William was not sure of the time when the ship finally touched down on American shores; he had been seasick for the last week of his journey, spending his evenings bent over a pitcher vomiting. It was midday when he heard commotion above deck and looked up from his bunk at the sudden sound of knocking at his door.

"Enter".

A deckhand stepped into the room and eagerly announced, "Sir, we have arrived in America! Gather your things! We leave the ship immediately!"

William waved him casually away but as soon as the deckhand was gone, a boyish glint crept into his icy blue eyes. Quickly, he got out of bed, struggled into his boots, pulled on his uniform and checked his trunk, setting his mother's ring in a specified compartment underneath a copy of his officer's commission and some old quills. Calling a deckhand, he ordered them to carry the trunk off of the ship while he fetched Asmodeus. The stallion was eating greedily from a bag of oats but his ears perked up when his master called his name.

"Asmodeus. We have reached America; we are leaving the ship."

William saddled Asmodeus and led him to the top deck. The first thing he noticed was the heat. It was sweltering and his cravat stuck to his neck. Gulls dove in and out of the water, flying amongst the docked ships while the people of all sorts bustled about the port. Asmodeus snorted, eager to get off the ship and literally pulled a protesting Tavington down the gangplank. Once on land, William gave the Thoroughbred a harsh shake of the reins and he stopped fidgeting. The deckhand carrying William's trunk stopped next to him and sighed.

"I beg your pardon, Sir, but what did you pack inside?"

"Well I wasn't intending to stay in England," William growled.

The deckhand wisely ignored Tavington's retort and replied, "Very well. Is there a place where I may take this? You probably won't be needed at camp for another couple of days."

Tavington gave the deckhand a blank look. He'd been ill and then so eager to get off the boat that he hadn't thought of a place to stay for the first few days of his arrival. Thinking quickly, he spotted an inn at the far left end of the busy street and gestured to the deckhand.

"The one far down there."

"One pence for carrying the trunk then," the deckhand suggested. "It is quite heavy, Sir."

William rolled his eyes and replied, "Fine."

Arriving at the inn, William was disappointed to find that there were no vacancies; still, not one to be turned away, he asked to sleep in the small stable that the innkeeper kept for his horse. The innkeeper, a round, pink faced man with thinning black hair, agreed to keep Tavington and Asmodeus overnight for a small price.

"The straw is fresh. I'll fetch you some blankets. A ha pence and I'll get you something to eat and drink; the horse's meal is free," the innkeeper said, showing him to one of two stalls. He would share one with Asmodeus, as the other stall was occupied by an old, grey Andalusian.

William nodded and opened his trunk to find a small purse. There, he took from it a ha pence and paid the innkeeper for food and drink. Then, he unsaddled Asmodeus and dug around in his trunk for a brush to groom the horse for the night.

After Tavington and Asmodeus had each had their fill to eat and drink, the Thoroughbred briefly inspected the Andalusian in the next stall before settling into a light sleep. Meanwhile, the innkeeper stopped by with a couple of woolen blankets and a lantern.

William took the blankets and spread them neatly on the straw. Half of him was exhausted from travelling; the other half was awake and alert to his new surroundings. After a few minutes, he convinced himself to sleep, stripping down to his breeches and climbing under the blankets, rolling up his shirt as a pillow for his head.

The next morning, Tavington awoke to Asmodeus, roughly gumming his hair. He gave a muffled yell and the stallion stepped back.

"Dammit, horse!" he hissed. Asmodeus let out a laughing neigh and shook. William brushed horse spittle out of his hair and looked around for an empty bucket. Spotting one in the corner of the stall, he took it outside the stable and filled it with water before he brought it back to wash his hair and shave. Just as William was finished cleaning and getting dressed, the innkeeper came to the stables with a plate of ham and potatoes.

"You needn't pay for this one, Sir. If you need water, I can fill your skin for you before you leave."

Tavington nodded and handed the man his waterskin. "I should be leaving shortly, but I shall need assistance with my trunk."

"My nephew, Alexander, helps out at the inn. He has a wagon, and can take your things to camp for you. It'll be a small price…"

William nodded in understanding.

"I would like that."

"Very well, he shall be arriving shortly," the innkeeper replied.

William nodded mutely and waited with the innkeeper for his nephew to arrive. Asmodeus looked away and down as he started to munch on a pile of hay. Just as he finished, a young man of about eighteen, with disheveled blond-brown hair and swimming grey eyes arrived just outside the stable.

"Alexander," the innkeeper began, "this man here needs you to take his things to camp."

"Which camp, Uncle," Alexander asked, brushing hair out of his eyes.

The innkeeper looked at William who replied, "British Green Dragoons."

The young man nodded and gestured for William to help him load the trunk into an old wooden wagon. Once the wagon was loaded, Alexander fetched the Andalusian for the harness while William tied Asmodeus to the back of the wagon.

