Liberty 1784: The Second War for Independence (18 page)

“Clark and his men made it well west to a fascinating discovery, a huge salt lake. But now they are hibernating for the winter. What they did find is that there is precious little likelihood of a large number of people finding sustenance in such a barren landscape.”

“So we fight or die?” Will said.

“Wasn’t it always that way, Will?”

* * *

“Benjamin Franklin is a brilliant man,” Sarah declared. “Perhaps the most brilliant man who ever existed. He lets the others, like that pompous Hancock, think they are in charge, but then he comes up with ideas that they have to follow. He’s like a very old and very skillful puppeteer and they are his puppets.”

“Do tell,” Will said with a lazy smile. They were seated on chairs across from each other in Franklin’s study. The great man was puttering around someplace, so any sense of privacy was an illusion.

Sarah was unfazed by his apparent lack of interest in what she was saying. What did faze her was the way he kept staring at her. She continued, “Dr. Franklin has made a series of proposals. First, he thinks that we should come up with a constitution, a set of rules that our nation should abide by. He says it would be a counter to the dictatorial hand of the British.”

“Sounds reasonable to me.”

“Yes. It would show people that they have a choice. They can live freely as Americans, or as slaves under the British. He says there should be no restraints on religion, assembly, or the press, and that just about any man should be able to vote if he wishes.”

“So what is stopping Congress from doing just that?”

She grimaced, “The curse of slavery. The representatives from the southern states want slavery reinstated so that when we win they can get their human property back. Dr. Franklin thinks the genie is out of the bottle and can never be returned. Another version of Pandora’s Box, he said. He thinks that the British did the colonies a favor by freeing the slaves, since, in his words, they can never be re-enslaved without an uproar and even an incredible amount of violence. After all, it’s been several years since they were freed. He is certain they are getting used to freedom and would fight to keep it. He feels the results would be a civil war with white against black, and with those whites who oppose slavery helping the blacks. He said the southerners would wind up killing many of the blacks so they can enslave the rest. He also thinks that many blacks would migrate west like we did. It sounds so logical when he says it.”

“He’s right. I can’t imagine a slave going willingly any more than I can imagine myself going back into a prison hulk. I know this sounds overly dramatic, but I’d rather be killed fighting than surrender and be sent to that hell again.”

“Will, I’d like to say I understand, but I doubt that I’ll ever comprehend what you went through.”

He reached out and took her hand. “Sometimes I don’t think I comprehend it either. It’s like a bad dream that happened to someone who looked like me.”

“Do you still think about it?”

“Not as often as before. At first, a strange sound or a smell would remind me, and it would be like I had been sent back to that hell. Of course, I sometimes still dream about it at night and wake up shaking and sweating with my heart pounding like a drum.”

She covered his hand with hers, anxious now to change the subject. “Franklin’s second great idea was that we should admit new colonies. After all, the area in which we are living isn’t a part of any of the thirteen even though we have thousands of people living here. He thought we could name the colonies after Indian tribes, like the Miami or the Saulk. Of course, there are problems with that as well.”

Will smiled. “Let me guess. Virginia and other colonies are laying claim to the land based on ambiguous and irrelevant colonial boundaries drawn many years ago in England.”

“Exactly. However, he thinks he can wear down the opposition with a combination of charm and logic.”

“As he has done with you?”

“I am very fond of him,” she admitted. “I can see how French women threw themselves at him. If he was younger, a lot younger, I can see where I might do it myself.”

“And where would that leave me?”

She smiled impishly. “Well, in a liberated society, couldn’t a woman have more than one lover?”

Will stood and pulled her to him. He tipped up her face and kissed her longingly. “I don’t want to share you,” he said huskily.

“And I don’t want to be shared,” she said. “Dr. Franklin will just have to find someone else.”

“Do you always call him Dr. Franklin. Is it ever Benjamin??”

“Yes, when we’re alone and he’s tired.”

They kissed again, and this time with deepening passion. “Does he ever leave you alone here?”

She felt his erection through her dress. “Why, so you can take me to bed?”

“Yes.”

