Maggie shook her head. She made her decision in an instant. "I won't be gone long."
The old woman grabbed Maggie's arm. "Think what you're doin', girl. This ain't no game you been playin'. Didn't you see them bodies hung out to dry by nooses around their necks, down by the corner oak? Birds picked their bones clean on account of the Brits wouldn't let us cut 'em down and give 'em a decent burial. You want birds pickin' your flesh after they hang you as a traitor to King Georgie?"
Maggie gently loosened Mildred's grip. "I'll be all right. But I have to go." She went for the door and picked up her own rifle and cartridge box. "Grayson might need me." On impulse she thrust one of Zeke's old three-cornered hats on her head and reached for the saddlebag he always left by the door in case he ever had to flee Yorktown quickly.
"You're throwin' away your heart on that man," Mildred warned. "And it's not the red coat that's the worst of it! He'd never marry a woman like you. It's the family name, the fancy schools. You'll never be one of 'em, Maggie Myers, not as long as you live! You'll never be nothin' to him but his whore." The old woman hobbled after her as she went out the door. "You should stay where you belong. With the people you belong with. You should have married my Zeke. That's what you should have done!"
But Mildred's words fell on deaf ears. Maggie was already running across the field toward her own house. Minutes later, as she hopped the fence, she saw Paul coming down her front steps. When he spotted her, he came racing across the yard.
"Miss Maggie! Miss Maggie!" He waved as he ran.
"What is it, Paul? What are you doin' here?"
He struggled to catch his breath. "Captain Thayer, ma'am."
"What's wrong?"
"Kidnapped. They hit him over the head and carried him away. They tried to take me, too, but I ran."
Fear made the hair on the back of Maggie's neck bristle. She grabbed the boy by the shoulders. "Who? Who took him?"
"The rebels! Wearin' masks!"
Maggie looked away, swearing beneath her breath. Zeke! How could he! He'd walked away from her house knowing he was going after Grayson, but not having the guts to tell her! She whipped back around. "Where, Paul? You have to tell me where this happened."
"The woods between the tavern and our camp. You know, the road through that Devil's Wood." He looked up at her, twisting his hands with anxiety. "You have to help him. I don't know why they took him."
Maggie's face hardened. Take care, she told herself. Make sure this isn't a trap. Make certain he's telling the truth. "Did you already go to your camp and tell someone there that Captain Thayer's been kidnapped?"
He hung his head. "No, ma'am."
"Why not?"
"The captain, he's been acting so strange lately. And Lieutenant Riker, he's been calling the captain a traitor." The towheaded boy went on even faster than before. "None of it makes any sense. In the tavern Captain Thayer had one of those flour-sack masks. He was talking crazy. Too much drink. The captain he hasn't been sleeping right lately. He was talking about loving you," Paul's cheeks colored, "about not caring which side anybody was on." He looked up at Maggie. "I was afraid to go to the camp. Afraid what the lieutenant said might be true."
Maggie laughed humorlessly. Grayson a spy! That was absurd. Still, the boy's fear seemed real enough, as did his story. Why hadn't she thought of it before. Of course Zeke would try to kill Grayson!
Maggie grabbed Paul by the collar of his red coat and began to pull him along toward the barn to fetch her saddle and bridle. She'd catch her horse on her way across the field. "I want you to take me right to the place where the masked men attacked you. Can you do that, Paul?"
He nodded, following her into the barn. "Yes, ma'am."
"Good." From there, Maggie would just have to guess as to where they'd taken Grayson. Surely they wouldn't have just shot or hanged him. They would have tried to get information out of him first. Maggie winced at that thought. She was no innocent. She knew both sides tortured prisoners before they killed them. It was the way of war, Zeke had once reminded her.
She pushed the thought of Grayson dying at Zeke's hands out of her mind as she shoved the heavy saddle into Paul's arms and grabbed her bridle. She'd just have to find the men, wouldn't she? She'd have to find the patriot band and pray they hadn't yet killed the father of her unborn child.
Grayson slipped in and out of the depths of consciousness. He heard muffled voices around him. He felt the bite of the rough hempen ropes that bound his wrists above his head, the weight of his entire body pulling down on them. He was in the woods, but near the river, he surmised. He could smell the water.
