Paper Woman: A Mystery of the American Revolution (12 page)

Had it been
eighteen years since then?
 
It seemed a
hundred.
 
At what moment in time had
they turned from giddy youths into duty-bound adults?

Jacques
referenced the garrison, and Laughing Eyes responded something about
warriors.
 
Sophie listened with
diligence but didn't know enough Creek to understand.
 
Vexed, she eased the shade back in place and began dressing.

Instinct told
her there'd been no bloodshed in Alton the previous night.
 
The Creek village would be hopping with
activity otherwise.
 
Finding no sign of
a struggle in her bedroom, the soldiers would conclude that she'd left of her
own volition, violating house arrest.
 
With Fairfax insisting he'd been attacked, the incident would appear
schemed between Sophie and the Creek.
 
The redcoats wouldn't take that lightly.
 
What had she unleashed?

While she was
drawing on her stockings, Jacques rapped on the door of the hut.
 
"
Belle
Sophie, you are
awake?"
 
She stuffed her stockinged
feet into shoes, set the partition to one side, and opened the door.
 
A blend of pleasure and relief wove through
his expression.
 
"Ah, it is good to
see you safe and well after last night.
 
May I come in?"

She stepped
aside.
 
"And where are you headed
today?"

His expression
darkened.
 
"Anyplace where trouble
is not, and that does not include Alton this morning."

"You'll
not attend the funerals at ten?"
 
She closed the door behind him.

He shook his
head.
 
"Bad luck, my old heart
tells me, to leave town the same day I attend a funeral, even the funeral of my
nephew."
 
He paced the interior of
the hut.
 
"What possessed Mathias
to bring you here last night?"

Chagrin gnawed
her.
 
"I coerced him.
 
He wanted me to be safe.
 
Where is he?"
 
Mathias had disappeared within minutes of depositing her into the
hands of his mother's adoptive sister.

Jacques
sneered.
 
"He is in Alton,
convincing English pigs that no hostages were taken during that gross
misunderstanding.
 
I do not know how the
rumor originated among the Creek, but I am certain that no one was slaughtered
to make room for troops."

She expelled
relief.
 
"Mathias thought the real
reason Major Hunt was surrendering command to Captain Sheffield was because
he'd been recalled to England for refusing to commit atrocities."

"Bah.
 
Hunt is wealthy.
 
He bought his way out of the war."

"I
presumed as much.
 
Then why did Mathias so
misread the situation?"

"The rumor
infringed on the sacred honor of the Creek people."
 
The sneer contorted Jacques's upper
lip.
 
"Even if the rumor vanished
with the light of day, that lieutenant was knocked out after he charged the
Creek warrior with you —"

"Hah.
 
Fairfax attacked Mathias with his
sword."

"As far as
the pigs are concerned, you escaped arrest.
 
And although no one was injured in the confrontation in town last night,
the Creek are now suspect of breaking their treaty —"

"I cannot
go back to Alton, Uncle Jacques!"
 
She threw up her hands.

"Soldiers
are on their way here.
 
You must return
to Alton, or the Creek may be charged with abetting your escape."
 
He grumbled, "And already the whispers
I hear are foul, that the Creek murdered those three men."

Time to enlist
qualified help for the cause.
 
She
seized his upper arm and lowered her voice.
 
"I'm leaving for St. Augustine today.
 
Find me a good horse and some supplies."

"Eh?
 
Have you hit your head,
belle
Sophie?
 
St. Augustine is more than a
week away by rigorous travel over terrain no woman dare journey alone —"

"Get word
to David that I require his company."

Scowling, he
shook off her hold.
 
"What is all
this about?"

"Solving
the murders of my father and Jonah."

Disbelief faded
from his face, and he studied her.
 
"Perhaps you had best explain everything.
 
Keep your voice low."

She told him
about the ciphers, showing him the second one and
Confessions
, and
related the visit of the Spaniards two nights before.
 
The Frenchman's eyebrows bristled like caterpillars, his beady
gaze stung, and the veins in his ropy neck stood out.
 
"St. Augustine belongs to George the Third.
 
Sophie, you cannot go.
 
You are a woman."

She stamped her
foot.
 
"I run a printing
press.
 
My aim with a musket is excellent.
 
I ride a horse better than most men in
Alton."
 
From his expression, she
wasn't getting through to him.
 
Exasperated, she realized her argument wasn't convincing because in her
heart she hadn't accepted her father's death.
 
"Jacques, the redcoats won't solve the murders!
 
Someone did them a favor and rid Alton of
rebel spies.
 
Don Alejandro de Gálvez is
a lead in the murders.
 
He may be in St.
Augustine.
 
If the soldiers are on their
way here now to find me, you can either help me get to St. Augustine, or you
can hand me over to them."
 
She
braced her fists on her hips.
 
"I'll not return willingly to Alton today."

"St.
Augustine is a different world from Hampshire."

"Then
perhaps I shan't be followed to St. Augustine."

His expression
thawed.
 
"
Belle
Sophie, you
may find the companionship of more than your brother on your journey."

***

Inside the Moon
Lodge, the smell of menstrual blood blended with that of sweat, flowers, and a
grass-and-herb smudge.
 
Two-dozen Creek
women of various ages lounged around a fire pit, the interior of the lodge
dimmed by smoke.
 
Some were naked above
the waist.
 
Others wore floral print
shirts like the one Two Rainbows had loaned Sophie.
 
They gossiped while having their hands and feet massaged or their
hair combed and braided.
 
