Thorns in Eden and the Everlasting Mountains (27 page)

“I’m
sorry you were too late.”

“So
am I. I’ve made an oath if I find this LaRoux fellow I’ll haul him by the scruff
of his dirty neck to the jail in town and have him pay for his crime.”

“We
all feel the same as you.”

Maldowney
thrust his large hand out to Nash. “Robert Maldowney is my name.” 

“I’m
honored.” Nash shook Maldowney’s hand. “I’m Captain John Nash. My friends call
me Jack.”

Staring
at the grave, Nash picked up a handful of earth. He squeezed it tight in his
hand, then let it fall. “Rest in peace, Tobias. I’ve no doubt we shall meet
again.”

Maldowney
sighed. “Aye.”

Lifting
his hat to his head, Nash stepped away. “Well then, Robert Maldowney. Will you
join me for a mug of ale and a good meal? I would enjoy your company.”

Together
they walked on across the grass. Meteor munched tender blades and shook his
withers beside a brown horse with black mane and tail. Nash cursed the limp in
his leg, wondering if he slowed the sturdy highlander’s pace.

“Tell
me, where in Scotland do you hale from?”

“I
was born into a poor life near Loch Maree, in the Highlands. I’m son to a
chieftain, though I don’t lay much brag to it.”

Nash
ran his hand down Meteor’s nose. “Why not? To a Scot a chieftain is higher than
King George.”

Maldowney
laughed. “Aye, and a wit saner too. But I serve neither, unless it is as one
brother to another.”

“Your
meaning?”

Maldowney
held out his hand. “To love my neighbor as myself ‘tis hard at times,
especially when it comes to the British soldiery. Yet I try best I can.”

Nash
smiled at his comment.  “You’re a wayfarer?”

“Of
sorts. I’m a man bent on preaching to the poor and outcast whenever, wherever I
can.” I’m heart in hand with Wesley as well as the Protestants. I listen to
them all.”

“You’re
an ordained minister.”

“No,
just a humble disciple of Christ.”

Nash
climbed onto Meteor’s back. The horse shifted beneath him. “Well, you’re
welcomed in my house. I could use some conversation on the subject.”

“Thank
you. The last man I spoke the Gospel to pelted me with stones.”

“Were
you badly hurt?”

“The
Lord blessed me with a large frame and I took them easy. But see here, one gave
me a scar,” and he pointed to a place above his left brow. “It proves I’m flesh
and blood. Keeps me in my place.”

Nash
nudged his horse with his knees and it stepped forward. “Logan has turned
against us, and with good reason. Some settlers in our county have been killed
by war parties. So I would suggest you go no farther west, unless you plan to
lose your scalp.”

Maldowney
looked at Nash and nodded. “I’ll heed your advice. I’m acquainted with the ways
of savages.” They passed along the road under a canopy of trees.

“How?”
Nash asked, curious to hear how a highlander so far from his homeland met up with
Indians.

“I was
travelin’ and stumbled into a village. I was greeted warmly and the people
gathered around me. For an hour, I stood upon a log and preached to them the
Kingdom.”

“Did
they listen?”

“Some.
Others stared right through me. When I ended my sermon, they led me to the
center of the village. There I was put face to face with the most vicious
Indian. A leather strap was tied to each of us upon the wrist, and I was given
a tomahawk and told to fight. Are you acquainted with that ritual, Mr. Nash?”

One
corner of Nash’s mouth curved into a smile.  “Indeed I am, among others.  Thank
God, I’m here today to say so.”

“You’ve
had some close shaves, I take it.”

“Yes,
within an inch of my life.”

Maldowney
kicked a stone from the path to the woods. “I’m afraid of very little. But when
I looked into the eyes of that warrior and saw he meant to kill me, my heart
plunged to my boots and my blood turned to ice water in my veins.”

“What
did you do?”

“Only
what could be done.”

“You
killed him.”

“I
let him live.”

There
was a sparkle in Maldowney’s eyes, a kind of pride that he did not take the
Indian’s life. It meant the warrior was now indebted to him, and no doubt he
had won the respect of the village. It caused him to think of Black Hawk,
wonder if he had found his path, and if he’d see him again.

