Oh my has it been long! Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays. Well I've been procrastinating long enough and I thought Christmas Eve to be a good of time as any to finally get this out. Sorry for it taking so long to be updated, but luckily, or unluckily, this chapter is double the size of any previous one to somewhat compensate for the wait. Before I start I would like to thank everyone who has left a review so far. LuciansLycanNightShade, Madness is me, Music24601, and MsNarcissaBlack, all of your comments have been amazing to hear. Not to mention everyone who has alerted, favourite-d, and in general read this story. Thank you all. By the way, Tavington is finally in the story.
Chapter Song: A Shot Rung Out-Emily Jane White
Chapter Seven: Dissolution before Infliction
The affliction from his long fingers pulling at his hair brought forth no solace as he paced from one wall to another, muttering slurs as he went. A common man would be quick to assume him to be a manic, but the keen of eye and conscious of mind would be just as fast to realize he was no lunatic, he was thwarted brother.
"She understands nothing. That liar. That idiot…That liar… That liar!" he bellowed, thrashing his fists about in the air.
It was not in his prior nature to act like this, he knew that, but his rage had become a side of him he had yet to become familiarized with. It was as though his person had become torn into two halves, one was the outspoken, happy boy he knew and one was the dangerous, impulsive stranger he had no want of knowing.
He dearly hoped that he had not become this, but, with each reoccurring thought filled with rash, untamed anger towards his sister, he realized his resentment had become him. What could she ever know; she has never experienced any of those things she has claimed! She lies through her teeth! She, she-
He could not even bring himself to think, much less speak, her name for it burnt with the venom of the worst of profanities. She is full of dishonesty, she is full of contradictions, she is full of-
Abruptly he stopped in mid step. Not an enraged pondering crossed his mind in that moment which he lifted his eyes up from the floor to the pale wall, which would serve as his witness, "She is full of shi-"
Suddenly a low, feminine voice interjected his raving, holding a contrasting casual air, "May I suggest the next time you want to listen in on a conversation that you are not a part of, that you exert the effort to not to make such a ruckus when you leave?"
His spine contracted. She just has to speak, doesn't she?
Forcibly he turned on his heel to stare out his doorway, but, because of his inherent lack of urgency, could only manage to catch the fleeting image of ruffled skirts disappearing into the darkened room across the hall. It was better for them both that he had not seen her.
"Well I would not have left like that if it was not for the lies you spoke," he hissed, before turning his back away from the door once more. To see her face would have been too much. He knew how she would look at him, with those eyes. He justified this by believing that ones worn down tolerance could easily snap and madden a man be it willing, thus turning him to utter words so malignant they hurt his head just to think them!
Those damned looks…
The faint creaks of the floor boards as she emerged from the shadows caught the attention of his ear. An irascible heat then began to burn beneath his skin with each step she took towards him. Go away, go away, he repeated only to have the sound of her steps grow louder and louder as they neared, causing the dull beat of his pulse in his head to grow louder and louder, making his desperate plight for relief to grow louder and louder. Too much noise, too much noise!
Suddenly an undiscerning calm fell upon the room.
"You would not have stayed if you had not wanted to hear such things."
He bit sharply down on his tongue, in futile attempt to prevent the reel of insults in his mouth from fleeing. This task then had become exceedingly harder as he felt her eyes slowly scrutinize his person.
His posture was stiffened, his fists were balled, and his muscles were tensed. She acknowledged it all, his stance, his demeanor, his aggravation, but purposely took no heed.
"Thomas, you and I both know it would be an assault to your character if you had not stayed," she began languidly, "but I must ask if it would be too much for you to keep your reserve tonight, for-"
"My reserve?" he abruptly roared, spinning around with the ferocity of a hurricane, "My reserve! Caroline I watched as you spoke lies of my character to father right in front of me. How do you imply I keep my reserve when you say these things?"
Caroline's body language opposed her brother's; she held a serene expression, an open posture, and a gentle tilt of her head. Some outsider acknowledging her collected countenance could hardly fathom she was in a confrontation. They would have assumed this even less had they watched as she distantly ran her hands through the mass of gauze and other makeshift bandages held in her arms. Her natural mystifying nature was enough to incite most people to gawk, but her subtle movements were those which entranced a person.
He was disgusted; did she think she could not distract him like some feeble, manipulable child. Her distinct passivity was then noted with a bitter discord. All she had done or could ever do would only but enrage him more.
She knew well enough to hold her silence while he attacked.
"What do you say about this Caroline?" he probed jarringly, staring disgustedly into his sister's still, unmoving eyes, "Or are you going to act like that stupid, little girl you do while around father and everyone else for that matter?"
Her only reaction to this acerbity was a slight twitch of her lip, which brought forth meager satisfaction to her antagonist. "What I had spoken to him was not a lie," she whispered, while gently folding the billows of cloth in half, "but an unfortunate truth that you have chosen not to come to terms with."
Lies, lies, lies! He lamented from within the confines of his mind.