His hands strayed from her shoulders and cupped her breasts. She felt mild surprise and pleasure. Benjamin Franklin was talking to someone in the next room and could come in at any time. Did she care? It would take but an instant to unfasten Will’s pants and straddle him while he was seated on a chair. It wouldn’t be dignified or romantic, but it would solve, at least temporarily, the problem of her wanting him so badly.

She took a deep breath and pushed him away. “I want you, Will Drake, but not with the chance that Benjamin or anyone else will surprise us. Perhaps the next time he goes out for a sufficient amount of time, I will send for you and give you more pleasure than you could ever imagine or deserve.”

“Just perhaps?” Will said with a strained smile.

She put her head on his shoulder. “Perhaps more than perhaps.”

Will smiled wanly. “It cannot come soon enough.”

* * *

Fitzroy did not always get invited to the generals’ luncheon meetings. These were often times for Burgoyne, Tarleton, Grant, and Arnold to discuss matters freely and without anyone taking notes. This time, he was present because of his efforts to root out rebel spies.

“If I understand you correctly, you’ve found nothing,” Tarleton said with his usual hint of a sneer.

“I have not done quite that poorly, General. I have found that Detroit is a sieve and that information flows out of here like the river outside. My problem is finding out just who is telling tales to impress tavern wenches in order to get under their skirts, and who is really traitorous, and sending information to Fort Washington and General Tallmadge, their spymaster.”

Fitzroy winced inwardly when he mentioned about telling tales to impress women. He was as guilty as anyone since he talked more than freely to Hannah Van Doorn. But why not? She was a loyalist and a very dear friend along with being a lover. In fact, Fitzroy was spending a lot of time wondering about their relationship and any future they might possibly have together.

“I can see Fitzroy’s point,” Grant said. “There is a sense of invincibility here, or at least there was until the fire, and nobody seemed to care what was said and to whom. Talking and bragging, however, does not necessarily make anyone a traitor.”

“So what do we do about it?” Tarleton asked.

“I’ve ordered the obvious,” Fitzroy answered. “Invoking General Burgoyne’s name, I’ve required people to be more aware of what they are doing and saying. It’ll hardly solve everything, but it is a step. I’ve also set a handful of what I think of as mousetraps to catch people. I think, however, that I will catch harmless and talkative mice, and not traitors.”

General Arnold nodded solemnly. “And then you will make examples of them.”

“Yes sir.”

Burgoyne stood and walked around the table. “I’ve gotten more information from General Cornwallis. He says that New York is in ferment and that other cities are almost in open rebellion. There are riots in Boston, which is nothing new. It seems that the report of the American Colonies’ future has gotten out and even our tame Loyalists are outraged, and I don’t blame them.”

“Is Cornwallis denying it?” Tarleton asked. “God knows, I would.”

“Apparently so,” Burgoyne answered, “but the trouble is spreading. And there is interesting news from London. It appears that the French king and his idiot queen have reconciled with the Marquis de Lafayette. The marquis’ moderate forces have won a few battles against the radicals who seem to have disaffected a lot of people by killing so many of them. It would seem that the boy general is becoming a force to be reckoned with.”

“Dear God,” exclaimed Grant.

“Dear God, indeed,” Burgoyne continued. “Apparently their French majesties concluded that, if they did not cooperate with the marquis, the moderates in France would proclaim Lafayette as a new king and leave them to live out the remainder of their lives as exiles in England. As it is, there may well be a constitutional monarchy with Louis and Marie as little more than figureheads.”

Tarleton laughed harshly, “Serves them right. They are utter dunces and probably incompetent to serve as anything but figureheads.”

Burgoyne smiled. “That may be true, but it does not thrill our own beloved King George. He sees a constitutional monarachy as a potential threat to the House of Hanover and its control over England. King George would like the monarchy to have more power, not less.”

“Is Cornwallis asking for his army back?” Tarleton asked.

“Not quite. He acknowledges that we need the time to do the job properly, but he does not wish us to dawdle. I have sent him a report on our condition and our intentions. However, he is well aware that so much of what we will be able to do is dependent on the weather. First, the ice must melt and the land must thaw and then it must dry up before we can move.”

