Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
Ghosts from the Past
Water sluiced over Benjamin’s face, cold and stinging, and he lurched upright with a gasp. Blinking the stunned fog from his eyes, he leaned over and retched, faintly nauseous as his head throbbed in a dull, staccato rhythm.
“Ah! So good of you to join me!” a voice exclaimed.
Whipping his head in that direction, and instantly regretting it once his vision wavered, Benjamin coughed and squinted. “Who…? W-what…?”
“Easy, Captain,” Elijah mocked. “Try not to hurt yourself with all these questions!”
Gaping in bemusement, Benjamin’s brow creased as the man crouched in front of him.
Within the light from the campfire, he could make out Elijah’s dark, glittering eyes beneath all the bandages and a sharp, wolfish smile.
A shiver of recognition tore through him and his teeth gnashed.
“You’re…y-you’re the man from the pier!”
“And the man from the party, too! Kit Donnelly, at your service,” he said, grinning. “This must be why you’re part of the intelligence team, eh? Though it’s too bad you didn’t use that savvy of yours beforehand.”
He nudged Benjamin with his boot. “I took a knife to my own face so I could wear these bandages. I didn’t want anyone recognizing me. Speaking of which…” Pulling a patch knife from his belt, he gestured toward Benjamin’s middle. “Let’s take a look at that wound, shall we?”
Benjamin’s eyes sparked with panic, though once he struggled, he discovered that his hands and feet were bound with rope. Writhing, he growled as Donnelly grabbed his throat and squeezed.
“Hold still,” Donnelly barked, his vitriol surprising Benjamin.
When he grudgingly obeyed, his assailant slashed the buttons to his waistcoat, and cut through his shirt until he bared the pink, healing injury.
A sneer twisted Donnelly’s mouth. “That’s a mighty shoddy job there, Captain. I think we need to fix that right up.”
Benjamin resisted, but Donnelly sliced his blade across the stitchwork. Panting and twisting in pain, Benjamin cried out while his reopened wound stung and bled. “Go ahead and kill me,” he rasped. “I won’t tell you anything.”
Donnelly licked the blood from his blade, then spat as though the taste repulsed him. “I don’t give a whit about your intelligence,” he hissed. “It’d certainly be a perk, but I’m more concerned with your clear memory problem.”
Benjamin gawped. “Are you saying you aren’t a double agent?”
Donnelly giggled. “Oh, I am a spy,” he assured him, “but I didn’t join the cause for our glorious king.
In fact, I’ll bet the man who hired me is mighty miffed, seeing how I disobeyed direct orders.
” He waved a hand. “You were supposed to be captured at the raid and taken to the nearest British encampment, but clearly I had other plans.”
Benjamin grimaced, squirming as his wound continued to pulse. “Who are you?”
Lips curling, Donnelly leaned toward him and snarled, “‘My name is Legion, for we are many.’ All the men you’ve wronged are here to stand trial for your sins!”
Benjamin blanched at the declaration, all too familiar with that Bible verse. “You’re mad…”
“Oh, yes,” Donnelly agreed, “I am quite mad—with the need for justice.” Seizing Benjamin by the coat, he hefted him upright and dragged him toward a wooden bucket.
Struggling against the other man, Benjamin yelped once he was shoved onto his knees, his vision spinning while both his head and middle throbbed. “I already told you, I won’t talk,” he spat. “This won’t bring you anything.”
“Other than immense satisfaction, you mean?” Giggling, Donnelly took Benjamin’s neck, then forced his head into the bucket.
Due to shock, Benjamin inhaled a sharp gasp of water and choked, struggling against his assailant’s grip until he pushed up enough to breathe.
Donnelly tightened his hold, then shoved the captain’s face back into the water.
Benjamin gurgled and writhed until, at long last, Donnelly jerked him upright.
Benjamin sucked a frantic breath, his lungs burning as he dizzily blinked water from his eyes.
“Do you remember yet?” Donnelly barked.
“Remember what?” Benjamin gritted, feeling queasy.
“How about a certain Freyview skirmish after a rebel hanging?” Grip tightening around the captain’s nape, Donnelly hissed, “You all ambushed those loyalists and redcoats, slaughtered them, and you ran my brother through with your own blade.”
Slowly, a prickle of unease raised the hairs on Benjamin’s body. “You were at the ambush?”
“I saw you kill him with my own eyes,” Donnelly snarled. “You might’ve been masked, but your kerchief slipped and I saw you. I know who you are, and I know what you did!”
“No…” Benjamin fiercely shook his head. No, no, it wasn’t true! “I…I didn’t stab him hard enough to kill… I saw him run away!”
With a fierce growl, Donnelly slammed Benjamin into the water, pushing with renewed force. “Liar!” he seethed. “Tell that to my brother’s grave!”
