Love’s Betrayal (16 page)

“You might need assistance.”

Henry raised an angry brow, and she hurried up the stairs. Someone other than James approached the house.

Henry heard Delight's light footsteps upon the stairs, but his sights remained on the door. The feel of the weapon in his hands gave him little reassurance. Those who roamed the night in search of mischief rarely came unarmed.

With one hand on Bear in hopes of keeping the dog quiet, Henry stepped to the window and slipped his fingers between the shutters, easing one side open to see outside. The culprit might simply be another animal roaming beyond the door, but Henry had a feeling this was not the case.

In the faint light of a half moon, he saw the outline of a wagon. The driver, wearing neither the uniform of a British soldier nor the varied garments of a patriot, leaned precariously to the side, as if inebriated or injured. Rather than open the door and possibly face trouble, Henry left Bear inside to protect the women. Releasing a heavy sigh, he stole out the back of the house.

Moving slowly around the rear to the corner, he considered how darkness often masked the sounds of night. The noises seemed to come from the distance—the singing insects and an owl's call. While he crept toward the front of the house, he strained to hear something revealing the wagon driver's identity. Nothing met his painstaking gaze. When he reached the front, he studied the wagon's outline. Not a soul loomed nearby, save the man, who looked ready to tumble to the ground.

Henry scrutinized the wagon bed and focused on the peculiar shapes filling the entire area. Barrels. The driver must be James, and indeed he must have been badly injured not to cry out. Bear must have sensed the calamity.

He moved to the wagon and worked his way around to the seat. Caution preceded his every breath for he knew not what might await him. “James?” A groan met his ears. The chap needed care, no matter who he was. Henry attempted to lift him in his arms while leaning against the wagon on his good leg. He feared dropping him, and with the man uttering nothing more than a whimper, the fall might kill him.

Help me, Lord. I need to get him inside.

Henry reached beneath the limp man and pulled him against his chest. He took a staggering step, determined to place one foot in front of the other until he could lay the man down within the house.

The door opened and captured his attention. Delight, carrying a lantern, rushed out with Charity. Instantly the two young women were at his side. Delight assisted with the man's legs and Charity held his shoulders and head.

“You are an answer to prayer,” Henry said, “although I distinctly remember asking ye to stay inside.”

“I watched from the window and assumed all was safe,” Delight said. “And I saw you needed help.”

“Is it James?” Charity whispered.

“I do not know, lass, but it most likely is. He's injured, but I don't know where.”

“He looks like James.” She caught her breath, no doubt halting her tears. “Delight, please shine the lantern.”

Charity gasped at the sight of their friend, his face smeared with dirt and blood. A gash from his head oozed fresh blood.

“We'll tend to him and offer prayers.” Delight's compassion sounded tender against the stifled sobs of her sister. “Don't worry, Charity. If he made the journey here, then he is strong.”

Once inside, they carried him into the hall and placed him on Henry's mattress.

“Stay here with James,” Delight said to her sister. “I will get a basin of water and see to bandages and herbs.”

“Should we wake your mother?” Henry eased James's arm from his waistcoat to make certain there were no other injuries. Charity knelt at his side and helped pull the coat under him while Henry lifted.

“Let's see the extent of his wounds first,” Charity said. She first saw the profuse bleeding from James's side when she pulled his arm from the other sleeve. “Oh dear Lord, please spare him.” She peered into Henry's face. “Mama will know what to do.” Rising to her feet, she disappeared up the stairs, the wisp of her skirts reminding him of a hummingbird's wings.

While Henry sought to make James comfortable, Delight returned with water and a cloth. She knelt in the same spot where she had once dressed Henry's wounds. “How serious is he?”

Henry hadn't had ample time to assess his friend's condition, but he did know the bleeding from his side needed to stop. “I have to find the source of this blood—either a knife or musket ball.”

Delight held the lantern, neither flinching nor commenting about the open flesh.

“A knife, lass. His head, too. These need to be sewn or the wounds will not heal properly.”

