By the time the makeshift shelter comes into view Ben is seeing double. Darkness and heavily wooded terrain had kept them at a slow trot most of the way, but as night surrendered to day they've increased their speed. Each jarring step sends white-hot pain searing through his body. Pulling up on the reigns and dismounting, he falters, boots sinking into soft earth. The stillness in the air sends chills down his spine, and his pain is fast forgotten. Casting a worried look in Kitchi's direction he stumbles to the shelter. Sinking to his knees he scrambles to pull back the sticks and leaves, pausing at the click of a pistol hammer.
"Caleb boy," he says quietly. His hands still full of shrubbery, freeze in mid air.
Caleb's eyes open to half-mast. A slow smile spreads across his face. "Be…nny…boy."
With a ragged exhale Ben smiles back, relief flooding his features. Noting the shallow breathing and sluggish response of his normally animated friend, the smile soon fades. Crouching lower he draws closer, assessing the damage. Pulling away the rain soaked shirt clinging to Caleb's side he finds the skin beneath it ice cold. Looking to Kitchi he instructs the tracker to retrieve a blanket from his saddle packs. Turning back to the task he takes a quick inventory of Caleb's injuries, noting a side wound, which thankfully is no longer bleeding and swollen knee. He hopes despite the swelling the knee is still somewhat functional. When Kitchi returns with a blanket he wraps it tight around Caleb's shoulders.
Sighing, Caleb's eyes close as the blanket envelopes him in warmth.
"Hey, I need you to stay awake" Ben says, clasping Caleb's shoulder and giving it a gentle shake.
Caleb grunts his response, brows furrowing.
"Caleb-boy. You can sleep when we get back to camp, I promise."
Silence.
"Caleb," Ben says louder.
Caleb's face scrunches up. Opening his eyes he gives Ben a resentful look to which Ben offers a half smile in return. Caleb squints, studying Ben's face and the look of resentment softens with concern. "Jesus Ben. You look like shite."
Ben snorts. "You should talk."
Caleb smiles. "Just a scratch," he rasps.
Rolling his eyes Ben reaches out an arm. "Think you can walk if we help?"
Caleb nods, grasping his forearm. Gripping Caleb's forearm tight in return Ben leans his weight onto his heels, and manages to pull him from the shelter. Kitchi springs into action, grabbing ahold of his other arm and the two haul a grimacing Caleb to his feet. Placing one arm over Ben's shoulders and the other over Kitchi's he hobbles the short distance to the horses.
"Two horses?" he asks with a perplexed look.
"You're riding with Kitchi."
Caleb glowers. "The hell I am."
Kitchi mounts a Painted gelding that begins to stamp impatiently. Scooting towards the horse's rear he extends his hand to his wounded friend.
Caleb's frown deepens. "There's no way I'm riding with you snuggled up to my arse."
"Caleb, please. Just get on the horse." Ben pleads, pinching brow between thumb and forefinger.
Caleb turns, eyes wide. "Easy for you to…" he starts. Noting the sweat glistening on Ben's brow, the tremor in his hand, he falls silent. Squeezing Ben's shoulder he asks, "are you alright?" He swears Ben turns a shade of green.
"Lets go before we run into your new friend's friends," Ben replies, nodding in the direction of the fallen redcoats.
Mounting with Kitchi's help, Caleb groans as he falls into place. "Now, you savage you. Keep your bloody hands and your you know what to yourself," he warns. A sigh escapes him as he settles in, though he'd never admit it, at least not aloud anyway, the warmth of the blanket and Kitchi's body feels a bit like heaven after a night of freezing rain. He pulls the blanket tighter as Kitchi's arms reach around him for the reigns. Glancing over at Ben he finds him struggling to mount his steed.
