Scarlet RIbbons

by Judith E. French

  Forest grabbed her, gave her a quick, hard kiss and then ducked through the doorway into the fort after the others. "I'll take care of Isaac," Sarah heard him say. "You take four men and open the main gate."

  She waited fearfully in the rain for what seemed like forever until the first musket shot rang out, then she dove back through the doorway, following the Patriots into the horse shed.

  In minutes, the sleeping fort became a scene of pandemonium. Weapons fired, women shrieked, and men shouted orders. Flames shot from the window in the north barracks, and the air was filled with the acrid scent of smoke and powder. Outside, in the flickering light, two men grappled in the mud.

  Sarah heard a scream and turned to see a guard topple from the wall. Three figures ran to raise the bar on the main entrance. There was a flash of light, and one man cried out and fell. The remaining two opened the gate and set up a triumphant yell.

  Frantically, Sarah scanned the compound, searching for Forest, but it was impossible to tell friend from foe. Unable to stand helpless and do nothing, she ran down the horse line, undoing the ropes that held the animals. "Yaaah!" she cried, slapping the nearest rump. "Get up!" Terrified, the animals shied away from the hitching rail and galloped out into the compound, adding to the chaos.

  Sarah had nearly reached the end of the line when she tripped and fell full-length over a still form on the floor. She recoiled in horror when her fingers touched the lifeless flesh of the dead guard's face. A cry rose in her throat as she scrambled away from the corpse. In the blackness, her left hand brushed the cold steel of a musket barrel. Without hesitation, she picked it up and took it with her as she unfastened the last of the horses.

  From her place in the shadows, she watched as a bulky form broke from the back door of the cabin and ran toward the west wall. Isaac, she thought. It has to be Isaac! Cradling the gun in her arms, she ran back along the hitching rail. If it was Isaac, and he meant to escape out the back way, she'd have to try to stop him.

  She reached the west door first. She set her back against the wall and leveled the heavy musket. "Stop right there!" she cried.

  "Sarah!" Isaac swore a foul oath. "It were you, weren't it? You traitorous bitch!" The whole north wall was a sheet of flame, and Isaac's silhouette was a black form against the crimson light.

  "Put your hands over your head," she ordered. "Do as I say! I've got a gun."

  "You won't shoot me, Sary," he growled. "Not yer husband's brother. Obediah would—"

  "Obediah's shoveling coals in hell. You take one step closer and I'll send you there to join him."

  With a cry of rage, Isaac lunged toward her. Sarah pulled the trigger, and the musket spit fire and smoke. Isaac staggered back as the lead ball struck him in the arm, then regained his balance. "Damn you, woman!"

  There was a crash of falling timbers, and suddenly firelight illuminated the interior of the horse shed. Sarah backed farther against the wall as Isaac raised a flintlock pistol and aimed it at her head.

  He laughed coldly. "You're a dead woman, Sary."

  She flung herself to the floor as a gun roared. Isaac staggered toward her. For seconds, he stared wild-eyed, the deadly pistol extended at arm's length. Then he groaned and slowly crumpled to the ground.

  "Sarah!" Forest flung down his smoking musket and took her in his strong arms. "Sarah, are you all right?"

  "I am now," she whispered softly, burying her face in his shoulder and clinging to him with all her might. "I am now."

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Broadmoor’s Mistress

  Talbot Courthouse, Maryland

  February 1st, 1778

  Sarah and Forest emerged from the courthouse and walked toward the tree where the dapple-gray and another riding horse were tied. It was a bright, cold day, and the azure Tidewater sky was laced with streamers of fluffy white clouds. High overhead an eagle wheeled, and Sarah paused to stare up at it.

  "I thought you were eager to get to Chestertown and see that son of yours," Forest said.

  It had taken several days to arrange for the disposal of the powder and arms taken from Isaac's fort and to see to the burial of the dead Tories. The prisoners who had survived the attack were marched to Dover. Some would be exchanged for Patriot prisoners and others tried as murderers and thieves. Isaac had been buried among the Tories, near the front gate, with only a crude wooden cross to mark their final resting place.

