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Authors: Gilbert Morris

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She gasped and pulled away, her face flaming. “Will you keep your hands off me!” She turned her back, and her breathing was shallow as she said, “Tell me how you got caught.”

He told her how he had gone to Charles first, and had stayed there all day to keep out of sight of the patrols. Then, after dark, he’d gone to Abigail’s; he ended by saying “So when I came out of the Howlands’ a patrol was there and they picked me up.”

“They were waiting for you?”

She turned to see a pain cross his face. “Yes,” he said, and then said, “I think a servant at the Howlands’ must have seen me.”

She studied him, but said only, “Best to think that.” Then she picked up her bonnet, tied it on, and arranged the veil. “I think you can call Lieutenant Fitzwilliam in now.”

“All right.” He walked to the door, and banging on it called out, “Lieutenant! Miss Howland is ready to go!”

He positioned himself to the side of the door, while holding one of the pistols in his left hand. When the door swung open, he did not wait, but reached out with a long arm, grabbed the officer by the jacket and pulled him inside in one smooth motion. Fitzwilliam found himself looking directly into the muzzle of a pistol, and the blue eyes that peered over it seemed no less threatening than the firearm held in the man’s hand!

“Redcoat, you’ve got a very, very small chance to live,” Nathan said quietly. “I’m a dead man, so I’ve got nothing to lose. Now, do you want to live—or not?”

Fitzwilliam’s throat gave a convulsive swallow, and sweat popped out on his brow. He stared into Nathan’s eyes and saw death, so he nodded quickly. “I’ll do—anything! Just don’t kill me!” he pleaded.

“All right, I promise you, if you do exactly what I tell you, you’ll not be harmed. Now, you and I are going to the top of
the stairs, and you’re going to call the corporal. Tell him the lady is ill, and you want him to come upstairs.”

“All right!”

The officer moved nervously as Nathan prodded him with the pistol, and when they got to the top of the stairs, Nathan opened the door, then placed the muzzle right under Fitzwilliam’s ear, At once he called out loudly, “Corporal Dietz! The lady is ill! Come up and help me with her!”

“Now, back to the cell,” Nathan said, and they moved back inside. Nathan said, “Put that pistol to his ear, Laddie, and shoot him if he blinks!”

They waited as Corporal Dietz dashed into the room—straight into the muzzle of Nathan’s weapon. His mouth dropped open, but Nathan gave him no chance to think. He said, “Soldier, you want to live?”

Dietz hesitated, and there was a loud
CLICK
as Nathan pulled the hammer back, and the muzzle suddenly seemed very large to the corporal. He gasped, “Don’t shoot!”

Nathan stared at him, then said harshly, “I’ll tell you what I’ve told the lieutenant—if you do as you’re told, you’ll live. They can only hang me once, so I’ll put a bullet in your brain if you even
blink!

The corporal nodded quickly, and Nathan moved back. “Lieutenant, take off your clothes.”

“What?”

CLICK.
The pistol that Laddie held to the officer’s head cocked, and he at once cried out, “No!” and then began stripping off his uniform.

“Against the wall, both of you—Laddie, shoot them down if they move!” Nathan quickly undressed and put on the uniform of Fitzwilliam. When he buttoned up the tunic, he said, “All right, on your belly, Lieutenant!” Ignoring the officer’s protests, he took the cords that Laddie had brought in the purse, then gagged him with a piece of cloth.

When Dietz stared stupidly at the officer, Laddie moved in front of him. “Pick me up, you stupid ox!” He blinked,
but obeyed. As soon as she was in his arms, she pressed the muzzle of her flintlock directly over his heart and covered it with her coat. “Be pretty messy if this goes off, won’t it?”

“And I’ll be right behind you, Corporal,” Nathan said. He picked up the purse Laddie had brought and shoved his weapon inside, then pointed the invisible flintlock at Dietz. “We’re going down, and you’re going to say to the guards, ‘Both of you, go up quickly and guard the prisoner! The Lieutenant and I have to get the lady to a doctor!’ You got that?”

“And tell them to keep that door locked tight until the two of you get back,” Laddie added. She pressed the pistol hard against the thick chest and said, “I think the corporal is going to say his piece real well.”

“Let’s go,” Nathan stated hurriedly, and he followed Dietz out of the door, then locked it carefully, putting the key in his pocket. “All right, we’ll go down. Do it quick, and you’ve got a fair chance of staying out of hell for a little longer!”

