This wicked, landless blueblood had taken his time, but in the end, he has achieved exactly what he must have been planning all along. My surrender!
“I thank you for any assistance you can provide, major,” Jack was saying. He began to put his arm around her waist to guide her away, but Angelica pushed him and cried, “Don’t! Don’t you dare touch me!”
Jack shook his head in exasperation. “Come along,” he said, tugging. This was no lover, but a father demanding obedience from a temperamental child.
“Do I have any choice?”
“Not unless you wish to become Major Campbell’s hostage. If not, please do as I say.”
Angelica did not attempt to run, but she refused to look at him. Her mind was working furiously.
Perhaps, if we ride through Newburgh, I can escape to my kinfolk who live there.
“We can only offer you one horse, Colonel Church,” Campbell said.
“Any mount you can let me will be much appreciated, colonel,” Jack replied. “But I would particularly like to have that big bay. I brought him with me from England. We’ve been on the King’s business in all over the world.”
“That tall, bonny bay gelding?”
“That’s the one.”
“Damn. That’s too bad, for I need a mount,” Campbell complained. “And you’ve just confessed that he’s a veteran and not likely to shy at gunfire.”
“Well, if you want him, major, of course, you may have him, but I warn you, he’s pushing thirteen.”
“Indeed? Doesn’t look a day over nine.” With a shrewd look, Campbell slapped Jack on the back and let out another of his mirthless barking laughs. “Well, if you say he’s yours, take him. There are other good horses here.”
Captured weapons were inspected. Jack retrieved his fine pistols from the stiffening body of M’Bain. The bearskin pistol buckets were discovered, too. His sword appeared in a cache of weapons stored in a cellar. Tack, too, had to be sorted out. Although their broad sheepskin covered saddle was easy to locate, Hal’s bridle had disappeared.
While this was going on, Angelica sat on a stump beside the makeshift headquarters and tried not to look at the long, makeshift gibbet. Some of the feet that dangled, only inches from the ground, still twitched.
Military justice had been swift. Every captured male reiver had been summarily hung.
Although a few of the bandits had escaped, most of the women, encumbered by small children, had not. Jack asked for clemency for them, especially for Ima Graham.
“A pregnant redhead with a small child,” he explained. “She helped us while we were captives.”
“Well,” said Campbell, “the reverend over there asks the same thing. Your Ima Graham must be a decent sort lost to bad company.”
Major Campbell nodded at Witherspoon, who was sitting, slumped and coughing, under a tree. The reverend had been inside the saddlebag house when it was fired, and he’d swallowed a lot of smoke. He had survived the ordeal, but he was not well enough to travel right away.
“As I’m sure you understand, Colonel Church,” Campbell said, “the soldiers could do with some women. It causes less trouble taking this kind along than if the boys get restless and take turns with some farmer’s wife they catch along the way.”
“I understand, but I’m asking that you keep this woman safe. She’s given good service to the crown already,” Jack said.
As he spoke, Jack grinned and took Campbell companionably by the shoulder. Angelica, who’d been following their conversation, thought that if she’d had a set of pistols in hand she would have cheerfully blown off their heads, one right after the other.
“Well, if it pleases you, I’ll keep your Ima Graham here,” the major replied, “where I can personally see that she comes to no harm. I’ll have to garrison this place to hold it and we’ll need women about the camp for laundry and cooking. ”
“As for the others,” he went on, “you must agree that sending them down to the army is better than turning them off with young children onto the country.”
Campbell was obviously surprised by what he saw as an indication of sentimentality in such an unlikely place, a hardened combat veteran exactly like himself.
“Be assured, Colonel Church, it shall be as you wish. Your chat with our scout the other day made taking this place easy. Not to mention that bullet you put into their leader. That just took the heart out of them.”
“Thank you,” Jack replied. “Give me your hand on it, then, sir, that red-headed Ima Graham won’t be forced or harmed in any way.”
