Shattered Moments (10 page)

“Which way did he go?” the Major demanded.

“I think to the left, sir… or maybe to the right.  I couldn’t
be certain, being scared as I was,” the girl said, her voice shaking. “Thanks be to the Almighty that he didn’t hurt me.  In a hurry, he was, and now I can see why.”

“Thank you, Miss.  Please pardon the intrusion,
but we must search the premises before we leave,” Major Weland said, his voice gruff with anger.  “You and you, go after him and search the street in both directions.  You, search the house.  If we lost him, I want every patrol in the city looking for him, you hear?  Stop anyone who might even vaguely resemble him.  We’ll get him.  There aren’t that many roads leading out of Savannah.  We’ll man every single one until he’s caught.” 

Finn heard the door slam as someone left the house.  He listened intently.  It got much quieter and he could hear only one set of boots on the floor above.  The Major and the other soldiers must have gone to search for him outside, so that left one, or at most two, soldiers in the house.  He could take them if he had to. 

“Don’t you dare go into my bedroom,” the girl shrieked.  “Do you think I’m in the habit of hiding young men in there?  I’m a God-fearing woman of high morals, sir.”  She sounded outraged, and Finn heard the mumbled apology of the poor sod who had the misfortune of crossing her. 

“If I might check the cellar,
ma’am?”

“Get out of my house, you hear?  There’s no one here, and if your Major, or whoever he is, doesn’t believe me, well then he can just come back with a warrant.  I’m a private citizen and a loyal subject of His Majesty; I will not be
harassed in this manner.”

“Yes,
ma’am.  My apologies.  There’s clearly no one here, and I will tell the Major that there’s no need to return.”  Finn heard the footsteps die away and the slamming of the door as the last soldier departed, leaving Finn shaking with relief.  It was another quarter of an hour before the girl finally opened the cellar door and came down the stairs.

“I think you can come out now, Mr. Rebel.  They’ve gone.”  She was dimpling at him in the dimness of the cellar, her eyes dancing with glee.  “I don’t know what you’ve done to get the whole
army after you, but if it’s something to annoy the British, I’m happy to have been of help.  Mayhap you should stay here for a bit.  They’re not likely to come back.  You can leave after dark.”

“Thank you. 
You saved my life,” Finn said, knowing he was speaking the honest truth.  “I’m Finlay, what’s your name?” he asked, dusting off his coat and breeches.

“I’m Dora, short for Dorothy.  I live here with my father.  He’s a rebel too, but the armchair kind.  He talks a lot, but doesn’t actually do much,” she supplied, making sure the coast was clear before allowing Finn to step through the door. 
“With the British in full control of Georgia, it’s not wise to proclaim your loyalty to the opposition.”  Dora looked out the window to make sure the soldiers were gone and beckoned Finn to come to the kitchen.  “Let me get you a cool drink.  You look as if you could use one.”  She poured him a cup of beer and offered him a slice of meat pie that sat cooling on the windowsill.  “I made it for our supper, but father won’t mind.  He’ll be home in an hour.”

Finn
wolfed down the pie and drank his beer, his mind working overtime as Dora silently gave him a second slice.  The girl was right; it was probably best to leave after dark, but that would also give Weland more time to mobilize the patrols and hand out his description.  They would be monitoring every road leading out of Savannah. 

“I don’t think I can afford to wait,” Finn said thoughtfully.  “They’ll be searching for me.  If I know Major Weland, he won’t give up till he has me.  That man is as dogged as they come, and he has a score to settle with me.”

“What have you done?” Dora breathed, her mouth a perfect little circle as she looked at him in admiration. 

“I kidnapped a prisoner bound for the gallows and killed two soldiers in the process.”

“You must be very brave.” Dora pushed another slice of pie toward him, assuming that brave men required more food.

“Thank you, but leave some for your father,” Finn replied with a smile. 

“Would you like more beer?” she asked, eager to do something for him.

“I better keep a clear head if I’m to get out of
this mess.”

Suddenly, she clapped her hands together like a child, her eyes lighting up.  “I have an idea, a wonderful idea.  Father and I will get you out of the city once he gets home.  I know just the way to do it.” 

Finn was almost afraid to ask, but the girl had helped him once already, and he had to have faith.  She was clever and her theatrical streak didn’t hurt.  She seemed to have enjoyed her run-in with the soldiers and was bursting with pride at having saved him from being arrested.

“My life is in your hands,” Finn replied, making her beam. 

“I won’t let you down.”

“I don’t know, Dora,” Mr. Powell said as he listened to her idea.  “I passed a least three patrols on the way home, and I’ve seen them stop several young men and take them for questioning.  I can’t imagine how we can get Finlay out of Savannah without being stopped.  I know they are not looking for a family, but they might still stop us on account of him being the right age and coloring.”  He shook his head, smiling indulgently at his daughter.  “Perhaps we should let him take his chances after it gets dark.”

