Paper Woman: A Mystery of the American Revolution (47 page)

An hour after
Edward left to learn the city's protocol for rebel spies, Sophie glimpsed
Fairfax through the door grate, pacing in the front room.
 
Another hour passed, and he departed the
jail, leaving the soldiers from Alton with the jailer and his assistants.

Not until after
ten did the lieutenant return.
 
He
marched straight back to the cells.
 
"Attention Mr. St. James, Mr. Hale, Mrs. Barton.
 
Due to a backlog in processing criminals,
the justices of St. Augustine cannot hear your cases and schedule your
executions for at least three weeks.
 
It
behooves us to transport you to Georgia so we may complete the business with
due haste."
 
He paused.
 
"I trust you find the news as
distressing as I.
 
Therefore, I insist
upon having your utmost cooperation in the matter."

The whine in
David's voice masked his glee.
 
"Will we get dinner before we leave?
 
Tea and biscuits doesn't go very far."

"This
morning Major Hunt had business matters to resolve, the nature of which he
didn't disclose to me.
 
As a
consequence, we shan't leave until the morrow.
 
I assume you shall be fed whenever and whatever the other wretches in
this jail are fed.
 
Have you stabled
your horses somewhere in the city, or did you sell them prior to your departure
for Havana?"

David sounded
bored.
 
"They're stabled with Mr.
Garner."

"You three
haven't much money to retrieve them."

"We
shouldn't owe much after our payment.
 
We used the name Hazelton.
 
And
don't forget Jacques le Coeuvre's horse."
 
Fairfax stomped out, followed by David's voice.
 
"Come now, lieutenant, you can find me
something decent to eat before dinner, can you not?
 
You don't want me perishing of hunger before you stretch my neck
on the gallows.
 
Lieutenant, are you
there?
 
Well, how do you like that,
Mathias?
 
He's ignoring me."

Sophie caught
David's eye through the grate on the door and motioned for him to cease the
banter.
 
Then she sat on a bench
grinning, aware that her cellmates regarded her with a mixture of fear and awe:
a woman marked for execution, for whom Fate had granted a few more days of
life.

***

Early Friday
morning, she and Samson the gelding became reacquainted, and the horse's
affection and loyalty cheered her.
 
Mr.
Garner had taken good care of the beasts.
 
When Sophie mounted the gelding, he pranced about, eager to take on the
day, hot and muggy as it portended.
 
How
she wished she could have shared his enthusiasm.
 
A night spent serenaded by the scratching and snoring of her
cellmates had left a crick in her neck.
 
Still, she counted her blessings.
 
Two of David and Mathias's cellmates had taken turns retching all night.

Before
departing St. Augustine, Edward, his expression inflexible, lectured them about
the dangers of the road and assured them that if they tried to escape, they'd
be executed on the spot.
 
At one point,
he paced upwind of Sophie, and she smelled tobacco on him — peculiar since
she'd never observed him to smoke.
 
She
sniffed again.
 
The tobacco had been
blended with something else, and the combined scent nagged her with its
familiarity, even while eluding identification.

She forgot
about it after the soldiers set a steady pace that made excellent time and
didn't exhaust the horses.
 
By late morning,
owing to the good condition of the King's Highway, they'd covered more than
half the distance to Cow Ford.

On occasion
they journeyed more than a quarter hour at a time meeting only a startled deer
or wild hog and surrounded by the whisper of wind in the live oaks, pines, and
palmettos.
 
In just such a deserted
stretch of highway about eleven o'clock, they rode over a rise to find a Lower
Creek warrior beside a horse in the road, examining the horse's shoe.
 
The Indian eyed them with wariness and led
the horse to the side of the road to allow them to pass.

Edward signaled
a halt.
 
"Everyone dismount and
stretch.
 
Mr. Hale, be so good as to
examine the horse's shoe for that fellow."

"I may not
be able to communicate well with the warrior, Major.
 
They have a different dialect here."

"Still,
you can try."

Sophie
dismounted, stretched her arms over her head, and turned her head from side to
side.
 
Mathias had almost reached the
warrior when the Creek vaulted on the horse's back, dug heels into its sides, and
sped from their midst with a whoop.

David frowned
after the warrior.
 
"Touchy fellow,
eh?"
 
Then he sucked in a
breath.
 
"Ye gods."

She followed
his stare, and chills chiseled her back.
 
More than thirty warriors on horseback emerged from concealment, muskets
and arrows trained on them.
 
Fairfax and
the privates looked about in astonishment.

In a calm
voice, Edward said, "Steady, everyone.
 
Take no aggressive action."
 
He walked within plain view of most of the Creek.
 
"What do you want?"

A warrior spoke
in their dialect, pointed to Mathias, Sophie, and David, and signed for them to
come with the warriors.
 
Fairfax sounded
annoyed.
 
"Mr. Hale, what are they
saying?"

Mathias wagged
his head in wariness.
 
"They seem
to believe we three owe them a debt and insist that we come with them."

"A
debt?
 
What sort of debt?"

"I've no
idea.
 
I've never seen any of them
before."
 
The spokesman grew
irritable and made more hand gestures, punctuating them with strings of words.
 
"It's something about theft."

Edward's tone
hardened.
 
"Did you steal from
them?"

"Certainly
not.
 
I told you I've never seen them
before."

"Nor
I," said Sophie, and David agreed.

"Well,
then, I suggest you convince them of their error so we may be on our way."

Mathias
scowled.
 
"Major, I barely understand
their dialect.
 
Why should I interpret
for someone who intends to execute me?"

