The Hour of Dreams (9 page)

“What are you going to do?” I whispered.

He gave me another soft smile. “I’m going to leave and hope I catch up to my comrades. If not, I don’t know.”

The idea sounded absurd. “You can’t travel like that. You won’t make it to the road.”

He shook his head. “I overheard them talking last night. Rebels are coming, and I can’t be here when they arrive. I’d rather take my chances in the hills.”

Without thinking, I blurted out that he could come back to my home. He gave me that pitiful smile again.

“I can’t. Trust me, the town wants me out. And I don’t blame them.” His shoulders sank, but I didn’t want to leave him to fend for himself. An idea occurred to me. “Just wait here. I’m going to get my father. He carries a lot of weight in this town. I know he will help you. You can stay with us. I know it.”

He looked at me for what felt like the longest moment, and then nodded softly.

Not wasting another moment, I slipped out of the room, down the stairs, and past the gossipers, and made my way home at a hurried pace that left a sharp pain in my side. I quickly found Father outside, chopping wood with a vengeance.

“Father, please?!” I pleaded, coming to a stop in front of him. I was out of breath from running, and panting heavily.

Concern crossed his face. “What is it?” he asked, leaning forward.

“I need your help,” I panted.

“What is it, Phoebe?”

“I went to see Charity this morning—”

“Is she all right?”

“Yes, well, she’s getting better, but I...I saw William.”

Father’s shoulders dropped several inches, and he shifted his weight. I felt guilty for a brief second, but forged on.

“Father, listen, please. I just wanted to thank him for saving you, and…and I saw that they haven’t even stitched his wound. He’s just sitting there alone, and he says he’s not safe. Without anywhere to go, he’ll die.”

My father shook his head and shrugged.

“Father?”

“Phoebe. There are things you do not understand.”

“No, I understand very well, Father. I get it that there’s a war brewing, and that there are rebels…and you…you’re a rebel too.” His eyes widened. “I know. I’ve always known. But William doesn’t deserve to be abandoned.”

“We weren’t the ones who abandoned him.”

“But he is abandoned nevertheless.”

“There is nothing else I can do.”

“Yes, there is.”

“No, I’m afraid there isn’t.”

“He’s a person, Father.”

“So was Samuel and look what he did to Charity. You cannot trust them for a second, Phoebe. They are lawless.”

His lips were in a tight line, but there was still a hint of my father’s signature compassion in his eyes. As if sensing my recognition, he looked away quickly and walked over to the pile of wood.

I hurried over and put myself in his path.

“Listen to me, please. I could have been Charity.”

He cringed. “Which is precisely why we are staying away.”

“No, I mean I
really
could’ve been her.” I had his full attention again. “Samuel came out of the woods when I was on my way home from visiting Charity yesterday.” His eyes were as round as large coins. “William followed him and made him leave me alone. That’s when Samuel met Charity. He saw her when she came over the hill. She wouldn’t listen to me when I told her to stay away from him. If William hadn’t come,
I
would have been there. And since William knew Samuel was a threat, he stayed by the path while I walked Charity home, and when I came back, he escorted me home safely. We had no idea Charity was going to come back out later.

“I know he’s a good person. I just know it. And he deserves more than to be stuck here alone, at the mercy of the rebels, in the wake of what
Samuel
did.”

“What would you have me do, Phoebe?”

“You can go get him and bring him here.” He was shaking his head, but I kept talking. “People will listen to you. If you demand his safety, they will listen.”

“They will not.”

“They will.” He closed his eyes and massaged his brow with one hand. “If you tell them he saved your life and you owe him time to heal before sending him on his way. It’s the right thing to do. Please.”

When silence followed, I knew he was considering. My father was a good man, and I believed he would see the fairness in my request.

After a long moment, he opened his eyes. “All right. I will permit him to stay until he heals, but we will have to be on alert at all times. If I sense he is
any
danger at all, I will shoot him myself.”