Mr. Powell had been surprised to find a strange young man at his kitchen table when he finally returned home from his job at the Customs House.  He was a burly man with a shock of white hair
, and kindly brown eyes that lit up as he listened to his daughter tell the tale of how Finn came to be in their house.  He was clearly proud of her desire to help, but Finn could see what Dora meant about him being an “armchair rebel.”  Mr. Powell didn’t seem like the type of person to take risks; he was a talker, not a doer.  Another man might have put forth some ideas and tried to be of help, but Mr. Powell was reluctant to participate, shooting down Dora’s ideas with doubts.  He likely wouldn’t betray Finn to the British, but he would be grateful if Finn just departed quietly and left them to their supper.

“Thank you, Dora, but your father is right.  I’ll just leave by the back door and keep to the shadows.  I’ll be all right.”  He probably wouldn’t be, but he didn’t want to burden the Powells with his troubles.  Dora had helped him enough
, and he had no desire to put her or her father in any danger.  Mr. Powell might be a patriot at heart, but that didn’t mean he was ready to be taken into custody, questioned, and possibly thrown into gaol for aiding Finn.

Dora turned to her father, all fury.  “How can you say that?  You know they will arrest him, and possibly hang him.  Can you live with that
, Father?  You are always saying how you wish you were twenty years younger so that you could join the Continental Army; well this is your chance.  We are not sending him out there to be captured.”  Her eyes were full of accusation as she faced down her father who had the decency to look shamefaced at her outburst.  Finn had no doubt that he genuinely wanted to help, as long as it didn’t put him in any danger.  He was about to protest yet again that he would be all right and find his way out of town when Dora stilled, pulled back the curtain and threw open the window, hanging out nearly to her waist. 

“Oh, God,” she moaned.  “They are going door to door.  We don’t have much time.  Father, stall them for as long as you can if they come here.  Finn, let’s go.”  Dora grabbed Finn by the
wrist and dragged him along to a room down the hall.  Finn followed her obediently.  She didn’t lack for spirit or courage, so he hoped that whatever idea she had up her sleeve would work.  He didn’t have too many options other than going back down to the cellar where he was sure to be found this time. 

Dora led him into a feminine
-looking bedroom, decorated with frilly muslin curtains and lace doilies.  Finn assumed that this was Dora’s room, but there was something about the room that looked forlorn and uninhabited.  There was nothing out of place, and everything appeared to be preserved just so, as if to honor someone’s memory.  The embroidered coverlet was yellowed with age, and the curtains at the window were faded from years of facing the sun.  Finn found it odd that he would notice such trivial details when faced with possible death, but it was as if time just stopped, and there was no urgency or loud British voices coming from just down the street.

“This was my mother’s room,” Dora remarked, noting Finn’s confusion as she
opened a large, carved chest at the foot of the bed and looked at the contents with a gimlet eye, her hands on her hips.  She finally made a decision and pulled out some garments.

“Get undressed,” she ordered, “get this on
, and I will be right back.”  Dora tossed him a shift, petticoat, a gown in primrose yellow, a lace-edged tucker, and a pair of cotton stockings.  Finn unbuttoned his coat with trembling fingers.  He could hear the soldiers getting closer, banging on people’s doors and demanding admittance, which was readily given.  No one wanted to stand up to the occupiers and draw attention to themselves.  Most of them had nothing to hide, so it was easier just to let the patrol search their house than protest their innocence and demand to see a warrant of some sort authorizing the soldiers to be there. 

Finn had to admit that t
he girl was a genius.  No one was looking for a woman, so the disguise should work, at least long enough to fool the soldiers who would be there any minute.  He pulled on the stockings and shift, but fumbled with the laces which were at the back of the bodice.  It felt odd to have nothing on below the waist.  The stockings came up mid-thigh, and the soft cotton of the shift brushed against his skin as he finally managed to secure the bodice. 

Dora
erupted into the room carrying a valise, cap, and a wide-brimmed straw hat.  “My mother’s,” she explained, setting the hat on the bed and reaching for a hairbrush.  “Need help?” she asked sheepishly as she watched him struggle with the tucker.  She didn’t wait for an answer as she deftly inserted the tucker to cover the hair on his chest, and smoothed down the skirt, brushing her hand lightly over his manhood.

“There now.  You’re a picture,” she said with satisfaction as she reached for a hairbrush.

“You are a clever girl, Dora Powell,” Finn said as she wound his hair into a bun at the nape of his neck and pulled a linen cap over his head, and jammed the hat over it.  Dora produced a pair of round spectacles which must have belonged to her mother as well, and handed them to Finn.  The lenses blurred his vision a little, but they did alter his appearance, enlarging his eyes and making him look like a rather bookish female.

“I think that will do.  I’ll put your clothes into
a satchel and take it with us.”

“You’re somewhat lacking in the bosom department,” Mr. Powell commented, “but other than that, you make a fairly handsome woman.  “I have a sister who lives an hour
north of Savannah.  Her husband owns a rice plantation and hates King George with a passion few of us dare to show.  We’ll just go there.  You will be able to change and spend the night before setting off for home,” he said, jamming his hat onto his head and beckoning for Finn and Dora to follow him.

