War 1812 (19 page)

Warburton and his men had been ordered to destroy the town and everything in it when the Americans came.

“Only you got here sooner than expected,” she said. “But don’t think they’ve given up,” she warned, her voice suddenly trembling with emotion. “Especially the Indians. One of the Indians said Tecumseh was spoiling for a fight. He’d even insulted Proctor trying to get him to attack. While the British may be retreating, Jonah, don’t expect the Indians to give up easy. They’ll fight and take scalps.”

Her words caused Anastasia to shiver. Without thinking, Jonah placed his hands on hers. When she looked up, tears were in her eyes. He took out his handkerchief and handed it to her. Wiping her eyes, she said, “You be careful, Jonah. I don’t want to see you hurt.”

Chapter Twenty-One

T
he place was under
a large walnut tree not far from the river. The sun was on the western horizon and would be down in less than an hour. Jonah and LeRoche stood face to face, their blades in hand and pointed toward the ground. LeRoche had a rapier. It was a much smaller, slender blade with a fine point and a cutting edge. The blade was made for thrusting. Five men stood to the side under the large walnut tree… Five men and one woman. As hard as he tried, Jonah had not been able to talk Anastasia out of attending the duel. She now stood between Moses and Captain Hampton. A sixth man, a doctor, was also acting as referee. He was a portly, red-faced man with a huge nose.

As the two duelists stood toe to toe, the sight of his opponent almost caused Jonah to laugh. He was able to control the laughter but a smile broke out. LeRoche’s nose was blue and swollen as was his left eye. Seeing the smirk on Jonah’s face caused the man to clinch his teeth. His face grim, his eyes burned in rage at Jonah’s behavior.

“Monsieur,” he hissed with a French accent. “I will kill you.”

“You will try,” Jonah replied with more conviction than he really felt.

“Gentlemen… gentlemen,” the physician referee spoke. “Insults are not needed. Is first blood sufficient to satisfy honor and end the contest?”

“It is not,” LeRoche swore, the French accent was a shade more pronounced.

Jonah saw out of the corner of his eye that Anastasia clutched his handkerchief to her breasts. Moses looked stricken with fear. His long rifle standing at his side, firmly gripped in his right hand.
Right or wrong,
Jonah thought,
if I fall there will be a dead Frenchman as well.
The referee had been speaking, but as Jonah’s mind had been wandering, he hadn’t heard.

“Mr. Lee… I say, Mr. Lee!”

“Yes.”

“If there are to be no apologies, are you ready to begin?”

“Yes.”

“Then you may begin.”

At this, LeRoche stepped back. He was elegantly dressed in a silken shirt, tight breeches, and a ruffled stock. Hampton had loaned Jonah a silk shirt.

“It is better if you are wounded,” Hampton had advised. The shirt was a tight fit and was opened at the neck.

As LeRoche took a step back, he swished his blade back and forth in the air. Satisfied, he raised his rapier in salute with an elaborate gesture. Jonah returned the gesture with as much flourish as he could master. Suddenly, LeRoche leaped forward, his blade poised. Caught off balance, Jonah raised his blade just in time to deflect the initial thrust of his foe. Cruel eyes sparkled as LeRoche had all but ended the contest before it began.

Jonah’s blade was a much heavier officer’s sword. Single edged with a good hilt, there would be little clatter of blades. The rapier could not hold up against the army sword, therefore, LeRoche would do his best to inflect wounds without tying up blades in riposte. While Jonah’s sword was superior in strength, it was also more awkward for this type of fight. It was made for cut and slash fighting, not a duel.

Realizing he would tire sooner than his adversary, Jonah decided to let LeRoche be the attacker, and he would, he hoped, parry the attack until such opportunity arose to end the duel or his foe grew tired. Then he would have the advantage… if only he could live so long.

Seeing Jonah had been caught off balance and surprised by his swift attack, LeRoche pressed his attack. He came forward with a fury causing Jonah to give ground. He parried three rapid cuts, and then felt a sting to his left side along the ribs.

Delighted, LeRoche giggled… almost a woman’s giggle. “You will weaken now, m’sieur, as your blood flows, so will the knowledge that you will die this day.”

“One of us will, Frenchman,” Jonah retorted.

Angered, LeRoche attacked again. It was all Jonah could do as he parried several cuts trying desperately to fend off LeRoche’s lightening fast attack. A sudden thrust aimed at his throat was wide, causing LeRoche to lose balance. A backward slash connected and Jonah felt his sword bite into the Frenchman’s flesh. LeRoche stepped back, clutching his left arm; blood now staining the white silk shirt. A look of alarm caused by the unorthodox maneuver replaced LeRoche’s previous look of confidence. As the two men circled, Jonah was suddenly aware a crowd had gathered… was still gathering. How had word gotten out, he wondered.

The crowd had made a circle so that the two men fought in a ring made of humans. Moses now had Anastasia by the hand, the long rifle still firmly gripped in the other. LeRoche was more cautious now. During the next few minutes the men circled, feeling out each other’s style.

While LeRoche was quick and agile, Jonah had excellent reflexes and a natural instinct, plus he was stronger. However, LeRoche’s experience and enthusiasm for cruelty made him very dangerous. As the men circled, it dawned on LeRoche that his blade was longer by several inches. He now went on the attack again, yet keeping his distance away from Jonah’s shorter blade. Intent on Jonah’s death, every thrust was now aimed for the heart or throat.

After a parry knocked LeRoche’s blade upward and caused a small cut to Jonah’s face, the Frenchman seemed delighted again. “Your eyes may be next,” he hissed.