  Sarah had wanted to ride directly to Chestertown, but Forest insisted on stopping at Talbot Courthouse to record the date and manner of Obediah Turner's death. Although Forest's father, the sheriff, was in Annapolis, Sarah gave her sworn testimony to a clerk that her late husband had died a natural death. Forest added his word to the official record. "Obediah's bond servant, Roman Clough, told me that his master died of fever. If the coroner wants to know anything more, he can contact me in Chestertown," he added.

  "I'm certain this will be sufficient," the cleric had assured them. "Give my best to your mother, Forest."

  "Is there anyone you don't know in this country?" Sarah asked, as she continued toward the horses. She paused to pat the dapple-gray's nose. "I think it's time I gave him a name," she mused. "What would you think of General?"

  "I think it's a dumb name for a horse," Forest teased.

  She smiled up at him. "I wasn't asking you. I was talking to the horse."

  "And you expect him to answer?"

  "At least he won't give me an argument, will you, General?" She patted the animal's neck and put her hand on the pommel.

  "Wait just a minute," Forest said. He fumbled in the basket she had tied to her saddle. "I think you might want these." Grinning, he drew out her silk ribbons. "Push back your hood and take off your cap, Sarah," he urged. "I want you to wear these."

  "My ribbons? Why?"

  "Humor me."

  Puzzled, she did as he asked, letting down her thick braids and weaving the scarlet ribbons into her dark hair.

  Forest smiled at the results. "Your cheeks are like roses," he said, "and your lips like ripe strawberries."

  She blushed and averted her eyes. "Honeyed words," she murmured.

  "They're not mine," he said. "I stole them from an old love ballad . . . but they must have been sung for a woman like you." His blue eyes glistened with emotion. "It's true. You look as pretty as a bride." He caught her small hand in his and pulled her across the rutted dirt street. "Come, Mistress Turner," he insisted. "There's someone here we need to see."

  She set her boots into the frozen ground. "What are you up to?" she demanded. "I'll go nowhere and see no one until you—"

  "Would you be late for your own wedding, woman?"

  Her eyes widened. "What?"

  "I've a few days before I have to begin my new assignment. I think it best if we wed within the hour." He took hold of her other hand. "I won't be going back to the fighting, Sarah. When I received my captain's commission, I was appointed supply officer for the Eastern Shore. I'm to remain on the peninsula, procuring food and clothing for Washington's troops."

  Tears clouded Sarah's eyes, and she dashed them away. "You're not going back to the war?" With a joyous cry, she threw her arms around his neck. "No one's going to be shooting at you?"

  He lifted her off the ground and kissed her. "Not if I can help it. Will you marry me? Today?"

  "Yes. Oh, yes!" She tried to catch her breath. "But how? There must be banns and—"

  He chuckled and kissed the top of her head. "You worry too much, sweet. There are exceptions to all rules, and I'm certain Cousin Edward, the minister here, will find one to suit us."

  "The minister's your cousin?"

  "I told you I had a large family."

  "You didn't!" she protested, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. "You told me you were alone in the world except for one sister."

  He tugged at her arm. "If we stand here in the middle of the road, we'll be run down by the traffic."

  Sarah glanced to the right and left. Talbot Courthou
se consisted of a scant collection of houses and businesses. Except for smoke coming from chimneys, their own horses, and one hound sleeping in the sun, she saw no sign of life in the village. "Run down?" she repeated.

  "Marry me, Sarah. This is a one-time offer. Take it or leave it."

  Her gray eyes grew serious. "Are you certain, Forest?"

  "Woman?"

  She smiled and nodded. "Yes, Forest, if your cousin will perform this hasty ceremony, I'll marry you here and now."

  "Good." He swept her up into his arms. "That's to keep you from changing your mind and running off," he declared. Quickly, he crossed the street and hurried up the steps of a small frame house and rapped on the door.