"How can you speak of me-"
"Never in a hundred," she said, before pausing to correct herself, "Never in a thousand years do you ever doubt my understanding of you Thomas. For you to ever deny such a thing would be but another assurance of my justification."
"You have no such thing," he spat, approaching her tiny form, "Caroline, you stand to manipulate those around you in order to obtain what you want. I could hardly imagine that a person who would do such a thing would have the ground to accuse another of similar acts."
Her nostrils flared lightly as she took in a composing breath. "I stand for no one and nothing but my family and if to do so means I must be both selfish and conniving, then do so I will."
Thomas bit down on his lip and turned his side to her. "That is a pitiless statement."
Caroline continued staring intently at Thomas' profile. He saw in the corners of his eyes that her lips no longer moved to indicate feeling to his malice, but instead acceptance.
Thomas could not even articulate how she aggravated him at that moment; he could literally feel his blood boil beneath his skin. Did she know of this rage she caused him? Was her relentless presence intentional?
Only as she slowly retreated from the room with a motionless expression did he feel his anger dissipate and a sudden moroseness replace it. To speak was useless, they both knew that. For her to come back was useless. He frowned and slowly walked towards the edge of his bed. It was not as though her leave had come upon him as a grievance, but more as a sad reminder of what could never be again.
Thomas took a harsh sigh and clasped the bridge of his nose with his hand as he sat back upon his mattress. She knows nothing, she is nothing. Her words would continue to have no affect on his mind if Thomas had anything to say about it. She would learn that by doing so no one would hear, she would be as good as mute!
Thomas grimaced. Then why did he not feel as satisfied when he did such things?
He was about to ponder further on the topic when a thunderous clatter interrupted him. Caroline had returned and was now standing in his doorway, her hands rattling at her sides as their eyes locked. "Then your pity I will go on without," she snapped.
Caroline held her stance there for no more than a second more before she turned and left again.
Silence then had come, followed by the subsequent patter of her feet as she descended the staircase. He made no move to follow her.
The bitter morning had left the remnants of a resentful night upon the Martin's front porch. The front of their home was now littered with wounded men. Their moans of agony and pleas for sanction from the church echoed throughout the fields.
The sun rose slowly over the horizon, illuminating the crops and shedding pale light on the sea of red and blue coats. It was a sight to be seen as enemies were forced to lie next to one another until death or luck saved them from their current suffering, yet all of this depended on their sleep deprived caregivers.
The Martin family had taken on the role of using their house as an infirmary under no promise of money or gratification. They would serve these soldiers until the last man left. The younger children were assigned to supplying the men with rations of food and water, each getting a slice of bread to eat and a cup to drink, while Benjamin, his workers, and Caroline were tending to the soldiers; treating every gash, cut, or brake with the same care as if these men were their own kin. Even stubborn Thomas and naïve Nathan found themselves in service in the wee morning hours with a job most gruesome. The young men were set to laying out the bodies of those who had died before aid was able to come. They did so in hope that these men would be retrieved by a family member, despite the little to no assurance that any of them had that such a grace could occur. The only thing they could depend on to remain constant and unfaltering was the ghastliness of the corpses: no two ever mimicking another one in atrocity.
Though it would seem as though the two boys had the worst of jobs, it could not have been said, by the hollow and washed out looks upon everybody's faces, that each obligation did not come without its necessary strife; be it the labour or tediousness of the duty. Yet it seemed obvious to everyone that there were additional pains varying from the nature of every case.
If it was not the cries of the broken and beaten men begging for the company of their loved one's, being something that none of their nurses knew they could supply, it was the desperate gripping and grasping of the life which would imminently depart from their hosts. Yet as the hours had progressed every one of the Martin's had come to realize that the worst of all afflictions to be proscribed were when someone had begun to acquainting themselves to a soldier.
"Squeeze my hand when I start," she instructed the young man as she motioned towards the bullet hole in his thigh. Caroline's focus then began to wane from the task at hand to the soldier's jacket. It was unbelievable how horribly stained in blood it was; someone could have even mistaken him to be a red coat if it was not for his recognizably blue sleeves.
He began to fidget uncomfortably beneath her penetrating glare, but her will to stop could not be found. Was that their intention with the coat? she wondered, with a growing disgust becoming evident in her strained expression. Men fighting for the liberty of their nation, in death would be clad in the Crown's colour as a sick reminder of the unending loyalty one has to the King. Caroline scowled at the resolve. Could there be no escape from that terrible shade of crimson?
"Miss?"
The young woman was pulled back to her senses by this croaked inquiry. Her willingness to humour such distractions as meaningless as the colour of his coat were a strike against her better person, as well as this man's diminishing health. "Sorry," she muttered, outstretching her hand to him as she was about to commence.
He speculatively glanced at her extremity, as if he was wondering what to do with it. Caroline thought it upon herself to breech such a gap in communication, so she held it closer to his face in hopes of him accepting it. Yet, to her shock, no more than a second later, he shook his head in decline.
