Thanks so much to all of you for reviewing. I know the weekends can be tough, but you've stuck with me. :) I had a hard time with this chapter, so I'm sorry for getting it up late today. But...good news...I was able to get a copy of the movie temporarily. Made things a little easier. :)
Disclaimers and all that stuff: I do not own The Patriot or any of the characters. For story sake, I have included in this chapter a few snips of dialogue from the movie. Those words are not original, I do not claim them as my own.They still belong to the movie.
Ok, on with the chapter.
Chapter 17
At first I thought he might come after me. Deep down, I guess I wanted him to, but I knew it was for the best when he did not. I stormed into my own tent, feeling no real securitythere. He had crossed one line, and I'd allowed it. What would keep him from crossing, or at least trying to cross, one even more important?
I paced the length of my tent until my feet hurt. How could I sleep when all that protected me from that beast was a little bit of canvas?
Only when I finally collapsed on my cot did all my defenses crumble about me. I would not cry over a man like Tavington. He didn't deserve it, and neither did I. I did not love him. Could not. Would not allow myself such a useless emotion.
My lips still burned from his kiss. A shiver ran through me as I relived the scene in my mind. There might be no place in his future for me, but I could not let go of my need to save him. I wanted to. I wanted to run away and put him out of my heart and mind once and for all. But I had to save him, at least of the death in battle inflicted by Benjamin Martin. I certainly could not save his soul, nor could I lead him in the right direction. That had to be his choice.
With a sigh, I rolled onto my side. To my surprise, my eyes grew heavy, and sleep mercifully overtook me.
The days dragged by. Each night, Tavington would head out with a handful of men to wreak havoc and do what he could to get his Ghost. I did my best to stay out of Tavington's way, and it seemed he, too, did all to avoid me. I'd rather expected him to revert back to accusations and demands for the truth about who I was and who I knew, but whenever our paths did cross, he would simply nod or then give a stiff "Miss Hanson" and walk around me.
Wilkins also seemed to avoid me, and although I couldn't be sure, I thought it had to do with the fact I'd seen him in action that night of the raid. Most of the others simply averted their gazes whenever they passed me, and that was fine with me. But I felt so terribly alone, and wished for something to happen to change my daily drudgery.
I awoke one morning to activity in the camp that looked as if a group was getting ready to move out. I sought Wilkins, determined to make him talk to me.
"What's going on?" I asked when I found him filling his saddle bag with a couple days worth of rations.
He turned, but would not look at me, having suddenly become exceptionally interested in a patch of grass at his feet. "We are going–uh–just going around."
"Still trying to find your Ghost, huh?"
"Something like that." He mumbled, his entire body tensing, as if he couldn't wait to get away from me.
I wasn't about to back down. Somewhere deep down, I think I wanted to punish him. Maybe because with him, I knew I could. The one I really wanted to punish was Tavington, but for now, Wilkins would have to do.
"How can you do it, Wilkins?" I blurted. "How can you turn your back on your neighbors and–friends? Do you even have any of those left? How can you choose a king you've never seen, who doesn't care about you but only the money you and your true countrymen can put into his coffers, over those people you've grown up with?"
"Miss Hanson–"
"Don't Miss Hanson me." I glared at him when he finally looked up. "I thought we'd gotten past that formality. How can you be a part of this? This is not regular battle. Your colonel fusses about how Martin fights dirty. Well, I don't see much difference between shooting officers in combat, and burning down the homes of innocent civilians. No, actually. I do. I think attacking innocents is worse."
"Don't talk like that." Wilkins scowled. "I won't have it."
"Won't you?" I stepped up to him, hands on my hips. "How far will you go to shut me up?"
His jaw twitched, his eyes blazed. "Don't push me, Laura, and don't try to make me feel guilty. I am no less a patriot for defending those in authority of me. Over you. And those people–" He pulled himself up straight and went on, as if reciting a line he'd memorized. "All those who stand against England deserve to die a traitor's death."
I snorted a laugh. "Is that what you spouted off to Tavington so he'd let you into his little boy's horse club?" I shook my head. "You disgust me. More so than Tavington. At least he is English. But you–" Without finishing, I turned and walked away.
"Don't you want to know where we're going?" He called after me.