  "Open up, Cousin Edward," he called. "You've urgent business to attend to."

  ~~~

  It was dark when Sarah and Forest reached the outskirts of Chestertown. They followed the bank of the Chester River until they came to a boatyard and a small, one-room cabin. "I know you wanted to see Joshua tonight, but it's late and he'll be abed," Forest said. "He'll be safe with my mother until morning."

  Forest dismounted and lifted Sarah down from the horse. "I sleep here when I'm working at the yard. It's not fancy, but we'll find a clean bed and blankets against the night chill."

  Sarah shivered in the darkness while Forest led the animals into a nearby shed and unsaddled them. She rubbed her hands together to warm them and yawned. How she ached to see Joshua! But her new husband was right; it would be wiser to wait until tomorrow. There was no sense in dragging the child and Forest's mother from their beds in the middle of the night.

  "That's the boatyard office over there," Forest pointed out when he returned. The black form of a larger building stood closer to the road. In the other direction, by the riverbank, Sarah could make out the keel and ribs of a large sloop in the moonlight. "The other buildings hold lumber and tools," he explained as he reached under the edge of the foundation and came up with a key.

  Unlocking the door, Forest found a tinderbox and a candle. He lit the candle and set it on a round table in the center of the room. "I suppose I should carry you over the threshold," he said, "but to tell you the truth, I'm worn out. Carrying you around isn't an easy task."

  Sarah rolled her eyes and followed him into the house. The single room was as neat as an officer's wardroom. A fireplace dominated one wall, a simple bed the opposite side. There were two windows and one door. The floor was of wide pine boards, bare of any rug but swept clean. Blankets were folded on the end of the bed.

  "What do you think?" Forest asked, glancing around the room. "Could you live in a place like this?"

  She put her basket on the table, removed her cloak and mittens, and began to make up the bed. "Is there a chamber overhead for Joshua?"

  Forest shook his head. "I'm afraid not." He knelt by the hearth and began to start a fire.

  Sarah looked at the lone pot hanging on the wall, and a shelf holding three cups, two plates, and two bowls. "We'll manage," she answered. "It's more than Martha will have when she gets to Valley Forge."

  "You've been used to much more, living at the inn."

  "And much less." She tucked the last blanket under the cornhusk mattress. "You are my husband," she said softly. "Whatever you have to give I will accept. I'm not a greedy woman, Forest." She flashed him a smile. "The love that we have is more important than possessions."

  "I'll take good care of you and the boy," he promised. "I'll love Joshua like he was my own. When it's safe, we'll take him to Philadelphia. There are good physicians there—some trained in Europe. If his foot can be fixed, no matter what it costs, we'll do it."

  Her eyes filled with moisture. "Thank you," she whispered. "I—"

  "Don't," he replied. "Joshua means more to me than you could know. Don't thank me for wanting to do what any father would do."

  "You're a good man. I wish I could bring more to our marriage," she mused. "Most women would at least have a dowry. All I have is a horse stolen from a dead man and a few household goods."

  Forest kept his eyes on the fire as he fed kindling to the tiny flames. "King's Landing rightfully belongs to you, now that Isaac is dead."

  "Not to me, to Joshua, but we could live there if you want." Nervously, she twisted her hands in her skirts. The finality of her wedding vows was just sinking in, and she wanted . . . so badly . . . to have this marriage be a happy one.

  "Don't you want to live at King's Landing?" He turned his head to look at her.

  "Not now," she answered honestly. "Not while this war goes on. I'm tired of sleeping with one eye open, waiting for one army or another to come and burn us out. There are too many bad memories there, Forest. I'll go wherever you want, of course, but I think I could make a home out of this house . . . if your employer doesn't mind."

  "Mayhap we could find someone responsible to run the inn for you. It would be a shame to let King's Landing stand empty." Forest added a log to the fire and stood up. "I believe Gideon would be interested."

  "Whatever you think best," she said, scanning the small room again. This house seemed so empty of Forest's personal belongings. She wondered if he kept his clothing and his woodworking tools at his mother's home. "I will need to bring some of my household things from my cabin," she added, "and we'll have to do something about building a sleeping room for Joshua."

