The Bastard Son (Winds of Change Book 2) (19 page)

He pressed her back against the wall and found the edge of her gown. She made no protest as his hand stroked up her leg, his lips upon her breasts. Suddenly, she was aware he was making love to her on the lawn where anyone wakened by the noise could see them.

“Not here, Bruce. Please.”

“You better find a place quickly.”

She hesitated slightly. “My room?”

He took her hand, dragging her forward toward the door. She held his hand and pointed the way. She didn’t know how they made their way to her room, only that he had closed the door behind them and locked it.

“Bruce?”

He said nothing, but began to pull his clothes off. Her chest heaved. She watched him. Emotions she held in check for years began to crumble as he eased her back on the bed. She had been with Ernest after he had asked her to marry him. She had loved him so, and he had betrayed her. Afterwards, she had bedded a couple of other men that mingled into faces that she couldn’t remember. She so desperately wanted to feel again. She hadn’t.

Bruce took her hard and she carved it. He climbed on top of her and thrust again and again. She found she matched his want with hers. She clung to him and after, for the first time in years, she cried. He turned over and pulled her to him. He let her cry until she had no more tears.

“It was you I came back to see this night,” he said in a soft voice. “I came back because I had a need for you. I didn’t dream you would be in the mix of all this.”

“What are you going to do with your knowledge?” she asked, afraid of the answer.

“I’m tired of it all,” he said solemnly. “I have something to ask you. You need to be honest and don’t play with me.”

“Bruce, you are scaring me. What is it?”

“I need to talk with Sumner Meador. Can you arrange it?”

The room was small, dark, and dank. It held only a dirty mattress on the floor and bore no window. The British had set in the motion to degrade her in the most humiliating manner. And, to her horror, she had only a pail to relieve herself.

The only semblance of humane treatment was the concession of letting a woman see to her needs, who came in twice a day. Damp and cold, Jane had been given little to comfort her, only a tiny thin blanket to warm her. To make matters worse, she had become ill…her stomach had become quite unsettled.

She had long lost sense of time. She had been given water, but little food or none that she could keep down. Jane had known fear in her life, but now she was scared. Not for herself, she had come to terms with her fate. She was scared for Sumner and Caleb.

Before she had been taken, she watched from her window as Caleb scampered out the back door. Roscoe hadn’t been far behind. They made it as far as the curing barn. She knew nothing else, for soldiers had entered her room.

“Mrs. Meador, you are supposed to follow us,” one commanded her.

She glanced up and sighed, having prepared the best she could. Holding her head high, she said not a word and refused to let them see the fear she felt.

Downstairs, they harshly halted her in front General Durham. His commanding authority chilled her to the bones.

“Mrs. Jane Meador, you are being arrested, charged with the most hideous crime against his majesty, King George of England, with high treason. You will now be placed in custody and held in Charles Town to await your trial.”

The journey into Charles Town was long and uncomfortable. Her hands and feet had been bound. Her body jostled around in her seat on the bumpy ride, and she fell off once too. One of the guards reached down roughly and slung her back in her seat.

Immediately on their entrance to the city, she realized the British had announced her arrest. She heard harsh taunts and cries along their route until the carriage stopped in front of a building close to the harbor.

Feeling a brisk ocean breeze, she dared not look upon the faces of the good citizens and hung her head as she exited. Forcefully dragged up the steps by her bound hands, she tripped. To her mortification, she had to crawl to her feet before the jeering crowd.

Confused and so self-conscious, Jane wanted only to disappear. How could she be so hated for loving her husband?

Jane closed her eyes more than once, praying to wake from this nightmare, but it continued. She cried and prayed. When she clung close to the door, she heard the whispering of the guards carrying through the thin walls. Jane could hear a low rumble of male voices which drifted behind the closed door.

The constant dialog talked of a gallows being built in the common area so all the inhabitants of Charles Town could observe the sentencing. One said it was time for the entire South to realize that the undercurrent of the Patriot sympathy had ceased. Spying or empathy for that cause had dire consequences, no matter gender or birth. Damn Yankees!

Spying? What were they saying? She was to be hung! Jane wanted to cry. She had done nothing! She prayed. Her thoughts raced on her brief life.
Oh, God, forgive me so I can see my Grandfather and family once more.
Maybe then she wouldn’t hurt so!

