The Sword of the Banshee (23 page)

Several times she noted two elderly gentlemen linger on the steps of the stately brick building. They seemed to be held in high regard by all the others as well as one tall young aristocratic with red hair who had a reserved but commanding presence.

India was impressed with these men but she was not naive about their motives. She knew that some were sincere about independence but others were self-serving, having something to gain from a break with the Mother Country. Nevertheless it did not matter; freedom for the Irish in America was all the justification she needed to incite a rebellion.

Loaded with hat boxes, a trunk full of new clothes and a wealth of information, India and Phineas boarded a coach a week later for the Brandywine Valley. At that time, India assumed her new identity as Lady Allen, the Protestant widow from Ireland accompanied by her young footman, Phineas.

Before they departed, she told the boy not to carouse with the other ruffians on top of the coach and to sit like a young gentleman with the driver. She explained that he must not ruin his new uniform and to assume the role of a footman. He frowned and pushed out his lower lip, but he did not argue with her, climbing up next to the coachman with a scowl on his face.

The coach flew down the road as India leaned forward watching the landscape of the Colony of Pennsylvania fly past. It was carrying her closer and closer to another rebellion, a fresh new revolution, and the thought sent a thrill through her.
This time it will be different. I can feel it
.

The momentum of the wheels churned beneath her, inspiring her and intoxicating her until she felt her blood start to boil.
This time the British will lose. They will underestimate the strength of their adversaries here in this new land, and we will banish them forever.

When the coach finally arrived at Willow Creek Crossing, India was ready to present Calleigh with her three part plan for partisan warfare in the Colonies. She was the last to step out of the coach, and she eagerly filled her lungs with the crisp air of the valley. The wind loosened her silken hair from the knot at her neck as she stretched her back. She started toward the Willow Creek Inn then stopped abruptly. She felt someone watching her in the twilight and turned around. There on a hill overlooking the tavern was Calleigh sitting on his favorite gelding, his tricorne hat pulled low and his coat collar pulled high. From a distance no one could identify him, but India knew who it was and she stared at him. Suddenly her stomach lurched, and she looked away feeling uncomfortable and ashamed of her schoolgirl gaze. How ridiculous, she thought, reacting that way toward that uncouth commoner.

*           *            *

Quinn did not contact India the next day or even the next month. The illusive commander had business elsewhere and rather than wait for instructions, India began to set up housekeeping in Calleigh’s home playing the part of the Widow Allen newly arrived from Ireland. 

He had left India money to supplement housekeeping, but she found the furnishings to be in splendid condition and the larder full of food, thanks to the new housekeeper Mrs. Schumacher.

Initially it seemed like a daunting task to revive the estate but India’s childhood training in managing great properties served her well, and she brought it back to life. She hadn’t realized until now how weary she had become of large, cold manor houses with drafty halls and tall ceilings. She loved the warmth of Calleigh’s paneled rooms, low timbered ceilings and wood floors covered in plush carpets. His furnishings were of the highest quality reflecting the simple yet elegant craftsmanship of the settlers of the area; the Quakers, the German and Dutch Mennonites. India complemented all this with new draperies and table linens in cool greens and rich golden tones, and ordered china and silver for fine dining and entertaining.

It took weeks for her to get the house in order but at last she was ready. India had declined Reverend Archer’s first attempts to call, but by early December she felt ready to receive, and she invited him to tea. Unfortunately, inclement weather prevented him from calling.

After that, the winds blew strongly out of the north and by early December snow blanketed the Brandywine Valley, catching India by surprise. In Ireland winter had been an occasional dusting of snow, but here in the Colony of Delaware it accumulated abundantly. She watched the servants sweep and shovel it off the walkways and rooftops, and she noticed the men split firewood endlessly to combat the falling temperatures.

Phineas had no problem with the winter weather at all. He seemed to enjoy it, sliding on the ice and throwing snowballs at unsuspecting cats near the barn.

One afternoon as India worked at her desk a note arrived from Calleigh requiring her presence at a meeting that evening. He told her that he was sending some one within the hour to escort her. India raised her eyebrows. He was obviously back and ready to work, and she was ready too.

She turned in her chair and looked outside. It was dusk, and a light snow was falling. She called Phineas and they pulled on warm garments, boots and scarves then waited on the steps. There was no wind and the snow drifted down lazily. Phineas dropped to his knees and began making snow balls when suddenly a horse appeared in the distance. India narrowed her eyes and looked closely. The horse was pulling an open sleigh.

Phineas jumped to his feet and cried, “Look at that! Is that for us?”

A smile flickered on India’s lips as the sleigh approached. “I believe it is,” she murmured. It was a new experience for them both.

As the driver pulled up to the porch, a tall Dalmatian leaped happily out of the sleigh and bound up to Phineas, jumping up to greet the boy. Phineas broke into peals of laughter when he noticed the dog bared his teeth in a friendly manner, as if grinning.

“Look at him smile, Miss!” he called to India, but she ignored him, surveying the sleigh.

The man called for the canine to heal, but the dog ignored the command. He was having too much fun exploring the yard with his nose to the ground. After circling the house several times he returned just in time to jump into the sleigh with them.

Phineas and the animal hopped in front while the sour faced old driver helped India into the back handing her blankets to cover her legs. Phineas was smiling from ear to ear with his arm around the delighted canine. The driver grumbled for them both to move over as he too climbed into his seat taking up the reins.

India marveled at how smooth the ride felt as the sleigh sliced through the snow. Only the swish of the runners could be heard as they pulled away from the house. She had seen only one sleigh in her life and that was in Dublin when she was a child. It was in the back of a barn. She imagined that Phineas had seen sleighs too but had never been in one.

