LEGACY: Chapter 4
-Aug 19th, 1775-
Jayne, now dressed in her disguise, walked over to the door. Minutes ago, she had used the pitcher of water to extinguish the tiny flames still flickering within the dying fire. All of the candles within the room had been blown out, bathing the room in darkness with the exception of soft moonlight shining through the large, double paned windows. She cracked the door open and whispered loud enough for the second guard to hear her from where he remained at rigid attention beside the doorframe.
"Pssst! I need your help with something…Edward drank a little too much wine I'm afraid…and he can't dress himself."
She stepped behind the door to conceal her uniform and to allow him to enter. The first thing that the second soldier saw was what appeared to be a young woman…sprawled on the floor half-way beneath the bed directly ahead of him. He turned his head about to question Miss Peyton, only to be met with an unknown British guard.
Jayne's eyes were soft and full of regret in the moonlight as she reared back the butt of the musket and whispered a quick apology.
"I'm very sorry about all of this!"
Then she cracked the young man hard in the head and deftly reached one hand out to grasp the front collar of his uniformed jacket and prevented him from collapsing loudly on the wooden floor. She slowly lowered him down to lay in an unceremonious heap upon the bed. He weighed a bit more than Edward and she'd nearly fallen down with him. Thanks to her Taekwondo training, she knew enough how to ground and center her own weight to prevent such a fall and implemented such a tactic.
She breathed a sigh of relief once she accomplished phase one of her plan. Both of the guards were unconscious but they would no doubt awaken again within the hour. Jayne took the bayonet off of the musket and propped the gun against the wall beside the night stand and used the sharp secondary weapon to cut strips of sheets. She then tightly bound their hands behind their backs and also tied their ankles together.
"Damn…what I would give for some duct tape right about now…" she muttered softly to herself.
Jayne rolled a strip of cloth together and stuffed it into their mouths and then used another strip to wrap around their faces to further muffle any attempted cries for help. After ensuring that they were secured well enough she gave them one last look and turned about to leave when another bright idea popped into her head like a light bulb.
It was one thing to tie them up individually. That wasn't going to be enough. They could easily crawl or hop their way out of the room. There was a wonderful way to remedy that…
Jayne took a few more strips and pulled the other guard over to where Edward was currently laying on his side and placed both men back to back. She took each of their bound hands and connected them with another strip. Then she tied the men's legs, ankles, and their individually tied hands together…connecting them both as one.
She would love to see them try to get out of that. She had to choke back a laugh. Jayne wondered who would be the first to find them later. It would be hilarious if it turned out to be Tavington…
Jayne knew she was running out of time. She didn't need her pocket watch to tell her that. It would be dawn soon…a quick glance out of the window showed the moon slowly sinking down into the horizon.
Fortunately, Tavington only took her wallet. He must have been so focused on the futuristic things inside of it that the idea of sorting through the other nick knacks must have slipped his mind.
Jayne reattached the bayonet to the rifle and slung the strap over her shoulder after ensuring that the stolen uniform was straightened out. Then she made sure her hat was secure and that it was in no danger of accidentally falling off her head. To further disguise herself, she took a little charcoal—now cooled off and perfectly safe to touch—from the nearby fireplace and rubbed it on her face. She was prepared to walk right out of the door when she realized with an internal groan that she had a serious problem.
Her footwear.
If she chose to wear her black combat boots from the year 2017…it would easily give her away. Yet, she couldn't leave them here. It would impact the course of the future. She cursed softly and felt her stomach flutter with anxiety. What was she supposed to do? She already tried on the boots of both soldiers and they were too big!
That's when she slapped a hand against her forehead. How could she be so stupid?! There was such an easy way to remedy her little dilemma.
She walked over to the dresser and found socks. She pulled on a few pairs and layered her feet. When she tried on Edward's military boots a second time, they finally fit! Jayne knew it was going to be risky but she had no other choice. Grabbing her 2017 footwear, she wrapped them and concealed them within a torn off sheet, and then left the room after quietly closing the door behind her. She began to walk as softly as she could back up the stairs.
Colonel William Tavington's room was on the third floor.
