Hey y'all. Once again, thanks for the reviews. And thanks to all of you for your ideas about the time of year. I'm still working on that. Will probably have to go out and rent the movie and take a look. There are a few other things I need to check into as well. So...the next chapter might take a little longer to get here.
Disclaimers: I don't own Patriot or any of its characters. This is just for fun.
For those of you who might be "purists", I must warn you that I just might deviate a little (or maybe even alot, we'll see how it plays out) from the original plot. :)
chapter 11
As soon as I was re-dressed, I headed back to Tavington's tent. I heard the sleepy voice of Caroline Aldridge, and stopped just short of the entrance. I hadn't intended to eavesdrop, but I couldn't stomach walking in on the two of them at that moment.
"Shall I see you tonight, William?" the woman purred.
"Miss Aldridge, I wish you to leave, now. No need to return tonight."
"But I thought–"
"You thought wrong."
I cleared my throat–loudly–then stepped into the tent. Tavington was just removing the woman's arms from about his neck. They both looked up at me, surprised.
"Oh...excuse me," I said, and slowly turned as if to leave. "I didn't mean to interrupt."
"Ah, Miss Hanson. There you are. Miss Aldridge was just leaving." Tavington gave the woman a warm smile, which drew a puzzled frown to her face, then pulled her into his arms and kissed her on the lips. I rolled my eyes and turned my back on them.
A few seconds later, Caroline brushed passed me, pausing at the entrance to the tent. "Bye, William." She blew him a kiss then turned and left.
"That was interesting." I turned back to Tavington, grinning. "I didn't mean to intrude on your little romantic farewell."
He gave me a casual scan, no readable emotion in his features. "You readied yourself in good time. I suppose there is an advantage to your wearing men's clothes." Then he grabbed his helmet and marched out of the tent.
I followed close behind, mumbling. "They aren't men's clothes. They were made for women."
We set off with just a handful of men. Tavington rode in the lead, and I rode just behind him, between Wilkins and Bordon. The day was turning out to be pleasant enough. Clear, blue skies...warm sunshine cutting through the cool air...and the view of Colonel Tavington, sitting straight as a pin atop his horse, just in front of me.
"Where exactly are we going?" I asked Wilkins.
"Around. See if we can gather any information about the–" He glanced at Tavington then leaned slightly to the side and whispered. "The Ghost."
"Interesting. Is this how the colonel spends all of his days? Chasing ghosts?"
"Oh no. We spend a lot of time drilling, and at night we–" He cleared his throat and grabbed the reins tighter. "But it seems, with the attacks of the Ghost on our supply wagons, we will eventually be going along to help guard them."
"Oh wow. I suppose Tavy isn't too happy about that, huh?"
"Tavy?" Wilkins shook his head.
"Tell me. Why is he so bothered by the Ghost anyway?"
"Colonel Tavington is not used to defeat, and the Ghost doesn't play by the rules. That puts us at a real disadvantage, and it's hard to know where he's going to strike next. With each new attack, General Cornwallis grows more impatient, and he takes it out on the colonel."
"I suppose that could cause a man to obsess." It made sense, all right. Tavington's words rang in my head...I fight to win, and I do whatever it takes. Like locking a bunch of innocent people in a church and burning it down. I did not think he had reached that level of desperation yet, but he was close.
However, my level of desperation was rising. Time was running short, and I still had no real plan of action. Even if Tavington wasn't scrutinizing my every move, I had no idea where to go to find the Ghost and warn him off. I glanced heavenward and breathed a prayer for help.
I'm not one to believe in coincidences. Things always happen for a reason. Sometimes for a preordained purpose, and at other times as a reaction to something that came before. I believe in a God who keeps His hand on things, but also allows humans a measure of free will. What happened next could only have been His preordained will, maybe an answer to my prayer.
We rode into a small village. A little white church with high, pointed steeple caught my eye. A shiver ran through me as I stared at it. That was THE church. I had seen sketches of it in books, sketches done from memory by those who'd seen it before it'd been burned. The real thing looked a little different from those pictures, but there was no denying it was the same church. My stomach churned.
"Are you all right, Miss Hanson?" Wilkins whispered.
"That church. I've seen it before." I couldn't peel my gaze from the innocent looking building.
"That's Reverend Oliver's church."
"I've heard he wa- i-is a good man."
Wilkins shrugged. "He's a reverend. They are supposed to be good men. But he does have rebel tendencies."
A fact I well knew. Those tendencies would get the good reverend killed unless I could help it.
"Do you suppose he's in? I'd like to meet him. Maybe ask him to pray for me."
Wilkins nodded fervently. "That might be a good idea. The way you've been carrying on, you could use a little prayer."
I grinned. "Do you think Tavington will allow it?"
"I don't see why not."
Without thinking further, I veered away from the band of dragoons in the direction of the church. I had just slid to the ground and was about to tether Shadow to a post when Tavington turned his horse in my direction. I swallowed down the bile that rose up in my throat. Pushing the limits was becoming the norm for me, but each time I did, I worried about just how much the old grouch would put up with.