So he knew a little about the rules of emotional manipulation as well. I stopped, and turned slowly to face him.
"Ok, tell me. Where are you going?" I spoke with a bored intonation I had to work hard to force.
"To your precious village. To talk to the people there and see if we can find out where Martin and his men hide out." He smirked down at me, looking much like a big bully who'd just taken a piece of candy away from a child. Somehow, he must have thought that dangling that bit of information in front of me would frustrate me. Well, two could always play the same game.
I smiled innocently. "Think I can go with you?"
Wilkins' face twisted into a you-can't-be-serious expression. "I certainly do not think you may go. After the other night–"
"Yeah, yeah. I know. Tavington has found a new form of torture. Death by boredom." With a sigh of frustration, I nodded then walked away. So I'd lost the only "friend" I thought I had. Good riddance, I tried to convince myself. For the thousandth time, at least, I mentally beat myself up for not having taken the chance to get away when I had it. Who knew when another opportunity like that would come up?
The men looked as if they were making ready for an excursion that would last more than one day. Each horse was equipped withbedrolls and extra rations. What exactly were they up to? My heartbeat accelerated. Was this the day Tavington would burn the church? Late summer...early fall...it seemed about the right time. Oh boy. How could I stop it? I had to think fast, and move carefully.
I wandered through the camp, hoping it looked as if I was roaming aimlessly. Here and there I caught a few words about the upcoming raid. It seemed Tavington was being secretive about his plans. A sick churning in my stomach pushed a lump up into my throat. So he was going to carry it out after all. Could I have acted any differently, to make him more of a human being? Once again, the "what ifs" and "maybes" were about to drive me crazy if I let them. I couldn't go back, but I could certainly move forward.
After thinking through several flight plans, I hurried back to my tent and changed into the dress. Seeing me in the dress always seemed to do something to Tavington. I grabbed my jeans and one of the underskirts. Then, whistling a cheerful tune, I headed for the stream as if to wash out some clothes. But before I got too far, Tavington caught up with me.
"Where do you think you're going, Miss Hanson?"
"To the stream. To wash." I raised my eyebrows questioningly while lifting the clothes hanging over my arm. "May I?"
"Don't wander too far. We will be off soon, and I would rather know you are still safely in place when I leave."
"Yes, sir. I shouldn't be too long."
He hesitated, as if he wanted to say something more. I waited, my heart crying out for him to say anything to put my mind at ease.
"Very well. Carry on." He nodded, then headed back toward his tent.
With a sigh, I stepped into the woods.
Once I was away from prying eyes, I removed the rest of the under skirts and slipped my jeans back on under the dress. I counted to ten, then plunged my head into the water, being as careful as possible to not get too wet. With a shiver, I stood back up and combed out my wet hair. As an afterthought, I dunkedthe underskirts into the water, rung them out, then headed back to camp.
Shadow was tethered near a tree where I always hung my clothes to dry. I headed in that direction, taking care to keep a lightness in my step. No one could see by my demeanor that anything was amiss. As soon as I arrived at the tree, I hung the skirts, and then turned to Shadow, talking to him and patting his neck.
"Do you make a habit of talking to animals?"
At the sound of the voice, I glanced up over Shadow's head to see Wilkinsapproaching.
"He's my only friend." I shrugged, then turned my attention back to the horse.
"Please, Laura–"
"Captain Wilkins, I would rather be alone right now."
A frown flickered across his forehead and something akin to sadness filled his eyes.
"I'm sorry. I wish I could–"
"Captain Wilkins!" Tavington's voice sliced through the air, making me wince."Why aren't you with your horse?"
I glanced in the colonel's direction, noticing a frown of disapproval on his face. For once, it did not seem directed at me, but at Wilkins.
"You better go. Your superior is calling."
Wilkins looked torn for a moment. He glanced back at Tavington, then returned his gaze to me. "Don't hate me, Laura. I am a man of honor. It's just that you and I have obviously chosen opposite sides."
With that, he turned and jogged off toward his horse. Tavington seemed to be watching us. His gaze followed Wilkins as the captain moved past him. I stood in place, not quite sure what to make of the exchange. But then I felt that cold stare on me once again. He wasn't–no, it couldn't be. One had to feel something other than hatred or disdain to allow room for anything like jealousy. It was simply impatience.
