"Brave thing to do, Maggie," John said thoughtfully. "But there'll be a certain stigma that goes along with it. You certain you want to carry that burden on your shoulders?"
"Most of the people I care about are standing right here. The others in the town, what's left of them," she shrugged, "they can mind their own business."
"What about your sister and brother-in-law?" Zeke asked.
Maggie couldn't resist a smile. "I can handle Manny Commegys, I'll warrant you. My only problem with him is that he keeps tryin' to marry me off to that pig-snout brother of his."
The men laughed with good humor.
Grayson frowned. "It won't work," he stated flatly.
"Sure it will," she challenged, her eyes narrowing in defiance. "It'll work and you know it."
John looked from Maggie to Grayson and cleared his throat. "Well, this can be worked out later, Captain. We can't stay here long. The Brits change their patrols nightly. There's just no predicting them anymore." He looked up at the small gathering. "Our next point of business is who's going to Head of Elk? We need a couple of warm bodies and any wagons you can beg, borrow, or steal."
"Head of Elk?" Maggie directed her questions to John. "What are you talking about? Who's going to Head of Elk?"
"Washington's marching his entire army down to Head of Elk, and from there they'll be taking anything that floats through the Chesapeake and down the James. We're getting a group together to transport food, medicine, some clothing. Anything to help. Some of those soldiers have walked hundreds of miles, Maggie. Besides being tired, they got to be hungry and in need of medical attention."
"In need of having their boots repaired I'd say," Maggie commented pragmatically. "I'll go." It was a split-second decision, but the moment the words came out of her mouth, Maggie knew it was the right thing to do.
Grayson shot her a threatening glare, shaking his head ever so slightly.
There he goes again, Maggie thought. Thinking he can tell me what to do!
John smiled. "Why did I know you'd be my first volunteer?"
She smiled back. "I've got a horse. My wagon's got a broken axle, but maybe—"
"We'll take care of that broken axle," Les offered. "Me and Ed."
"We leave tomorrow night after sunset. Those of you who are willing to go, I can provide you with the details."
Zeke pulled his pocket watch out of his vest and tapped the face. "Time, John. We'd best scoot."
John held up a hand. "All right, men. And lady," he amended. "The only other business we've got tonight is one I've mulled over several weeks before finally deciding to bring it up."
When there was a several second pause, Pete finally broke the silence. "Cat got your tongue, John? Get on with it."
John sighed, suddenly seeming older. "You're all aware that we've had a string of bad luck lately. The question is, is it luck we're dealing with here, or something else?"
"You sayin' we got a rat among us?" Les murmured, fingering the polished stock of his flintlock.
"No." John held up his palms in defense. "I'm not saying that. What I'm saying is we all need to watch what we talk about. I know it's hard keeping this all bottled up inside, not being able to share it with your wives or children. But it's vital that we keep silent. Even more vital now that the end is approaching."
"Loose tongue, you say?" Pete gazed at the men standing around him as he slowly sank his fist into his palm. "Guess I'd best not find out who it is."
"Now, Pete," John said. "I didn't tell you all this to cause unrest among us. I just wanted you to be aware of the situation. I want you to watch your tongues, and watch your backs. Now go on." He gave a wave. "Go home and get some sleep. I'll pass the word around tomorrow as to where we'll be gathering the supplies for Head of Elk and where we'll be leaving from."
The small crowd of men broke and scattered to the winds like the autumn leaves that would soon fall. Zeke came to Maggie. "You want me to walk you home, Mags? I know how you hate cuttin' through the Devil's Woodyard after the bewitchin' hour," he teased.
"No. That won't be necessary," Grayson said, stepping up to Maggie's side.
Maggie looked up into Zeke's face and impulsively reached up to stroke his hollow, beard-stumbled cheek. She hated to see him overwrought with worry like this. "I'll be all right," she murmured. "Go on home with you."
"You certain?" he whispered. Grayson stood behind him, towering over him, but Zeke stood his ground.
She forced a smile. "I'm certain."
