Embrace of the Enemy (Winds of Betrayal) (3 page)

Catherine's mood seemed gay at dinner, Joseph Gannon thought turning the corner of Cottage Street. He hoped she would maintain the mood. Pausing outside an old house, he climbed the rickety outer stairs and let himself into the musky parlor. Little William thrived, a happy, chubby infant who smiled and cooed at all around him. His mother, though, drew Gannon's concern. She had walked around in a cloud of despair since his birth, but the news which came in the afternoon helped soared her spirits. A simple note from Jonathan stated his intention upon a brief visit soon.

Gannon threw his cloak over the back of the couch before he lit a lamp. He wondered where Melinda was. She knew he didn't like to be kept waiting. Ordinarily she had always been accommodating to his needs. He poured himself a glass of claret. Worries weighed heavy upon his shoulders the longer the days wore on. With the British firmly planted within New York, his position in Philadelphia became more ambiguous.

Rubbing his hand over his face, he wondered if or when he should take his Tory stance. The events of the day would force his hand soon. The year 1776 had turned bitter for Washington and his rag torn army. After the initial successes in Boston, Charles Town, and Moor's Creek Bridge, the American cause had been dealt a severe blow by General Howe's relatively easy victories that captured New York City and its vital harbor. The American army of twenty thousand men in July had transformed into a straggling, ragged and tattered band of less than eight thousand men. Congress had already fled Philadelphia for Baltimore.

Thomas Galloway, Gannon's close ally, had recently declared his loyalty toward the crown having pressed General Howe to move forward to Philadelphia. But Howe, in keeping with the customary conduct, decided to go into winter quarter, waiting out the winter in the comfort of New York.

Gannon learned Howe's leisurely chase of the rebels had driven his officers to distraction. Gannon would have to question the decision to hold back instead of destroying what remained of Washington's army, but of course, not to Howe's face.

Gannon's eldest son, Rodney, with his wife, had departed unbeknownst to most in Philadelphia to England. He had decided to send Florence, his wife, with Rodney. He wished to high heaven Catherine had agreed to accompany her mother, but Jonathan had stated in no uncertain terms to Catherine his wishes. Catherine refused to leave Jonathan.

Musing, Gannon chuckled to himself sipping his drink. He had to admit he liked his son-in-law, but he had no illusions of what Jonathan would do, though, if Jonathan ever linked him to his father's death. A regrettable loss, but a necessary one. Gannon reasoned the war would come to a quick end with the warmth of spring. His hope lay with staying quietly in the background until then with no one the wiser.

He grew aware of a noise, sounds of footsteps. A moment later, Melinda entered.

“Hallo, love,” Melinda grinned. Her cloak hung half off of her. She tried to finish taking it off. Her blouse hung loosely around her. She staggered into the room and fell down, sprawled face first on the floor. The odor of liquor emitted forth from her. Her tawny brown hair fell long. She let go a coarse laugh. “Oh, I'm late.”

“You've been drinking,” Gannon uttered, not concealing his annoyance.

She slid forward and pulled herself up along the side of the wall. “Sssh,” she muttered.

He hesitated only for a moment. He grabbed the girl. “Who said to be quiet?”

She placed her finger to her mouth. “Ssh! They might hear you. Told me to go away. Gave me a nice little bottle and a coin,” she laughed again. She started taking off her chemise. She fell forward with a giggle. “You're mad 'cause I'm late. Don't ya' worry any Mr. Gannon. I always satisfy ya'.”

He took hold of her arm. His desire to be satisfied tonight had been quenched.
 His confusion gave way to reason. He questioned again. “Who gave you the coin?”

“The two men, arguing they were. Someone not here or such. Laughed at 'em, I did. Not for 'em to hear. Told 'em you pay too well. 'em left for a minute and I snuck up,” she slurred. Half naked, she pulled at his pants. “I know what ya want.”