Caroline bit down on her lip and quickly retracted her hand. She could feel the veins in her cheeks flood with blood, causing her face to flush a pink, and her throat tightened suppressing her breathing. This all happened for reasons she could not cognate. Caroline only imagined his lack of accepting came from his discomfort with her presence, but why did she care in the first place how he felt about her? She did not know him and he did not know her, they were complete strangers to one another.
Caroline desperately tried to cover her reddening cheeks and her shamed offence, but each time she tried to convince herself that there were many reasons why he would deny her help she felt doubt crawling up beneath her.
Suddenly his voice chimed through her fretting, "I don't think it would be particularly wise for me to do," he started, followed by a hoarse chuckle, "Dare I break you hand."
Her lips moved to express an alleviated, "Oh", but instead a genuine amusement, something rare of affect, consumed her and released a long needed laugh. "Then I suppose it would be best for you to hold the railing then, I may just need my left hand someday."
"You probably will," he wheezed as a pained, crooked smile decorated his handsome face, "Or else I'll probably have to be the one to help you."
Whilst typing a rope around his upper thigh, Caroline hid her grin and exclaimed, "Oh heaven forbid!"
"You should know," he began only to be interrupted by his own coughing, "That I could be a very capable nurse if wholly necessary."
She smirked delightedly and reached for her pair of forceps. "Brace yourself," she warned as she commenced use of the instrument.
The man initially writhed under her touch, but with pain came acceptance. If he moved too much he posed the threat of hurting himself and her. It was a simple ultimatum that always worked in favour of both parties involved.
After a few moments the tip of the instrument struck metal. Caroline looked up to see the man's face condense in pain. Carefully she clasped the small leaden bullet. His suffering, which caused her heart to ache, urged her to be brisk as she removed the object from his flesh.
In one sharp, swift movement she thrust her arm backwards, having the musket ball exit his skin with as much ease as it had entered. Her quickness had left little room for a yelp, so when all was said and done the bore in his skin was the only thing to remind them both of the procedure that had just occurred.
"Do you fancy a souvenir?" she inquired holding the bloody musket ball up to him.
He made a gesture of uncertain, agreeability before he spoke, "I could not see how it could hurt."
Caroline took the object between her first three fingers and rubbed its surface upon the skirt of her gown. There was no apprehension in soiling the fabric for it was already dyed red with the blood of the injured men and strips of its cloth had already been torn and used as bandaging.
She was proud of herself as she gazed upon her mockery of a skirt. Every drop of blood and tear in its material were proof of her family's goodness, it was even proof of her own. She felt this way because they had been willing to aid all who had stumbled onto their porch that night and it was then as those few first few men were cared for that she had felt every one of her prior prejudices being destroyed.
Despite being clad in an opposing colour, these red coated soldiers were men too.
After a few more swipes across her dress she held the gray ball up to the sun. The ruddy liquid that had encased the object now seemed to give it an eerie sheen. The thought made her wince, so with that notion in her head she quickly placed it into her patient's rough and dirty hands, "Here you are."
"Thank you," he replied, glancing up at her, "It'll be a great reminder."
Caroline's stomach suddenly began to twist. Reminder of what? The look in his eyes was so alien to her for she had never been looked upon in such a strange way. She tried to dissect what it meant, but this resulted in her becoming even more confounded as she came up with loose ends of differing emotions. Awe. Hesitancy. Fear! Contentment? For how could all these feelings exist in one stare?
Caroline sucked in on her bottom lip. There was, for the first time, nothing she could make of it. Her eyes stayed on him for a moment more, looking on at him in a concoction of shame, defeat, and embarrassment. Abruptly she then dropped her path of sight to the floor.
There was no possibility she could dwell on such things for there were many other men that needed her assistance. It would have been selfish for her to only relay her time to one man only.
"One moment, please," she pleaded as she got to her knees in search of her sewing needle.
Caroline was convinced she had set it next to her, but in the chaos of that sunrise she suspected it must have been brushed away. Yet, as she tried to focus on her search, she could not help but think back to her patient.
Enveloped in self disappointment as she scowered the floor with her hand Caroline concurred that she felt nothing but the discernable eyes of the damaged soldiers around her pleading for medical attention. Their eyes stung her skin like their wounds stung theirs, but she knew that she would have to ignore them if she wanted to remain concentrated.
"Caroline, what are you doing?"
Nervously she looked up to see Gabriel towering above her with a puzzled look upon his face. His skin had regained some of its prior colour and his eyes gleamed with a light that she had not seen in him since he left to join the army in Charles Towne.
A smile began to form on her face, but as she moved her lips to respond to his query a soft glint of silver caught her eye.
Gabriel stared awedly at his sister as she dropped suddenly to her hands. He speculated that it could not have taken her anymore than an instant to snatch at the object of her desire and get to her feet, wielding the metal utensil to him, "I was looking for my needle."
