A black mare greeted him with a soft nicker from deep within the stables as he entered the building. A bit on the stocky side, she stood below most of the other steeds in the stable, but he didn't mind. What she lacked in size she made up for in speed. He'd lost count of the number times when he thought she had given him her all and couldn't possibly give anymore, only to have her come through at the last second. It was a quality that had saved both their lives on more then one occasion. She began to toss her head as he drew closer and his face split into a broad smile.
"Hey there little lady," he cooed, coming to a stop before her and grabbing ahold of her bridal.
She began nudging him and he laughed, knowing what she wanted.
"Yeah, yeah I missed you too." He said, gently stroking the side of her neck. Her skin, pulled taunt over muscle, twitched as he did so and she pawed at the ground impatiently. "Alright, alright." He lifted his hands in mock surrender, before reaching deep into one of his pockets and producing small red apple. He'd been saving it just for her. Greedily, she wrenched the apple from his hand, turning away from him to eat it.
"Have to admit, I'm starting to feel a bit used here Blackie." He quipped sarcastically.
She snorted her response and continued munching happily. Shaking his head, he suppressed a yawn. It had been a long night, and there was still the ride back to Morristown ahead. No sense in delaying the inevitable, he thought with a sigh as he readied his tack. He gently placed the saddle pad and saddle across Blackie's back. Having finished her apple, she turned and gave him an appreciative nudge.
"Oh now you say thank-you." He retorted. She stared back at him with her big brown eyes, her ears erect and facing forward. Her nostrils flared as she studied her rider intently. "Don't you worry. I'm not the least bit tired." He lied. She nuzzled him again. "Okay, maybe I'm a little tired." He confessed.
…
"Major." General Washington stated, briefly glancing up before returning his attention to cluster of maps spread out in disarray on the table before him.
"Sir." Ben greeted in return.
He could feel Billy watching him closely from across the room. He couldn't blame him, on the way here his stomach had finally given up its formal protest and taken a more forceful approach. Consequently, he ended up doubled over and retching in a line of trees a few yards to the east of the mansion. Billy of course rushed to his side, but Ben had pushed him off, backing away like a wounded animal, refusing to be touched.
"Major, you're not well!" Billy protested with a panicked look.
Ben hadn't answered. Once the dry heaves subsided he straightened himself and stood, panting heavily against the pain and nausea. Wiping his mouth with his coat sleeve, he turned and slowly made his way back towards Washington's headquarters on wobbly legs, with Billy following close behind. When they reached the corridor that lead to Washington's office Billy stepped out in front of him, placing an arm across the door frame, effectively blocking his entrance.
"Major, I can tell the General that you're ill." Billy offered in a whisper.
Ben looked into the dark brown eyes regarding him, and saw only concern reflecting back in them. The offer was certainly enticing. The throbbing in his head had soared to a whole new level, and was now pounding in his ears. Battered ribs shot white hot pain searing through his body with every breath, while stiff muscles protested his every move. His stomach, subdued for the moment after he had finally met its demands was the only thing that didn't seem to hurt. Still, if he backed down now word of his injuries would spread and it wouldn't take long for Bradford to make the connection. He refused to give the man that satisfaction.
"I'm fine." He said weakly.
Billy made a noise of disapproval with the click his tongue. Seeing that the Ben wasn't going to back down, he shook his head at the other man's stubbornness and thrust a folded white handkerchief in his direction. Ben stared back at him with a quizzical look.
"You're covered in sweat, and it's not even warm out." He said flatly. When Ben made no move to take the cloth, he sighed. "At least wipe your face off."
Ben had taken the handkerchief, and sheepishly mumbled his thanks.
…
"There's coffee on the stove." A voice announced from the entry way of the stables.
Startled, Caleb ducked beneath Blackie, placing the mare between himself and the intruder, while his hand simultaneously reached for the tomahawk hidden in the folds of his saddle. His face broke into a broad smile when he saw who the voice belonged to, and he stepped out from behind the steed.
"Caitlin, you know the rules." He warned, though admittedly he was happy to see her. Her auburn hair hung loose around her shoulders drawing his attention to her delicate neck. From there he followed the length of her emerald dress, noting the way the fabric tapered across her body accentuating her every curve while bringing out the green in her eyes. She was certainly a sight for sore eyes. She grinned as his eyes drifted back up the length of her body to meet her eyes once more and she pushed off the door frame, blatantly ignoring his words of caution.