Edward regarded
him sensibly before addressing the spokesman.
 
"Do any of you speak English?"

The warrior
twisted about and signed behind him.
 
A
Negro on horseback walked his horse forward into clear view and halted it to
the right of the warrior.

Sophie
stiffened, saw David do the same, then lowered her gaze to the ground until she
could look back up at Ulysses, the former slave, without recognition screaming
from her expression.
 
"I don't
believe it," David whispered to her.

The warrior
growled, pointed to Edward, snapped out more dialect, then gestured to the
prisoners.
 
Ulysses scanned them with no
recognition and addressed Edward.
 
"Bear Up The Tree say these people stole a horse from our village
more than two weeks ago.
 
He say they
also steal weapons and lie to Mico.
 
We
take the stolen weapons and bring the thieves back to the village for
justice."

Edward shook
his head.
 
"Tell Bear Up The Tree
that he has mistaken them for others.
 
These people claim they've never seen any of you before."

Ulysses made
the translation.
 
Bear Up The Tree
responded in a belligerent tone, and Ulysses addressed Edward again.
 
"Bear Up The Tree say a third man was
with them more than two weeks ago, an old Frenchman."

Accusation
narrowed Fairfax's gaze on Mathias.
 
"Mr. Hale, you've lied to us."

Wide-eyed,
Mathias spread his hands and shot a glance of bafflement at Sophie and
David.
 
She saw from his expression that
he understood enough of the dialect to comprehend subcurrents of a scheme the
redcoats didn't perceive.
 
David said
under his breath, "What the devil are these Indians trying to do?"

"Lieutenant,
as you were."
 
Edward pinned Bear
Up The Tree with the commanding expression of a statesman.
 
"Our people have a treaty with
yours.
 
These three are Mico George's
prisoners, spies for the rebels, our enemies and yours.
 
They have the sentence of death upon them.
We are transporting them to the Georgia colony for execution.
 
You must allow us to pursue Mico George's
justice in this matter."

Ulysses
translated.
 
The warrior bared his teeth
at Edward and raised his musket.
 
Sophie
backed half a step from the Creek leader, her breath reedy in her throat over
his response, venom that needed no translation.

"Bear Up
The Tree say our justice more important.
 
You release the thieves and weapons to us, or he shoot you."

Fairfax stomped
the road.
 
"Sir, this is
absurd!
 
The savages are supposed to be
allies!
 
I say this is a trick!
 
Mr. Hale is a liar.
 
All along he's understood them.
 
They're his friends who would rescue
him."

Edward never
took his eyes off Bear Up The Tree.
 
Pragmatism entered his voice.
 
"Look around you, Lieutenant.
 
Tell me their motivations matter.
 
We're very much outnumbered."

A snarl exposed
Fairfax's teeth.
 
"You're just
going to give them up?
 
After more than
four weeks, you're going to surrender to rebels?"
 
Etched into his expression and voice was his
contempt for Edward's mercy toward prisoners and acquiescence toward
savages.
 
And Fairfax clearly believed
the Creek bluffed with their threat to shoot.

Edward reached
to his side, drew his curved sword, and held it up, striking a courageous and
indomitable figure.
 
To Sophie, his
actions seemed to create less of a challenge than a signal to Bear Up The Tree,
for the warrior's belligerence faded into resolution and understanding.
 
She shrieked, "No!" the second
before the warrior fired his musket.

"Aaaaghh!"
 
The sword clanged to the road.
 
Scarlet blossomed across Edward's right
thigh and he collapsed, rotating his torso as he did to make eye contact with
her for one second, enough time for his expression to communicate the command,
"Go!"

Stupefaction
speared Fairfax's surliness.
 
"Major Hunt — sir!"
 
The lieutenant sprinted to Edward's side, knelt along with several
privates, and raised his fist to Bear Up The Tree.
 
"You filthy, traitorous savages!
 
Treaties and honor mean nothing to you, do they?
 
Take your thieves, then.
 
Be welcome to them.
 
We shan't stop you."

David shoved
Sophie toward Samson, uprooting her from her paralysis.
 
"On your horse," he muttered in
her ear.
 
"Nothing here is as it
seems.
 
The sooner we're away, the
sooner we'll find out the real story."

Chapter Thirty-Seven

THEY RODE WEST
hard, permitting no leisure to dwell on the shooting.
 
Bear Up The Tree signaled a halt in the middle of the swamp.
 
Muck sucked at Samson's shoes, turkey
buzzards circled, and insects found the taste of sweat irresistible.
 
Bear Up The Tree gestured south.
 
All but he, Ulysses, and four Creek
abandoned Sophie's party and trotted their horses in that direction.

The leader
nudged his horse over to where his prisoners caught their breaths and fanned
away bugs.
 
Sweat slicked his bronze,
tattooed skin.
 
His eyes were the color
of onyx.
 
"We go north now.
 
Ground soft here."
 
He guided his horse away.

Sophie gaped to
hear English spoken where she'd never expected it.
 
Above the stink of grease on the warrior, she recognized the
familiar scent of the tobacco-herb combination the Creek smoked during
discussions.
 
Shock flooded her brain.

Edward's
business Thursday had been with the Lower Creek.
 
While passing the pipe around, he'd arranged their escape.
 
He'd taken a ball in his leg to allay
Fairfax's suspicions.
 
Never would he have
done so had he believed them rebel spies, or had he trusted the courts to
deliver the correct verdict.
 
In
silence, she implored any deities listening to allow him to survive his act of
justice and mercy.