I hugged him tightly and thanked him repeatedly. After chopping the last bit of wood, he instructed me to stay outside while he went in to talk to my mother. I had never heard her yell before, but her voice carried all the way to the yard. Never once did I hear my father, so I knew he was keeping his calm and allowing her to rant until she settled down.

I became antsy. Thinking of William in that house alone, with all the raucousness going on in the streets, made me nervous for him. No longer able to stand it, I took a step toward the porch, prepared to double-team my mother, when my father came out looking like he’d just finished plowing in the hot sun. I raised my brow, rocking on my toes in anticipation.

“Your mother is not happy, but she is thankful he prevented Samuel from harming you…if what you say is true.”

“Of course it is.” I plopped back on my heels, feeling offended. “What would I have to gain by making up such a thing? And he saved you too, remember?”

I looked at him wide-eyed, challenging his protest, until he looked away. “Very well,” he sighed. “Let’s be on our way, then.”

He strode in front of me, walking with purpose, but I sensed he didn’t want me to see the frustration in his expression. Knowing when to leave well enough alone, I walked behind him quietly as he made way to hitch the wagon.

The sun was high in the sky when we reached the doctor’s place, and not only had the crowd tripled in size, but most were now armed as well.

“Wonderful,” my father mumbled.

“What’s happening?” I asked.

“The rebels are gathered, and I’m about to explain to them that my daughter would like to offer refuge to the enemy.”

Before I could protest, familiar faces turned toward us, and people immediately started for my father. One of the biggest landowners spoke up.

“John, good to see you’re well. Can you believe the bastards came through here?”

My father just nodded.

“Eating up our food, using our good linens, and, good heavens, violating our women.”

“Women?” my father replied, leaning forward.

“Yes, Thomas Lewis’s niece was caught swimming naked in the river with one of the no-good lads. And poor Charity...the bastards.”

My father glanced at me and then back to the man. I didn’t dare comment.

“So,” he asked my father, throwing his shoulders back. “Are you here to help?”

“Help what?”

“Hunt the bastard down and make sure the rest of ’em never come back?”

By then, the crowd had gotten so rowdy, we could barely hear. My father leaned closer to the man. “I’ve only come to retrieve William. My Phoebe here has told me he was not treated, and I’d like to assure that he is.”

The man snapped his head back and assessed my father.

“Are you bloody serious?”

“I am.”

He huffed. “Are you
loyal
to the king?”

“No. Now if you’ll excuse me.” He took his forearm and swiped the man out of his path, but the man chased after us.

“Do you not know what this man did?” he barked over our shoulders. “And you go against us?” His fist was in the air and the crowd hushed.

“I am not against anyone. My purpose is to do what is just. The man inside may be an enemy, but he saved both my daughter’s life and my own from the hands of his own comrade. And I intend to make sure he gets the proper care.”

I was proud to see my father stand firm in his belief.

The crowd grumbled, but signs of doubt spread in waves as shoulders lowered a few notches. No one protested until a steady voice, hidden in the crowd, announced that William was no longer there.

My head jerked around, and I grabbed hold of my father’s elbow. He turned to the source as well. “What do you mean?” he asked, looking among the spectators.

An unfamiliar man holding a shotgun stepped forward.

“He’s up and run off. Knew we were comin'.”

“Run off where?” I asked, panicked.

“Don’t know. But we’ll git ’em.”

“Father,” I said.

He turned toward the doctor, who was now standing on the porch.

“What has happened?” my father asked, approaching.

“The boy slipped out this afternoon. Gone.”

The crowd started shouting again. “We’ll find him. Not so innocent now, eh?”

Even though I knew my father hadn't wanted to come down here, I could see the fury in his face. He stepped closer to the doctor and leaned in so the rest of us could barely hear. “That boy saved my life, and I sent him to you to repair his wound, and you did nothing. Not only did you fail to do your job, you allowed this mayhem to take place on your property, and now an innocent boy is off probably bleeding to death.”