Benjamin flailed with all his might, clenching his teeth as water sluiced up his nose and into his ears. He knew it was pointless. He knew it was smarter to remain calm, but with this newfound information, he sensed the danger he was in and could only focus on his fight or flight instinct.
Donnelly dragged him up and Benjamin coughed, spluttering the water from his lungs. Between every sodden gasp, he wheezed, “I was just…d-doing…my duty.”
“And I’m doing mine,” Donnelly snapped. “Horace was my only brother, my friend, and you’re going to pay for taking him from me!”
“I lost…my brother…that day too,” Benjamin choked. “Daniel…”
“Don’t you dare,” Donnelly roared, spinning him about.
“Don’t you dare try and compare us!” Furious, he smashed his fist into Benjamin’s nose, satisfied once a thick, crimson gush of blood flowed from his nostrils.
Again and again, he struck the captain’s face until, finally having grown weary, he shook out his stinging knuckles and dunked Benjamin back into the bucket.
It was well into the evening hours when the barn door opened, and Clara groggily lifted her head. “Captain Hoskin?”
The figure in the doorway was clearly not Benjamin. He was shorter, and his sneaky stance instantly gave her pause. Rocketing into a sitting position, she blinked the sleepy fog from her eyes as the figure approached.
“Miss Boyd, it’s me,” the voice whispered. “Y’know me as Reginald Ashby, but me real name is Amos McQ—”
“I don’t care who you are, you miserable cur!” she spat. “I told you, and I told Captain Hoskin that I never wanted to see your craggy face again!” Furious, she scrambled to her feet.
Amos kept walking toward her. “Put aside your grudges for a second, will ya? I need’jer help.”
Clara scoffed, indignant. “If you think for one minute that I’ll ever help you—”
“Ben’s missing,” Amos cut in, his tone earnest and pleading. “He’s been taken, an’ I can’t trust nobody else in camp. I thought’cha might know by who.”
All at once, it felt as though someone had reached inside her chest and squeezed. “The captain is…missing?”
“Aye. Ben took a few men on a raid this afternoon, but he an’ that Elijah Brooks fella disappeared.”
Clara’s blood ran cold. “The man who killed George Stewart…”
“What?”
“His real name is Kit Donnelly. He’s working for a man in this camp and was also the one who attacked Benjamin.”
Amos snorted. “And’ja didn’t think to tell us this why?”
“Because I wanted you both to suffer!” Clara shouted. “Only now, I…!” What? Had she truly changed her mind? Benjamin and Amos were no different, just as she hadn’t changed; their sides were far too polarized to ever get along, and yet she didn’t believe Benjamin deserved to die.
Impatient, Amos grabbed her shoulders. “Who’s Donnelly’s contact? Who told ’im to do this?”
Covering her face, Clara drew a breath and closed her eyes. Could she commit such a betrayal? Could she truly aid the enemy just to save Benjamin’s life?
“Major Oliver Yates,” she blurted.
Amos’s brow scrunched. “You’re lyin’…”
Clara shook her head, affronted. “No, sir, I most certainly am not. He’s the man who brought me into camp.”
Amos’s face darkened with understanding. “That wily ol’ son of a gun.”
“What are you going to do?” Clara asked. “You can’t just walk into his tent demanding answers.”
The cabinetmaker scoffed. “Oh, no?”
“Not if Captain Hoskin is missing,” she reminded him. “Major Yates might know where Donnelly’s taken him, so you’ll need a trade.”
Amos chuckled. “Perhaps you Tory hobs are smarter than I gave y’credit for.” Taking her arm, he agreed, “I think I’ll use you as bait.”
“I was hoping you’d say that,” Clara said, surprising him. “He thinks I’m an asset in swaying both the captain and major general, so he won’t wish me harmed.”
“Good to know…” Gesturing at the barn doors, Amos encouraged, “Well, let’s jus’ hope the ol’ lobcock hasn’t already wandered off. C’mon.”
Nodding, Clara followed after, her heart in her throat as she prayed she’d made the right decision.
Packing his pistols, Oliver slung a leather satchel over his shoulder and turned as Amos burst in through the tent flaps, a belt knife pressed beneath Clara’s chin, and his flintlock aimed at Oliver’s head.
“What is the meaning of this?” the major demanded.
“Oh, I think y’know what,” Amos growled. “Go on, step back. An’ don’t even think o’ whippin’ out those pistols.”
Grudgingly, Oliver held up his hands.
Amos entered and held Clara securely against his chest, his eyes fiery and full of warning. “Where’s Cap’n Hoskin?”
“Haven’t the foggiest,” Oliver replied.
“Aye? Perhaps y’know where your boy Elijah Brooks went off to then, eh?”