Gabriel smirked and softly exclaimed, "Of course."
He did not understand her absurd behavior, he never had and doubted he ever would, but he knew if he gave her the time necessary one day he could possibly comprehend the slightest of what went on inside her head.
When he looked upon her face she had a grin stretching from ear to ear. This expression of happiness was of result of the optimism Caroline had that convinced her he would choose to stay with the family, instead of returning to war. When he would choose to do so she expected all to go back to what it had been before this horrible conflict had begun.
Caroline was then about to comment on her eldest brother's healthy countenance when a sudden urge willed her to retreat back towards the soldier she was treating. Her muscles had already begun action when she first considered fighting this impulse, but right as the thought came to mind so did a disconcerting acceptance which forced her to do otherwise.
Her subconscious, which hurried Caroline's feet across the length of the porch, ruled without words or actions, yet it imposed on her mind like a king. She was still in control, for the most part, but all the actions she chose to commit would be of direct result of an unknown motive within her, which then abruptly forced Caroline's eyes to dart away from their original path.
It was quickly understood why she had felt so strongly as she beheld the strange rustling of the forest around the length of their property. The disturbance, it seemed, stretched too far and had too great of an affect for it to be a passing animal. This assumption was further confirmed as, in the far distance, she watched as masses of birds exploded from the treetops, as though from cannons, and then dissipated into the soft gray sky.
Caroline stopped in mid step and pivoted her foot to look back to where her brother had stood. There he still remained, her father adjacent to him treating a broken limb. Had they not seen it? No one had it seemed, all of them were still immersed with their tasks.
Such a spectacle as that which had occurred seemed illogical to even think someone was capable of ignoring, but as she looked upon the agonized faces of the men on either side of her she conceded, Pain does tend to take precedence over observance. Caroline begun to feel a lack of ease with this conclusion, but, because of a stubbornness of character, she refused to be ruled by whims.
She paced further away only to have her gut knot. Her sensibility begged her to turn back around and tell the others, but with time in great importance her decision had to brief. Caroline considered it for a moment only to then bravely decline such a plight. The clock stops for no one. The will in her to agree to such, though contrary to her usual disposition, came from the young man waiting on her to finish her dealings. She would not risk people's lives to indulge thoughtless notions.
As she came to the edge of her patient's feet a leering feeling in the back of her mind bemoaned, even louder than before, to her that she had not made the right decision. She was about to pause and listen to its further words, but common sense knocked such mindless reasonings out of her head. The positive possibilities obviously would outweigh the negative. The worst thing, she supposed, could be that another bout of partially lifeless soldiers are coming needing immediate help.
Caroline tried to form a half smile, but this resolution continued to make her feel as though she was not in the right. You should listen to yourself, she encouraged, only to have her statement fall upon covered ears.
Time, time, time, she reminded herself. Too little time I have.
Sharply she kneeled back down, her skirts encircled around her. "Found it," she announced, rubbing the needle with a piece of clean cloth. "This may hurt ag-"
"I never got your name," he interrupted, with a hopeful shimmer in his eyes.
The young lady pursed her lips tautly. It was hard for her to register why she felt so dubious right then, but she proceeded on cautiously with her reply, while threading a string of cotton sinew through her needle, "My name is Caroline."
He smiled and settled the crown of his head in between the rungs of the railing. Then, while continually facing her, he spoke, "That's a lovely name."
"Thank you," she responded curtly and then out of good manner asked, "and yours?"
In her speech it was quite apparent her mindful way of avoiding too personal of conversation with him. It could be presumed that her lack of willingness to understand this man further came from her, rather, lack of understanding in his gaze.
"It's Jonathan, Jonathan Bennett," he stated, while she quickly dabbed his wound clean.
"Nice to meet you, now hold the railing again," she commanded as she made the first stitch.
The piece of rope, which she had tied around his upper thigh, had proved itself useful in limiting the pain with the circulation to his left leg cut off. It then had taken her five stitches to close the gash, but after observing her work she weighed if it would serve him better to have one more.
Time's strong, able hands then abruptly knocked her on the back of the head. She could not be spending so many minutes with one man when there were at least a dozen more that could need her help at a moments notice!
With a confusing reluctance she bit down on the tendril that shut the flaw in his flesh and rapidly tied a knot. Then with an indescribable remorse she announced, "You are just about done."
Caroline's twisted her torso to reach for a wrap of gauze, half of her felt as though she did not want to turn back, while half pleaded for her to do so. She could not bring herself to explain what feelings were pulling at her insides when she thought of this man named Jonathan. She had never felt this odd before.
Despite her greatest aversion she turned back around, only now she was facing an army of red.
It seemed as though they had all emerged from the forest in pencil straight lines marching forwards. With bulging eyes Caroline watched as these soldiers walked over dead men's bodies with as much disregard as if they were dirt beneath them. The sickening crack and squish as result of such careless actions could be heard among the sound of their marching, but this was the least of her family's worries as the distinct sound of hooves thundered in the distance.