I thought the doctor would scurry guiltily back into his house, but he just stood there, smug. “That boy is a bloody-back. Not only is he the king’s pawn, he’s a hoodlum. His whole back is scarred from lashes. He couldn’t get right if he were the son of God himself. I say let him suffer for his own choices. Clearly, he can’t make the right ones.”

My father clenched his teeth and turned to leave. The doctor called after him. “It’s for the best, John! We’re protecting our town!”

As we headed back to the wagon, more men headed past us with weapons. Instantly, a sick feeling swarmed through my whole body.

“Who are they?” I asked in a whisper.

“It’s a search party, Phoebe. They’re going to hunt him down.”

“No!” I growled.

“There’s nothing I can do,” he said.

“But—”

“Keep walking,” he urged.

“But Father.”

“Phoebe, you have no idea what is happening here. We’re at war. These men are fighting for our freedom, our safety, our lives. And they’re right.”

“Father!” Tears welled up.

“Phoebe, you’re too young to understand.”

“I understand, Father. But it doesn’t change what he did and that he needs help.”

“Phoebe, you don’t know anything about that boy. Where he’s from. What he’s done. We know nothing. I tried, but it’s done.”

“We can find him,” I said, squeezing his arm.

“He’s gone, Phoebe, and now you can just hope he finds somewhere safe until his men come back. And when that happens, God help us all.”

He patted my arm and pulled away. I couldn’t believe he was giving up. Or maybe I could. I felt so helpless. He at least tried, but I knew that was all I would get out of him. I wasn’t oblivious to what was happening. Everyone’s lives were at stake, but none of that took my mind off of William, and every man and boy we passed who was headed to town with a gun made me want to find him that much more.

M
y mother opened the front door, looked around, and sighed. I listened as my father explained, and although there were signs of relief in her face, she seemed conflicted as well.

A warm dinner was waiting for us in the kitchen, but all I could think about was where William had gone. After just a few bites, I went upstairs to lie down, but couldn’t sleep. Every ounce of determination made me want to search for him. To at least try. And that’s what I did.

Just before the sun peeked its first rays over the horizon, I sneaked out of the house without the first idea of where I was headed. The only bit of protection I carried was, ironically, the musket that William had left behind.

While standing in the road looking north, then south, I realized he could be anywhere. If he was smart, he would have probably headed after his regiment. Maybe he could catch up to them and be protected. But surely that’s the first direction the rebels would look. The only other terrain he would be familiar with was the south terrain from which his regiment had come. But that was the direction from which many of the rebels now traveled. So where did that leave him?

He would want to be somewhere hidden, somewhere off of the road, and somewhere no one would think about. There was only one place that came to mind, and that was the hill. The very hill I took to Charity’s every day. It was sure to be desolate.

Charity’s parents traveled the road when they passed through town, and I knew for certain she wouldn’t want to travel that route again anytime soon. So maybe, just maybe, he might go there in hopes of finding a place to heal, or worse, to die.

Shuddering at the thought, I picked up my pace to a quick and purposeful stride and made my decision to go to the woods alone, in a time of war, where my friend was attacked. What I was thinking was beyond me, but my body was determined.

It was still mostly dark as I began my ascent. There wasn’t much time before my parents would find me missing, so I hurried. The air was muggy and made visibility even more difficult, but I knew the path well. The dampness of the ground from the morning dew made only my footsteps known, and disappointment set in at the thought of knowing I could be the only one to have traveled this way recently. Then instinct kicked in. I realized that only someone wanting to be found would actually leave a trail of fresh prints.

Moving to the side of the very narrow path, I started to scan the brush for evidence of a disturbance. It looked uninterrupted, but it was still too dark to be sure, so I kept walking. When I reached the area where Samuel had first interrupted my journey to Charity's, an eerie feeling crept over me. Memories of Samuel and his wicked smile made me stand stock-still, as if he would slither from behind a tree.

I wrapped my coat around myself and gripped the gun tightly, but realized I wasn’t even sure how to use it. This gun was different from my father’s, and the thought made me feel more vulnerable as I scanned the shadowed woods.