“As long as she stays with me, it shall be as you wish,” Campbell promised.
Jack went to speak to Reverend Witherspoon about Major Campbell’s promise and to say good-bye. Angelica continued sitting on the stump, trying hard not to look at the gibbet with its awful load.
Not much later Jack’s hands—hands that had pushed her through circle after circle of ecstasy—were firm upon her waist as he boosted her onto Hal.
In a tender voice, he said, “We’ll go now, my brave heart.” There was the creak of leather as he swung up behind. “I’ve promised to get you home and I will.”
Once settled in the saddle, he added firmly, “It may be well yet between thee and me, Angelica TenBroeck.”
“That, sir,” she countered fiercely, “I do not believe. I shall scream for help the moment I see a Continental soldier,” Angelica announced coldly.
“You won’t,” Jack replied.
He held the reins in one hand. His other arm was tight around her waist, for she’d already attempted a leap from Hal’s back.
“I don’t think you’d have the stomach to see me hang. It’s not a pretty sight even when it’s done correctly, is it?”
“No,” Angelica muttered. Those kicking feet and purple faces at the Clove were not likely to be out of her mind soon. She hadn’t thought she’d mind seeing outlaws die, but how different the reality!
She’d worked beside their women, seen their children play... “What happened to Ima’s husband?”
“He was one of those who ran off. I didn’t see him among the dead.”
Last night, as soon as he was sure that the attackers—militia, Indians and those wicked Hessians—had passed their hiding place, Jack had gone to join the fight. He’d left her huddled inside the tree with a stern injunction not to move a muscle.
“It’s a time for the better part of valor, Angel,” he’d whispered. “Don’t move. You are a fawn with wolves all around.”
“But Jack,” she’d whispered, “what can you do? You have no weapon.”
“I’ll get one soon enough,” he’d answered. Then he’d slipped away into the long shadows of the forest.
Listening to the gunshots, to the shouts and shrieks, the roar as the cabins caught fire, Angelica had done as she was told. She had heard terrible stories about the Hessians and knew herself in equal danger from the men of either side.
The entire engagement hadn’t lasted twenty minutes, for the reivers had been taken entirely by surprise, their sentries killed in the first rush. Still, to Angelica, crouching inside her gray cloak, hardly daring to take a breath, it had seemed at least a day.
“Surely you know,” Jack said severely, “what they would’ve done to any ordinary travelers. To you, if I hadn’t known how to deal with them.”
“But some of them were kind. If M’Bain hadn’t—”
“Weep no tears for M’Bain,” Jack firmly interrupted. “Do you believe he’d have honored his promise and sent us on our way? They’d have taken the ransom and then, some dark night, under the cover of this war, M’Bain, Donnie Graham and Johnnie Callahan would’ve appeared in your parlor.”
“Is that how you reward those who trust you, Jack Church? With lies—and a bullet in the back?”
“I shot Chief M’Bain right between the eyes.”
Angelica replied with cold fury, “That may pass for humor among a bunch of murdering soldiers...”
Hal was now on
the long downhill trek, his hooves knocking stones, his withers seesawing as his riders’ weight shifted. In a break between the trees, Angelica again caught a glimpse of the Hudson. Today, under low clouds, it was a greasy serpent twisting its way through a patchwork of green and brown.
“From the bottom of my heart, I hate you, Jack Church,” she said. “You are utterly despicable. A spy is the lowest scum on earth.”
“At this moment you are very, very angry, Mrs. Church, but you don’t hate me.”
“You don’t have leave to call me that.” The words were proud, but her heart felt like a hot, splintered stone in her chest.
I loathe him, so smug and calm! Am I strong enough to take the scissors and drive them into his chest?
“But—Mrs. Church is who you are.”
“Monster.” It was all she could do now not to burst into tears. “Everything you’ve said to me during the last week has been either an outright lie or an evasion. I’d wager there never was a cousin or a duel, or even a fiancée.”
“No, unfortunately, that part is all true.”