"What do you think you're doing, Miss Hanson?"
I smiled up at him, lifting my hand to shield my eyes from the sun behind him. A line from a comedian I'd once heard ran through my mind, and I chuckled.
"The problem is not what I think I'm doing, Colonel. I know what I'm doing. It's what you think I'm doing, which may or may not be reality, that is or could be the problem."
His nostrils flared and his hand inched toward the pistol at his side. Picking on him would be a whole lot more fun if he didn't take everything so life and death seriously!
"Come, now, Colonel. I just wanted to drop in and say hello to Reverend Oliver. Certainly you can't object to that? Maybe he can say a little prayer for me...and who knows? Might even be able to put in a good word for you, as well."
"You know the reverend, do you?"
"Not personally, no. But I'd like to meet him."
Tavington stared at me a moment. I could see the wheels turning in his head, but I could not for the life of me figure out his thoughts. I suppose that was a part of what attracted me to him...the uncertainty. And what, at the same time, gelled my insides each time we had an encounter.
"What are you not telling me?" He slid from his horse and stepped up to me, using his superior height to its full advantage.
"Hm...let's see. That I don't think it will do any good to have the minister pray for your soul, since you seem determined to do your best to get into the other place?"
His eyes slanted, and I had the impression he wanted to strangle me. Only his strong military discipline kept him from giving into his desires, I was sure. That or the fact that if he did so now, he would later regret killing me in so mild and quick a manner.
"I am in no mood for your lip, Miss Hanson. Go see your minister, but be back outside in five minutes." He spun about to remount, but I just couldn't help goading him a tad further.
"But what if it takes me that long just to find him?"
He stopped in his tracks, and I thought he took in a deep breath. With a half smile on his lips, he faced me again. Uh-oh, I thought as he approached me.
"If you are not back outside that church in five minutes, I will close the doors and set the place on fire. Then you and your minister friend can go into eternity praying together."
I sobered. Maybe I had misjudged his desperation level. Or maybe he really did have that kind of a mean streak in him.
"Fine. I'll be brief." I glared at him a split second, then hurried into the church.
A thick-set man in a somber black coat sat in the front pew. He turned as I approached, and stood.
"Hello, may I help you?" he asked, a ready smile on his round face.
"Reverend Oliver, I have very little time." I rushed toward him, glancing over my shoulder just in case I'd been followed.
"Actually I'm not Reverend Oliver. He's--not in at the moment." His face creased with concern. "Maybe I can help you with something?"
I nodded and got close enough that I could whisper. "I have only five minutes. Less, actually."
"Is something wrong?" He whispered back.
"Who are you?" I asked.
"I'm a friend of the reverend's. I've been filling in for him while he's been-er-indisposed."
I knew I was taking a risk, but if he was a friend and seemed to know why the reverend wasn't around, then he wouldn't rat me out.
"Look, I can't explain it all right now. Just know that the reverend and everyone associated with 'The Ghost' are in danger." I made a point of not using Benjamin Martin's name lest any unseen ears might be listening. "Colonel Tavington is out to get the Ghost, but he doesn't know who he is yet. He will find out, and he will do a terrible thing. He's going to gather everyone in this church, lock and chain the doors, and burn it. There will be no survivors."
The heavy man stepped back, his mouth falling open. "H-how do you know this?"
"I can't explain, and you wouldn't believe me anyway. Just please do what you can to warn the reverend and the Ghost, and keep your families safe. I'm riding with the dragoons right now, but I am not one of them. Colonel Tavington is aware of that, but he thinks I know where to find the Ghost. I don't, and I don't care to know. But I think-I think you do." I glanced behind me one more time, then looked back at the man. "I must go, now. Please, believe me. You are my only chance."
I turned and rushed outside, before he could delay me further. Colonel Tavington and the other dragoons were just exiting what looked like a general store. As I mounted Shadow, Colonel Tavington glanced at me, then pulled a watch from his pocket and shook his head as he looked down at it.
"Pity," he said when I rode up next to his horse. "Only four and a half minutes." He swung up into his saddle and smirked. "I have always enjoyed a good bonfire."
"Sorry to disappoint you. But I can obey orders...when I want to."
His ominous words did not affect me as he'd likely hoped they would. The relief I felt at that moment washed away all other emotion. There was no way of knowing if the reverend believed me or not, but a burden had been lifted from my shoulders none-the-less.
It was late afternoon when we returned to the camp. Tavington seemed more frustrated than ever. I couldn't help but wonder if he was going to go get "drunk" again. Maybe I'd do well to stay out of his way. I was just stepping into my tent when I heard him roar out my name.
"Miss Hanson, I wish to see you in my tent, now."
I gulped and hurried to oblige.
He was mumbling to himself, brushing papers here and there on his desk, and looking very much like someone I'd rather not face at that moment. In a likely vain attempt to lighten the mood, I stuck my fingers in my ears.