Zeke gave a sigh, but stepped out of Grayson's way. Grayson waited to speak until the other men were out of earshot.
"What the hell are you talking about? You're going to Head of Elk?"
Maggie rolled her eyes heavenward and then spun around and started down a path toward him. Grayson strode directly behind her. "Well?"
"Well what? You've got soldiers who've been marching for weeks. Anybody with any sense would be able to figure out that those men are going to need their boots repaired. I've even got a few pairs started. If I could get to work, some poor soldier might get a new pair."
Angrily, Grayson grasped her arm and spun her around. "You can't go to Head of Elk, Maggie."
She pushed his hand aside. "I can go," she answered stubbornly. "I can go and I will go if that's where our men need me!"
Changing tactics, he softened his voice. "Look, sweetheart, I understand you want to do something for our men, but it's not safe. You could all be wiped out two miles from here."
"I'll take my chances just like you take yours."
He struck himself in the forehead with the heel of his hand. "What is it Maggie? What is it that makes you want to go out and get yourself killed? What are you running from? Me?"
It was her turn to grow angry. "Running? Who's running? I'm not running. I'm going to Head of Elk because they need me." She spun back around and stomped off down the moonlit game path.
"So maybe they do need you," he said, following in her footsteps. "But I still say you're running, you're running from me."
"That's ridiculous!"
"You're afraid."
"I'm not afraid."
"You're afraid to let me love you. You're afraid to let me take care of you the way you deserve to be taken care of."
"I’m my own woman," she countered. "I don't need you, I don't need anyone."
He stopped on the path. "Sure you do, Maggie. Everyone needs someone. It's taken me a long time to figure that out."
She stopped, her back still to him. There was a long pause filled with the night sounds of crickets chirping and rustling leaves before she finally turned to speak. "You don't understand."
He came to her, clasping her hands tight in his. "Make me understand!"
She shook her head, turning her face away. "We're fools to think this could ever work between us. We'd spend the rest of our lives butting heads!"
His eyes were riveted to hers. "So why'd you come back? Why didn't you run off to New York like you'd intended?"
She shook her head. The baby, she thought. Because I wanted more for our baby. I told myself I was coming to see you before you were killed, but I was lying. I lied to you and to myself. I wanted to make it work between us, but I don't know how.
"Maggie." He brushed a lock of hair off her cheek. "Don't you understand, I'm not trying to control you, only keep you safe so that when this blasted war is over, we can make a life together."
"You could have stayed in Williamsburg! I'd have stayed with you! I might even have married you right then and there!"
A lump rose in Grayson's throat until he could barely speak. "You know I had to come back." He draped his arm over her shoulder and they started down the dark path again. "You know why. I thought you understood."
"I do." She nodded. "So why can't you understand why I have to go to Head of Elk?"
Grayson looked away. "Ah, Christ, Maggie. Do you feel like we're going round and round in circles?"
She had to laugh. "It seems like ther
e's nothing right between us except beneath the sheets."
"No." He hugged her against him with the arm he left on her shoulder. "That's not true. I suppose we're just two strong people. I think I'm right, you think you're right."
"I know I'm right," she corrected.
Grayson brushed back a low-hanging branch off the side of the path. Behind it stood his horse, Giipa, waiting patiently. "Come back to camp with me tonight." He caught the horse's reins and stepped light into his saddle.
Maggie hugged her shawl. "I don't want to argue with you anymore. Not tonight, Grayson. I'm too worn."
He held his hand out to her. "So just come and lay with me. Let me hold you in my arms."
Maggie knew she should go home to her own bed, but the thought of spending another night with Grayson was too tempting. "You swear you won't say anything of Head of Elk, or going back to Williamsburg?"
He raised his right arm. "I swear."
With a sigh she slipped her foot into his stirrup and allowed him to help her into the saddle in front of him. Once settled, he backed Giipa out of the hedge and turned toward the British camp.
Cornwallis' camp, now perched on the York Peninsula, was well guarded this night. A sentry allowed Grayson to pass, making no comment on the woman who rode in his lap.