Her neck abruptly angled her head about to face her father who had finally taken notice of the approaching threat, while Gabriel uncomfortably leaned against a wooden column trying to mask his face. Caroline withdrew her sight to share a painstaking stare with Jonathan as a Lieutenant, discernable by his ornamentation, from the British brigade ascended their front steps. Behind him came another bout of men who invaded their porch in search of their brethren, passing Gabriel in their path.
Regret began to tear at Caroline as she watched the Lieutenant nearing her Father. Oh please let his intent be benign, she prayed as the man extended his hand, "Thank you for the care of his Majesty's soldiers."
Ben nodded graciously; a faint smile pinching his face while he watched the young man speaking with him gawk at his disheveled state. There was then an uncomfortable pause as the Lieutenant retracted his arm, sending a fleeting glance towards Gabriel. This form of interaction with an enemy soldier caused her brother visible discomfort, which the man took quick note of.
If I had only warned them of what I had seen they would not have this fear hanging above their necks!
The Lieutenant examined her brother as he walked pass, causing Gabriel to freeze in place, but after he deemed this to be an insufficient reaction he continued on by. Caroline watched as Gabriel's body composed as he let out a sigh of relief. She followed in this expression of ease and continued wrapping Jonathan's leg.
All seemed to be going well as the injured red coats were loaded upon carts while the British servicemen awaited instruction from their informant. This calm was then shattered as the nearing cavalry came into visual range of the house.
Jonathan having then noticed this began to toil, but, unlike most things that he did, Caroline understood his reason for distress. In Gabriel's brief spurts of consciousness the night before he had explained vaguely of who had killed and injured the majority of his fellow men during the battle. She could not even begin to imagine what fear the thought of the cavalry approaching had for the continental soldiers.
Caroline formed a smile and rested a reassuring hand upon Jonathan's shoulder, grasping his attention, "It'll be fine, we've aided their men too, they can do nothing to you harm you nor anybody else. We are neutral to them."
The young man tried to seem as though he took comfort from her words, but his expression betrayed him as it resembled a fear that would be on one's face while the muzzle of a pistol was pressed against their skull. For her sake though he made an attempt to settle his nerves as she finished bandaging him.
Caroline's eyes flickered from Jonathan's legs to the nearing soldiers as she secured the last piece of cloth. Her stomach churned as she observed the alarming rates in which the horses' legs moved. Their riders atop them seemed as though they felt no impact to the velocity of the wind which fought against them as they rode. Their indifference made them seem impervious to the simple throes of common people, it made them seem powerful.
If any of the Continental soldiers had plans to run, she thought darkly, they'd have little chance of escaping unharmed.
This weighed heavily on her mind. The Patriot cause could loose no more men for such frivolous reasons. Briefly she looked around at the soldiers and prayed that there was no one amongst them ignorant enough to attempt such a feat as defying a British Officer.
The columns of horses then came to a sharp stop, rousing her from concern, while a man of clear importance rode a few steps forward. He was dressed in a dapper red and green jacket and a black helmet with a strip of fur atop. He instantly motioned for the quaint Lieutenant from the British Army that had thanked her father.
With the purposeful weighing essence of time upon his minor, the young man's steps were hurried to meet his leader's expectations.
"Lieutenant, have reattachment take our wounded to our surgeons in Winnsboro," ordered the ominous informant with a subtle flinch of his hand towards the carts laid out in front of him.
"Yes sir," the man replied with a bow before quickly scurrying away to inform the others of what the Officer had told them to do.
Caroline spent the time curiously peering through the rungs to observe the face of the man who had struck fear in the eyes of all of his beholders. His disposition was aloof, his bantering cocky, but the worst she thought he could be was a thorn in ones side. Caroline smirked and focused her attention back where it was due, it was upon her now to keep such judgments of character seldom between herself.
"Come now, I'll help you out of here," she said as she slipped her arm underneath Jonathan's and lifted him to his feet. She did this despite him towering over her by at least a head. Right as she got them both prepared for the walk Gabriel and her father caught her eye. Anxiety inhibited their stares. She would have stopped and inquired why if it was not for the fact she had already begun helping the soldier limp his way across the deck.
Unbeknownst to Caroline, but the Colonel had taken notice of her and watched curiously as she took no note to his presence, something which he had never encountered before. Was his horse not imposing, was his cavalry not intimidating? The man could only begin to wonder, What could possibly possess this girl to do so? If his presence did not instill fear in her, his words would.
"Fire the house and the barn," he declared bluntly to all of those around him. His men gave him puzzled looks as they hesitated to make any further movement. "Let it be known if you harbor the enemy you will lose your home."
Caroline's head shoot up to stare at him with big, round hazel eyes. What could possibly possess this man to do so?
Upon hearing this Benjamin began calling his remaining children out from the house. They all rushed from the door in mild hysteria. The man atop the horse held a satisfactory smirk as he watched Caroline and her siblings faces contort at his command, but what he did not know at the time was that this outraged girl, who had been unphased by his presence, was to become a dangerously observant adversary.