Tarleton nearly snorted. “Still, I want this ordeal to be over. Migawd, I first thought that New York was the most diseased crotch of the world, but this manure pile called Detroit is far worse. Now I actually find myself looking forward to New York or Charleston.”

“Not Boston?” Grant asked in an attempt at humor.

“Never Boston,” Tarleton responded angrily. “Puritans, rebels, merchants, and witch burners, along with pale, ugly women who think it’s a sin to enjoy a good fuck. I think I’d rather be here than in Boston, thank you.”

Grant turned to Fitzroy. “In the meantime we prepare and look for spies. Curiously, but I almost don’t care if the rebels know everything we are doing. After all, what can they do about it? We outnumber them hugely, outgun them enormously, and have better trained soldiers.”

“And superior generals,” Tarleton said and drew laughter from the others, even from Burgoyne who normally didn’t think Butcher Tarleton was funny at all. Or even that good a general.

* * *

“I still don’t see how we missed this,” Harris muttered. Beside him in the brush, Braxton was deep in thought.

“Only thing I can think of is that it’s a new settlement,” Braxton said. “I mean, look at the place. Just a couple of log cabins poorly thrown together. No crops yet and not much of a place for animals. These people just arrived, and that’s why we missed it. It wasn’t here for us to miss.”

He didn’t bother to add again that the forest was huge and the settlement small, and they might have continued to miss it if it hadn’t been for the specific directions they’d been given. For all Braxton knew there were a score of similarly undetected settlements like this just waiting to be discovered and then wiped out by his men. He hoped so.

Following the directions received from Tarleton in Detroit, Braxton and nearly twenty men had labored through the winter snow and mud to find the settlement that was claimed to harbor rebels.

Braxton didn’t much care if the claim was true or not. He and his men needed some action. The bad weather made their approach easier. There was no one out in the fields preparing the soil for crops and they’d detected no sign of any hunters. Of course there might be one or two, but it would appear that they’d successfully bypassed them. If they were discovered, it would be too late. It was already too late for the occupants of the settlement and he didn’t give a damn if they were rebels or not.

The settlement consisted of a larger building that was likely a barn, and a slightly smaller one, which he assumed was the main house. The shutters were closed against the weather, which meant that the occupants couldn’t see them very well if at all.

“Look,” Harris hissed. Two women, their heads covered with shawls, came out of the main house and went into what Braxton had assumed was the barn. A moment later, they emerged with two men and returned to the main house. No one was carrying a weapon.

Braxton signaled the others with a soft whistle and they began to move forward at a crouch. At a hundred yards away, he ordered a pause. There was still nothing to indicate that they’d been discovered. He waved the men forward. One group of a half dozen headed toward the barn, while the rest raced toward the house.

At about twenty yards distance, the shutters opened and a dozen gun barrels poked out. Braxton screamed at his men to stop, but it was too late. Sheets of fire cut down his men. To his left, he heard a similar fate befalling the men attacking the barn. Harris, directly in front of him, took a bullet in the head. Blood and brain matter spewed onto Braxton.

“Ambush!” Braxton howled. “Run.”

Armed men poured from the buildings, screaming and waving knives and tomahawks. A couple of his surviving men managed to fire their weapons, but didn’t appear to hit much. Braxton felt a pain in his arm and realized he’d been shot. A wild looking rebel came up to him. Braxton screamed out his fury and shot the man in the chest with his pistol.

He turned and ran for the woods. He felt agony from his arm and nearly passed out. Almost all of his men were down and being hacked at by the rebels who had poured from the buildings. Maybe one or two had survived the slaughter and maybe not.

Somehow, he made it to the shelter of the forest. He was almost incredulous at his own good fortune. He managed to reload his pistol with his one good hand. If the rebels came close he would use it on himself. He had no urge to be imprisoned or hanged, which he knew would happen.

He had to make it back to Detroit. Someone had betrayed him to the rebels, and Tarleton would want to know that.