Reining in in front of his private tent, the young boy Michaels appeared sleepily at the tent flap. "Captain?"
Grayson jumped out of the saddle and helped Maggie down. "Take Giipa and see that he's watered," he said, tossing the private the reins.
"Yes, sir. Um . . . I've got some messages for you." He ground the toe of his polished boots into the dusty earth.
Grayson glanced at Maggie and then back to Michaels. "Well enough. Then I'll walk you over."
He caught Maggie's hand. "Go on in and pour us a glass of Madeira. I'll be back directly." He winked, a boyish grin on his face and then walked off, allowing Michaels to lead his horse.
But instead of going inside the tent, Maggie stood staring up at the heavenly canopy of stars that hung over the British camp. Tonight they seemed so close that she thought she might be able to stretch on her tiptoes and pluck one out of the sky. She wondered if the stars were shining down this brightly on the patriots at Head of Elk. Would God's grace be with the Colonists when they met the strongest army on earth? Or did God keep out of the business of war, ashamed by mankind's bitter struggles?
"A nice evening tonight," Maggie heard a man say.
She looked up to see Riker standing only a few feet from her, his ever-present smirk visible in the moonlight.
"A fine night indeed," she responded.
"So our Captain Thayer is safe in our bosom again, is he?"
"He arrived today."
Riker nodded. "Doing a little celebrating then, are we, Maggie the bootmaker?"
Maggie lifted her lashes, her gaze meeting his with icy insolence. "You've trouble with that, Lieutenant?"
He raised his index finger, the threat plain in his voice. "Watch your step, missy. I've eyes and ears everywhere. I don't know what game it is you and Thayer play, but I'm on to you."
"Why Grayson?" she asked. "You could ruin his career with the lies you pass around this camp."
Riker took two long strides, bringing his index finger firmly under her chin. "He made a fool of me in front of my uncle, the major, on more than one occasion. No one makes a fool of me and gets away with it."
Maggie slapped his hand away.
"Besides," he said with a shrug, "I'm merely keeping an eye on my fellow officers as we all must do."
Before Maggie could come up with a reasonable reply, Riker had disappeared into the shadows of the sleeping camp. A moment later Grayson returned. He put his arm around her and led her into his tent, lacing it up behind him.
"What's the matter, sweet? You look as if you've seen a ghost."
She glanced up at him, her eyes searching his. She just couldn't shake the chill of ominous fear that enveloped her. "Riker."
He scowled. That pettifogging cur. He's all bark."
"Please tell me you'll be careful, Grayson," she said desperately. She stroked his jaw with her fingertips. "Please . . ."
He took her into his arms, and held her tightly. His lips met hers in a soft, sensual caress and she squeezed her eyes shut against the fear that welled in her heart.
"It's going to be all right," he whispered. "Just trust me. I'm going to make it all right, Maggie mine."
The rain fell at a steady pace, casting a gray haze across the darkening sky. Rain was good on a night like this; it would aid the patriots in their escape from Yorktown. With rain falling and a chill in the air, sentries would be lax. Soldiers would be less likely to stop a passing farmer in a rickety wagon.
With her two-wheeled cart loaded and covered by a tarp and then horse dung to disguise its true contents, Maggie stepped back, giving herself a nod of approval. To a passing soldier, she would look like a woman hauling manure. A man would have to dig deep to find the squash and bags of grain she'd hidden in the bottom of the wagon.
Smiling to herself, she glanced up at the dark sky and lifted the hood of her old woolen cloak. It was time to meet the others. She crouched and gave a pat on the head to each of her dogs. "Good boy, Roy," she soothed. "Good three-legged dog!"
Honey whined and pushed her head under Maggie's hand. Maggie laughed. "Yes, and that's a good girl, Honey. Good Honey. Now you mind the place and keep the coons out of the kitchen. Zeke'll be over to feed you."
When she walked to the hitched wagon, the hounds followed. "No. Sit, Honey. Sit, Roy."