Gannon had heard enough. He shoved her back. Her head hit the floor. He pulled back curtain slightly to the window. A shadow of a man leaning against a brick wall. He glanced back at the figure passed out upon the floor. Quickly he decided upon his only option.

Minutes later, a figure dressed in the manner of the wench stumbled down the stairs. Weaving as it walked hastily and took the corner. The moment he was out of sight, he ripped the clothes off and ran.

* * * *

A third man showed up on the corner and then the group proceeded up the stairs. The largest man crashed into the door the wench had just departed. The lamp still lit along the wall revealed the room deserted. Then a moan could be heard. The tall bulky man kicked the back of the couch. Still unconscious of her surroundings the half-naked wench stirred. One of the men slammed the table sending the lamp crashing down upon the floor, leaving the room in darkness.
 
Damn it all, Gannon was gone!

* * * *

At first light Gannon stood on the porch of a one room cabin along the Delaware River. He had been holed up here for over a week, since the night he barely escaped. He waited. With each minute his anger built. He had been fortunate that Galloway and he had had the foresight to establish an escape route. He had never thought he would have had to use it.

Gannon stretched. He was stiff from sleeping on a straw pallet, all the small cabin had to offer. At least he had rid himself of the wench's clothes. He shuddered to think of running down the Philadelphia's street in women's clothes. The Patriots had found the leak. If not for the drunken wench, Melinda, he would be swinging from a gallows. He drew his breath. His only intent at the moment lay with finding out who ratted him out, the irony of the situation lost upon him.

Suddenly, a horse emerged from within the mist. The rider had ridden his horse hard. Gannon could see the lather from where he stood.

“Father,” the rider cried.

“Stephen, thank goodness. I was beginning to believe I had been forgotten. Hurry. Come in,” Gannon responded with relief. He stepped down and helped his son bring in a sack of supplies. “Tell me. What is the news?”

Steve's face soured. Gannon realized he wasn't going to like what he was about to hear.

“I'm sorry, Father. There wasn't anything we could do. Everything had been kept quiet. No one I've talked with had prior knowledge.”

“But you would have to know their intentions now. What do they have on me? Why am I on the run? I have been held up in this hell hole with no bath, unable to shave. The whole of my appearance is appalling. No one should be forced to live in this manner!”

“Father, I don't believe you will be returning to Philadelphia anytime soon. Word from Galloway. He suggested a quick trip to New York and on to England. The Patriot faction has set out your arrest warrant, dead or alive, but I don't think their intentions are for you to be alive long.”

Gannon winced. Stephen hesitated to continue. Gannon stared at his son. “Well, what did we expect if found out?”

“They seem to know most everything and have proof. They arrested eight, including Trumbell. I heard he told all he knew before they even started questioning him. They have confiscated most of our property. All the property that they know, that is.”

Gannon's face erupted to a dark shade of red. He exploded. “They've done what?”

“They have knowledge of your embezzling—Jonathan's sister's inheritance. They know also of you handing over the girl’s guardianship to her grandfather. They knew more about the details than I did. They must have investigated you for a while, Father, although they never connected me to your business. I assured them of my allegiance to the Patriot cause and they found no cause to think otherwise,” Stephen said.

Gannon paced. He bit his lower lip as in thought. “How would they know that? It would have had to come from New York,” he said as if to himself.

“There were so many that evacuated New York, Father, it could have been anybody. A slip of the tongue. I doubt we'll ever know,” Stephen said. “But the good news is that they have handed over all to Jonathan, which means Catherine will have hold.”

“Catherine. Oh, my God! I had forgotten how this must be affecting her. She wasn't well to begin with.”

Stephen eyed his father thoughtfully.

“Do not hold back on me, Stephen.”

“Catherine is a concern,” Stephen acknowledged. “I'm not so sure of her health. She is ranting that there is a conspiracy against you. She has gone so far as accusing them of plotting to murder her and Little William.”

“I suppose they have ones to stand watch the house? Not a chance at the moment to remove her and William.” Gannon watched Stephen nod. “You're going to have to watch over her now, Stephen. Are you certain they aren't after you?”