They were just walking out the door when the patrol finally reached the house. 
There were three of them, led by an officer with ginger hair protruding from under his dusty wig and a ruddy complexion.  He gave them a stiff bow before stating their purpose.  Dora opened her mouth to protest, but Mr. Powell silenced her with a hand gesture before turning to the captain.

“
You’re welcome to search the house.  Dora, why don’t you show the soldiers around while your sister and I get the trap?  We’re just heading out to visit my sister, Captain,” Mr. Powell explained as he took Finn by the elbow and guided him toward the stable where the horse and buggy were kept.  “Do hurry.  We’d like to get there before the sun goes down.”

“Yes, sir.  It shouldn’t take more than a few
minutes,” the officer replied already barreling his way into the house followed by Dora and the rest of his men.  Mr. Powell moved surprisingly quickly for a man of his girth as he hitched the horse to the buggy, checked the straps, and led the horse out of the stable, closing the door firmly behind him.   

Finn climbed onto the bench next to Mr. Powell, feeling very conscious of his pant-less state.  He was awfully warm too.  There were
too many layers of fabric between him and the cooling breeze of the late afternoon, or maybe it was just nerves, but his forehead was covered with a sheen of sweat under the wide brim of the hat.  The wait was agonizing, but the patrol finally moved next door, and Dora climbed into the back, holding the satchel with his clothes.  She put a few of her own things on top, just in case the bag was searched.  If anyone asked, the men’s clothes were her father’s despite being a few sizes too small.  Mr. Powell was a rotund man, wider in the middle than in the shoulders. 

The streets were swarming with soldiers, stopping any man between the ages of fifteen and twenty
-five and checking him against the description provided by Major Weland.  Finn looked with interest as one man was hauled off for questioning, while another two were released.  He couldn’t believe this manhunt was all for him.  He supposed the Major had the manpower to pull off this search since there was nothing currently going on in Savannah that required military presence.  He tensed when he spotted the tall figure of Major Weland himself, sitting atop his horse, and barking orders to two corporals who were noticeably nervous.  The search wasn’t yielding results, and Major Weland was angry.

“I’ll skin you alive if he slips through your fingers, do you hear me?” he bellowed, his cheeks a mottled red and spittle flying out of his mouth.  “He’s one, stupid, uneducated farmer boy with no military training.   You find him, and you bring him to me.  Is that clear, you nincompoops?  He couldn’t have left the city, so it stands to reason that he’s still here and looking for a way out
—
like a rat.  Find him!”

“I take great offense
at that description,” Finn mumbled, making Dora giggle. 

Major Weland stopped yelling as the
buggy pulled closer, his eyes fixated on the occupants.  He bowed stiffly, raising his hand to his hat.  “Ladies.”  Dora looked at her lap for fear that Major Weland would recognize her from that afternoon, but Finn smiled demurely, giving the major a ladylike wave as the buggy rolled past him. Mr. Powell was sweating profusely as he greeted the major, eager to be on his way.

“You look awfully nervous, sir,” the major called out to Mr. Powell.  “Do stop for a moment.”  Mr. Powell reined in the horses, his breathing ragged with fear. 

“My good man, you have no reason to fear for your safety, or those of your daughters.  This man is dangerous, but he means no harm to civilians, I assure you, and he will be dealt with the utmost severity once he’s caught, which I promise you, he will be.  He will not escape me a second time.  He will hang, and soon.”

Dora gasped, fanning herself with her hand, her eyes growing round and frightened and Mr. Powell turned to comfort her.  “You’ve frightened my daughter, sir,” Mr. Powell growled, suddenly enjoying himself.  “What type of gentleman says such things in front of an innocent young girl?  Why, I should report
you to your superior officer.  I think we’ll be on our way now, if you don’t mind.”

Mr. Powell
stared down a shamefaced Major Weland, the look on his face one of pure disgust.  Finn might have found all of this immensely entertaining had his heart not been beating wildly, his stomach cramping, and a telltale tickle doing its level best to close his throat, making him feel as if he would choke if he didn’t cough.  He covered his mouth with a gloved hand and coughed into his fist, effectively averting his eyes from the Major as they drove past.

“My sincere apologies, ladies,” Major Weland called after them, his tricorn in his hand. 

“I certainly hope so,” Mr. Powell tossed back over his shoulder, urging the horse into a trot as they headed to the outskirts of the city. 

“Well done
, Mr. Powell,” Finn said, clapping the older man on the shoulder.  “Well done.”

“I must admit, I rather enjoyed that,” the older man said, grinning from ear to ear.  “Did you see the look on his face?”  Mr. Powell giggled like a girl, making Finn and Dora smile as they exchanged glances. 

“You were very brave, Pa,” Dora said with a small smile as her father squared his shoulders and puffed out his chest with her praise.  Finn just let out a long breath and squeezed Dora’s hand in gratitude.  She’d pulled it off.  They could use more people like Dora working for the cause.