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Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

T abitha knew not who looked more stunned, the Loyalist officer or Sergeant Lassiter. She dared not allow her gaze to linger on the Patriot scout who’d risked his life merely to avenge a slap—a gesture she couldn’t rightly process just now but which did strange things to her insides. Judging by the outrage that now twisted his features, he’d not be repeating that mistake. She focused instead on the Florida ranger before her.

“You are Lord Riley’s wife?” The flash of fear that accompanied his shocked expression lit an ember of hope in Tabitha’s chest. If reprisal concerned him, he had not yet heard that Lord Riley was no more.

“I am. If you allow me to go free, I shall consider no damage done. ’Twas an honest mistake.” She dipped her chin in a gesture of humility. He should reach around to undo her bonds at any moment now.

Instead, he asked, “And what of your companions here?”

Tabitha’s gaze snapped up. “They may be rebels, but they acted honorably and for my protection. We were headed home when your scout there accosted us.”

The Loyalist threw back his head and laughed. “I suppose home is Fort Howe, from whence they would shortly return with a regiment of rangers.”

Tabitha spluttered. She hadn’t thought of that. She hadn’t thought this out at all, had merely gotten an idea while praying—that of leveraging her former alliance—that she’d thought had come from God. But truly, what made her think God would guide her? Even when she’d acted in her sister’s interest rather than her own, she’d landed in disaster.

The man seized her arm so suddenly, she gasped and stumbled. The growl he emitted raised the hairs on her neck. “What kind of fool do you take me for, woman? One who releases his foes? Indeed, I just informed the commander of this fort that he must submit to unconditional surrender or suffer the death of his entire garrison.”

A movement in the corner of Tabitha’s eye told her the sergeant had stiffened. He’d already drawn himself up when the enemy officer grabbed her, as if he might challenge the man even with his hands tied behind his back—despite what he would see as Tabitha’s betrayal. He spoke in a gravelly voice. “Captain Winn will not surrender the fort.”

The Loyalist’s eyes did not leave Tabitha. “Then you will all die with them.”

“All?” The word escaped on a puff of breath. Except for her husband, Tabitha had yet to meet a man she couldn’t charm or condescend into submission. Cold fear doused her from head to toe.

“Yes, you, too, Lady Riley.” His expression hardened. “Do you think I believe that Henry Gage would let his wife go traipsing across the frontier in his manservant’s garb?” He shook her so hard that she bit her tongue. “Liar!”

Tabitha gulped back a sob. “’Tis the truth. I am Tabitha Gage.”

“Sit down and shut your clacker.” He shoved her backward, and she fell into the men, who did their best to catch her.

Tabitha rolled the wrist she’d landed on and swallowed a whimper.

“Colonel Brown!” A young man with a turkey feather on his hat called from across the clearing as he pointed to the fort. “The gate is opening.”

The colonel summoned the Indians standing nearby with a jerk of his hand. “Stay with them.” As they drew closer, he pivoted and hastened toward the other officers under the live oak. When an emissary was sent to retrieve Captain Winn’s answer, Tabitha chanced a sideways glance at Sergeant Lassiter.

His straight burnished brows created a slash above his glowing amber-brown eyes. “You little fool.” His tone cut as much as his words. “Did you really think to bend Burntfoot Brown to your will?”

Tabitha drew back. “Who?”

“Have ye lived under a log the past year, lass?” Private O’Connor shook his head and peeked over his shoulder at their guards. They stood by, stoic, watching as the officers conferred over a piece of paper—the Patriot reply, no doubt. O’Connor continued in a low voice. “Thomas Brown is only the most feared Loyalist in the southern colonies. He refused to sign the Patriot Association. The Sons of Liberty burned his feet, tarred and feathered him, scalped him, and fractured his skull, but he wouldna renounce his loyalty to the king. He escaped to South Carolina and then to Florida. Now he has no mercy.”

“Th-they scalped him? The Sons of Liberty?” What would her upstanding Patriot captain of a brother-in-law have to say about that ? Even Temperance, former Daughter of Liberty leader, would not attempt to justify such abuse, pious Christian that she was.

“Aye, and I’d say the other one about our age is Daniel McGirth.”

Sergeant Lassiter avoided her questioning gaze but explained, nonetheless. “And he possesses an equal thirst for revenge. He was with the Patriots here on the Satilla when an officer wanted his horse.”

Dougal chimed in again. “Offered him a commission for it.”