It was almost immediate that she had realized that he was trying to gain an emotional response from her. So this is what he stands to gain, she inferred, biting down on her lip to suppress any further expression of emotion. Caroline then coolly directed her attention to Jonathan.
"Who is that man," she whispered as they continued down the porch.
Jonathan hesitated to speak, but felt obliged to tell her what she inquired, "That is Colonel William Tavington, Miss."
She nodded understandably and assisted him through the crowd of British Regulars undauntedly. The Colonel took but another glance at her as she did this. He had already become fed up with her indifference and directed his attention to the workers of their land, but his subconscious knew that he could not ignore the aggravation which this young female's lack of feeling had elicited. "By standing order of his Majesty King George, all slaves of the American colonies who fight for the crown will be granted their freedom with victory."
A young man whom Caroline had come to know as John stepped forward to defend his friends and family. "Sir," he said while mannerly taking off his straw hat, "We're not slaves, we work this land, we're freed men."
The Colonel scoffed at this statement.
Did he not think it possible for a man of differing colour to have such a freedom? Caroline pondered with an increasing disgust.
"Then as freed men, you will have the opportunity and privilege to fight for his King's army, won't you?" he asserted with a gratified grin.
John and the other workers looked up at Ben with grief stricken faces as they searched out for his support, but he knew he could do nothing for them when he could not even do something for himself.
The Colonel, having seen this final desperate plea for help, made a poor attempt at muffling his contentment. It seemed as though this man was able to find hilarity in the most painful of situations.
Caroline began to scowl, but right as she did so she saw the Colonel out of the corner of his eye look back at her. She refused to give him the pleasure of seeing her reaction so she quickly changed her response and started down the stairs, only to be pulled back by Gabriel.
"Caroline, stop," he growled holding firmly onto her arm.
Her head shot back to glare at him, but his eyes had since wandered past her and to the leader of this destruction.
The Lieutenant from before was now passing a bundle of papers to the Colonel, the package was discernable as the dispatches given to Gabriel. Everyone aware of whom the documents belonged to noticed this and marked it with a stark terror as the man harshly tore off the strings binding it and read its contents.
"Who carried this," he demanded to the soldier standing beneath him, but the man could produce no response. The Colonel's lips contracted, his eyes aflame with an anger so potent one's skin could burn from one glance. "Who carried this?" he repeated out towards the cowardice civilians. His tone was now far more menacing and louder than before.
Eyes travelled back and forth as the frightened people searched for a sufficient response in their neighbours, but after several seconds of unavailing seeking a final silence met the Colonel's demand. Not even the birds, which had since perched back in their trees, dared chirping in reply, fearing the malice he could inflict upon them.
"I did sir."
Caroline's head snapped to the side.
"Gabriel," she exclaimed, but her shock was so debilitating it turned her words to a whisper. Her brother did not acknowledge her nor and other member of her family as they condemned his bravery with passing words and scornful eyes.
How does Gabriel think he will benefit from this? Caroline, mystified and baffled, wondered.
"I was wounded and these people gave me care. They have nothing to do with these dispatches," he declared, sealing his fate.
The self righteous smirk upon the Colonel's face was offending enough to turn ones stomach as they all watched in horror as English men were waved forward to seize their brother.
Fight, run, escape! Caroline on impulse thought, ignoring the fact she had concluded that such rash actions were hopeless ventures for those seeking an untimely death. Much to her luck Gabriel, wise in his choices, made no such efforts as they neared him.
In the lapsing seconds of time to come it seemed to pass in stills. Gabriel panned his hand back to grabs for Caroline's reassuringly. She cradled his large, rough hand in hers. An understanding washed over her face. She was finally able to comprehend why gestures like these brought such little comfort. They never last.
The instant this revelation had been made two soldiers in red tore Gabriel's gentle clasp from hers. His soft brown eyes shook her to the core as the men dragged him away. The will in Caroline to protest such measures was alive and burning, but the common sense, which she had lacked greatly earlier that day, had told her to do otherwise. Hide you anger, mask an understanding, and keep your reserve.
Defiance to order was instinctual, but after a moment of deep thought she was able to calm such primal impulses. There were others in her grasp which needed her protection. Her eyes scanned side to side from her father, to siblings, to the young man whom still faithfully stood to her side. These people were her greatest importance right then.
"Take this one to Camden," instructed the devil of a man from atop his horse, "He's a spy, hang him, his body on display."
The nonchalant manner in which the command left his mouth caused everyone's face to condense in repulsion, For the sentient few who had ever questioned their faith in humanity or the goodness of people saw this as the final nail in the coffin of such a lost state of being. For The Martin's this had become their waking nightmare.
Suddenly her father surged forward past his family. "He's a dispatch rider and that's a marked case," he conveyed, with a fluctuating tone, as he neared the man who was causing him all of this woe.