Her heart began to pound to the point it felt like it was going to beat clear out of her chest the closer she got. She swallowed nervously and her throat went dry. Soon, she found herself standing right in front of Tavington's room. Carefully setting her boots down, Jayne silently propped the musket against the wall. Then after wiping sweaty palms on the sides of her trousers…she grasped the brass door knob and slowly turned it.
Jayne barely breathed as she carefully pushed the door open inch by inch but had to stop when a soft creak emanated from one of the door hinges, causing her to freeze mid-step when her eyes spotted William Tavington, resting on his bed. He shifted in his sleep at the noise but thankfully didn't awaken. Jayne prayed he was a deep sleeper. She took her time opening the creaky door centimeter by centimeter until there was enough room for her to squeeze through.
Jayne spotted Tavington's Green Dragoon uniform laying on a nearby chair. What she could only assume was a belt, since it had a large golden buckle attached to it, was hanging over his jacket. His fluffy riding helmet was perched on his nightstand table, right on top of his folded military trousers. The Colonel himself was dressed in his white undershirt and tan leggings and his shoulder length, reddish-brown hair was unbound. Soft snores escaped his lips as he hugged one of his pillows against his chest. He looked so…vulnerable…when he was asleep. He appeared peaceful…and dare she even think it…innocent. She felt a small degree of protectiveness flood her senses in that moment.
The young time traveler shook her head as though to clear her thoughts and resumed her stealthy snatch-and-grab mission. A small gleam caught her eye in the dim moonlight. Her eyes widened minutely when she noticed that his sword was propped precariously against the nightstand.
Jayne carefully moved his sheathed sword and set it down on the floor to eliminate the chance of it falling. Getting caught red-handed by Tavington would undoubtedly have very nasty consequences.
Slowly, she bent down once she reached the green jacket and began to search the pockets for her confiscated wallet. Soon she found it and carefully extracted it. Then she stealthily stood, turned around, and began to edge herself back towards the door. The young woman had to stop again when one of the floor boards beneath her creaked. With a cringe and a wince…she glanced over her shoulder to see that Tavington was still sound asleep, although he was mumbling incoherently while he slept.
Jayne hardly dared herself to breathe until she made it safely out of his room. This time however, she did not close the door. There was no way in hell that she was going to put her escape plans in jeopardy because of a squeaky hinge. She picked up the musket that she'd left in the hall and slung it over her shoulder carefully and then retrieved her boots.
A breath hitched in her throat when she passed another red-coat in the hall. They simply gave each other a cordial nod and went on their way. Then to her horror she saw that the soldier was heading straight for Colonel Tavington's room!
"Shit…"
A cursory glance out of the nearest window revealed the first, soft golden rays of daylight peeking over the eastern horizon. She picked up her pace and abandoned stealth entirely and simply ran down the stairs. She walked outside but made sure not to rush to avoid suspicion. Keeping her head low, she made it to the stables.
Thankfully, nobody questioned her and nobody was currently tending to the horses. She went to the nearest stall and smiled at the beautiful black stallion with a white patch running down the length of his head and snout. Jayne searched the nearby area and found an empty deerskin satchel and a small bag of oats. The horse softly neighed when she approached him with a handful and nibbled at them once she offered them to him.
She reached a tentative hand out and lightly touched the horse's soft, velvety nose and spoke soothingly to him. Thankfully, her uncle Jonathan taught her how to ride when she was younger. She entered the stall slowly so as not to spook the beautiful creature and grabbed the bridle and gently slipped it over the stallion's head and positioned the bit in his mouth.
Jayne made a last minute decision and chose not to saddle him. She figured it would be quicker to ride bareback. She had done so before around the time her uncle Jonathan first taught her. He made her learn how to ride bareback before teaching her how to use a saddle. Now that she had a bag to conceal her 21st century belongings in, she stuffed her boots, wallet, her great-great grandfather's journal, the photographs, the Hewitt letter, and her hoodie inside of it and slung the strap over her shoulders.
She was running out of time. Any second someone would sound the alarm. She had to escape Fort Carolina…now.