“Either Mama or I can do it,” she said. “Blood usually makes Charity ill, but she may amaze us.” Delight pressed the cloth to James's side to halt the profuse bleeding. Even so, red soon tinged her fingers.

Father, he is far worse than I imagined.
“How could Charity's reaction vary from her disposition?”

Delight smiled sadly. “She loves James, and I'm sure she would do anything to help him.”

Henry tore the remains of his friend's shirt away from the wound.
How can both of these women love the same man without quarreling? I don't understand their behavior, no, not at all.
It occurred to him that he and James probably cared for Delight. He thought of James as a brother. Perhaps there rested the similarities.

“Would you hold this for me, please?” Delight said.

He held the cloth against the open flesh while she gingerly washed the area around it. Tiny lines etched around her eyes while she concentrated on cleaning a small portion of the surrounding area.

“Thank you. I am afraid this isn't as simple as when you were injured.”

“Aye, but I had a fine nurse.” He refused to dwell on James's serious condition. As a soldier, he had learned the value of a clear mind.

“A surly one.” She smiled faintly.

“She had a disagreeable patient.”

Delight glanced behind them at the creaking stairs announcing Mama's and Charity's descent. The hum of their anxious voices intensified the critical situation.

“Mama, I have water and bandages along with yarrow, but one of us will need to sew his wounds,” Delight said.

At the sight of the seared flesh illuminated by the lantern light, Charity covered her mouth. In the next breath, she righted herself and offered to retrieve Mama's sewing basket.

“Aye, I will need it,” Mama said. Henry helped her kneel at James's side.

Charity swallowed hard while tears rolled unchecked down her cheeks. With a quick breath, she whirled around to fetch the basket.

“We must make haste,” Mama said. “Is he conscious?”

“I think he's drifting in and out,” Henry said. “Only moans, and scant few of them.”

“That is a blessing for now.” Mistress Butler brushed her long, gray mottled hair back behind her ears. Normally, she wore it in a bun at her nape. “From the looks of James, he must have rolled in the dirt during some scuffle.”

Mixed with blood, the debris caused the open flesh to appear even more gruesome. Mama took nearly an hour to stitch up James's head and left side. Her stitches were neat, whereas Delight knew hers would have been jagged and uneven. More than once, Delight stole a glimpse at Charity's face, but her sister did remarkably well. She held James's hand as if the man were conscious of her touch. Thankfully his state masked the painful sensations certainly raging through his body.

“'Tis all I can do.” Mama wiped her brow with the back of her hand upon completion of the task. “James's wounds will close and heal properly as long as fever and corruption don't claim him.”

Charity stroked his forehead. Even in the dim light, he looked fearfully white. “We must pray.”

“I will,” Henry said. “Lord, we are all concerned about Your child here. He's hurt bad and needs Your help. Guide us in how we can help him. And Father, we pray no corruption shall plague James's body, but that Your power will touch him with divine healing.”

He wondered what ill fate had befallen their friend. A thought occurred to him, and he mulled it over in his mind. What if James had been followed? Loyalists and redcoats alike did unspeakable things to patriots, especially those apprehended with messages and supplies. No one dare find any trace of James at the Butler home.

I
will take care of the horses and wagon.” Henry rose stiffly to his feet.

“I'll help,” Delight said, “as long as Charity will sit with James so Mama can rest.” She needed fresh air and time to ponder James's ill fate.

“Of course.” Charity reached to take Mama's hand. “Go on back to bed, Mama. Morning will come soon enough, and little Elijah will be demanding his breakfast.”

Their mother studied James a bit longer. “Do you promise to waken me if he grows worse?”

“I give you my solemn word,” Charity said.

Henry assisted Mama to her feet and did the same for Delight.

“Would you like a cup of chamomile tea before retiring?” Delight said.

Mama smiled wearily. “I think not. Once you and Henry are finished outside, perhaps you three would sleep intermittently in your vigil. Who knows what tomorrow will bring?”