They went down the stair in a rush, and Nathan kept his face turned away from the end of the room where he caught a glimpse of the two privates. Dietz performed as if his life depended upon it! He gave a stentorian yell that rattled the windows: “Get up to the prisoner, you two! Me and the lieutenant gotta get the lady to a doctor!” He dove for the door, screaming, “And don’t open that cell for nobody till we get back!”

Nathan followed on his heels, and slammed the door, but not before he heard the soldiers running across the room and up the stairs. “Get in the back—on your face!” he commanded Dietz as Laddie unhitched the team and sprang to the seat.

“You gonna kill me!” Dietz protested, but Nathan forced him into the coach, face down in the back.

“We’ll let you go if you keep your mouth shut! Drive on, Laddie!”

The horses leaped at the touch of Laddie’s whip, and those few people who had braved the cold were surprised to see a carriage driving so fast along the icy streets.

Three hours later, Corporal Dietz found himself afoot and unharmed, but he could curse only in a whisper, for he was so close to the enemy lines he knew he’d be picked up. He slogged wearily back toward town, trying to make up a story that would satisfy the officers, but halfway there, decided that there
was
no such story. He thought better of returning, decided to become an ex-member of the King’s forces, and went to the harbor where a certain ship was leaving at dawn for Calcutta.

As soon as they dumped Dietz and he disappeared down the road, Laddie said, “Nathan, I’ve got to get out of these clothes!”

“Well, you won’t be near so pretty—but I guess you got a right to do just about anything you please.” She grabbed the sack and sprinted into the woods behind a large oak tree, out of Nathan’s line of vision. Her teeth were chattering as she changed back to her customary garb. Then she stuffed the feminine clothing in the sack and climbed back into the seat.

“That’s better.”

He didn’t move, but sat there in the moonlight, staring out at the hills. The silence ran on, making her nervous, and finally he turned to her and said in an odd voice, “Sun’s coming up pretty soon.” He cleared his throat, then looked at her. “Thought it’d be my last one. Would have been, Laddie, except for you.”

She shifted slightly, then met his eyes. “Well, that makes us even, doesn’t it?”

“No, it doesn’t.” When she stared at him, he smiled and said, “I didn’t risk anything when I got you out of the snow—but you stuck your neck in a noose for me tonight.”

Laddie looked at him, then said quietly, “We better go, Nathan.”

He stared at her. “You don’t want thanks, do you, Laddie? But I’ll never forget it. Remember what you said once, the old Indian custom—If somebody saves your life, you belong to that person always?” His eyes held hers, and he said huskily,
“So, I guess we kind of belong to each other somehow, don’t we, Laddie?”

She couldn’t speak for the lump in her throat until they had moved along for a few hundred yards, then she whispered, “I guess if you say so, Nathan, we must!”

He put his hand out, and her small hand was swallowed in his. “That’s the way it is, then,” he said as he released her. “Now, where you think we better go?”

“Why, I forgot to tell you, Nathan, we’re on our way to catch up with General Knox. He’s on his way to Fort Ticonderoga to get enough cannon to run the Redcoats out of Boston!”

He grinned at her, and said, “Guess I better change clothes, too, Laddie, or he’ll shoot me for a lobsterback!” Then he laughed and said, “Ticonderoga, here we come!”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CRISIS AT HALF MOON

Laddie and Nathan caught up with General Knox three days later, and after he had listened to their story, he had stared at Laddie, finally saying, “I’m glad you’re going to be along on this trip, Sergeant Smith. Getting this character out of jail took courage and initiative—but I’ve got the feeling this job we’ve got now is going to be
worse!

They pushed on as fast as the men could go, and at first the journey had been a joy to Laddie. She had reveled in the unexpected vistas of mountainous country, the vast, silent forests of New York State blanketed with fluffy, fast-melting snow. Nathan was never far from her side, and the two of them shared the campfire at night. He said little about Abigail; his close brush with death seemed to have freed him from the heaviness that he had carried, and at the same time made him more thoughtful. Often they would read Laddie’s Bible long into the night, and Knox sometimes would stalk by, stare down at them, a puzzled light in his sharp eyes. He cared for nothing but guns and his idol, General Washington, so he was fascinated at the pleasure they seemed to get out of the old book.

The trip was uneventful until just outside of Albany. As they crossed a stream, a section of thin ice gave way, and Laddie plunged into the freezing waters up to her waist. Nathan had helped her out, saying, “We better build a fire and get you into some dry clothes.”

