Letters Home: Assassins

by: Shadow Chaser

Part 5

Ben hoped that the evergreen cover on the ridge of he found himself on was enough to hide him from any one passing by. He supposed that the clothing Sarah had given to him was dark enough to blend into the evergreen. He could feel his wound throbbing, but there was no telltale sign of the stitching ripping since he had ran from the Livingston property to here along the banks of a small stream. It was not the cleverest of misdirection, but it had been something he had learned from his father in one of his 'lessons' that had been disguised as Assassin training. When Ben had been younger, he had thought it a clever idea to draw away any predators like bears or wolves, but knew better now. It was used to draw predators away, but more for the human kind.

He forced himself to quiet his breathing, the harshness of his breath grating on him from the pain of his wound as well as how fast he had run to this area. Not moments later, he heard the crunch of leaves nearby and stilled.

"See him?" Gamble's voice was so close, practically next to the thick evergreen brush cover he was using that Ben thought he could reach out and touch him.

"Not yet," the voice of one of the hunters was also close before there was a bit of scuffling sound and Ben saw through the cover the man kneeling on the ground. He watched as the hunter brushed away some leaves before righting. "That way sir," the hunter said, "tracks leading that way."

"Let's go," Gamble ordered and Ben heard them move away.

He dared not make any movements, knowing that at this critical juncture, the snap of a branch or the crackle of leaves would give him away. Ben stared at nothing in particular before he heard the excited shout of the hunter and finally let himself relax ja little as he smiled.

They had found his misdirection. Two scraps of cloth that he had ripped from the shirt Sarah had given to him. One was covered a bit in sweat, the other from the slight drip of blood that was healing from his wound. He had made the tears look like they were from patching up his own wound that had supposedly ripped during his escape. Ben twisted in his crouch and hefted another stone he had picked up from the brook. He stood up, seeing their distant forms further down the stream and threw the stone as hard as he could, grimacing at the pull of his wound.

The stone sailed straight into the brook and made a splashing sound. To his good fortune, it had also started several deer that had been apparently approaching the stream. Their startled and agitated honks were belied by their sudden departure and crash through the woods.

"He's there," he heard Gamble say as Ben ducked back down before the sound of splashing echoed across the area and Ben finally breathed a sigh of relief. They were headed deeper down the stream, thinking that he had used it to try to mask his tracks. He was safe for now.

Ben stood up and waited two heartbeats before taking off in the opposite direction, back to the Livingston house. He lightly re-traced his steps, mindful of the crunch of branches and dead leaves. He arrived in short order to where the outhouse was and headed over to another small ridge that overlooked the house, hoping he could at least see the man that had been left behind. Ben scrabbled over small rocks and leaf cover as he reached the small ridge and crouched as he surveyed the house. He could not see any sign of the other hunter that had been left behind- There! He spotted the other man pacing a few steps back and forth in the front, seemingly bored as he held his rifle slung across a shoulder.

Ben slid down the ridge quietly, gritting his teeth at the jarring movement it put on his wound. He approached the back of the house, his senses alert in case the hunter was aware of his presence as he scanned the area for anything he could use as a weapon. He knew he could not risk close-quarters fighting, not with his wound. Any blow to it would hinder his ability to fight back and even now, it still throbbed with the recent exertions he put on it. He spotted a jagged looking rock and picked it up, hefting it in his hand. It was larger than the stones he had used to throw off Gamble in the woods, but it would have to do.

Ben squared his shoulders and breathed out quietly as he slowly approached the left side of the house. He could hear the muffle sound of Sarah inside and hoped that she was all right and that Gamble did not hurt her. He was not sure if she now knew of his deception, but he hoped that he could at least incapacitate, if not kill the hunter that was minding the horses and waiting, without her knowledge. He could then steal one of the horses and leave without anyone the wiser until it was too late. He did not want to leave her under such circumstances, but Ben could not risk his own cover nor could he risk anything else. She had already announced her allegiance to the Crown and he did not want her to suffer anymore for harboring a Patriot even under duplicitous circumstances. She had suffered enough, there was no need for him to add to her suffering anymore.

He pressed himself against the side of the house until he was just towards the edge where the front and side met. He could hear the ambling steps of the hunter who was wandering and closed his eyes briefly. Whispering a silent prayer to God to give him good fortune, Ben opened his eyes and brought his rock up to bear just as the hunter stepped into his line of attack.