Colonel William Tavington was no doubt already awake and prowling through the Fort. He would probably stop by her former guest room, only to find her missing. Jayne could only image the expression on his face once he found those guards…
Jayne slung the Musket strap over her chest, allowing the gun itself to rest against her back. There was a nearby bucket and she used it as a stepping stool. With one swift movement, she deftly mounted the horse. He was a big one. As she slowly encouraged him to leave the stall, something shiny caught her eye. It was a breastplate for the horse… it was hanging on a hook next to where the bridle had been. She made out a name: Maximus
Sudden recognition and realization dawned upon her in the form of a question.
Who rode these horses?
Then it hit her. Of course. The Green Dragoons. Who else?
"Shit…" she breathed. That was becoming her new favorite word of the day. As the stall door swung closed of its own accord, her blue eyes widened when she made a startling discovery.
How had she missed that?!
There written on the stall on a golden placard was a name printed in large bold letters.
Colonel William Tavington
"Oh my God…I just stole his horse…"
Jayne felt nauseated. It was now or never. This was her one and only chance to escape!
With the soft tap of her boot against Maximus's flank, she urged him into a run. They rode out of the stable and headed towards the closed gate. She gestured and waved in urgency for people to move out of the way, lest they be trampled. The guards at the gate carefully watched her approach and she screamed at them with the best British accent imitation she could muster.
"Bloody fools! Get out of the way! The prisoner escaped!"
Without question, they opened the doors and watched her leave and then closed the gate after her. Jayne did not stop. If anything, she urged Maximus into a faster run.
Was it just her? Or did her "escape" seem far too easy?
Not a moment after that thought, she heard loud shouting from the Fort and a ringing bell sounded an alarm. She glanced behind her and saw about four of the Green Dragoons riding after her.
"SHIT!"
Jayne encouraged Maximus to increase his pace, breaking into a full blown gallop. She leaned forward until she was practically hugging his neck to increase their speed. There was less drag if she flattened herself. Before long, they entered a nearby forest…leaving Fort Carolina far behind them. Jayne still heard the angry shouts of the Green Dragoons.
Thankfully they weren't shooting at her. No doubt Colonel Tavington wanted to ensure he recaptured his prize horse unscathed.
It sounded like they were catching up. A quick glance over her shoulder confirmed it. The leader of the pursuing party was—
"SHIT! SHIT!" she screamed as she tried desperately to stay ahead of them.
It was Colonel William Tavington…and he looked pissed.
She directed Maximus to run off the beaten path and through actual foliage. She knew it was dangerous for a horse but so far, the Stallion seemed to know what he was doing, with or without her guidance. Not far off, she could see a bridge. Jayne urged him on and circled around and under it rather than riding over it. Tavington and his men might not be able to see her from this angle. She swiftly dismounted and softly urged Maximus to lay down in the small stream with her.
He apparently didn't like it much but obeyed her order just the same. She gently stroked his nose and whispered in his ear.
"Steady Maximus…steady…"
Her breath got caught in her throat when at last the Green Dragoons made it to the bridge she was hiding beneath. They stopped…as though they were listening intently for something. A sign perhaps that either she or Maximus were nearby. The voice of William Tavington soon rang through the air.
"Captain Bordon, take Charles with you and take the eastern trail. I will continue on with James. Remember gentlemen, I want her and Maximus ALIVE."
A chorus of "Yes, Sir" echoed through the still air. Moments later, she heard the sound of four horses galloping onward. Jayne released the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. She remained still for another minute or so to ensure that they had truly gone. Then she got up, sliding onto Maximus's back as he arose to stand. He neighed softly and she gave him a gentle shush.
Now where the hell was she supposed to go?
She knew that Bordon and his partner were traveling east. Then which direction did Tavington and his man ride? The last thing she wanted was to accidently cross paths with any of them.
Jayne was relieved to see that the sun had entirely appeared above the eastern horizon. Which meant if she wanted to go west, she needed to ride with the sun on her back. She deduced that Fort Carolina was in a Northerly direction. Did that mean that Tavington rode south?
She used her favorite word for what seemed like the hundredth time that day.
"Shit."
Jayne gently nudged Maximus forward with her heel and they began to ride southwest. They rode for a good hour before she stopped and allowed Maximus to drink from a nearby stream. There was an apple tree not far off and she figured that the two of them deserved a snack. Jayne couldn't remember the last time she had eaten. She climbed up and picked a few and then shimmied down. Walking over to Maximus, she gently stroked him as she offered him one of the glistening green apples. He eagerly ate it and then used his nose to gently nudge her. He nickered softly as though in thanks.