Her stomach growled and ached. Another wave of nausea flowed through her that led to dry heaves, for she had nothing more on her stomach. In the distance, she heard a noise. At first she couldn’t make out what it could be, but a rhythm soon developed. It was a hammer. Another wave of nausea overcame her.

Jane took the hem of her dress and wiped her mouth. Oh, what a sight she must be. She didn’t want to dishonor Sumner. Oh, Sumner…would he know that she loved him still? She would take that love with her. It was the one thing they couldn’t take from her.

Her mind wandered. Did she hear footsteps? Suddenly, the door opened. She cringed back into the corner of the small room with no place to hide.

“Oh, my God! The stench!” a male voice cried out.

Her eyes couldn’t focus with the light shining on her. She didn’t know the voice, but felt a hand yank her out of the room. “She is supposed to appear as this in court?”

Instinct compelled her backward, but she was no match for the guards. The force was so great that she fell forward out the door upon the floor. She heard laughter. Pulled up roughly, her hands and feet were bound again. She had no energy to fight.

“Oh my God! Men, have you no sense of compassion,” another voice said. She could feel hands go around her.

“Give me your drink,” his voice commanded. He helped her sit and placed a glass under her lips. Her hands trembled grasping the water glass. She choked, inducing a cough. “Was she not looked after?”

“We were ordered not to bother her. She had a girl carry her food in and out. What difference does it make?”

“She has been in that hell hole for over two days and you haven’t checked upon her?”

“She had water.”

At the end of the corridor, Jane heard a sentry announce. “Lieutenant, she has to go for her appearance in court.”

Jane tried to focus her attention, but the voices blurred together.

“Halt!” the kind one demanded. “Don’t touch her. She isn’t going out as she is. She can’t even walk.”

A few moments later a bowl of water was placed beside her. A cloth wiped her face, pushing back her hair from her face. She looked upon the face. He was not old—a young officer, clean cut. She didn’t know him, but heard him say, “We have descended into torturing women. What kind of men are we? At least, take the bindings off her legs and get her a clean dress.”

“We don’t have time, Lieutenant Owens. She is due in court.”

Jane wasn’t privileged to the ongoing talk between the officers, but moments later, she was shown back to her cell and a dress produced: a plain, simple day gown, overly large, but clean with a dull white cap to cover her disheveled hair.

A knock hurried along her progress. Jane emerged from her cell and the gentle-faced officer nudged her toward the door.

“I’m sorry, but we need to continue.”

Her legs weakened and she stumbled. He gave her his hand and steadied her before the main door was opened. An uproar erupted. The sunlight blinded her. She wanted to withdraw back into her prison, but hands pushed her onward through the unruly crowd.

Overwhelmed, she stumbled more than once. Hands reached out of the crowd, pushing her, gripping her. She cried out and fell onto the street. Jane hadn’t the energy to regain her footing. She tried. In the next moment, strong arms helped her up.

“God forgive me, Jane!” Slowly, she recognized the voice…Joseph. He helped her back to her feet. “Lean upon me. I will take you into the courthouse.”

She could feel someone try to move Joseph back, but he shoved the guard back roughly. “Try it again, and I will run you through!”

Jane regained her footing and pushed back against Joseph to walk on her own. A burst of pride swept her forward. She tilted her head upward and faced the crowd.

The shouting sparked higher…then slowly she comprehended they weren’t angry cries against her, but the British. Charles Town was in an uproar about her arrest.

Hands took her from Joseph, rough, harsh hands and pushed her into a building. She searched the spectators, but recognized no one…no familiar faces.

In the courthouse, she was led into a packed room with observers. The benches were filled to where men stood along the back wall. Taken to a table where the kind officer stood, she found her place beside him.

“Mistress Jane Meador. You have been brought into this courtroom on the serious charge of high treason. What do you plea?”

She gripped the table in front of her. She could hear low murmurs rippling across the pews of onlookers. Then, the side door opened and General Durham walked into the courtroom. Her gaze met his hard, emotionless stare. He wore the laconic smile of a man who felt confident.

“Mistress Meador?” the judge asked again.

She looked back up. Her eyes wide with innocence, but, suddenly her head spun. She tried again to catch the table, but she missed and fell, descending into darkness.

* * * *

“Jane!” A voice laughed. “Are you weak as a girl?”