LeRoche’s comments angered Jonah and suddenly he went on the offensive. Disbelief that the American would do so caused LeRoche to back up until the crowd had to give way to keep from interfering in the fight. After a minute of cutting and slashing, Jonah got control of his anger and slowed his attack. Mistaking Jonah’s let up was from fatigue rather than gaining control of his anger, the Frenchman drove forward. He slashed, cut, and thrust. As Jonah backed away, LeRoche threw caution to the wind and drove forward, all consumed by the desire to kill his foe. Nothing else mattered.

Jonah had watched his attacker and realized every time he made a thrust for his throat he’d plant his left foot then lurch forward. The two men warily circled each other. At some point, Jonah had been cut on the back of his hand but didn’t feel it. Blood now oozed from the wound making the hilt of his sword slippery and sticky. Without meaning to, Jonah glanced down at the wound.

Taking advantage of the distraction, LeRoche lunged forward with vigor. The shift of the man’s feet was just enough to warn Jonah. As LeRoche lunged for the throat, Jonah ducked down and with all his might thrust upward with his sword impaling his enemy. The blade went in just under the sternum. A look of dismay swept over LeRoche’s face. Sure that victory was his; he looked down at the sword in his chest. As he fell backward, the slippery handle was jerked from Jonah’s hand.

As his eyes glazed over, LeRoche spoke defiantly, “Tell the whore it was my Indians who killed her husband. His scalp lies in my drawer. Ha… hum.

Captain Hampton walked forward with the physician. “Please care for my friend’s wound, Doctor, before he is attacked by ill humors.” He then reached over and tried to pull the sword from the dead Frenchman. As he pulled, the body lifted with the sword. Hampton then placed his foot on the dead man’s chest and snatched the blade free. He wiped it on the dead man’s britches then picked up the fallen rapier. He offered it to Jonah, who was still being tended to by the doctor.

“No, thank you,” Jonah said. “It’s yours if you desire it.”

Hampton smiled, “A gift for my services.” He then handed Jonah his sword. “I wiped it off, but I’d have it thoroughly cleaned before it was placed back in its scabbard.”

“Thank you,” Jonah said, wincing from the doctor’s administrations.

Moses and Anastasia walked up from behind. Seeing them, Hampton said, “LeRoche was a double agent. Your killing him kept us from a hanging. We’ll talk about it more later. You have visitors now.”

Jonah held out his left hand as the right was being bandaged. “Thank you, James.”

“My pleasure, sir.” With that, Hampton walked away.

Two arms enveloped Jonah from behind. “Thank God you are alive. I was so worried.” Anastasia hugged Jonah tightly, crushing her breasts against the back of his head.

Suddenly, his wounds didn’t hurt anymore. Looking up as Moses stepped around the stool he was sitting on, Jonah said, “I saw you watching with the long rifle in your hand.”

“He was a dead man,” Moses said, by way of an answer. “One way or another, he was a dead man. He just didn’t know it. The general was here… watching,” Moses said. “Might be some explaining to do.”

At that time, Anastasia leaned forward again, kissing the cut on Jonah’s face.
Explain to the general,
he thought.
Well, I will…later; much later.

Chapter Twenty-Two

T
he general held officer’s
call that evening at his headquarters. There was more than enough food and wine to sate everyone’s appetite and thirst. Jonah seemed to have gained a degree of respect from some of the officers who thus far had known him as Armstrong’s man or the president’s man. Hampton had smoothed the way with the general by painting LeRoche not only as a traitor but a rapist.

Colonel Mentor Johnson was also on Jonah’s side, adding to his daring do, by pointing out Jonah’s bravery during several clashes with the Indians.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d swear that ‘un was from Kaintuck,” Governor Shelby commented. For him, this was high praise, indeed.

Several toasts were drunk before General Harrison finally called the officers to attention. Without a specific plan of action laid out, he stated they would move out the following morning at daybreak. When asked about the lack of a specific battle plan, the general replied in a testy manner, “You have to catch the enemy before you lay out a plan of battle, Colonel. Once we are close, we will send out a reconnaissance and then make our plans accordingly.”

Jonah didn’t know the colonel personally but felt sorry for the man who had been brave or foolish enough, whichever the case may be, to ask what everyone else wanted to ask. It was by accident that Jonah picked up a slight nod by Edmond Gaines, the adjutant general. Following his gaze, Jonah realized the colonel must be one of Gaines’ officers.

Gaines had made a name for himself at the Battle of Cryslers Farm. He was a man of distinction and would brook little abuse of one of his officers regardless of who it was from. He had been one of the first to congratulate Jonah on such a gallant display of swordsmanship.

With the only significant information being they’d march at sunrise, Jonah quickly tired of the small talk and waited until the general was distracted. He then slipped out a side door. As he made his way down the hall toward the back porch, he was called by Hampton.

“I would have thought you’d be having your wounds tended by some dark-haired beauty rather than listening to a bunch of old windbags.”

This caused Jonah to chuckle, but he couldn’t help but glance about to make sure some of those ‘old windbags’ hadn’t heard. Smiling, Jonah again thanked Hampton for all his support. The two men shook hands and then said goodnight.

As Jonah entered the cabin, Moses was propped back in a chair eating a chicken leg. One he’d stolen from the general’s kitchen, no doubt. Jonah then noted two bottles of wine sitting on the little table.

Moses rocked his chair forward and stood up, “Took you long enough.”

“Why do you say that?” Jonah asked.

Moses rolled his eyes but didn’t speak. He picked up the bottle of wine that was still corked, grabbed his long rifle and said, “Come on. I’ve already got the horses saddled.” Neither spoke as they headed down the street.