The Colonel, undeterred by Benjamin's presence, continued with his commands, "Destroy the livestock, save the horses for the Dragoons!"
Ben was far too determined to save his son's life than to have such phrases affect him or to mind the Commander's deliberate indignance. "This is a uniformed dispatch rider, carrying a marked case. He cannot be held as a spy."
Their father's desperate attempts had roused the Colonel to attention. "Were not going to holdhim," he corrected, his amusement evident in his mocking intonation, teasing smile, and sharply serrating blue eyes, "Were going to hang him."
A cognitive gasp escaped the mouths of all of those involved. His reasoning lacked foundation and his priorities were not those of a proper English Officer. Take a man's home and you leave him his family. Take a man's family and you leave him nothing. Caroline believed his inclinations were irrational, they were undeserved, and above all they were inhuman!
"Colonel," Benjamin protested.
"Father," Gabriel hissed above him. He had wished for this exclamation to only fall upon Benjamin's ears, but no such kindness as that did fate have to give him.
A surprised, almost, contented little expression endowed the Colonel's lips upon hearing this. He then declared loudly, "Oh I see, he's your son."
Benjamin could not deny something that was so blatantly obvious, all he could do was try to mend what had been proclaimed, but as he tried to reason with him again the Colonel had begun to speak.
"Perhaps you should have taught him something of loyalty," he jabbed, remarking their father's parenting skills and his children's behavior with a rueful expression.
Most people in the immediate area remained too fixated on the terror of the situation to process the words being thrown about. Some soldiers looked on in shame and pity for the family, while a large majority continued on with their duties unmoved and unphased by the pain, the tears, and the sorrows which could be seen in the eyes of the children and the desperation in Benjamin's.
Have you men no hearts? Caroline felt like shouting. Their response would have been a gratification known but to her alone. Yet such could not be obtained while her mind stayed absorbed with the chaos ensuing, rendering her unable to formulate such a phrase. Only when the sound of gun fire rung in her ears and the blood curdling screams of men rattled through her body did she realize the flaw in her reasoning. These are not men, these are savages.
"Please, Colonel, I beg you to reconsider," Benjamin pleaded, "By the rules of war-"
"The rules of war!" snapped the Colonel over Benjamin, "Would you like a lesson, sir, in the rules of war?" he pressed, retrieving his pistol from its holster and pointing it towards their father's head.
The children's panicked cries filled the air, tears stinging their bloodshot eyes. Small William buried his tiny head in Caroline's tattered and stained skirts, shielding his eyes from the sight of his father's death.
This threat to her family induced Caroline to reveal her maternal tendencies. With her free arm she pulled her brother closer, while involuntarily taking a step in front of her other siblings. Even then she remained loyal to her patient and supported him with her other arm. The fierce characteristics to her eyes were warning enough to the opposing men around of her determination. If they even dared to have the inclination to hurt her family they would have hell to pay.
The Colonel, who by nature would have been delighted to elicit such wild reactions from someone, vacillated over whether to pull back upon the trigger. Was it despair or enmity that he wished to receive from his victims?
A sinful grin was upon his face as he twisted his torso to aim his gun at the children. With her anger came too many liabilities, but she would not be able to present herself as a hazard if she was the one whom the bullet threatened. "Perhaps your children would?" he declared, fixating his aim upon the defiant young woman's face.
The muffled screeches of innocents chilled to the bone the few people descent of heart left, while indulging the insatiable gullet of the others. The Colonel's satisfaction could not be fully obtained because Caroline remained unmoved by his attempts.
The young Martin's had instantly fled towards their eldest of kin, Thomas and Caroline, while their father stepped back in front of his family, arms spread wide. Two of their protectors shared a moments glance, their still eyes meeting for what felt like an eternity, before Thomas sharply adverted his stare. During this horror, Caroline thought achingly, he still felt obliged to hold this grudge. A pity of sorts consumed her, amoung other emotions, but promptly arrested its hold as the events progressed.
"No lesson is necessary," Benjamin assured.
The Colonel was not enthralled with the reception, or rather lack there was, of his pistol, but was still a man to believe in the basic necessity of dissolution before infliction. He could not shoot someone off of shear whim, but must have reason to warrant such punishment. So with malcontent he slowly retracted his pistol.
Dissatisfaction was upon both sides of the conflict as the broken family watched as their livelihood was burned, trampled, shot, and soiled by a foreign invaders force.
"Father, do something," Thomas urged as he looked on with tearing eyes as men bound Gabriel's arms.
"If there was only something that one could do-" Suddenly a blow to the back knocked Caroline off her feet and to the ground, cutting short her sentence. The coarse composition of ground chafed her delicate skin and stung her eyes, but even with blurred vision she could ascertain the reason for this sudden violence.
Being dragged by his heels by two British soldiers was Jonathan. Their intention became quite clear when they threw his limp person to the ground. The fight in him to live was vacant from his unseeing eyes, as the men cocked their muskets and aimed. Jonathan made no struggle.