“He wouldn’t take it. The officer threatened him, and McGirth decked him. They threw him in jail, found him guilty at a court martial, and had him whipped.”

Tabitha’s lips parted. Her secret reading of revolutionary pamphlets had added to her newfound hatred of harsh overlords, but if these tales were true, she could understand where these particular Loyalists came by their convictions.

Dougal rubbed his ear with his shoulder, satisfying an itch, then righted his head. “He broke out of the jail and rode away on his horse. A fast one, so they say.”

“So it doesn’t matter where your allegiances lie. Only a fool would trust those two.” Sergeant Lassiter’s eyes flashed.

“Yes. A fool. I got that part.” Tabitha’s chest burned. It shouldn’t matter what he thought of her, just so long as they got out of this alive. And she had bargained for him when she appealed to Brown, had she not?

“And a liar?” He arched his brow at her.

Was that a touch of hurt in his tone? She stiffened. They did not know each other well enough for either of them to feel betrayed.

“I did not want to lie to you, but if you knew my husband was a prominent Loyalist, would you have helped me?” Defensiveness sharpened Tabitha’s reply. Could he not see the position she was in? Did she really have to explain?

“Yes, Mrs. Gage .” The sergeant never looked away. “We would have helped you.”

“‘Bound in honor to not comply!’” The exclamation drew their attention to the conference of Loyalist officers. Colonel Brown slapped the paper against his thigh. “Treat them like prisoners of war, over my dead body!”

“We resume the siege.” The response of the youngest of the three officers also carried to them. “Once the British Regulars arrive, they will rue the choice they made in this hour.”

“Wait.” Brown held up his hand and glanced toward Tabitha and the men at her side.

She sucked in her breath, caving her shoulders in as though she could make herself small enough to avoid his notice. He conferred with the other officers, occasionally looking their way.

“We’re to be used as bargaining chips.” Dread weighted O’Connor’s statement.

Tabitha swiveled her head toward him. “Would they do that?”

“Did you not think of that either?” Sergeant Lassiter’s accusation made her heart thud, but he sighed and added, “Whatever happens, we will do our best to protect you, Mrs. Gage.”

“Thank you. I—” Heavy footfalls curtailed the explanation the man’s noble offer made Tabitha willing to supply.

Colonel Brown marched straight up to her and lifted her by her upper arms. He positioned his face a few inches from her own. “It seems Colonels Cunningham and McGirth do not trust my conclusion about you.” His sour breath smelled of rum. “On the off-chance that you are indeed who you say you are, they declined to use you as bait. But as I will not take prisoners, you shall relay our response.” His gaze swept over to include her fellow captives. “On your feet. You are all to be returned to the fort. Whatever its fate, so shall yours be.”

“We accept that fate wholeheartedly.” Confidence strengthened Sergeant Lassiter’s reply as he got to his knees.

“I wouldn’t be so pleased if I were you.” The colonel’s hard fingers bit into Tabitha’s arm, and he propelled her forward. A harsh chuckle broke from his throat. “By tomorrow, Colonel Fuser will arrive from St. Augustine with two hundred British Regulars and Cussuppa’s Creek warriors.” He twisted to address Sergeant Lassiter, who had risen and now stumbled along beside O’Connor and the Indian wearing the sergeant’s hat. “Give that message to your valiant Captain Winn.”

Colonel Brown waved his white handkerchief again as he approached the fort, which resembled the one at the Altamaha—a square enclosure of upright logs, sharpened at the tips, bastions on each corner. They stopped in the middle of the clearing, and the Indian’s knife flashed out. Tabitha gasped and retreated several steps, but Brown caught her, turned her to face him, and held her arms out. The rope around her wrists strained, then fell to the ground. Tabitha rubbed her tender skin as the warrior freed the Patriots.

The colonel slowly walked backward, his eyes on Sergeant Lassiter. A wicked grin cracked his face. “I will see you again. In this battle…or after.”

The sergeant’s hand went to his empty belt. Obviously, they had known better than to ask for their arms—or horses, though Tabitha’s heart ached at the thought of her dainty Cora the mount of a rough-riding East Florida Ranger. Sergeant Lassiter gave a grim nod. “I shall count on it.”

A cry drew their attention to the ramparts. “’Tis Sergeant Lassiter! Open the gate.”

The gate creaked open, and the sergeant took hold of Tabitha’s arm. “Hurry.”