Slowly he became aware of the excruciating pain radiating from his wrist through his arms. Strung up from a tree. He was hanging a good foot off the ground. Who'd done this to him? What had happened? The numbing veil of the alcohol he'd tried to immerse himself in was gone, leaving him with bitter reality.
The rebels. Damn! The rebel band had him. What a fix this was! A flood of memories washed over him: the terrible fight with Maggie this morning, the warning from Major Lawrence, and then the tavern. Grayson remembered drinking in the tavern and then starting bask to camp with Michaels.
Michaels! It was all Grayson could do to keep from opening his eyes to see if the boy was here. But if he opened his eyes, if he moved an inch, the rebels would know he had come to, and he would lose the advantage of time to think.
Pushing aside the pain that threatened to slow his thinking, Grayson forced his mind to function. Think! he told himself. Think! He'd been close to death more than once in the last few years, but never this close. He'd never been able to smell its stench before. And how ironic, he thought. To be tortured and killed by men on my own side!
So how are you going to get yourself out of this mess? he asked himself cockily. Reason. It was his only chance. Reason with them. Stall them until he could get someone to verify his identity.
Against his will, a groan of pain escaped his lips and he heard a man turn toward him. Grayson opened his eyes to see two dark eyes staring through holes in a mask.
"He's comin' to," the dark eyes murmured.
Grayson bit down on his lower lip, fighting the pain in his wrists and arms. "The boy," he said, surprised by the agony he heard in his own voice. It was if he was somehow detached from himself, as if another man spoke. "Where's the boy?"
"Believe I'd be worried about myself," another masked man stated.
Grayson glanced at the trees around him. He saw no sign of Paul Michaels' body. He prayed the boy had escaped. "The boy knows nothing. He's of no good to you."
"No." The second masked man gave Grayson's body a slight push and Grayson swung from the rope. "But you are, Captain."
The pain was suddenly so great that Grayson thought he would black out. "You've made a mistake," he ground out. "I'm not who you think I am."
A third man called from a few feet away. "We ain't got time for this talk," he offered. "Just see what he knows and kill him. The boy's made it back to the camp by now. These woods are gonna be crawlin' with bloodybacks in a matter of minutes!"
The first man scrutinized Grayson. "What do you mean you ain't who we think you are?"
"Zeke!"
"Hush, Carter!" Zeke pulled off his mask and thrust it into his belt.
It's Zeke, Maggie's friend, Grayson thought. They do intend to kill me, here and now, else he wouldn't reveal his identity.
Zeke's eyes met Grayson's. "You were sayin'?"
"I was saying . . ." Grayson swallowed the bile that rose in his throat. "I was saying that I'm one of you. Major Grayson Thayer detached from the First Legionary Corps. I'm . . . I'm a spy."
The man called Carter laughed aloud. The other men chuckled . . . all but Zeke. Zeke prodded Grayson in the belly with the tip of his bayoneted rifle. "A spy, you say? Well, you're liar, Captain Thayer, same as you're a drunken sot, a cheat, and a womanizer."
Grayson detected some emotion in Zeke's voice—anger, resentment, maybe even
a hint of jealousy. Certain that it was concern for Maggie in Zeke's voice that made him speak with such bitter resentment, Grayson grabbed at straws. "I love her, if you're talking about Maggie Myers. I want to make her my wife."
Zeke gave a belligerent laugh and hawked and spit on the mossy ground. "It's too late to save yourself, redcoat, now tell me what you know about us. You tell us what we need to know and you'll die quick and easy. You go stubborn on us and," he exhaled, "I can't be held for my men's actions." He took a step closer to Grayson. "Now, who else knows?"
"Please. Just cut me down. I can prove to you who I am."
"Kill him," Carter insisted. "Just kill the bastard and let's get the hell out of here."
"What do you mean you can prove it?" Zeke asked.
Grayson took a deep, ragged breath. The pain in his wrists and armpits had numbed to a dull, lifeless throb. Did he dare reveal his contact? The man and his entire family would most likely have to be moved.
"I said, what do you mean? Come out with it, we ain't got all day, Captain."
"Billy, Billy Faulkner," Grayson replied in a rush of air."