He slammed the rock into the man's face just as he saw his eyes widen before they rolled back up into his head, blood gushing out of the wound he had given to him. Ben's hands were immediately coated in the sticky thick liquid as the smell of metal filled his nose. His other hand immediately grasped onto the front of the man's shirt and jacket as he let go of his rock and slowly lowered him to the ground. He grunted a little as he hefted the weight of the hunter and his own protesting wound, before finally collapsing to the ground almost on top of him.

Ben immediately looked around to see if anyone heard anything, but did not hear anything amiss. He looked back down at the man and started to strip him of his jacket, putting his rifle to the side to use later. He unstrapped the man's musket ball pouch and powder along with his hunting knife and strapped the belt onto his own waist, wincing as the belt pressed against his gut wound. Ignoring the flare of pain, he turned the hunter's body to the side and shucked his jacket off of him, hearing something tear, but surmised that it was probably the inner threads.

Ben finished taking the man's jacket off and stuck his own arms through, the warmth of the jacket immediately giving him some relief from the chill he had been feeling since he had left the warm confines of the cabinet. He checked to make sure the man's belt was secure on him and grabbed the hunting knife's handle to check its sharpness before he froze, the distinctive cocking of a hammer being drawn back echoing behind him.

Ben instinctively drew the hunting knife as he looked up and nearly dropped it at the sight of Sarah holding her Pennsylvania rifle in his face. There was a cold, hurt expression on her face and her grip on the rifle was unwavering.

"How could you?!" she whispered, her voice tight with anger and betrayal as Ben slowly stood up, hoping that he did not die by a musket ball right then and there. The barrel of the rifle followed his movements, but it seemed like Sarah was not inclined to shooting at the moment.

"My name is Major Benjamin Tallmadge of the Continental Army," Ben said, marveling at how steady his own voice was, "I wasn't exactly lying with what I told you last night. My father was a Reverend-"

"You..." she glared at him, "you lied. You...you-"

"I am sorry Sarah, for your loss," Ben interrupted, "I did not know at what lengths the army would have gone to for the missing and stolen supplies last winter-"

"My husband died! He died! For your godforsaken war!" she nearly shouted, her grip wavering just a little bit, "and now...?!"

"I'm sorry," Ben knew his apology was not the best he could do, but he could not say anything else, "I didn't meant to lie, but-"

"That man, Gamble, whatever his name, said you killed a Reverend! A man of God!"

Ben pressed his lips into a thin line. He knew that if he kept apologizing, Sarah was more than likely to shoot him, but he also knew that if he told the truth, maybe he would have a better chance of not being shot. From the brief time that he knew her, she liked firm convictions and forgiveness in the eyes of God. She was a true and devout woman of the Bible and of all of the teachings his father had taught him as a Reverend was to always admit the truth. He nodded once, "Yes. I did."

It seemed his hunch was correct and Ben thanked the niggling sixth sense he had that seemed to get him out of danger more than once. Sarah's expression was one of shock, but he saw the rifle lower just a hair at his admission of the truth.

"Y-You..." he could see the disgust on her face and a part of him that found her pretty wished that it was not there. She was a woman who should not have such an expression. He saw her flick a look at the body of the hunter he had stripped of his clothing and weapons. "I-Is he...?"

"No," he replied before indicating with a tilt of his head at the rock he had dropped to the side, "I hit him, but not hard enough to kill."

She swallowed, visibly struggling to keep her composure, "I...I didn't want it to be the truth- That the officer was lying-"

"That man killed my mentor, my friend in Washington's camp. He is a snake in the field of grass, a viper that has no place in Eden nor in the earthly grounds of this world," Ben said heatedly.

"Are you going to kill me now?" she asked, her tone blunt and cold and all of the anger he had for Gamble rushed out of him as he blinked, surprised. He realized that he had raised the hunting knife in an unconscious defensive stance, blade nestled close to his hand and wrist, pointed outward as if it was a hidden blade of sorts.

"N-No-"

"Then get out," she looked like she was on the verge of crying, tears forming at the corner of her eyes, "get out and don't ever come back. I do not want to see your face ever again."

"Y-You're-"

"Get out!" she half-shouted, taking a step back and Ben tentatively moved, watching her and her rifle carefully before she gestured with a jerk of her rifle for him to get going.

He knew it was a risk, but turned and sheathed the hunting knife as he made for one of the horses left behind and got onto it. Wheeling it around, he gave her a long apologetic look before spurring the horse. As he galloped away, he could only feel the sadness and remorse of what he had done to Sarah Livingston by lying to her face. She had been an innocent and he had swept her up in this whole debacle. He had failed the first tenet of the Creed.

~END~