wait?
As his mind played the horrible tricks on him again, he closed his eyes. Sleep came a lot lately. Weak, beaten, and half-starved to death, it was no wonder. And it was the only relief he had. At least in sleep, he could dream of Faith. Could hear her voice. Feel her touch. Sleep was welcome.
But today it wouldn’t come.
Footsteps sounded outside his cell. “Hey you. Weber.” The man flung a tin plate toward him. “Eat.” He set a tin cup on the ground, and in his haste, the liquid sloshed over the edge.
Matthew crawled to it as fast as he could. His hands shook as he reached for the food. The bread was hard as a rock, but the water at least quenched his thirst.
He only managed a few bites of bread before a lump formed in his throat, so he stuffed the rest of the bread into his coat pocket.
The Lord above saw fit to keep him alive. As far as Matthew could tell, this little group of soldiers was keeping prisoners for the Patriots to trade or negotiate or kill. He wasn’t sure. But they weren’t anywhere near any other encampments. There were no officers that Matthew could plead his case to in secret. And he was in too deep. The other prisoners had already told all they knew. Which meant Matthew was implicated as a Loyalist.
The only thing for him to do was pray. And try to stay alive as long as he could.
Wednesday, July 12, 1775
Somewhere between Boston and Virginia
Faith felt the wagon roll to a stop and she took a deep breath. She wiped the sleep from her eyes and sat up. Far above, the stars winked at her—peeking through the thin clouds as they skimmed past. Was Matthew looking at those same stars?
She hoped so. With every fiber of her being.
Clayton climbed down from the wagon and she followed suit. Most everyone else was still asleep. But she and Clayton took turns driving the lead wagon. They’d each sleep for a while, drive for a while, let the horses rest and eat, and then they’d start again. She’d paid for new horses three times already. And soon would probably need to again. The price was steep since horses were in high demand for the war, but she had the money. And she needed to get these people to a safe place.
Virginia was a lot farther away than she remembered. But she’d always come via hired carriages.
When they had to travel so slow and with so many people, the trip lengthened.
She followed Clayton to a stream and washed her face.
“I have been thinking, ma’am.”
“That is always a good thing.”
Her butler chuckled. “Yes, I suppose it is.” He shook his head. “But what I was thinking is that you have enough men to help you. I could purchase a horse and ride back to see what I could find out about your Mr. Weber.”
“Oh, Clayton.” Her heart thrilled at the thought of being able to do something for the man she’d come to love. “Would you? That is a lot for me to ask of you. It’s such a long journey, and you are worn out. But let me pay for the horse.”
“I will gladly do what I can, ma’am.” Clayton stood and looked back to their little entourage. “I am hesitant to leave you, but I know you will be in good hands. Besides, we seem to be past most of the danger.”
“I appreciate all you have done for me these many years, my friend. Thank you.”
“You will see me soon. I promise.” He put his hat back on his head. “Well, if you do not mind, I will go find a horse and start my journey. I might even make it back to your farm before you do.”
“Let me pack provisions for you.”
The hours trudged by as Faith drove her wagon. Clayton had left in a rush of horse’s hooves, and she prayed that he would succeed in finding Matthew.
But what if he found that Matthew was no longer alive? What would she do?
The Lord was her rock. He was her salvation. She wouldn’t be afraid. Just like the scripture said.
A sob choked her. Her mind and her heart were at battle. She knew the Lord would sustain her, but her heart …
She didn’t know if her heart could take the blow of losing Matthew. Hadn’t she lost enough? The more she thought about him, the more she realized how much she loved him.
All the months of meeting in secret. Passing messages back and forth. They’d shared their hearts in little moment
s of quiet.
He’d cared for her. She knew that. Even said he loved her.
Straightening her shoulders, she lifted her chin. Exhaustion had worn her down. She wouldn’t allow doubt and worry to overcome her. She wouldn’t.
Clayton would search until he discovered Matthew.
No matter the news, she had to know.
Thursday, July 13, 1775
Unknown detention camp
Matthew rolled over onto his side. His mind wasn’t clear anymore. Sometimes he heard someone in the cell with him, talking to him. Then other times his delusions took him to a faraway place.