"All right. If my calculation is correct, it should only be a few miles. No more than an hour."

Asmodeus put up a fit, but Tavington remained firm and the horse soon stood still behind the wagon, flicking his tail.

"Is the trunk all you have," Alexander asked as he and William climbed onto the wagon.

"Yes; that and Asmodeus."

"Then that will be ten pence, if you will."

Tavington muttered to himself but gave the man the coin.

"Colonel William Tavington, Green Dragoons…" one of the guards spoke. "You'll find a tent and cot on the very end of the third row of tents. There should be a tether for your horse nearby."

William gave an imperceptible nod and he and Alexander made their way to his tent. It was small; there was nothing in it save for a cot on the ground. There was a tiny commotion behind Tavington as Alexander unloaded the trunk and carried it into the tent, ducking into the low entrance. Placing the trunk on the left end of the tent, the young man left the tent and turned to William.

"There you are. Good luck, Sir," he tipped his tricorne hat politely at the colonel, climbed into the wagon and drove off into the early evening.

William tied Asmodeus to a post just outside the tent and then stepped tentatively inside. The small area gave off a claustrophobic air and Tavington tied the tent flaps open for a less closed off feel. Setting his trunk at the head of his cot, he opened it up and dug through it for an inkpot, quill and his journal.

Early Fall

Just arrived at camp in America. The heat here is stifling, even for Fall. Still, the countryside is a wonder to behold. Rolling hills, charming towns with people bustling about their business, and imposing manor houses. I believe the last of the crops are being harvested. Leaves are changing to brilliant yellows and reds. The earth here is alive, trembling with potential. I am well aware that this is a time of war, yet there were the bright faces of children running about the streets of the town where I left ship. They know nothing of hardship.

No sooner had he finished writing in his journal than a soldier approached outside of William's tent and waited for him. Tavington looked up and addressed the soldier.

"You have a message?"

"You are to meet with Lord Cornwallis immediately; he is in the largest tent at the end of the fourth row."

The colonel nodded and dismissed the soldier. Then, he put his journal away and left his tent, closing the flaps behind him. Cornwallis' tent was easy to find. It was large, and tall enough for a group of men to stand in. There was a desk toward the back of the tent and seated at it was a man dressed in a red coat, wearing a powdered wig and an ornate tricorne hat. Tavington moved toward him but was stopped by another officer, also wearing a powdered wig, with a solid but lean build.

"Colonel Tavington, Brigadier General Charles O'Hara…Lord Cornwallis will see you shortly," The officer stared at him with clear blue eyes that flickered with mistrust and disdain. Tavington swallowed and looked the officer up and down. The man was every inch his superior and William took an immediate disliking to him.

"So much like your father…" O'Hara whispered arrogantly.

William stiffened.

"I beg your pardon, General?"

"Gentlemen…"

Tavington and O'Hara turned to Lord Cornwallis' admonition.

"Milord," Tavington spoke, stepping toward Cornwallis.

"Colonel Tavington" Cornwallis addressed William with a polite yet stern smile. "I see from your letters that you are eager to serve the Crown."

"I am, Milord."

"There is work to be done here, Colonel, and I need it to be done efficiently. These Colonials are still British subjects."

William frowned. Hardly an hour at camp and he was already being lectured by his superiors.

"If I may, Milord; these people choose to act independently of the Crown. Should we not give them a traitor's welcome?"

"We shall treat them as gentlemen, Colonel."

"Yes, Milord."

"You will meet your men tomorrow at dawn."

With a wave of his hand, Cornwallis dismissed the colonel, who sought out food in the mess tent. There was little to be had except for stale oatmeal and hard bread; still, he did not have to pay for it so he took it willingly.

Making his way back to his tent with food in hand, William spotted the tent flaps ajar and quickened his pace until he was just outside the tent entrance. Inside was a woman, scantily clad, with torn lavender skirts and bare feet. She stood bent over William's trunk gazing at his mother's ring.

"What are you doing" Tavington spoke, breaking the silence and the woman's reverie.

The woman gasped and took a step back, still holding the ring, chest heaving in a panic.

"No no, Sir! It's not what it looks like! I was just curious is all; I was going to put it back…" She spoke quickly.

With two purposeful strides, William crossed the tent and grabbed the woman's arm, giving it a violent twist. She cried aloud, screaming for mercy. Tavington pulled her up and whispered in her ear, "Drop it."

"Please…"

The woman dropped the ring and it fell to the ground.

"There's a good girl" William smirked. "Now get out!"

The woman fled blindly into the darkness and William picked up the ring. It rested untarnished in his hand. How he missed her.

Closing his eyes, he pressed the ring to his lips in silent thought. He would take care to lock his things when he left and when he slept.

Putting the ring away, Tavington finished his meal, changed into his evening clothes and curled up with a thin blanket on the cot, unable to sleep with the noise of the crickets and creatures of the New World.