None seemed
concerned that eleven redcoats had ridden into the village a quarter hour
before and begun nosing around.

Three women
entered bearing platters of cut fruit and corn cakes.
 
They served the food as if the menstruating women were goddesses
— which they were in Creek civilization, exalted and one with Creator during
their menses.
 
Imagining the townsfolk
of Alton treating menstruating women with honor made Sophie want to laugh.
 
That idea had slim chance of generating
approval among those who regarded work as a moral good.

With a swirl of
skirt fabric, Two Rainbows, younger wife of the medicine man, pivoted from the
small window.
 
"Nagchoguh Hogdee, a
lieutenant comes."
 
The Creek woman
sashayed to the opposite side of the fire pit and sat facing the doorway.

Her back to the
door, Sophie shifted on her mat and willed the muscles in her neck to
relax.
 
Surely Lieutenant Stoddard
wouldn't invade the Moon Lodge.
 
Strands
of shells and beads around her neck chuckled, blended with the earthy murmurs within
the lodge.
 
Earth, she told herself, I
am earth as the other women are.

Jacques's
voice, steeped in indignation, closed on the lodge from the outside.
 
"What
can
you be thinking?"

"The Moon
Lodge is the only place in the village we haven't searched."

Dismay and
panic tore through Sophie.
 
That was
Fairfax
outside with Jacques, not Stoddard.
 
Fairfax had received movement orders.
 
Why hadn't he left for South Carolina?

"Uhchulee
Nagonúhguh gave you his word that Sophie Barton is not here."
 
She almost smiled at the semantic game the
medicine man, Old Tale, had played with Fairfax.
 
No, Sophie Barton wasn't there, but Nagchoguh Hogdee was.

Indignation in
Laughing Eyes' voice rang distinct.
 
Old
Tale said something in Creek.
 
"
Monsieur
le Coeuvre," said Fairfax.
 
"Please be so good as to translate for me.
 
I could have sworn this fellow spoke the
King's English."

And so he did
when he felt like it.
 
The smile plucked
at Sophie's mouth.
 
She fanned a fly
away from her face.

"Uhchulee
Nagonúhguh reminds you that the Moon Lodge is a sacred place and that great
Mico George has thus far respected the customs of the people in this village
—"
 
A snarl penetrated Jacques's
tone.
 
"— English pig."

Fairfax's voice
lowered.
 
"Curious,
Monsieur
le Coeuvre.
 
I detected neither the
Creek words for 'English' nor 'pig' in the fellow's statement."

Jacques lowered
his voice, too.
 
"Translation is a
delicate and subjective art, impacted by the judgment, personal experience, and
prejudice of the translator — English pig."

Oh, gods.
 
She closed her eyes a moment.
 
Jacques le Coeuvre had just elevated himself
to the top of Fairfax's dung list.

"Tell the
medicine man I follow orders to search the
entire
village for Mrs.
Barton."

The incongruity
of the situation jolted Sophie.
 
Fairfax
should be headed that moment to South Carolina for his next assignment.
 
Technically, neither Edward nor Captain
Sheffield was his commanding officer.
 
Neither should have sent him on such a search.

Fairfax paused
the duration of a heartbeat.
 
"While King George does not wish to infringe on the customs of
natives, Mrs. Barton is a subject of the Crown, has violated arrest, and must
be taken into custody if she is here."

Wood clattered
and feet shuffled outside — warriors stepping before the lodge with spears.
 
Movement within the lodge stilled, and
conversation ceased.
 
Jacques dripped
acid into his voice.
 
"You will
have to get past
them
first.
 
Now
look around you.
 
At least a dozen
warriors have you targeted.
 
Even King
George is not mad enough to proceed on your course.
 
Stand down, Lieutenant, or you will die."

Seconds dragged
by while Fairfax considered.
 
"
Monsieur
,
extend King George's gratitude to the people of the village for cooperating in
this matter."
 
The women in the hut
returned to their tasks.
 
"Oh, and
Monsieur
,
I encourage you to use better judgment at translations in the future as your
personal prejudice may predispose you to making enemies."
 
Gravel and grass crunched beneath the
lieutenant's retreat.
 
Jacques spat.

The trembling
in Sophie's hands quieted.
 
She'd
expected Fairfax to open the door and look around.
 
But, when threatened by warriors, even someone as unyielding as
he couldn't help but feel the negative pressure of transgressing the cultural
and sacrosanct boundary of the Moon Lodge.

As she assessed
the elements within the lodge — native women, smoky dusk, earthy smells — she
reflected that Fairfax was looking for a woman who held herself apart from the
Creek, not one who had removed her mobcap and let her hair riot across her
shoulders and back like a "savage."
 
They'll see only what we wish them to see
, Mathias had said the
night before.
 
Would Fairfax have
recognized her, had he opened the door?
 
The British mouthed policies of protecting the natives, but they hadn't
the slightest idea who the natives really were.

Jacques tapped
the door, his voice low.
 
"Nagchoguh Hogdee."

She rose and
cracked the door open.
 
"Are they
gone?"

"
Oui
."

She opened the
door several inches.
 
Over his shoulder
she took in activities in the village plaza — children scuttling a ball around
in the dust with dogs chasing them, two men returning from a lake with fish,
several other warriors negotiating with traders.
 
The ordinariness of it soothed her.
 
"Thank you."

He inclined his
head.
 
"Your brother should arrive
within the hour.
 
Mathias will rejoin us
at noon with transportation and supplies.
 
And I have requested that Zack MacVie meet me here in the village."