She heard him ask the driver, “Why does the horse wear those bells?”

The man muttered, “So people can hear us on the road and get out of the way.”

They coasted up hills, down through valleys and over bridges, past the red brick grist mill and neighboring farms. The snow left a white frosting on the dark trees and candlelight glowed from cottage windows. Several homes had wreathes and boughs of evergreen on their doors to celebrate the season of advent.

India moved her feet more closely to the iron foot warmer which held hot coals. She was not used to the cold weather. At last they turned down a lane toward a grouping of simple buildings with rough cut siding and wood shakes on the roof. Candlelight glowed from some of the windows and smoke curled from the chimneys. The buildings were austere and devoid of decoration gathered around a central courtyard with a church at one end.

India leaned forward and asked, “What is this place? It is no ordinary village.”

“It’s a German cloister,” the driver replied.

The man drew back on the reins and stopped the sleigh in front of the church, holding onto the dog. India looked at the building uncertainly then threw back the blanket from her legs and climbed out of the sleigh. Phineas climbed down too and took her hand as the driver pulled away. The pair looked up at the imposing doors.

“I ain’t never been to church, Miss,” Phineas said warily.

“I am not sure we are going to church, Phineas,” she replied.

Suddenly the door swung open, and India recognized the large unfriendly man with dirty red hair who had been taking care of the Calleigh estate. She remembered his name was Enoch Powell.

“They’re waiting,” he growled.

They started into the church when someone called, “Please wait!” A tiny woman dressed in a white woolen robe with a hood over her head rushed toward them across the courtyard. “The boy can come with me,” she explained with a smile. In spite of her wizened face and knotty hands she had a youthful smile and kind demeanor. She took Phineas and led him off to a large structure that India assumed was a dormitory for members of the cloister.

India stamped the snow from her feet and brushed it off her shoulders as she followed Powell inside the church. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the low lighting of the candles, but eventually she could see about ten or twelve men scattered throughout the sanctuary on benches and chairs. As she walked farther into the church she looked behind her and saw a man stationed at the window in the choir loft keeping watch over the grounds. The church was plain, and the walls were painted white. Several dark wooden beams held the ceiling and the wood floor creaked under her feet as she walked. India loosened her scarf and looked around for Calleigh.

“I am right over here,” he said. He was sitting near the pulpit. He grinned and jumped up to meet her. Taking her hand he announced, “Lady Allen, I believe you have met most of these gentlemen.”

She nodded formally to the men, and Calleigh kissed her hand with an exaggerated flourish, escorting her to a chair near a large table. Several of them pulled chairs up.

Calleigh paced back and forth for a moment as everyone settled in for the meeting. Finally it grew quiet. He scratched the back of his head thoughtfully then addressed them. “Lady Allen, gentlemen, most of us here are in agreement that a break with England is imminent. It is fast approaching and it is of the utmost importance that we are organized and ready for action. I have made several decisions which I will present to you tonight.”

He walked to the table and leaned onto his knuckles leveling a look at them all.

“Our role within the rebellion will be three fold; elite raiding parties, partisan warfare and intelligence gathering. Lady Allen has agreed to join us permanently and to direct partisan warfare and much of the intelligence.”

The men looked at her than back at Calleigh.

He continued, “Less than a month ago I met with several of the members of the Continental Congress. In attendance was my long-time friend Daniel Morgan. The Congress is forming a Continental Army and calling for the organization of several rifle companies. Morgan and I were asked by the Congress to find the most outstanding marksmen in the Middle Colonies. Our organization, right here in the Brandywine Valley, will be awarded the very best of those marksmen found. These elite sharpshooters will accompany us on our raids. They will target officers and scouts.” Quinn nodded to India to acknowledge that it had been her idea to target these officials.

He outlined the overall directives of the operation and some several tactics Morgan had shared with him. As he was speaking, India looked at the faces of Calleigh’s men. All eyes were on him, some men were leaning forward, others stroked their chins, and all were engrossed in what he had to say. He had completely won their respect and devotion. India had seen that look when Colm had spoken to his men, the complete loyalty and undying commitment, but India knew this time the patriots would not be disappointed.

She crossed her arms and studied Calleigh. She had to admit, some women might find his dark looks and athletic build attractive. He had a sort of animal magnetism, and there was something elusive in his carriage and demeanor that commanded respect. He was confident, she admitted, confident to a fault.

Something stirred inside her as she watched him cross the room. Suddenly Calleigh looked at her, and India felt as if she had been caught without her small clothes on and looked away, feeling her cheeks grow hot.

He dragged his eyes away from her and said to the men, “Any questions?”

There were none.

After the meeting, Calleigh asked India to stay behind. He wanted to speak with her about partisan activities.

“What about Phineas?” she asked.

“The women fed him and sent him home in the sleigh,” Quinn said. “Sit down, please.”

He held a chair for her and they sat back down at the table in the candlelight as the men filed out of the church. The only one who remained was the sentry in the choir loft.

“You have had ample time now to familiarize yourself with our rebellion, Lady Allen,” Quinn said as he sat down. “Where do you see us going from here?”

India sat erect with little expression on her face. “Well, Mr. Calleigh, I propose an extensive operation for intelligence and partisan warfare, but I will be dependent upon you for reliable contacts. I know no one here in the Colonies.”

“Yes, go on.”

“First of all, I want a tailor or seamstress who can create or refashion British uniforms and someone who can forge documents. Can you find people who can do these things?”