Zeke glanced over his shoulder, a strange look on his face. "Billy Faulkner?" he repeated, turning his gaze back to Grayson. "Billy Faulkner's dead. Him and his whole family burned up in a fire somebody set two nights ago."
"Dear God," Grayson muttered. "Who did it?"
"Good question," Zeke answered. "Maybe you did."
"Somebody's comin'," Carter shouted in a hushed voice. "Shoot the bastard and let's go!"
"It's clear," the lookout called from beyond Grayson's view. "It's just Maggie."
"Maggie!" Grayson called hoarsely. "Maggie!"
"Shut him up," Carter insisted.
With a sweep of his rifle butt, Ed hit Grayson in the temple. Grayson felt the strike, a flash of pain, and then he went limp, dissolving into the relief of unconsciousness.
An instant later Maggie came riding into the small clearing, her horse's hooves throwing up dry leaves as she rode around in a tight circle, a flintlock rifle in her hand. "What the hell is going on here?" she asked, eyeing Grayson's still form hanging from the tree. At least he was still alive; she could see the rise and fall of his bare chest. Her gaze met Zeke's, cold and demanding. "Zeke?"
"He knows too much, Mags," Zeke answered carefully. "It's not just your life we're talking about. Not just ours. There're more people involved than you realize, people we have to protect. You know the word is Billy Faulkner was a messenger for us. They say he was murdered by the Brits because someone slipped with their tongue."
"We're not talkin' about Billy Faulkner here. We're talkin' about you, we're talkin' about me, we're talkin' about that man hangin' from that tree." She tried not to look at Grayson strung up from the poplar branch, the blood drained from his face. "Now tell me the truth, Zeke. Did you leave my house this morning meaning to do this to him?"
"No." Zeke stared at her, the hurt plain on his face. "Of course not! But we caught him in the tavern waving your mask." He took a step closer. "Don't you see, Maggie. He has to die. I was just tryin' to spare you. I knew how you felt about him, or at least how you thought you felt . . ."
She swallowed the lump in her throat. So this was what it was to come down to, was it? Did she cut Grayson loose, thus turning against her friends—her country. Or did she let Zeke see justice done and witness the murder of the man she loved?
"Zeke. You don't have the right to make this kind of a decision. Where's John? We don't do hangings here! This prisoner"—her eyes grew cloudy as she stared at his boots hanging well above the ground—"should be transported to Williamsburg. There are men there who know how to deal with this. They'll get to the bottom of it. They'll know if he has to die for what he knows."
"Damned if we don't know how to deal with it, Maggie," Ed said, whipping off his mask. "What's wrong with you? You gone soft? We kill the bloody redcoat. You can't expect us to let him go because you have bedded with him!"
Zeke whipped around. "Hush your mouth, Edwin, before I hush it for you."
Maggie stared down at Zeke from beneath the brim of her cocked hat. "Cut him down, Zeke." There. She'd done it. She'd made the decision. She loved Grayson Thayer. She loved him beyond words. She loved him more than she loved Virginia, more than she loved these United States.
"You know I can't do that, Mags," Zeke answered carefully.
Her dark eyes pierced his. "Cut him down or I'll do it."
"Don't let her do it!" Carter warned. "Don't let her sway you. He makes it back to his camp and we all die. I told you we shouldn't have let a woman in! I told you she'd be trouble."
Maggie turned in her saddle and took aim at Carter's middle. "Drop your weapon and shut your mouth, Carter. I've had enough of you."
Carter looked up wild-eyed at Zeke. Zeke glanced at Maggie's careful aim, then gave a nod. Carter was too hotheaded anyway. He might well shoot Maggie rather than Thayer in a fit of anger.
But instead of dropping his rifle, Carter turned and ran through the woods. Maggie let him go. All she wanted was Grayson. "Just cut him down, Zeke. He'll do you no harm. I can promise you that." She took a deep breath. "I'd slit his throat myself before I let him harm one of you."
"Think what you're doin' here, Mags," Zeke tried to reason with her. "You take this redcoat and you can never come home again. You'll be a traitor the rest of your born days."
Maggie sighed, taking care not to look up at Grayson's still body. "It's like this, Zeke. Either I'm a traitor to this new country of ours, or I'm a traitor to my heart."
