Chapter 44
forty-four
Remember officers and soldiers, that you are Freemen, fighting for the blessings of Liberty.
George Washington
Fog hung over the Hudson River like a veil, lifting only slightly as the morning wore on.
Mae ventured to the riverbank to wash her garments, continuing up Popolopen Creek and away from the laundresses who reminded her of her sister.
But nowhere could she escape Coralie. Further up the rocky bank stood the willow that had held her secret letters.
Kneeling, she took out her turmoil on her soiled petticoats and shifts and stockings, soaping and rinsing them with a vengeance.
What was happening with Rhys, Jon, and James?
More than a month had passed with little word.
Now October, summer’s green had faded to autumn tints.
Even the river seemed changed, not the silken blue ribbon of before but a gritty pewter gray.
Birdsong erupted from the trees, but it seemed a muted and melancholy music, the wood pewee particularly plaintive. Her own thoughts twisted with sorrow.
Rhys, Rhys. I’m sorry. Stay alive. Come back to me.
Straightening, she looked down the creek where it emptied into the river below, her hands moving to her bodice.
Spring seemed so long in coming. Time blurred and left her wondering exactly when the baby would arrive.
No longer so sick, she still tired from the simplest of routines.
She prayed that it would soon pass lest she be accused of laziness in addition to aiding and abetting a spy.
She rinsed a final stocking and hung it to dry on a bush beside her other smallclothes. The distant talk and laughter of the laundresses chafed. Since Rhys left she’d forgotten what it was like to laugh or feel lighthearted.
“There you be!” Lucy’s strident voice turned her around. Lucy hurried down the steep bank’s trail, her face pinched and red, Petey on her heels. “We’ve no time to waste.”
“What means you?”
“The pickets report the British are just upriver—the redcoat Clinton and his men!”
Flummoxed, Mae looked to her wet laundry. “So there’s to be a battle? Right here?”
“Not on my watch!” She grabbed Mae’s hand and began pulling, Petey between their petticoats.
“But my laundry!”
“Laundry be hanged! We needs care for our very lives!”
“But we can’t run south and meet up with the enemy.”
“There’s another way. I promised General Harlow—”
“What?” Hearing Rhys’s name grieved her yet filled her with hope.
“There’s no time to tell you. Hurry!”
They were at the top of the bluff now, winded but still at a half run. Mae put a hand to her head, dazed and dull-headed after little sleep.
“Hurry and gather a rucksack of belongings.” Lucy issued orders like an officer. “Wear your sturdiest shoes and pack a second pair. Bring the general’s belongings too, as we might need them, as many as will fit. Meet me in Sutler’s Row as fast as you can.”
With that, she disappeared as Mae stared after her.
Once inside Fort Montgomery, Mae found it much changed as officers barked orders and soldiers swarmed in every direction, preparing to defend the garrison. Where were the officers’ wives? Would they remain?
In her quarters she did as Lucy bade, filling an empty rucksack with the best of her meager belongings while loathing leaving garments behind on the riverbank. Would they go far? Perhaps to Jon and Joanna’s farm? Or the nearest Patriot refuge, wherever that might be?
Sutler’s Row was emptying, carts and wagons, people and animals fleeing in every direction.
Lucy was waiting near her dismantled tent, holding the reins of two horses, one of which Mae had never seen.
Petey’s head was visible from an unclasped saddlebag.
Orion nickered when he saw her, but there was no time for affectionate greetings or to ask why he was here and not at the farm.
Ignoring the chaos around them, Lucy helped Mae into her saddle before climbing atop a stump to reach her own. She then led them into woods that seemed ready to erupt in light of the latest news. Their horses, well-fed and rested, seemed equal to the task.
Mae felt a sudden, almost dizzying bewilderment. She had no idea which direction they were headed. Here the woods were so dense the sun was blocked, blanketing them in shadows.
When Mae realized they’d missed a familiar trail, she backtracked. “This is the way to the farm—we’re almost there.”
Lucy slowed and looked back at her. “Nay.”
“But isn’t the farm our refuge?”
Lucy kept moving, but Mae went the other direction. She’d not leave the valley until she’d seen Joanna and family. Who knew when she’d have that chance again?
“By heaven, you’re a stubborn woman,” Lucy called in sharp exasperation, riding after her. “You’ll see for yourself why we can’t go there. ’Tis better you remember it as it was.”
Was?
At the head of the valley they halted. Mae looked out on what had been green and fertile, fenced and thriving.
Now there was nothing but scorched earth, a blackened reminder of Jon and Joanna’s life and labors.
No barn. No outbuildings. Just a gutted house, the walls still standing and open to the sky, the chimneys tumbled.
The wheat and corn were no more. The fenced garden with its showy flowers and delicious vegetables was a memory. Only an acrid stench remained.
Mae gave a little cry. “Did the British and Indians—”
“General Washington gave orders all was to be burnt up and down the valley lest it fall into enemy hands.”