Impulse spoke to Caroline to act, but Benjamin pulled her back from such idiotic actions as he sprung to her side. She shouted the young soldier's name, but he heard no such thing as far louder noises muted her words.
The bodies of all of the men they had aided from the Continental Army now lay sprawled around their property. All bereft of a pulse or the recognition of their efforts. This was the greatest degradation of a soldier that one could subject.
Thousands of indescribable emotions ran through Caroline, but she did not have the capability to express them while her father attempted to secure her stance with his hand. As she rose the sudden stamp of hurried feet distracted her from her intent.
"Thomas no," they all bellowed as the second eldest son from their family ran forward towards his impending doom.
"Run Gabriel!" the young man screamed as he fought against the men holding his brother.
Caroline's head shot up to face the Colonel; their eyes locked for that second. She was far too aware of his intentions and he hated his predictability to her. While everyone stared at the brawling boy, she stared at him.
Caroline then abruptly detached their exchange and turned towards Thomas in a mad dash to save her brother's life. "Thomas," she shrieked.
The Colonel, then with a reason, was all too willing to exert the force of his gun. The moment he had done so the all too familiar noised deafened Caroline's delicate ears. Haste had blinded her to the simple and painful fact that she could have never beaten a bullet.
"Thomas!" her father lamented, running forward and catching his son's falling body in his arms. The young children followed after their father to their dying brother's side, their wailing piercing the ears of all around.
Caroline was too shocked to move, let alone fully process what had occurred. She was supposed to save him; she was supposed to protect her family. This was not supposed to happen. Rigidly she followed her brothers and sisters, her limbs remaining stiff and almost unmoving. She did not want see him. She did not want to breathe in. She simply did not want to be. Caroline had recalled that she had once stood by the saying that you will never be given more than you can handle, but her faith in this precept had begun to diminish as a horrible malady began to plague her heart.
"Thomas," she cooed as she fell to her knees next to her brother. The blood from the wound on his back was creeping up their father's shirt, spreading as it created an ugly stain; one which could not be washed out.
His ashen face turned in response to his sister. His blue eyes had lost their gleam, his skin had already lost its colour. "Thomas," she said again reaching for his hand. His flesh had lost its heat.
Caroline, with horrified eyes, looked up to the man who had done this.
The Colonel completed the interchange by glowering down upon her with distaste. How could he have ever believed that this insolent girl could have that ability to fight his will. No one could; she was no exception, but he could not help but feel a wavering lack of assurance to his justification which began to sicken him.
"Thomas?" she whimpered while delicately prodding at his face. The pale boy made no response to her touch. "Thomas?"
Caroline's heart fluttered in her chest and an immense pain began to beat against her skull. "Thomas," she said hysterically, pushing his shoulder with an increased amount of force. "Thomas. Thomas!"
Her brother's eyes looked past her now, past their homestead, and past the immediate world around them.
Caroline reached to shake her brother again with welling eyes but her father pushed her arm away, "Caroline," he snapped.
Her lips quivered and quaked as she tried to wrack her head around what was happening. "No," she protested coiling her tiny hands around Thomas' arm, "No."
The Colonel grimaced. She was exactly like the rest of them.
The Dragoon leader then agitatedly waved his hand up to signal to his men their leave from this strife, leaving the rest of the dealings in the hands of the British Regulars. For him to have stayed would have been a measure of his patience unheard of by those who knew him.
The cavalry then departed, row by row. Some of the men looked back at what they had witnessed in disbelief, some of them looked back in self justification, while some did not look back at all.
The Colonel was amoung these men who could not bring themselves to give the scene a second glance. By doing so he could feel his dissatisfaction with this small triumph grow. It was she who had taken his pleasure away from him; the reason he felt partial to himself. Her pensive, expectant glare was fuel to the constant lingering reminder of his own weakness'.
"Sir?"
The colonel's head shot to his right, "What?" he snapped.
His second in command, Captain Borden, shrunk in size upon hearing his irritation. The Captain, during his years of service, had become quite aware of the Colonel's volatile nature and in more than one instance had he been subject to it. "The men would like to know where we are going."
His aggravation had already been spent upon the small, young woman, so his only expression of frustration left for his men's incompetence was a hearty sigh, "When I said Winnsboro I thought it was blatant enough to realize I implied we were all going there."
Borden's small lips pursed and he muttered, "Sorry sir."
The muscles in the Colonel's face tightened and his voice tensed, "Then show to me your regret and fix your blunder by informing the others."
As his minor faithfully listened to his instructions the Colonel found himself giving into temptation and looking back over his shoulder at the destruction which he had caused.
The black smoke that came off the burning building in long and winding streams were of result of his actions. The horrible lamenting of a tormented family which had lost their son was of result of his actions. His regret for his lack of regret was of result of his actions.
Thank you so much for reading I hope it was worth the wait. I'd love to hear what you thought. Happy Holidays.