A brief look of alarm crossed the major’s face, but otherwise, he remained impassive. “If I knew that, I would’ve let you know at once.”
Amos chuckled. “Well, that’s a bit funny, seein’ how your girl here sang like a lark an’ told me aaaall about your lil’ plans.”
Oliver’s eyes widened, and he looked to Clara for confirmation.
“I’m so sorry, Major!” she faux-sobbed. “He…h-he threatened to kill my family!”
“Quiet!” Oliver seethed. “You shut your mouth, girl!”
Holding out his flintlock with more aggression, Amos snapped, “All right, this is what’s gonna happen: You’re gonna tell me where Benjamin is, an’ I jus’ might let’cha live.”
Oliver sneered. “I’d rather die for my king and country than aid in ruining our nation.”
“Maybe so,” Amos agreed, “but’cha can’t do much without your bargainin’ piece, now can ya? Without Clara Boyd, you’ve got no leverage.”
Oliver flinched. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Wouldn’t I?” Taking his knife, the cabinetmaker drew the blade across Clara’s collarbone in a shallow, stinging stroke. This time when she cried out, her sob was genuine. “I’ll only ask y’once more,” Amos said. “Where? Is? Ben?”
“I-I don’t know!” Oliver blurted. “But…I do have an idea of where Donnelly’s taken him. I was actually about to head there myself.”
Amos grinned, his dark eyes glittering. “Looks like we’ll all be takin’ a lil’ trip then.” He aimed his flintlock between Oliver’s eyes and fiercely gestured toward the tent flaps.
Benjamin jerked awake, his vision swirling with spots as he struggled to focus on his surroundings.
In his mouth was the tang of iron—blood?
He winced once he lifted a bound hand to his throbbing nose.
His reopened stomach wound strained with the movement and he gasped, collapsing against the earth.
“Hmph. It wasn’t very nice of you to faint while we were talking,” Donnelly admonished, nursing a tin cup of ale. “Ready for round two?”
Swallowing back his nausea, Benjamin exhaled and closed his eyes before opening them again. “What do you want from me?”
Donnelly feigned offense. “What do I want from you?” he echoed, a snort catching in his throat. “Why, if our talk didn’t make that obvious, I’m not sure what else to tell you, Captain.”
Benjamin blinked in confusion. While before, Donnelly had been angry, murderous, his present state was giddy…like something else entirely. As the man rose and approached, he was reminiscent of a cat gleefully going in for the kill.
“Your brother wasn’t personal,” Benjamin rasped. “In war, there are casualties. We all knew the risks when we signed up.”
“Not all!” Donnelly barked, immediately losing his smile. “Horace never wanted to go to war. He was a peacemaker, a good man, and let you run him through rather than defend himself! Father made us go to war, lest we lose our inheritance!”
The hollow of Benjamin’s cheek twitched. “That is not my fault.”
“You killed him!” Donnelly shouted. “You! Killed! Him! It is your fault!” He withdrew a flintlock and aimed it at Benjamin with a shaking, jittery hand.
That was when they heard voices.
Both men looked toward the commotion, startled by the sight of lamplights.
“Kit!” Oliver shouted. “Donnelly, you must stop this. The rebels know our plans!”
Mouth dropping, Donnelly shook his head and fiercely raised his flintlock. “Stay back!” he warned. “I’m not leaving ’til I get what I came for!”
“It’s over!” Oliver called in return. “At the very least, if we have Captain Hoskin alive, we can make a trade with Washington!”
While the two squabbled, Benjamin discreetly rolled onto his side and eased up onto his knees.
Panting, he grimaced and broke into a cold sweat, his wounds throbbing with each painful breath.
Withdrawing a folding knife from his right boot, he held it between his bound hands and hacked at the restraints hitching his feet together.
After several desperate sawing motions, the rope frayed and gave way.
Donnelly glanced toward him, and with a sudden burst of adrenaline, Benjamin staggered to his feet and took off running.
“Hey!” Donnelly shouted. “Halt, you rebel coward!”
Wind whipped through his wet hair and Benjamin tasted bile, nearly tripping while attempting to keep his balance. His hands were still tied and did little to aid in his frantic escape.
Benjamin could hear footsteps clambering behind him, but still he ran, refusing to look and potentially lose purchase on the muddy ground.
Bang!
The pain was what hit Benjamin first, followed by his spine bending at an awkward angle before he collapsed into the dirt.
He tried to get up, but couldn’t. Only a numb, tingling sensation raged throughout his limbs, leaving him frozen with shock.
There was a ringing in his ears from the gunshot, and he desperately willed his body to rise, only to find no response…
no collaboration between his thoughts and limbs.
The sound of brisk footfalls rushed across the forest floor, and as Benjamin lay there motionless, he screamed once he realized he couldn’t move his legs.