In a fog, she reached out for him. “Troy, is it you? Oh, I have hurt so. Stay with me. I’m so alone, brother.” She could feel a hand upon her cheek. “Sister, you have never been alone. We are here for you always, but you need to fight. You have always been a fighter. Fight for what you want, Jane. Live, Jane, live!”

A voice so familiar, so comforting! How long had it been since she heard it—another lifetime! His voice faded as did the fog.

She opened her eyes. She lay on the floor in a strangely deserted room. She looked around. Joseph sat on the other side of her. He held a bowl and brought the spoon to her mouth.

“Eat,” he said.

She tried. The broth felt warm and good going down her dry throat. His other hand held up her head.

“I will make them pay for this. I promise you. I will…”

She said nothing as she ate. Her stomach growled again. She looked at her hands and gown, and felt her head. Her hands had been washed. She could feel her face had been cleaned, her hair brushed and braided. “What happened?” she asked in a weak voice. “Who washed and cared for me?”

“I’m afraid it would be I,” Joseph admitted. “They would allow no other within the room. I am so sorry, Jane. This is all my fault. I should never have said a word. I never thought General Durham would react in this manner, but I will not allow…”

“It is of no matter. It is my fate,” she said. She clutched to her stomach. Nausea swept her again. She held her hand over her mouth. “I don’t know if I can hold down anything. I’m sick, Joseph.”

“Eat. They will convene again soon. I won’t be able to stop it from continuing, but I will be within the room this time. Jane, forgive me.”

“In truth, Joseph, I understand nothing of this. What have I done?”

“General Durham wants your husband, Jane. He wants Sumner to turn himself in for you. He isn’t in the mood to be merciful to any.” He swallowed hard. “The charge is treason, Jane. Do you understand what that means?”

She whispered, “That they want to hang me?”

Joseph drew in a long breath and nodded. “They have found witnesses to concoct a fabrication, I’m certain.”

Her body trembled uncontrollably. “I have done nothing.”

“It doesn’t matter,” he uttered in disgust. “They want a verdict, Jane. You are to be used as a deterrent.”

She fought back the tears that had welled in her eyes. Despair engulfed her. She tried to conceal it, but then the thought overwhelmed her.

“Oh, my God! Oh, My God,” she cried, nearly choking upon the thought. Jane felt such an immense wave of grief that for a moment she couldn’t speak.

She tried to stand, but faltered. Joseph helped her up. She walked over to the window. In the far corner, a platform was in the process of being constructed. She looked back at Joseph.

Comprehension sank within her. The trial meant nothing. The verdict had been decided long before the trial began. Someone was to be hanged this day. Her legs weakened again. Joseph’s arms rounded her.

Tears fell unheeded. “I don’t want to die.”

She wept. Joseph tightened his grip upon her. Composing herself, she stared at the window once more. Had she not known what they planned? Had she not seen it within General Durham’s eyes? Her dreams of a life with Sumner faded.
Caleb?
His little face. She tried desperately to regain her self-control.

“Caleb? What of him?”

“He has disappeared. They found his fishing pole. Your man, Israel, has disappeared also. It would be my thought he is with Caleb.”

She nodded. Good, he is safe. She breathed in deeply then turned back to Joseph. “Sumner?”

“There has been no word from him to the general. I expect there will be. The general is pressing hard for everything to be quick. It would be my conjecture he doesn’t want to give Sumner time to formulate a plan.”

“You are telling me I have no hope,” she said gravely.

“If Sumner comes forth and surrenders…”

“If he did, I would die also,” she said. She stared blankly out the window. “Then, I hope it is quick and before Sumner comes forth.”

A still silence ensued. Swallowing hard, she turned back to Joseph. “I don’t know if I can do as I want, Joseph. Can you be by me? Don’t let me falter.”

Jane’s voice wavered. Her hand found his and she squeezed it. “I remember, Joseph. Know I don’t hold it against you for their deaths. Nor do I fault you on mine. I should have died that day. Instead, I was given a brief glimpse of happiness.” Her voice faltered again. “Can you tell him that, Joseph? Can you make sure you tell Sumner I regret nothing? Tell him—”

She lost her voice. Her throat locked around words too painful to utter. She took a moment. “That I will always love him.”

His own eyes welled with tears, but he nodded. The door opened. A soldier entered. “It is time. The prisoner is to be brought back into court.”