“I'll see to it, Mistress Butler,” Henry said. “Do not concern yourself with their welfare. I will make sure they rest.”

And who will urge you to do the same?
Delight grabbed her shawl and wrapped it around her shoulders before grasping the lantern.

Once outside, Henry drove the wagon to the back of the house, where he could hide both it and the horses inside the barn. He pulled the barn door shut, and with Delight's aid, he fed and groomed the horses.

Delight leaned against the side of a stall. “Henry, you never answered my question earlier.”

“I believe I posed the same to ye.”

Her thin shoulders rose and fell. “Must you torment me so?”

Me dear Delight. It is I who is tormented.
Henry looked at her steadily. “That is not my intent.”

“Then were you trifling with me the day Papa went off to the army?”

Henry knew he must respond, and he dared not lie. “I am leaving shortly, Delight. I don't know when I shall return, but I assure you my kiss was with the utmost of affections.”

Delight realized her desire for Henry's reply was selfish in light of James's grave wounds, but nevertheless she warmed with the sweet words. “Thank you, Henry. No one has ever given me such a lavish compliment.”

“After tonight, perhaps we might talk?” His tone sounded wistful. “I mean once we are certain James is on the mend. I'm ashamed of myself for concentrating on my sentiments instead of placing my heart and mind into our friend's care.”

She glanced up and nodded. “I understand how you feel, but God does not expect us to grieve continuously.”

A brief silence followed when she could think of nothing to say.

“I want to see what's in the barrels,” Henry said. “I know James has been smuggling supplies and provisions to the troops for some time. My guess is someone wanted what he carried.”

He climbed onto the wagon and pried open one of the barrels with a crowbar. Delight held the lantern high, anxious to see the contents.

“Corn,” she whispered as Henry allowed the kernels to flow between his fingers. The sight somewhat disappointed her.

“Quite possibly there is something else in the bottom.” Henry dug his hand deeper, nearly to his elbow. “Ah, lass. We may have a treasure here. Do you mind fetching me a bucket?”

Once the desired item was obtained, she climbed onto the wagon bed beside him. Quickly he scooped the corn until his knuckles rapped onto a hard surface with a dull thud.

“What do you think it is?” She glanced about as though they were being spied upon.

“I think I know what we have here.” He pulled a wooden insert from the barrel. “Hold back the lantern, Delight. It's gunpowder.”

She stepped away from the wagon and drew in a deep breath. So this was why James had been attacked. “Henry, this needs to be delivered somewhere.”

“Indeed, but until James regains consciousness, we can only speculate where. I searched him but found nothing. Didn't really expect to. James is too sly to carry vital information on his person.”

Delight well understood that precaution, which was one of the reasons she had assisted the patriots. Papa said James could read an item once and memorize it, definitely an asset to their cause. “I would gladly drive this wagon to its destination.”

Henry replaced the wooden insert and picked up the bucket of corn. “I thought Elijah made you promise you wouldn't involve yourself in any dangerous activities.”

Irritation piqued her, although truth be told, she had momentarily forgotten her promise. “How did you know about that?”

He poured the corn back into the barrel before replying. “He sensed you might have a difficult time keeping your word.”

“I believe he would make an exception in this case.”

“I think not.” Henry replaced the barrel's lid and climbed down from the wagon. “If he had not felt concern for you, then he might not have alerted me to your promise.”

She tapped her foot against the hard ground. “How else will it be transported?”

“I believe I'm quite capable.”

“But your leg?”

He moved closer to her and took the lantern. “Is the question my leg or my loyalties?”

Stunned, Delight wrapped her arms about her. “I don't doubt your commitment to the patriots, but I had not considered you—”

“Risking my life for the American cause?”

The conversation vexed her, forcing her to consider things she hadn't mulled in her mind before. “Forgive me, Henry, but this is all new to me. First you tell me what Papa made me promise, then you announce your willingness to continue James's work.”