Dysentery had set in to all the prisoners. They were weak, and they stunk.
The smell alone in the little makeshift prison building was enough to make the guards gag. They didn’t come often, and when they did, they exited in haste.
At least he was being fed. That was something to be thankful for. It wasn’t much, but at least it sustained him. The others had stopped talking a few days ago. It became very lonely, but the sounds of sickness at least alerted Matthew that the other men were alive. For now.
Each day, he tried to quote a verse from the Bible, but his mind had become so muddled that he couldn’t string words together in a coherent manner anymore.
The dreams that came to him in the night were another form of torture. Everything just out of his reach. No hope of escape.
How long were they going to be held here? Until one side or the other won the war? That didn’t give him much hope.
The soldier who had attacked him when the Patriots ambushed them had taken the missives Matthew had carried. Had they been trying to decode them all this time? Would they realize that he wasn’t a Loyalist?
He gripped the sides of his head with his hands. The thoughts plagued him day and night and became a new form of torture. If only he’d told them the truth when they’d first captured him.
If only George or Ben knew where he was.
If only he could see Faith…just one more time.
Tuesday, July 18, 1775
Fredericksburg, Virginia
The sun crept over the eastern horizon as Faith urged her horses on. She was on her land. The farm would come into view soon, and they all would have some relief. A bath sounded beyond lovely. And a soft bed. Where she could sleep for hours—possibly even days.
The weariness that overwhelmed her was more intense than anything else she’d ever experienced.
They’d suffered tragedy along the way. One of the Miller children had taken ill and died. Then an axle had broken on one of the wagons.
It truly was a miracle that they were even here.
They’d all woken before three in the morning since Faith had told them last night that they were almost there.
As light streaked across the sky above them, she heard some of the children singing in the wagon behind her. What a joyful sound. It lifted her spirit.
The horses pulled and crested the hill they’d been climbing. Before her, Faith could see the whole farm. The pond that she’d victoriously crossed with her own band of “soldiers” sparkled in the morning light. It looked like diamonds.
Her heart lifted with the thought of being home. Home where her parents had created an atmosphere of love and caring. Home where she always thought she’d want to raise her own family.
Tears pricked her eyes. Prayerfully, that would still be possible.
Prayerfully, Matthew was still alive.
Prayerfully, they would all survive this war.
Little Betsy climbed over the back of the bench from the wagon. “Mrs. Jackson, is that your farm?” Her chubby finger pointed.
Faith couldn’t help but smile at the sweet child. “It sure is.”
“That means we really are almost there. Not ‘almost there’ but it’s days away like Mama has been saying.”
Laughter bubbled up. “Yes, Betsy.”
“Good. ‘Cause my feet hurt from when we walk. And my back side hurts from when we sit.” Her little face scrunched up in the cutest expression.
“You will love it here. Lots of room to run around.”
“Good. I’m fast at runnin’ around.”
“I bet you are.”
“You didn’t do the Bible readin’ today yet, did ya?” Betsy pointed to the book on the bench. “I was asleep.”
“Nope, not today.” She nodded toward the book. “Do you want to read?”
“Can I?” The child’s eyes grew wide.
“Of course. We were on Psalm twenty-four.” Faith looked down at the young girl. “Do you know how to find it?”
“I do! Papa taught me a long time ago.”
“That’s wonderful. Let me know if you need any help.”
“Uh-huh.” The little girl’s tongue hung out a bit as she turned the pages. She looked so serious. “Found it!”
“Oh good. So what does it say?”
“ ‘The’ “—Betsy’s pudgy index finger slid underneath the next word—” ‘earth—is—the …’ “
The pause stretched. “That’s very good, Betsy.”
“ ‘The earth is the Lord’s.’ “ The little girl clapped her hands, and the heavy book slid off her lap and onto the floor beneath her feet. “Oh, Mrs. Jackson, I’m so sorry!”
“It’s all right. Just pick it up, and we will keep going.”
Mary—Betsy’s older sister—leaned over the seat. “Would you like me to help you, Betsy?”