“So you say, dirty spy!”
“Spying was the unpleasant way I was offered out of my English troubles.”
“You’ve used me to cover your movements, haven’t you?” When he didn’t deny, she added, “Was marrying me also part of some—some conspiracy?”
“Well, as you’re already so angry, I suppose I might as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb. As a matter of fact, sweetheart, before I left England, my mother advised me that I would have a very marriageable heiress for a neighbor. She, like most mothers, is hell bent on getting all her children well married. Of course, because of the bloody state of mind I was in, I didn’t pay much attention.”
A stiffening chill ran down Angelica’s spine and deprived her of speech.
“My mother even wrote to your uncle, as parents will do in such cases.”
“About—about what, for God’s sake?” she stammered.
It seems impossible, she thought, but with each interchange, this gets worse!
“A letter,” he replied patiently, “to introduce a likely gentleman bachelor and kinsman to the neighboring family of a highly eligible lady.”
“It was not really a coincidence, our meeting at the governor’s ball.”
“No, Angelica. It was not. Dan, good servant that he is, made some inquiries, which was how I discovered you were in the city. Business brought me to Governor Tryon’s assembly. After I met you, your charms kept me on the trail.
“I must say,” he continued, “that when I first clapped eyes upon you, I was grateful for the forethought of my mother and the diligence of my servant. Next, my old sergeant told me about George Armistead’s decision to snare you for himself.”
“So you are the clever fox who waits to steal what the hawk catches?”
“I wasn’t going to let Armistead run off with a lady who should, by rights, be mine.”
“By rights?” Anxiety twisted so high she could only echo.
“‘Tis plain,” he replied, gently. “You’re a lovely and eligible lady of property, and very much in need of a capable husband.”
“No one will ever fault you for modesty! Why, you sound exactly like my cousin!”
“There’s more to interest you here,” Jack said. “Besides, like any twenty-year soldier, I’m an opportunist.”
The admission, so complacent, so filled with self- congratulation, was the last straw. Angelica swung around and began to pummel him with her fists—his chest, his face, anywhere she could reach.
“You black-hearted, perfidious monster!” she shrieked. “I hate you! Hate you!”
As they wrestled, Hal skidded and then stumbled. The wildly shifting weight on his back was too much, for he was already having difficulty on the treacherous downhill trail with two people on his back. To keep from going to his knees, his head went down.
In the next instant, his riders were on the ground. Hal, black tail whipping, went sliding down the stony path a short way. Then, balance regained, and reins trailing, he looked back at them, his dark eyes full of puzzlement and apology.
The fall was a heavy one for Angelica. Not only was her wind knocked out, but she hit her head.
As she lay there, gasping and staring into the whirling green boughs of the pines, Jack’s face appeared. Apparently his native agility, as well as years in the cavalry, had brought him safely out of the tumble.
“Damn it, woman!” he cried breathlessly. “Are you all right?” “My head!” she moaned, rubbing it. She felt sick.
“Don’t you ever do that again! Damn! Do you want to get us both killed?”
“Yes!” Her defiance was muted by a strong desire to vomit.
As she rolled over and retched into the shale and pine needles, Jack scolded her gently. “No matter what you feel about me, at least have some concern for my horse. Hal could’ve broken a leg trying to keep us up.”
For a while he was silent, although he offered what comfort he could by sitting with her, keeping her hair out of it, and patting her back.
“Oh, God! How dare you talk to me of your horse?” she cried when she could speak again. “I hate and despise you! Hate you! Hate you! Leave me here and let me die.”
“Now, now,” he chided gently, drawing her into his arms. “I know you’ve been through hell, and that I can’t shine very bright in your eyes after all this. Here, sweetheart! Here now.”
Meanwhile, his strong arm settled her against his chest. Tenderly, he offered his handkerchief.
“Go on and cry,” he said gently. “There’s no shame in it after what you’ve been through. There, there, my angel. Don’t be so angry. I do love you. Yes, I do.”