Stunned, she looked from Lucy to the ruins. “Where are Joanna and the children? Did they move from here safely?”
“Only your brother Colonel Bohannon knows. I’ve not heard anything other than Washington’s grim order.”
They returned to the trail they’d been taking, Mae numb to all that was enfolding around her.
Lucy’s speed showed confidence, but Mae became more addled.
Her internal compass was broken. If not for Lucy she’d be utterly lost. Had Rhys known that?
But did Lucy know where she was going? As they continued, Mae’s doubts swelled.
What were they but two small souls and a dog in the wilds of a war-torn territory that was as vast as it was terrifying?
When a wall of darkness forced them to dismount, they found shelter at the mouth of a shallow cave.
Free of the saddlebag, Petey did a wild dance through fallen leaves and lapped up water at a trickle of creek.
Supper was jerked meat and parched corn, the fare of soldiers.
Mae gave half of hers to the little dog.
Too weary to talk, she still managed the burning question that had bedeviled her all day. “What did you promise General Harlow?”
“He told me to take you south.” Lucy leaned back against the rock wall, Petey in her soiled, aproned lap. “To the Shenandoah.”
“If the fort was threatened, you mean.”
“Aye. He gave me two pistols and his money belt.” Setting Petey aside, Lucy dug in a saddlebag for what Mae assumed were the weapons. She took out Mae’s mother’s shawl instead. “’Tis freshly laundered. I want you to have it back.”
For a moment Mae felt choked. The woven butter-colored garment brought back a hundred beloved if bittersweet memories.
Admittedly, she needed the comfort more than relief from the cold, and somehow Lucy knew.
Mae took the shawl and draped it around her shoulders, never more thankful for the wool’s warmth.
“Did he tell you to take me south before he found out about my sister’s spying or after? ”
Somehow that mattered. Mae prayed it was after.
“Before,” Lucy said. “But he never countermanded the order, so it still stands.”
Countermanded. Such a complicated word in light of their predicament. “I don’t know that it still stands, Lucy. He was in a fury with me when I last saw him, remember.”
“He’s not an unreasonable man. I misdoubt he’s still angry weeks after.”
So she’d been counting. Marking the time away from her husband too. Mae sighed, worn down by the possibility Rhys didn’t want her, that he might divorce her. That she’d return home in disgrace to Chatham with their child.
“He wants you safe. Sound. On his land and in that handsome house he built.”
Mae pulled the shawl tighter around her. “How are we going to make it so far?”
“Clear to Virginia?” Lucy looked undaunted as she stroked Petey’s head. “Mile by mile. It won’t be easy, but it’s not impossible. The further south we go the safer it’ll be. My aim is to get shed of these woods as quick as we can with the Lord Almighty’s help.”
Mae wasn’t thinking of the Almighty but Jane McCrea. She shrank back against the rock wall, cold and uncomfortable as it was. There were British and Indians in these very woods, perhaps some who’d witnessed the murder—or even caused it.
“If we keep moving we’ll see the Shenandoah before the weather turns bitter.” Lucy’s calm continued. “Autumn is chancy here in New York but should get milder come Pennsylvania. For now, we’ll have to ride hard to clear this wilderness but can let up later on once it’s safer.”
Already Mae’s body ached, and it was but the first day. Her tenderest concern was how the baby fared. But she wouldn’t complain. She would hope. Pray. Some things you just had to get through. Pondering trouble overmuch spawned a hundred fresh fears.
“With Petey between us we’ll try to keep warm.” Lucy handed Mae a thin blanket, put the little dog beside her, and rolled up in her own. “At least this rock ledge will keep the dew off.”
“What do you think is happening behind us—at the twin forts?”
Lucy worried her bottom lip. “There’s no doubt the British were at hand when we fled.”
Mae wondered about the youngest drummer, Nathan Futrell. She’d seen him standing on the parade ground at the last. By now both garrisons were riven with the British. Would the Americans stand firm or would they fall?
Rather, had Coralie’s duplicity contributed to any of it?
Amid the night noises, they eventually slept, Lucy’s slight snore drowned out by the hoot of an owl and a chill night wind.
Toward dawn, Petey roused them, pulling at Lucy’s blanket like a pup. She was first on her feet, producing Rhys’s guns.
“Take this pistol. That way we’ll both have one.” Lucy examined hers like a soldier. “It’s loaded, so have a care.”
Mae took the weapon, hiding her reluctance. It lay cold and heavy in her hand, making her miss the gloves she’d mistakenly left behind at the fort.
“Good thing General Harlow gave us these pommel holsters.” Lucy showed her how to place her pistol in the leather attached to the saddle on one side of Orion’s neck. “You can draw it quick if you have to. I’ll do the same. It’s not only the enemy we’re chary of but cougars and wolves and the like.”
And snakes, Mae thought. Like the timber rattler Coralie had seen on the trail coming here.