"He's not one of us. Men like him don't marry women like you. You don't even know that this man wants you. You willing to give up your whole life hopin' he does?"
"Who said I wanted him?", she snapped. "I just can't see him die like this."
It wasn't that she was fool enough to think she was going to save his arse and he was going to declare his undying love for her and carry her off and marry her. She wasn't that stupid. She knew there were too many differences between their stations in life to ever make it work. And the truth was that she didn't know what she was going to do with him, once she freed him. She'd cross that bridge when she came to it. All she knew right now was that she couldn't let Zeke and these men murder him.
"Maggie—"
"No more talk, Zeke. I can't make you understand. You never loved someone. You don't know what it feels like."
"I know better than you think," he answered stoically, putting himself between her horse and Grayson's hanging form.
Maggie turned her horse and walked him between Zeke and Grayson, swinging Grayson's body to make way as carefully as she could. Gently, she touched his face. "Grayson. Grayson, can you hear me? We're in a tight spot here. I've got to have your help."
"Don't do it, Mags," Zeke said, knowing he should lift his rifle to her but not having the heart. All he could think of was Lyla and what he would do if put in the same position. What if it was Lyla hanging from that tree branch?
"Maggie?" Grayson answered, in a fog of pain and confusion.
"I'm gonna cut you down," she murmured, taking Zeke's own knife from his saddlebag that she carried on the back of her horse. "You ready?"
Grayson's eyes flew open upon the realization that Maggie was really there. "Maggie!"
"Don't do it, Maggie," Zeke pleaded, his eyes filled with pain. "Please—"
With one sweep of the knife she clutched, Maggie reached behind her and cut the rope that held Grayson above the soft humus ground. He fell across her horse's back and Maggie sunk her heels into the gelding's side, riding past Zeke and into the cover of the forest.
Chapter Fourteen
"Can you pull yourself up?" Maggie asked, her voice tight in her throat. She reined around a shaggy black cedar tree and turned onto a narrow, overgrown game path she and Zeke had traveled a thousand times as children.
Grayson gripped her waist and threw one leg over the moving horse's rump. "I can manage. Keep riding,"
he answered hoarsely. "They'll be right behind us."
Maggie nodded, too wrought with emotion to speak. Holy Mother Mary! What have I done? she asked herself. I've gone against everything I believe in for this man. I've aided the enemy. I'm a traitor to my own friends, to Virginia, to the country I vowed to stand beside. And for what?
Maggie rode in silence through the forest, keeping a steady pace. To her surprise, Zeke and the others didn't follow them. She could hear nothing but the pounding of her own horse's hooves and the sound of Grayson's breathing as it came more easily. Slowly his grip around her waist tightened. She could feel him regaining his strength as he recovered from the shock of his ordeal.
"We've got to find a place to hide until I decide a plan of action," Grayson said finally, sounding more like himself. "Can you think of somewhere safe, Maggie?"
His arms around her waist suddenly felt more like a caress. She shifted uncomfortably in her saddle, wishing she had brought along a second horse. She didn't like him so close, his warm hands tight around her. His touch made it too hard to think straight. "You think I'm stupid?" she snapped in revenge for her mixed emotions toward him. "Of course I've got somewhere safe." She was angry with him, angry because he'd forced her to make a decision that would change the path of her life forever.
"What's the matter?" he asked, massaging his wrists. "Why are you angry?"
She gritted her teeth, urging the gelding faster. "You know what this means, me saving you from the noose? It means I can never go home again. It means I betrayed my friends, my country," she spat.
"Betrayed?" He took a deep breath. The time had come. It was time he told her the truth. "Maggie," he said gently, "you didn't betray the United States. You rescued me—granted from our own men, but that's beside the point."
"I don't want to hear your nonsense just now, else I'm liable to kick you off the back of this horse and leave you for Ed and Les. They'll take no pity on you, I can guarantee you that!"
"Maggie." He leaned forward and to one side so that he could see her face. Her skin was flushed, her eyes too wide. She had the look of a soldier who'd been through one hell of a battle. "Don't you hear what I'm saying, sweet? Don't you understand? We're on the same side, you and I."
The Bootmaker's Daughter: Revolution (Destiny's Daughters Book 2) Page 16