The shattering pain in her head made crying easy. While she did, he held her close. For a long time, he didn’t say anything, but as her racking sobs began to die away, he declared, “I love you, Angelica. With all my heart. Don’t you dare imagine anything else.”
“But you just said you planned...” she broke off, sobbing.
“Mother primed me and I liked what I saw. I liked your intelligence. I liked your spirit. And I’ve grown to admire your good common sense—which is not so common. Marrying you was logical in at least twenty ways, so I got it done. Where’s the crime in that?”
“Damn you, Jack! You’re still lying! How stupid do you think I am? You’ve only married me for my property!”
“Nonsense,” he said firmly. After a moment’s thought, he added, “The worst I can say about what I’ve done is that I’ve captured you by—by—well, by mining the walls at night, instead of using a good, honest daylight assault.”
“I’m not a town!” she wailed. “You have shamefully abused my trust!”
When she went back to weeping, he declared sternly, “I’ve married you, woman. The good Reverend Witherspoon is our witness. What’s more, we truly enjoy each other, so stop acting as if I’ve forced you, or just used you for a night’s sport.”
“Marriage is worse than either!” she tearfully shot back. “Even a sublime liar like yourself cannot go on pretending forever.”
“Angelica, our flight together started as a practical and agreeable stratagem, but it’s not like that now,” he said, his fingers soothing her temple.
“Agreeable? Stratagem? Listen to yourself!”
“You liked me at the governor’s ball,” he insisted, “And from the first touch of your pretty hand, I knew what I wanted.”
“Shut up!” she cried, shifting into Vanderzee’s rude Dutch. “Shut up! Damnable, lying, redcoat spy!”
“Yes. Unfortunately, that part is true.”
“Jack, how can I believe anything you say ever again?” She sobbed. “How?”
For a long time, he just went on rocking her against his broad chest, whispering that she must forgive him, that he did truly love her. She felt like a sick child cradled in those big arms.
The sun was out again. The great pines flexed their sagging arms and sighed a
s a sudden breeze blew through.
“Before the snow flies in this cruel year of 1777,” Jack whispered softly, “I wager you’ll be glad I am who I am, my sweet rebel.”
Chapter Fourteen
They rode down into the green valley. Angelica sat behind now, leaning against his back, just as they had made their journey to Tarrytown. She was no longer concerned about the way her body rubbed against his, back and forth with the horse’s rocking gait. It was tolerable in spite of how angry she was, not only because he was so familiar now, but because she was drowsy.
It wasn’t until they rounded the little village of Newburgh that Angelica spoke again. “Why are you going this way?”
“Ah, good,” he replied. “I was worried about you. That was quite a fall this morning.”
“Answer me plainly, Jack Church. Not with one of your wretched lies.”
“I have done my best not to lie to you, Angelica,” he replied humbly.
“Except for the hundred and fifty-two times when it was expedient, of course.”
“There was no reason for you to know things which might have placed you in danger.”
“Or might have put my guard up. Damn your excuses!” She sighed and leaned her head against him, for the surge of anger had made her head throb again.
“As you will,” he said evenly, stroking the arm encircling his waist. “One of the militia, Captain Casparus, told me to turn right when we reached the fork with the white oak tree.”
“Why? The road through Newburgh goes the other way.”
“I don’t intend to ride through Newburgh, for it is full of rebels. I have directions to a place where it will be safe for us to stay.”
This was sad news. Angelica had been hoping someone in Newburgh would recognize her, and she could escape there. She wouldn’t have had to betray Jack, just call out to whoever it might be, friend or relative. After that, it would be easy to bring things to the point where Jack would have to leave her behind.
Angelica rested herself against Jack again and adjusted her grip around his muscular middle. She kept slipping in and out of a drowsy half sleep. It was the blow on the head, she was certain. Now there was nothing to do but hang on, conserve her strength, and go wherever he was taking her.
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