“Oh, we’ll camp in an hour,” she had said. “I can wait until then.”

It had been a poor decision, and all night she shivered, unable to shake off the biting cold that gripped her bones. The next day she had a slight fever and by night had begun to cough. Nathan watched her silently, unable to help, and on the second day, her temperature jumped and she couldn’t eat. By late that afternoon, when they arrived in a small village called Half Moon, where the Mohawk and the Hudson met, she was so weak that Nathan practically carried her the last two miles. He wrapped her in blankets beside a fire that some of the men made, and sought out Knox.

“Sir, Laddie’s got to have a doctor.”

Knox shook his head, and gave a dubious look at the small settlement consisting of no more then twenty houses. “Not likely there’ll be one here—but go see what you can find.”

Nathan went into the village and asked a tall man who was chopping wood, “Is there a doctor in this town?”

“Doctor? No—nearest one is up river at Saratoga.” He looked carefully at Nathan and asked, “You an army man?”

“Yes. This is Captain Knox’s company.” He studied the man carefully, for they had encountered quite a few ardent loyalists who hated them on sight. “We’re going to Ticonderoga to get guns for General Washington.”

The level gaze of the tall man did not waver; then he smiled and said, “Is that a fact? Wal, I hope you git enough to blow them lobsterbacks clean back to England! I’m Ezra Parker.”

Nathan shook the hard hand that was offered. “Nathan Winslow. Most of the village feel like you do?”

“For a fact. We had a few Tories, but they felt so out of place they moved out. Whut’s this about a doctor? You sick?”

“No, but we got a sick sergeant. Needs help bad.”

Parker said slowly, “Wal, now, most of us use Sister Greene when we get hurt or sick.”

“Sister Greene?”

“She’s the preacher’s ma.” Parker laughed at Nathan’s
doubtful look, then said, “Don’t blame you much for lookin’ like that, Winslow, but I tell you true I’d trust Sister Greene’s doctorin’ a heap more’n I would most o’ these sawbones! I got a wagon here, if you want a hand.”

Nathan warmed to the man and said, “That’d be a kindness, Ezra.”

Parker hitched his team and called to his wife, “Martha—I’m goin’ to take a sick soldier to Sister Greene’s house!” On the way to the camp, he listened avidly to the news about the war. “Some of our young fellows went when we got word about Lexington. I thought to go myself, but then Martha said to let them as had no children take care of the fighting.”

They pulled up beside the fire, and Nathan said, “Stay where you are, Ezra. I’ll get the boy.” Then he reached down and picked Laddie up in his arms and carried her to the wagon. “Got to get you out of this weather, Laddie,” he said, then added cheerfully, “This is Ezra Parker—he says they got a lady in this town that’s good as a doctor.”

Laddie smiled weakly, but her face was flushed and there was a hoarse rasping in her voice when she said faintly, “Glad to meet you.”

Parker glanced at her, then whipped the horses up. “Young feller does look right peaked—but I got a heap of faith in Sister Greene.” A thought struck him, and he exclaimed, “It just come to me, Nathan, Miz Greene, she’s got a brother who’s a general in the army.”

“Nathanael Greene from Rhode Island?”

“That’s the one. He’s one of them Quakers, you know? And so is Sister Greene, and so is her boy, Dan.”

“They don’t believe in war, I hear?” Nathan said, and cast a doubtful look at Ezra. “They might not favor doing anything for a soldier.”

“Ha! You don’t know much ’bout them folks! They won’t pull no trigger, but I guess Sister Greene would doctor ol’ Slewfoot if he turned up at her door sick!”

“You a Quaker, Ezra?”

“Me? No, I’m a varmint!” Parker grinned. “They ain’t many Quakers here—maybe thirty. But lots of the rest of us sort of look at Friend Daniel as our preacher. He don’t stand fer being called
Reverend
nor no fancy name, so we just call him Friend Dan, even us sinners—of which we got a overabundance in Half Moon.”

He drove into the village, down the main street, then turned off into a lane, pointing at a half-timbered house sitting back under a small grove of tall firs. He jumped down, nodded to Nathan as he tied up the team. “Bring ’im on in.”

Nathan picked up Laddie, and as he walked up the path, the door opened and a woman came out. “Got a sick man fer you, Sister,” Parker said. “This here is Nathan Winslow, and his sergeant has got the ague.”

BOOK: The Gentle Rebel
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