"That's never stopped us before." She whispered in a low voice, flashing her eyes at him as she came to a stop in front of him. She was so close he could smell the scent of fresh rose petals and lavender wafting from her skin. He groaned inwardly, knowing he needed to get back to camp at once, and not to mention there was the issue of getting caught.
"Yes but it's daylight now, someone might see." He said, shifting his weight to the side so that he could peer around her, his deep brown eyes roaming for intruders.
"Relax Brewster, my father went to town."
"It's not just your father I'm worried about." He countered, thinking of Caitlin's five brothers whom he was relatively certain wouldn't hesitate to bring down their father's wrath in his stead.
"You worry too much." She teased, leaning into him. Her lips formed into a 'come hither smile' and she was so close he could count every beautiful freckle on her face. To make matters worse she wrapped her arms his neck and began gently kissing the length of his jaw bone. His eyes closed when her lips found to his, and he felt his resolve break. Clasping strong hands around her waist, he lifted her up pushing her back against the boards of the stable returning her kiss with unrestrained passion.
…
"What news do you have from your courier?" Washington inquired.
Ben sighed inwardly at his failure to plan ahead. He should have known Washington would be anxious for follow up after Caleb had informed him of the signal. In theory he should have returned by now, however Caleb had gotten a delayed start after tending to his injuries. If he would have sent word of Caleb's late departure this whole predicament could have been avoided. "Lt. Brewster had a later start then originally planned. He hasn't returned to camp as of yet, Sir."
"I see." Washington replied, noting the way the major appeared to be strategically avoiding the direct sunlight pouring in from the window. He took a step away from the table, closing the distance between the himself and the Major, drawing near for a closer look.
Instinctively Ben took a step back and Billy cleared his throat softly from the corner of the room. Distracted Washington looked in Billy's direction to find him tiding up a pile of papers on his desk. He recognized the papers as the dispatches that had arrived early this morning. The Major could certainly busy himself reading over those until his courier returned.
"The dispatches, please." Washington requested.
"Yes sir." Billy replied, handing over a stack papers which Ben noted were blessedly few.
"Major." Washington said, holding the papers with an outstretched hand and inviting the Major to take them.
Ben took a cautious step in the direction of the General who was currently standing directly in a pool of afternoon sun. Stepping out of the shadows, he tried desperately not to wince as the light struck his eyes. Washington watched blue eyes narrow and blink against the sun. As the sun poured over him, he observed that the bruising on the the Major's face was now enhanced by the contrast of ashen skin and he took note of the Ben wavered ever so slightly standing before him. He withdrew the papers and paused.
The Major looked considerably unwell, knowing it was most likely due to the lingering ramifications of the scuffle that had taken place the night before, he internally debated whether or not to relinquish the Major from any added duties for the day. He knew that Ben would accomplish the task, despite his ailments, but at what cost? If he allowed the major to run himself into the ground, he would be of no use in the days to come. But then, did injuries sustained from an unnecessary quarrel warrant such a pardon? Pursing his lips in thought he looked up to find both Ben and Billy studying him carefully.
"When is Lt. Brewster due back at camp?" He asked.
"If all goes well, by nightfall, Sir." Ben replied.
"Good. I expect a full intelligence report and briefing on his findings upon his return."
"Yes sir."
"Until then, you are dismissed." Washington advised.
With a nod Ben turned on his heel and exited the office. Once in safety of the hallway he leaned his back against the wall and closed his eyes. He was beginning to noticeably tremble as his body, rebelling against the lack of food and hydration, broke into a cold sweat. Swallowing hard he pushed off the wall, his only goal being to make it back to his tent. From the window of his office Washington watched as Ben stumbled down the steps, wincing against the sun. The major ducked his head low and the pain was evident in his gate.
"Billy, see to it that the Major finds his way to his tent." he said, turning towards his trusted servant.
"Yes sir." Billy replied. He quickly crossed the short distance of the room and was halfway down the hallway when Washington called after him from the doorframe.
"And Billy, please notify the men he is not to be bothered for the remainder of the day."
Billy nodded his understanding of the General's unspoken request.