  "Just like a woman," he teased. "One afternoon a wife, and already she's changing my life around."

  Sarah frowned. What if he wasn't pleased when she shared her last, precious secret? "Many families live in a single room," she said. "It's just . . . just that I thought it might be crowded when the baby comes," she blurted out.

  Forest came bolt upright. "What baby?"

  "Yours. Whose did you think it would be?" She couldn't help but laugh at his bewildered expression. "It could be a false alarm, but I think I'm with child. And since I've not shared a bed with Joshua's father for many years, there is no doubt who is responsible." She smiled hesitantly.

  "A baby? We're going to have a baby?" Forest gathered her into his arms. "But you told me you couldn't—"

  "I lied," she confessed. "Are you glad I'm carrying your child? Please say you're glad . . . even if you're not. I told you I couldn't have children because—"

  Forest cut off her words with a kiss, then swung her around in a circle, pulling her back and showering her face with kisses. "Sarah! Sarah!" he cried. "You couldn't have given me any gift I'd rather have." He kissed the top of her nose and she giggled. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

  "I wasn't sure," she whispered. "It's still very early, but my belly's been doing flip-flops every morning for a week. I missed my courses in the middle of the month, and I've never done that since I was in the family way with Joshua. Now my breasts are swollen and tender."

  "You believed you were pregnant when you rode into Isaac's fort?"

  She nodded.

  "Why? Why did you take such a chance?"

  Tears glistened in her eyes. "For you," she whispered. "I was afraid you'd get yourself killed trying to get in there."

  "Woman . . . what am I to do with you?"

  Forest's mouth brushed hers, and sweet desire flared within her. "This is our wedding night," she reminded him between kisses. "Will you . . . take me to your bed . . . " Her fingers tangled in his hair, and she took his lower lip between her teeth and nipped it gently. ". . . or shall we stand here . . ." She touched his throat with the tip of her tongue. " . . . and fight all night?" she murmured breathlessly.

  Forest groaned as his hands moved down her back, untying the laces of her gown. "I love you, Mistress Irons," he said hoarsely. "I love you more than I have loved anyone in my life."

  "And I love you," she whispered, as her gown slipped down to pool around her ankles and Forest began to trail hot, moist kisses along her bare shoulder.

  "I'll give you every chance to prove it." He caressed her breasts through the thin linen shift until her nipples hardened and she trembled with excitem
ent. Catching her around the waist, he sat her on the edge of the table.

  "And you, sir," she teased, ruffling his hair. "Will you prove your love to me?"

  "Aye, that I will."

  Her pulse quickened as Forest pulled his shirt over his head and then knelt to strip off her boots and stockings, raising the hem of her petticoats and shift to kiss each inch of skin as it was revealed. "It's a wonder any woman ever gets with child," he protested, "when you wear such damnable clothing. It drives a man crazy trying to get it off." He cradled her small bare foot in his hand. "You have a trim ankle, m'lady," he teased, moving his other hand slowly up her leg to caress her thigh.

  She drew in a long, shuddering breath. "I want to make you happy," she murmured.

  "I can't think of a better time to start," he replied, rising to kiss her lips again.

  "What must I do to please you, husband?"

  "What comes naturally."

  Sarah threw back her head and laughed with joy as Forest picked her up and carried her to their marriage bed.

  ~~~

  Sarah lay back against the pillow in the early morning light and chuckled softly as Forest held up a white silk garter he had retrieved from the floor.

  "What's this?" he asked. "Where did this come from?"

  She covered her face with her hands. "I stole it," she answered. A small sound of glee escaped her throat. "I didn't actually steal it," she hastened to explain. "I left a shilling to pay for it. Maybe it wasn't enough, but it was all I had. Do you think the lady who lent me the gown at Valley Forge will be angry that I took her garter?"

  Forest got up and pulled on his breeches. "You stole a woman's garters?"

  "Of course not," she answered primly. "I only took the one. She still has the other."

  Forest ran a hand through his hair and tied it off his face with a leather thong. "Why is every question like pulling teeth with you? Why would you take one garter?"