"Maybe I should come back later, when your language is a little more...decent?"
He stopped his ranting and looked up, surprise registering on his face. "Forgive my rudeness, Miss Hanson. It would be easier to think of you as a woman if you were in your dress."
"I can always go change, if you'd like. Give you a few minutes to cool down?"
"Cool down?" His forehead creased. "It may not be very cold at the moment, but it is by no means hot."
"I meant, give you a few minutes to calm yourself. You seem rather frustrated, and my presence will probably just make you feel worse."
His brows arched, and amusement filled his eyes. "Your concern warms my heart. But wait. Are you worried for my sake, or your own?"
"My own, of course." I snorted a laugh. "Why on earth should I be worried about you?"
He smiled with no warmth. "So you are afraid of me."
"Well let's see. When we first met, you threatened to shoot me. Then you tried to hang me, although you claim you weren't going to go through with it. Next you threaten to burn me up inside a locked church. All within only a couple of days." I shrugged and let him fill in the rest if he so chose.
He stepped out from behind his desk and came slowly toward me. "Maybe if you weren't so blasted irritating. Contradicting me at every turn, questioning my orders, and always coming up with some nonsensical retort to everything I say." He held up his hands and clenched them into fists.
"So now you wish to strangle me with your bare hands?" I wanted to strangle myself at the softness with which my voice came out. Where'd that whisper come from? In a gesture meant to counter my speech, I raised my chin, exposing my neck to him. "Go ahead. Do it."
"You have no idea how tempting that offer is." He stepped closer, and ran the back of his fingers down the side of my neck.
Surprised at the caress, I stepped back. He came another step closer.
"Funny how you seem to fear me more when I am trying to be gentle with you. All your defiance just...melts away." His voice poured over me like a fragrant oil.
The wall of the tent was at my back as I staggered another step away from him. He just kept coming.
"Why is that, Miss Hanson?" His arms shot out and he grabbed me about the waist, pulling me to him. "We could be so much more civil to each other, if only you wanted that."
His head dipped toward mine as his arms tightened about me. No! My head screamed, although my heart...and my body wished to give right in. This was not right...just another ploy of his to get me more "compliant."
"Colonel, no." I managed to bring up my hands and push against his chest. "I am not some cheap camp follower that you can take advantage of." I pushed with all my might, breaking his hold on me. Anger welled within me. "Why don't you go find Miss Aldridge. I'm sure she will be more than happy to keep you company."
I stumbled away from him, toward the exit.
"You are not dismissed," he snapped. "I called you in here for a reason."
"Yes, you've made that very clear." I glared at him, hoping he wouldn't see through my anger.
"Forgive my inappropriate behavior." He gave the slightest bow of his head, then straightened his jacket and sat in the chair behind his desk. "I did have a legitimate reason for calling you here."
"Very well. What is it?" I wished for a chair myself. My legs trembled so, I thought I would fall.
"I must commend you on your quick visit with the reverend." He paused, smirking up at me. "I wouldn't really have burned down the church. Certainly you know that."
"No, I don't know that. I think you are perfectly capable of doing just that."
The line between his eyes, just above his nose, deepened. "I am, Miss Hanson, duty bound to keep you safe. Lord General's orders, as you well know. For the sake of duty, you must know that I would always rise above my personal desires, and obey my superior."
"So you're saying I am only safe because of General Cornwallis?"
"What do you think?" He gave a light shrug, then looked back at a paper on his desk. "What did you talk about with the reverend? Confessing your sins, were you?"
"I'm not Catholic. And neither is Reverend Oliver."
"So why such urgency to speak with him?"
"My, my, you are a nosey creature."
He let out a long breath and sat back. "Reverend Oliver is a good man, I'm sure. But he walks a fine line between simply expressing political views and being downright treasonous."
"And? I've made it no secret where my political views lie. Why would I not wish to chat with a man who shares my views?"
Tavington's jaw clenched, and I knew I was treading on thin ice. I had to give him something that would appease him. But what?
"First of all, you didn't give me enough time to do anything treacherous. Secondly, the reverend wasn't there. I simply went in and said hello to the man who was there, and told him that you had threatened to burn down the church."
His bottom jaw fell open. "You told him what?"
I grinned. "Don't worry. I don't think he believed me.I think he was a minister, too, therefore probably a good man.A good man would think the best even of you."
Tavington's shoulders drooped slightly, and I could see the fatigue in his face as he looked back to his desk. Sympathy washed over me, and I wished I could do something to at least soothe his nerves. A few seconds of intense silence ensued. I opened my mouth, venturing, just this once, kind words.
"You look tired. Exhausted, really. Maybe you should get a good night's sleep. Worry about your ghost tomorrow."
His head snapped up, and the look of surprise on his face was priceless. "Was that true concern I heard in your voice?"
"Why not?" I shrugged, smiled briefly, then hurried out of the tent.