Jayne laughed in amusement and gave him a small pat. Then she took the leather bag containing her boots, hoodie, photographs, the letter, the journal, and her wallet out. She stuffed the photographs and letter inside her wallet and then the wallet and journal inside her boots. Jayne wrapped the boots within her hoodie in the hopes they would be better protected from the elements and replaced them inside the bag. It escaped her notice that the silver key that went to her grandfather's chest was missing…
Once her possessions were securely bundled, she dug a hole beneath the tree and buried the satchel there at its base. In time, she promised herself that she would return to reclaim them.
Then she began to pick more apples and eagerly wrapped them up in the small white sheet that had originally contained her boots. Later she would wash them in a stream, preferably one that wasn't muddy. She suddenly froze when she heard the snapping of a twig nearby. She dropped lithely down from her perch on a low branch to land at the base of the tree and listened intently.
They were not alone…
Jayne slowly crouched down and unslung the musket from where it had been resting snuggly against her back. She had a feeling who might be in the area. She slowly dropped the gun behind her and then sank down to her knees. She raised her hands and interlaced them behind her head in surrender. Seconds later, Continental soldiers garbed in their standard blue and white uniforms revealed themselves and entered the clearing. They encircled her with guns aimed at her head.
"I surrender," she stated honestly.
"Yeah, I'm sure you do…" one of the men sneered.
Ah shit. They probably think I'm a man! And a red-coat at that!
That revelation deserved a "double-shit". Only this time she didn't speak it out loud. It was in that moment, she decided that she would continue to play the role of a young man. She wasn't stupid. She knew that in wartime…in any war…female prisoners were abused the worst.
Jayne figured she'd gotten lucky at Fort Carolina simply because General Cornwallis maintained a proper, gentlemanly form of order amongst the ranks.
It appeared that there were only ten Continental troops but it was possible that there were more lurking in the vicinity. One of the soldiers roughly pushed her down to the ground and used rope to tie her hands behind her back.
"I will come with you willingly…but please let the horse return to his rightful master!"
The Colonials laughed as if they'd heard a good joke.
"You think we would waste a perfectly good horse? I don't think so. This fine animal is now the property of the Continental army!"
The one who finished binding her hands hauled her to her feet.
Two of the men attempted to restrain Maximus but he bucked and then broke out into a run. They uttered a string of profane curses and the two men began to chase him as he fled the area. They returned empty handed about three minutes later, looking very unhappy.
Jayne hoped that Tavington found Maximus. It really was ironic, she mused…to realize that Tavington, the man she'd been desperately attempting to flee from, had become her only hope of rescue. Especially now that she didn't know what was to become of her…
"Let's go!" the leader of the bunch bellowed as he roughly grabbed her upper arm and began to yank her along.
"Where are we going?" she dared to ask.
One of the men who was walking beside her, slapped her upside the head and knocked her hat off. Surprisingly they didn't bother to pick it up but left it behind.
"Shut it! One more word and I'll shoot you," he snarled.
Weren't they a lovely bunch…
Hell, the British treated her better than this!
They walked through the forest for what felt like hours until they reached a clearing. There was a small campsite with a fire pit and a few white pitched tents. There was a vertical log sticking up from the ground and they shoved her towards it. Before she could protest or explain herself, they gagged her then proceeded to tie her to the post. The irony of being gagged and tied was not lost on her as her thoughts drifted back to the two British soldiers at Fort Carolina.
The Colonials untied her bound hands only to pull them backwards, painfully, so that they could simply tie them again behind the log.
One of the men chose that moment to unexpectedly punch her in the gut. It knocked the wind out of her and she glared daggers at him. The man sized her up and down. He shook his head with a grunt as though she wasn't worth his time before sauntering away. Most of the men went to sit around a campfire.
They laughed, talked, and ate around the fire for a while.
While they were distracted, Jayne used the opportunity to attempt to free herself but came to find that they had done an extremely good job knotting the ropes. She was not one to give up so easily and stubbornly persisted. The thought occurred to Jayne that even if she miraculously managed to free herself, she wouldn't get very far. The Continental's outnumbered her three to one. She did a silent head count and from what she could gather, their small encampment currently housed at least twenty five soldiers, maybe more. Eventually, she had to admit defeat when she at last realized that she was hopelessly, at their mercy.