The dogs obeyed and Maggie hoisted herself up onto the narrow bench. As she lifted the reins, she took one last look at her clapboard farmhouse. She had thought Grayson would come to say good-bye. But when she'd left his tent early this morning, he'd said nothing of her traveling to Head of Elk, so she'd said nothing. She wondered, once her work was done at Head of Elk, if she should just keep moving north. Would it be better that way for both of them? She thought of her unborn child. All of them?
With a heavy sigh, Maggie clicked to her horse and rolled out of the drive and down the road.
Not half an hour later she met up with the others. John was there as well as Les and two other men she didn't recognize. John introduced them as farmers from the next county over and she nodded a greeting. John set the wet patriots to the task of taking an inventory of the supplies they would carry to the troops. They laughed at Maggie's clever manner of hiding her food and leather goods, thinking it a great joke on the English. As they counted the bags of flour and items of clothing, they found themselves pleased at the amount of food and medical supplies they had been able to acquire. The citizens of Yorktown and the surrounding areas had been generous. It seemed everyone had contributed something, no matter how poor they might have been. Women had gone into their cellars and dug out hidden baskets of potatoes and turnips meant for their own children and offered it freely. Men had taken the patched coat off their own backs in the hopes that one of Washington's brave soldiers might keep warm on a cold night.
John clapped his hand after he had tabulated the items in the four wagons. "If you're ready to go, I think it best we move on and cover as much distance as we can tonight," he told the huddled group. "The rain will cover our tracks and hopefully serve as a blanket to shield us from the enemy."
With a nod, the rebels climbed into their wagons. John took the lead on horseback. They were not half a mile away when they heard the sound of hoofbeats on the muddy path. With no place to pull off the road, the wagons came to a halt and everyone reached for the rifles beneath their seats. Maggie, who brought up the tail of the assemblage, stood and aimed her flintlock on the center of the narrow woods path. As the rider came into view, she cocked her hammer.
"Wait! Wait!" a familiar voice called.
Maggie immediately lowered her rifle. "Grayson?" She squinted. The rain came down in angular sheets making it difficult to see.
"M
aggie! John!" the rider called. He was dressed in a black cloak with a large cocked hat pulled down over his head to conceal his face. "Wait! It's Grayson Thayer!"
John squeezed his horse by the wagons. "Thayer! What the hell are you doing out here? It's a hell of a night to be wishing a man good-bye."
Maggie could resist a smile as she lowered her rifle below the wagon seat where it would stay reasonable dry. Grayson had come to say good-bye to her!
Grayson rode up beside Maggie's two-wheeled cart, but spoke directly to John Logan. "Didn't come to wish you well; I came to offer my services as escort."
Maggie pushed back the hood of her cloak so that she could see Grayson better. "An escort? But how did you get out of the camp? You'll be named a deserter by morning!"
He shook his head, grinning. "No. It's Aunt Moriah. The woman who raised me. She's sick. Very sick. I have to get to New Castle, Delaware, right away."
Maggie flashed him a sassy smile. "You haven't got an Aunt Moriah!"
John chuckled as he offered his hand. "Glad to have you along," he said, clasping Grayson's gloved hand.
"Glad to be of service, sir," he told the older man respectfully.
Still shaking his head, John rode back to the front of the wagon train and waved them forward.
Grayson rode beside Maggie for several minutes in silence. First he looked at her and then looked away. Then she looked at him, turning her face before he looked back.
Suddenly both of them broke into laughter. "I can't believe the major let you just ride out!"
"Well, it seems the major's got family there." He patted his chest. "I've letters I'm supposed to deliver. I thought I'd just put them in a mailbag once we get to Head of Elk. Surely someone must be headed for New Castle."
She giggled. "Secrets in those letters, mayhap."
"I doubt it." He adjusted his hat so that the rain ran off it, keeping his face dry. "Most likely complaints of his gout and the poor food." He winked at her. "Just the same, I thought we'd best read them."
The Bootmaker's Daughter: Revolution (Destiny's Daughters Book 2) Page 25