Maldowney
went on. “I could have killed him easy. Instead, I snapped the leather throng
that bound us together and threw my body against him, knocking him to the
ground. For a moment, I held the tomahawk at his throat. The villagers carried
on something fierce, cryin’ and shoutin’ until I thought I’d go deaf. I stood,
and when they tried to hold me, I threw them off like Samson. I left that
village and went on, they thinking’ I was something special. That brave knows
he owes me his life.”

Nash
felt a great deal of admiration for this man.  “You were delivered.”

Maldowney
gazed up at the sky. “Hmm, clouds are gathering and it looks like rain. Are you
a believer, Captain Nash? Are ye born again?”

“I
would say I am.”

“You’re
English by your accent. Had you ever heard John Wesley preach?”

“No,
but he converted my stepmother. She attempted to persuade me into attending a
meeting, but I was distracted.”

Maldowney
winked his eye. “Ah, a lady.”

Nash
smiled. “How did you guess?”

“What
else causes a man to think of nothing else?”

Nash
slid the reins through his hands. “What else indeed? That’s my place over
there. Come. We shall have a huge supper.”

*  *  *

When
Rebecah heard hurried steps outside in the hall, she went to see what was going
on. Sir Rodney stumbled over the runner past her and rushed to the front door. He
threw it open and went outside. His dog carried on at the strangers on
horseback, snarling and barking until Angus took Toby by the collar and put her
inside the house.

Lady
Margaret stood in the doorway with Rebecah beside her. Soldiers, Laban, his
wife and children, were out on the lawn. “Rodney, do something to stop them.”

Rebecah
clutched her trembling hand. Sir Rodney met a man in uniform.

“Good
day to you, Sir Rodney. My apology, my men have trampled over my lady’s
flowerbed.  May we go inside? I’ve some questions to ask.”

Sir
Rodney drew back his shoulders. “Why is that man being dragged like a common
criminal? He’s done nothing wrong.”

Captain
Neil Donley stood erect and raised his bows. Not a speck of dirt or grim on his
cream-colored breeches. His powdered wig hadn’t a hair out of place. He drew
from his pocket his handkerchief and wiped his nose.

“That,
sir, has been proven otherwise. He confessed to his crime. Now, tell me what
you know about it.”

Sir
Rodney sharpened his eyes. “Laban Huet would never soil his hands in the
affairs of criminals. He works for me, here at Standforth, as a laborer.”

Donley
raised one brow. “So he has told us. I suppose he had you duped as well.”

Sir
Rodney stiffened.  “He is neither a liar nor a cheat.”

“Then
you agree with what I said.”

“That
isn’t what I meant, Captain.”

 “Did
you hear of the sea battle that occurred last night outside these shores?”
Donley asked, inspecting the ground he walked over.

“I
had not heard of such,” Sir Rodney answered.

 “An
American privateer escaped out to sea with tattered sails and smoke billowing
from her stern. It’s unlikely they shall reach America now. We know certain men
have been supplying these ships. We believe you’re one of those men. You’ve
been followed from time to time.”

Sir
Rodney’s face turned white. His hands shook and he gripped them behind his back
so Donley would not notice. Dread coursed through Rebecah, knowing by the look
on his face he was somehow involved.

“If
I confess to you of my dealings, do you swear you’ll let this man go?”

Donley
turned to face him.  “Choose for him, sir.  Prison or death.”

Sir
Rodney threw his shoulders back. “Very well, you have my confession. I’ve been
supplying American privateers, but in a manner I do not see as treasonous.”

Lady
Margaret gasped, and Rebecah put her arms around her.

“Your
son is a colonial, is he not?”

“You
have no reason to mention him. He has nothing to do with this.”

“Some
are saying he is a traitor. But gossip can be unkind. Now, if you please, one
of my men will escort you to a horse.”

An
armed soldier stomped forward. Lady Margaret rushed to her husband and he drew
her into his arms. “I’m sorry, Margaret.”

Rebecah
faced the insipid captain. “You are supposed to be a keeper of the King’s
peace.”

Donley
turned and looked back at her.

“Why
must you harass good Englishmen and frighten English women and children?”

The
King’s men moved forward. Donley waved them back, not once removing his eyes
from Rebecah’s face. Sir Rodney’s eyes pleaded for her not to say another word.

“How
can you, being a servant to the Crown and a defender of its subjects, question
one of England’s knights with such disrespect?”