About thirty minutes later, the leader—a Captain if she read his rank insignia correctly—walked up to her with a gleaming knife in his hands. The man stood there watching her as though sizing her up and down. He sheathed the knife on his belt and shook his head with a 'tsk'.
"You know…most of my men think I should just save us all some aggravation and shoot you now rather than drag you all the way across God's good creation. Me? I'm an honorable man. I'd like to get to know my prisoners before I choose whether they live or die. If in the future I do condemn you to death, I promise to give you a quick and merciful end. Sound fair?"
Her eyes widened and then she clenched them shut with a muffled scream when he grabbed her roughly by the hair and yanked her head upwards. He brought his face close to hers and growled deeply.
"I said…does that sound fair?"
With tears glistening in her eyes, she nodded in the affirmative.
"Good. Now. I'm going to remove that gag and ask you some questions. If I don't like the answers, you'll become thoroughly acquainted with the word called 'pain'. Got it?"
She nodded vigorously again. He took his knife, and rather than untie her gag, he simply cut it off. Jayne stretched her jaw.
"Alright. First question. Why are you out here alone?"
"You know, Colonel Tavington asked me that same question when he-"
The Colonial officer snarled and roughly backhanded her and then roughly gripped her chin.
"I don't want long winded answers, boy! Make them short and simple. Got it?"
She didn't respond and instead glared at him defiantly. This earned her another punch to the gut.
"You and Tavington would make good friends. This is the same interrogation he—"
The Colonial reared a fist back and punched her in the face, causing her already abused head to crack back against the wooden post directly behind her. She winced in pain as stars exploded in her vision.
"I don't give a damn about Colonel Tavington! I want to know why YOU are out here all alone! Which brings me to my next question. Are you a spy? Or worse yet, a deserter?"
"What?! No!"
He looked unconvinced and gently traced his gleaming, silver knife against her cheek.
"I'm afraid I don't believe you. You speak with an accent befitting a Colonial settler…yet you are dressed as a red-coat. Tell me why."
"I was captured by the red-coats near Fort Carolina. They took me prisoner. I stole a uniform, and I also stole that stallion back there…you know, the one that ran off? And I escaped."
"Wow, son. That is some story…unfortunately it sounds more like an elaborate lie than the truth," he growled with a dangerous glint in his eyes. He roughly grabbed her throat and began to choke her. She gasped and struggled for air with wide eyes. He let her go a moment later, leaving her coughing and gasping for air.
"The only ones who escape Fort Carolina…do so in a big rectangular box. No one. And I mean absolutely no one…leaves there alive. So that must make you a deserter. Or better yet, a filthy traitor. Do you know what happens to cowardly young boys like you who not only desert the Continental army but actually have the nerve to pledge allegiance to our enemy?"
"I'm not a spy, deserter, or a traitor. It's the truth," she coughed out hoarsely.
"Now…didn't I tell you that the only way I'd bring you pain, was if your answers weren't to my liking? This, son…is one of those moments."
Jayne didn't even have the chance to defend herself. He began to punch her over and over. He sucker punched her in the stomach at least twice and punched her in the eye, nose, and almost got her mouth. Soon she began to sag as she slowly started to lose consciousness. The ropes binding her to the vertical log kept her upright.
"Please…stop" she whispered coarsely. At last the abuse ended…until a pistol barrel was shoved against her forehead. She heard the audible 'click' of a hammering pin being cocked back.
Jayne could barely speak. Her lip was swollen and bleeding. Her windpipe was still damaged from that strangling and she felt a black eye coming on. She wheezed as she stared death in the face.
"Any last words, boy?"
She could barely keep her head up and she groaned unintelligibly.
"What was that? You gotta speak up."
She weakly raised her head and glared daggers at her tormentor. If looks could kill, the man would be beyond dead... More like a pile of ash, really.
"You have no honor…the red-coats have more mercy and decency than you." Jayne worked up the nerve to actually spit in the man's face, earning an enraged roar from him.
He raised his fist about to strike her again when all hell broke loose in the camp.