She ran with him into the palisade, Private O’Connor just behind. No sooner had the gate shut than firing resumed from the Loyalists. Men garbed in the rough, drab-colored material of the frontier returned fire from the fort walls.

A man about Sergeant Lassiter’s age with the quality of clothing and bearing of an officer leapt from the ramparts and jogged over to meet them.

The sergeant released Tabitha to salute him. “Captain Winn, sir.”

The commander’s gaze raked Tabitha, and his eyebrows shot up. “Come into the blockhouse and give me your report, Sergeant.”

Tabitha could’ve cried from relief. The boom of muskets and zip of lead shot reduced her knees to the consistency of Annabelle’s mayhaw jelly.

Captain Winn led them into the strange-looking square building the top floor of which extended beyond the bottom floor all around. The darkness inside, relieved only by high square loopholes, forced Tabitha to stop a moment and blink. When her eyes adjusted to the lower light, the gleam of a couple candles drew her gaze to a paper-strewn table in one corner. The captain led them toward it, past a ladder that rose to the second story and a youth with light blond fuzz on his jaw packing wads of powder and lead balls at another table, rougher hewn.

After reaching the corner that must serve as his office, Captain Winn pivoted to face them, eyeing Tabitha’s attire and frayed braid. “Who is this, Sergeant?”

“This is Mrs. Tabitha Gage, wife of Lord Riley, a prominent Loyalist who owns a plantation on the Altamaha. Her cattle were among those stolen by the Indians we were tracking. We were attempting to escort her home when a native scout came upon us in the swamp.”

“Mrs. Gage.” Captain Winn folded one arm over his waist and proffered a brief bow. At last, a gentleman bred. But when he raised his eyes to her again, they were hard. “You are a Loyalist?”

“My husband was a Loyalist.”

Sergeant Lassiter’s quick intake of breath cued Tabitha to her lapse even before his captain repeated, “‘Was’?”

Her companions might well see this as something else she’d withheld from them—no doubt having taken her reference to her spouse being gone as off to the war—and would trust her less than they already did. And admitting she was without a husband’s protection put her in an even more vulnerable position. But there was nothing for it now but to tell the truth. Still, Tabitha’s throat worked to produce the words. “Lord Riley died just above a week ago.”

She couldn’t look at the sergeant. Would he judge her less harshly now that he knew necessity had forced her onto the frontier? No. He probably still expected she had a bevy of servants to do her bidding.

“My condolences, madam,” the captain said. “Whatever your allegiances, ’twould seem your fate is entwined with ours for the time being. No doubt, you have been through a harrowing ordeal.”

“Indeed, sir.” A week ago, no one could have told her she’d find herself in a fort full of strange men, under siege by the British forces. As the room spun around her, she propped herself on the corner of the table.

“Please, take a seat.” The officer indicated one of three rush-bottom chairs, which she gratefully sank onto. “Private O’Connor, serve the lady some cider.”

“Aye, sir.” O’Connor moved toward a pitcher, a decanter of what appeared to be whiskey, and a tin cup on the corner of the desk. “Then, with your leave, sir, I will see about replacin’ our arms the Loyalists took.” Bitterness laced his words as he poured from the pitcher.

“Do that.” Captain Winn turned to the tall man whose presence seemed too big for the low-ceilinged room. “Sergeant, I would know everything you know.”

Tabitha downed the cider Private O’Connor handed her while Sergeant Lassiter gave Captain Winn an accounting of the day prior, concluding with the threat of reinforcements Colonel Brown had rendered before leaving them at the gate. Across the room, O’Connor made his selection from a small store of muskets, pistols, and knives.

Winn’s face grew grave. “By that count, we will soon face five hundred of the foe. We are only eighty. Even with the strong walls of this fort, we can only hold out so long against those odds.”

Tabitha shuddered. Thomas Brown had promised to kill every man here when he overran the fort. What would he do with her?

She eyed the whiskey decanter. Perhaps she ought to fortify herself with some Dutch courage.

“We must have reinforcements.” Winn banged his fist on the table, making Tabitha’s cup rattle and her hand fall back into her lap. He sank into one of the other chairs while Sergeant Lassiter remained standing.

“’Twas my intention to seek help from Fort Howe before the native captured us in the swamp.” The sergeant hung his head as if ashamed. Bereft of his hat, his queued brown hair glittered with auburn strands in the dim light. He wasn’t going to blame her, even when doing so could have redeemed him in the estimation of his commander? Before Tabitha could own her shortcomings, Sergeant Lassiter’s chin lifted. “But sir, last I was aware, Colonel Harris has only forty at Howe. Even if he sent every man he had, we would still be outnumbered. And chances are good that most of them will already be out scouting to the south.”