A
round of howls followed, but she thought nothing of it and went on.

“Is
this the way you were trained, to be a bully and churl? My father was in His
Majesty’s service. I know what is expected.”

Captain
Donley’s expression was one of surprise and shock. Rebecah met his stare,
seeing he admired her boldness as well as her looks. His eyes told her
everything—that he liked the way her hair fell over her shoulders, that her
face enticed him to the point his temperature rose.

“If
I had known such a flower graced this,” and he swept his hand toward the house,
“den of defiance, I would have found a way to spare you this grief.”

She
narrowed her eyes at his impertinence. “How dare you speak to me thus? I’m
Rebecah Brent. My father was Sir Richard Brent of Ashburne, my uncle Sir Samuel
Brent of Endfield.”

“I
know Sir Samuel.”

“Then
send one of your men to him, and let us see what he has to say about this. He
will not stand by while a soldier bullies his relatives and those that serve us.
I demand you release Sir Rodney and Laban at once.” 

Never
had she thought to use her uncle’s name for leverage. But now it was a necessary
weight and she hoped it would convince Donley to let Sir Rodney go.

 Donley
laughed at her demand. “Sir Samuel was the one to inform us.”

Her
body stiffened at his words. “What? That cannot be.”

“He
had seen an American ship in the harbor and grew suspicious. Is he not law
abiding, ma’am, and loyal to England?”

“My
uncle would never accuse Sir Rodney.” 

“Indeed,
ma’am. He had no idea his own relation was involved with that ship. No doubt he
will be grieved when he hears of it.”

Sir
Rodney was taken away and mounted on a dark brown horse. 

“You
must listen!” she stormed.

“You
need not beg, ma’am.” Donley drew closer. She saw in his eyes insincerity.  “I
shall do what I can.”

Her
eyes narrowed. “Do what is right and release them both. You’ve no proof of
anything.” 

 “I
most certainly do.”

 “Sir
Rodney is loyal to the King. As for Laban, he is a simple man and penniless.
Think of his wife and children. Surely he can do no harm to any one, especially
the Crown.”

“I
must do my duty. You mustn’t think me heartless.”

“Oh,
but I do.”

Affronted,
Donley ordered the soldiers to move forward and mounted his horse. Lottie
hurried to Laban, and when she had thrown her arms around him, she was shoved
away. Rebecah helped her up from the ground. She held her in her arms and tried
to comfort her. Lottie pleaded and begged them not to take her husband. Tears
stained her face and her frightened children snatched at her skirts. Lady
Margaret wept on her doorstep. Angus stood with his teeth and fists clenched.

Donley
turned his horse around and looked back at Rebecah. He gave an order. A soldier
stepped forward and threw a rope over the thick limb of a birch tree. Two
soldiers turned and raised their muskets to keep the others from coming
forward. Laban struggled and cried for mercy. Lottie screamed as they put the
noose over her husband’s neck. 

It
was an unbelievable sight—Laban hoisted up in the tallest tree at Standforth. Lady
Margaret, Rebecah, and Angus were stunned into silence, trembling and looking
on with wide, horrified eyes. In tears, the women watched him die. Lottie
pleaded, raked her fingers through her hair and tore at her clothes. She fell
forward, dug her fingers into the grass. Her children were weeping.

Lady
Margaret gathered Lottie and the children into her arms and held them fast. Rebecah
stood speechless and shaking. Her eyes wide, and brimming with tears, she watched
Sir Rodney hang his head in despair. Then she heard him swear an oath, but what
kind she could not make out. Donley sneered and walked his horse toward
Rebecah. Eyes brimming, she clutched the folds of her dress.

His
horse stopped in front of her and he waited, looking as though he anticipated
her to lash out at him.

“The
King’s law must be upheld. Lawbreakers must be made an example so others will
not follow in their footsteps.”

Her
chest heaving with despair, she glanced at Laban’s body swinging from the rope.
Her stomach lurched and every inch of her went cold as a soldier brought him
down.

Gripping
her hands together, she stepped forward and looked Donley in the eyes. “God has
seen what you’ve done this day. You’ve hung a man without a trial. I hope you
are prepared to reap the consequences in this life and the one to come.”

Donley
leaned over the saddle. “You are mistaken, madam. I have my reward from my
king. By obeying him, I’ve obeyed God.”