“I don't believe they trust me, but have nothing on me. I have told them I haven't done anything except be your son. What harm would it do now, Father, to go to England until this rebellion is over? I suspect you have money hidden from the indications I've heard. I'll do what I can. Don't worry, Father. I will find out what happened. Be sure they will pay for all they have done to you.”

“Stephen,” Gannon began. “I don't want—”

“Oh, Father, don't try to go down that road. I have learned much in the last few days. I don't take kindly to them looking down upon us. I have no intention of letting our property be handed over to Jonathan at least not for long. I have learned patience, but am not stupid.”

“No, my son. I have no doubts on our end. But I believe I'll hole up in New York for a while. I'm not leaving you and Catherine. Dammit! I had everything planned. Everything. You're right, though, I do have money where no one can find it. We need to come up with another path to take. Between the two of us, we will turn the tables on these rebels. If they thought they have seen the last of me they're sadly mistaken.”

* * * *

Jonathan read and reread Catherine's letters. The last one worried him. She hadn't once mentioned the baby. Overwrought, she begged him to return home, needed him and didn't know how she would go on without him. He had returned a letter stating he hoped to make a visit soon in the hopes of giving her hope. The tone of her letters was a source of anxiety to him. At the moment he could do nothing more than give her hope to hold on to until his return.

Even with Major Tallmadge's intention of sending him home after they laid capture to his father-in-law, he had no knowledge when or if the move had been made. His apprehension grew with each day they delayed. Reason dictated the delay came with caution, scrutinizing all of Gannon's activities, probing his associates. But reason couldn't calm his nerves.

Thomas Paine, who authored
Common Sense
, had arrived not long ago having written another essay giving heart to all and reminding them of the faith within the cause. Jonathan needed reminding and had a copy in his coat pocket with him
.

These are the times that try men's souls. The summer soldier and the sunshine patriot will, in this crisis shrink from the service of his country, but he that stands it now, deserves the love and thanks of men and women. Tyranny, like hell, is not easily conquered; yet we have this consolation with us, that the harder the conflict, the more glorious the easy triumph
.

His soul was tried and tired. He hadn't seen Gabriel since the fight and didn't care if he ever saw him again, not if Gabriel valued his life. Jonathan didn't ask, but sensed he was no longer in camp. Still, he had no news on Hannah. Lydia wrote. She, too, seemed deeply concerned with their sister.

Word came of General Charles Lee's capture by the British at Basking Ridge. Lee, himself a former British officer, now served as second in command of the American army, but from what Jonathan gathered his capture could be a source of relief for General Washington. Lee clashed with the General time and time again.

Christmas was upon them once more. Last year at this time he had been in Montreal. As then, most of the enlistments of the men would end on December 31, and again it was deemed a pressing issue. Rumors abounded about a possible attack along the lines of posts across New Jersey, which most considered doubtful to make such an attempt in this harsh winter weather.

Jonathan tucked his letters away. He had been summoned to General Washington’s quarters. He assumed to make a report on the conditions of the troops. The wind blew the frigid air around him. His feet lost footing on the slick ice cover beneath him. He caught himself before he fell. Three officers emerged from headquarters, saluted Jonathan and passed him by.

Admitted with ease, Jonathan stood before a table with an impressive number of men including General Washington looking over a map. A rather large young man broke away from the map. Jonathan recognized him as Colonel Henry Knox. He may have weighed well over three hundred pounds, but Jonathan knew well his successful feats.

“Have a seat for a moment, Dr. Corbett,” Colonel Knox said. Colonel Samuel Glover looked up and gave Jonathan a small smile. Over the months, the two had formed a firm friendship.

Colonel Glover tarried from Marblehead, Massachusetts. Glover and his brigade of men, no more than seven hundred and fifty, had been posted to the east of Manhattan Island as one of the screening units to protect a flank attack by the British while Washington withdrew the troops.