“Then we must pray that, in light of the incursion on our southern border, General McIntosh has dispatched more troops to Fort Howe.” Captain Winn ran his hand over his chin, producing a rasping sound. “You can still make that run for us, Sergeant Lassiter. After dark, you shall set out for Fort Howe.”

Sergeant Lassiter stiffened, and his gaze shot to Tabitha’s—so quickly that she failed to hide her panic in time. The notion of remaining here without him filled her with terror. And why should that be? She had met him the day prior, a meeting he’d been none too pleased about. Private O’Connor had showed her more kindness. And yet there was something about the sergeant’s solid presence that made her feel less alone. Indeed, less alone than she had felt in a long time.

His jaw tightened, then his gaze softened. He looked back at the captain. “Sir, I gave my word to Mrs. Gage.”

Captain Winn stared at him a moment. Tabitha half hoped he would demand an explanation of what type of word Lassiter had given. Indeed, she’d like to know above anyone exactly how far the sergeant’s protection extended, but the captain merely dipped his head. “Very well. I will send Sergeant Owens. If he returns with reinforcements, they can strike from behind while my men mount a frontal assault.”

Horror at those words mingled with relief that Sergeant Lassiter would not be leaving, but Tabitha had no time to examine either reaction before the door to the blockhouse burst open and two figures in buckskin and linen burst into the room.

She shot to her feet.

The boy wrapping powder spun around.

The newcomers were soldiers. One leaned heavily on the other, a dark-red stain marring the shoulder of his ecru hunting shirt.

“Clear the table.” Sergeant Lassiter hurried forward to assist the youth in transferring the prepared shot into his cartridge box. “Put him here.” They had no sooner done so than the sergeant ripped open the neck of the wounded man’s tunic. “Tabitha, bring the whiskey.”

Before she could process the fact that he’d used her given name, he turned with his hand out.

“The whiskey. Now.”

She grabbed the glass container and scuttled to his side.

The man groaned as blood ran from a hole just beneath his collarbone.

The soldier who had brought him in stepped back and adjusted his linen haversack, his eyes dark with concern. “I fear the shot is still in him.”

“Thank you, Private. He will be taken care of to the best of our abilities. To the wall, then. All of you.” Captain Winn waved toward the door, and the two privates scampered out, O’Connor leaning a musket for his sergeant near the exit before he disappeared into a haze of light and smoke.

When Tabitha extended the whiskey to Edmond—for she might as well get used to his Christian name also, especially if they were trapped in this fort together—he shook his head. “That means me too.”

“Here.” Stepping closer, Captain Winn untied a linen pouch and unfurled it to display a selection of tweezers, needles, sinew, and bandages—a medical kit. “We have no surgeon, but this may help.”

As the commander laid the supplies on the table, Edmond pushed the decanter back at Tabitha. “You will have to take care of him. And any others who might come.”

Her eyes went wide. “But I have no idea what to do.” Why did they think that, just because she was a woman, she ought to know how to nurse a wounded man? She’d never seen a battle before. Not even a hunting accident. If she had, she would have been shielded from the unseemly results as her servants offered the care.

“Then you must do your best.” Edmond touched her arm. “I know you have the strength to face this.”

“I don’t.” Blood gushed from the dark entry wound, and Tabitha swallowed hard.

“The woman who stood up to Burntfoot Brown?”

She wrapped her shaking hands around the cool glass of the decanter, clutching it tightly to prevent it slipping through her fingers. “I knew not who he was then.”

Edmond’s chuckle drew Tabitha’s gaze. His held…admiration? He wasn’t angry at her for not telling him she was a widow. Something warm trickled through her, infusing her with strength.

He nodded to the wounded man. “Pour a little whiskey over the wound, then you must fish the shot out.”

When her mouth fell open, Captain Winn groaned. “I could do it myself faster. When you finish mollycoddling the lady, Sergeant Lassiter, will you join me for tea on the ramparts?”

“Yes, sir.”

The quick grin that flashed over Edmond’s face was the first Tabitha had seen, and she sucked in her breath. Those laugh lines around his mouth would slay any lass, Loyalist or no. And she would do anything to see that smile again.

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