Tears perched on the little girl’s lashes as she nodded. “I’m so, so sorry I dropped your Bible. Papa said we should never drop God’s Word ‘cause it’s the most important book ever.”
Faith adored the sweet child. “Your papa is right. But I’m not upset with you, Betsy, and it looks like my Bible is fine.” She looked to Mary. “Would you like to continue reading? Betsy can learn by pointing to the words as you read them.”
The sweet smile that came from the quiet, older sister warmed Faith’s heart. The far-too-thin young lady read over Betsy’s shoulder as her younger sister pointed to the words:
“The earth is the Lord’s, and the fulness thereof; the world, and they that dwell therein. For he hath founded it upon the seas, and established it upon the floods. Who shall ascend into the hill of the Lord? or who shall stand in his holy place? He that hath clean hands, and a pure heart; who hath not lifted up his soul unto vanity, nor sworn deceitfully. He shall receive the blessing from the Lord, and righteousness from the God of his salvation. This is the generation of them that seek him, that seek thy face, O Jacob. Selah.
“Lift up your heads, O ye gates; and be ye lift up, ye everlasting doors; and the King of glory shall come in. Who is this King of glory? The Lord strong and mighty, the Lord mighty in battle. Lift up your heads, O ye gates; even lift them up, ye everlasting doors; and the King of glory shall come in. Who is this King of glory? The Lord of hosts, he is the King of glory. Selah.”
Betsy looked up at Faith with her finger still on the page. “Mrs. Jackson? I don’t think I understood what that meant.”
“You know, Betsy, I’ve been reading that book my whole life, and I still don’t understand everything, but I keep reading it and keep learning.” Faith smiled.
Mary patted Betsy’s shoulder. “It sounds like a song. See?” The older girl put a melody to a couple lines of the text and sang it. Then she shrugged her shoulders. “Seems pretty simple to me. The earth is God’s, and He is the King of glory.”
Out of the mouths of children. Simple and yet true.
The wagon rolled into the side yard of the estate. Faith pulled the team to a stop and set the brake. “Well, girls, I believe we are here.”
They cheered and woke up the rest of wagon. People stretched and climbed down. Their journey had come to an end.
Thank You, Lord.
Faith picked up her Bible and two bags and headed for the house.
Mr. Harrison—her trusted steward for her parents’ estate—walked out to greet her. “Welcome home, ma’am.” He bo
wed. “Mr. Clayton arrived in the middle of the night and has urgent news for you. I told him I would wake him as soon as you rode in.”
Her heart thudded inside her chest. The news had to be of Matthew.
Faith paced the large study in her parents’ home waiting for Clayton to come down. The staff was seeing to the needs of the rest of the people, making sure everyone had a place to sleep, and putting away the remaining provisions they’d brought with them on the journey. Normally, she’d want to oversee it all, but at this moment, the only thing she wanted to do was hear Clayton’s news.
Her beloved butler came into the room, and she went to his side.
“Please tell me he is alive?” She bit her lip.
Clayton nodded. “Yes, ma’am. He is indeed alive. As far as I know. But he is a prisoner.”
She gasped and put her hand to her mouth. “The British found out he’s a spy? Where is he being held?”
This time, he shook his head. “I am afraid it’s complicated, ma’am. He’s being held by the Patriots. As a Loyalist spy.”
“What?” He wasn’t spying for the Loyalists.
“While meeting with Loyalists, he was captured by a small band of soldiers. They have been holding them, beating them, and trying to get any information they can out of them. But the men are all weak, sick, and I am afraid it is quite grim.”
The news took her aback. “But we just need to get word to them that he is a Patriot. Right?”
“I do not think it is as simple as that, ma’am. The soldiers who captured these men have been trying to get those in charge to come deal with it and tell them what to do. But there has been a bit too much confusion and they have been told to just hold them as prisoners. Since their captors haven’t gained any significant information to share, the others have been too busy fighting the war to know what is going on in that tiny camp.”
“That is ridiculous! I must get a message to George.” She stomped over to the desk.
The Patriot Bride Page 18