…
The morning light is unkind to Washington; it reveals dark circles beneath his eyes and creased brow. Beside him a steaming cup of coffee sits untouched as he gazes out the window. Across the room Sackett too has fallen unusually silent. He sighs; drawing away from the window he crosses the short distance to his desk. Standing over it he picks up a stack of dispatches, reads a few lines and sets them down. As a man who takes great pride in self-discipline he finds the difficulty to concentrate unnerving.
Nathaniel watches Washington return to his desk for the hundredth time. "I'm sure widower Ford will be most displeased if you wear a hole in the floorboards."
Washington silences him with a stare.
Turning his eyes heavenward Nathaniel returns to his book Syllabus of a Course of Lectures on Chemistry. He has uncovered a fascinating article on invisible ink, and busies himself writing out a list of the compounds needed while the floorboards continue to creak.
The door clicks open and Billy enters, providing a welcome distraction for them both.
"Excuse me sir, but the doctor's been made aware of Major Tallmadge's absence, and the stable hand said you'll be the first to know when they return," he informs them.
"Thank-you," Washington says, turning back to the window.
Billy nods and the door clicks shut behind him.
…
Caleb cringes when Ben's head drops for the fifth time. He looks at Kitchi who nods; he's seen it too. Grabbing the reigns he eases the Paint alongside Ben's noble steed. Reaching over he grasps Ben's shoulder. Ben startles, eyes flying open with a gasp.
"Easy Tall-boy. It's just me," Caleb assures him.
Looking around, bewilderment settles upon Ben's face causing Caleb brows to knot together. Wrapping his fingers tight around the fabric of the shoulder of Ben's uniform, he gives him a gentle shake. He finds the confusion clouding his friend's features alarming. "Benny." He snaps his fingers. "Hey, Tall boy."
Blinking Ben frowns, recognition dawning on his face.
"Ben?"
"What?"
"Are you okay?"
Ben regards him with a quizzical look. "I'm fine."
"Okay-" Caleb replies slowly. Releasing his grip, he turns back to the path, trying to gauge just how far they are from camp. Kitchi shoots him a worried look, to which he mouths, "I know."
…
Sprinting across camp the stable hand bounds past two guards standing at post and up the front steps of the Ford Mansion. Washington and Mr. Sackett meet him in the hallway, having already spotted the two horses approaching.
"He's back," the young boy announces breathlessly.
"Yes, thank-you." Washington replies.
They reach the stable just as Kitchi helps Caleb off the back of the Paint. With Caleb's arm over his shoulder the pair turns as one towards the entrance as the door slams shut. Fixing his gaze on the wounded courier Washington's lips tighten. "What happened?"
"Bit of an ambush."
"An ambush? By whom?" Sackett inquires, stepping forward.
"Lobsters. Think they were scouting, sir."
"How far from camp?"
Caleb shrugs to hide a grimace, "not sure exactly. Ten, maybe fifteen miles."
Nathaniel shakes his head. Morristown is completely fortified by surrounding hills. Any attempt at an attack would be futile. There had to another reason those soldiers were lurking about in the woods. That final thought sent his mind into a tailspin. Washington turns and he gives him a knowing nod.
"Seeing that you've decided you're well enough for horseback perhaps you can gather a team of Dragoons and investigate the matter Major Tallmadge," Washington suggests, turning back to the three disheveled men.
Ben responds with a slow blink.
"Major Tallmadge?"
Lowering his head Ben rubs at his forehead with both palms.
"Get him off that horse," Washington says to two soldiers lingering in a nearby stall.
"Yes sir," one of the men replies as they walk over. Grabbing the bottom of Ben's uniform coat they pull him down. He stumbles when they release him, still holding his head. Pushing off Kitchi Caleb hobbles over to his friend. "Ben," he calls gently, tapping his cheek.
Twisting away, Ben lets out a whimper.
"See to it Major Tallmadge and Lieutenant Brewster find their way to the medical tents. Immediately," Washington commands while turning on his heel and exiting the barn.
Caleb turns to Ben gaping. Consumed by the explosion in his head, Ben doesn't notice.
…