To her confused surprise, Jayne heard one of the other men scream the word "AMBUSH!"
Suddenly the four Dragoons tore through the camp on their horses. They used torches to set the tents on fire and used their pistols to shoot some of the Colonials down. Seconds later, about twelve red-coats charged into the clearing. Their surprise attack gave them the upper hand and ultimately neutralized the staggering odds. Sixteen Brits against roughly thirty Continentals... half of the Colonial soldiers were killed before they had the chance to retrieve their weapons in the chaos. Most weapons had been in the tents just before they burst into flames.
Jayne drifted in and out of consciousness. The battle that raged around her was just a blur. Her hearing and eyesight kept coming in and out of focus as dark spots danced in her fading vision. She heard the screams of the wounded and the dying as both red-coats and Colonials were killed. Some were shot and others stabbed through with swords or bayonets.
Then through the chaos, she locked dazed, unfocused eyes on Tavington. His eyes burned with hell-bent fury and he mercilessly killed the Colonials, even the few that tried to surrender. Then he shot the leg of the Colonial leader who had been about to shoot her in the head. He ordered his surviving, uninjured men to capture and subdue her torturer. She only heard broken bits and pieces of the short conversation that took place between Colonel Tavington and the Continental Captain.
"…not a red-coat…nor…is far-away!"
"…didn't know!"
"…not a boy…is…"
"…a lady? I didn't…"
"…sicken me, cretin. Take him away!"
Jayne wasn't sure what happened. Everything that followed was one, big, confusing blur. One second she was tied to the post…and then the next, she was being gently carried over to an awaiting horse, one who looked a lot like Maximus. She feebly fought against the one moving her but ceased her struggles when her rescuer gently shushed her. It reminded her of a father soothing a distressed child. Her vision was blurred although there were a few rare moments when it sharpened enough for her to see what was happening.
Jayne tried to stand on her own but nearly face-planted. A firm, strong grip caught her arm and prevented her from falling. She knew she was back in the custody of the red-coats when her muddled brain finally connected the dots upon hearing their thick, British accents. It was very difficult to understand what they were saying. There were moments when it sounded like she was hearing from under water. Jayne vaguely wondered if it was all a dream but her wounds pained her enough to confirm that she wasn't asleep.
Captain Bordon was one of the men who held her upright while Maximus's owner mounted. Jayne kept drifting in and out of awareness as her injuries and fatigue began to take their toll. One moment she was leaning heavily against the strong frame of Captain Bordon…and then the next, she was being lifted by more than one pair of hands.
Seconds later, she was on a horse. She felt a strong, firm arm wrap around her waist to prevent her from falling. It brought her a sense of deja-vu. At first, she couldn't place who it was until she heard a familiar voice whisper softly in her ear. The tone of voice was gentle and held no indications that the man in question was angry with her at all. Had she been more cognitively functional, it would have surprised her. What he said made her feel safe…and brought her a sense of peace that she would never have thought possible.
"He'll never hurt you again, Jayne…I promise…"
She felt her head droop as her strength waned. Her chin rested upon her chest as her eyelids grew heavy. In seconds, Jayne Peyton lost consciousness…
…held protectively in the arms of none other, than Colonel William B. Tavington.
TO BE CONTINUED!
Author's Note: I gave him the middle initial "B" since it stands for Banastre Tarelton—the real name of the historical figurehead that inspired the fictional creation of William Tavington. Also, I know that in the "Patriot" movie, Tavington's horse is brown…I decided to change it since that black stallion is going to have a role to play in the future. ;) Thanks ever so much for reading and reviewing!
And I want to thank "The Caffeinated Hummingbird" for giving me positive feedback on my writing style/technique. Believe it or not…I had an English professor in College give me a D+ on a paper I wrote, simply because he didn't like my writing style and thought that the way I write is "weird". It was an A- worthy at least—I was only made aware of the fact after I asked another professor for a second opinion. I read some of my peers' writings and the professor was a very evil, evil man…he gave them high grades despite the fact their writing was terrible, simply because they were butt kissers. I know I can be good with words but what I truly fail at I think, is punctuation/grammar. I don't have anyone to Beta my stories so I have to do everything on my own and hope it doesn't turn out too bad.