The dragoons all mounted their horses, then headed out. I stepped in front of Shadow and watched as they trotted past me. Tavington turned his head, and for a moment, our eyes met...and held. Don't do it, I pleaded silently. That stare, so cold and empty of emotion, was no different, no softer from the first time I'd ever seen it. I had done nothing whatsoever to change him. He looked forward once again, then kicked his mount into a canter. I watched them ride away, my heart heavy.Sighing, I turned back to Shadow, needing another moment to think.
They would be taking the main road. I might have a chance to make it before they carried out their deadly deeds if I cut across country. I knew the general direction of the village, and trusted I could find my way. Praying for guidance, and a chance to get away, I watched the men who'd remained, and they, in turn, watched me like hawks. Sighing loudly, for anyone about me to hear, I returned to my tent.
I had to have some kind of a distraction. There was no other way. But what? My eyes lighted on the lantern. I grabbed it, and quickly lit the wick. Drawing a deep breath, I fought with the back of my tent until I managed to crawl out. As quietly as possible, I slunk into the bushes.
"Environmentalists would have my head," I muttered as I picked up a dry stick and held it in the flame until it caught fire. I threw it into a small clump of bushes, then ran back to my tent, scrambling inside through the back.
It took a few minutes, but soon there were shouts and the sounds of men running. I stuck my head outside, blinking, trying to look like I'd been asleep and had been disturbed by the noise.
"Grab some buckets!" The dragoon left in charge of the camp yelled. Several men hurried toward the stream.
When it seemed sure all attention was riveted to the fire being put out, I made a mad dash for Shadow. I would have to ride bare back, for there was no time to saddle him. I grabbed the rope used to tie him, and sprung up onto his back. I must have had unseen help. More than adrenaline helped me to jump up so easily, for I wasn't a very tall person. Holding the rope, and tightening my arms about Shadow's neck, I kicked him into action.
During the months I'd been here in the 1770s, Shadow and I had come to an understanding. He now recognized me as the one in charge, and on this particular day, I believe he must have sensed my urgency. As if he could read my mind, he moved at full speed.
I didn't look back. Once they realized I'd made a run for it, they would come after me. But I could not slow my progress by looking over my shoulder.
I rode down the road for a way, but at the first bend, I maneuvered Shadow off and into the woods. This might help keep me hidden from those who would be on my tail. We continued at a hard gallop, barely missing trees as we plunged into the safety of the woods. I finallyslowed Shadow enough that I could look behind me. No one had followed me into the woods, but I could hear the sound of horses' hooves on the road. I didn't wait to see if they followed me into the woods.
We made a clearing, then rushed over hills. It seemed hours when I met the road once again. I looked in both directions, and seeing it clear, rushed along toward the village. Just ahead of me, a wagon with three people was just riding into town. No smoke rose into the sky, so I wasn't too late. I pulled Shadow off to the side, tied him to a tree, and snuck on foot toward the church.
The dragoons were all lined up in front of the church with a number of foot soldiers patrolling the area as well. A steady stream of civilians made their way into the church. I watched as Wilkins rode up to the arriving wagon and spoke to the people in it.
I picked up the skirt of my dress, and ran as those last three, which I finally realized were Anne Howard and her parents, filed into the church.
"They are all inside, sir," Wilkins said to Tavington.
"Very well." Tavington smirked at Wilkins, then rode right into the church.
"The beast," I muttered. "He has no respect for anything."
I panted as I ran up to the front of the church. Wilkins' eyes grew wide when he saw me, and he slid to the ground.
"What are you doing here?" He growled as he caught up to me and grabbed me by the arm.
"He's going to burn it. I can't let him."
"Of course he is. He always burns their homes. But they can rebuild."
I looked deep into his eyes. He wasn't Tavington, and there was a hint of innocence there that informed me he did not know what his superior truly intended.
"Oh, Wilkins." I shook my head, then twisted my arm free and brushed past him.
"Very well, you've had your chance." Tavington was saying to the very frightened looking village folk inside the church. He made as if to leave, when suddenly a fat man from the back of the church called out.
"Wait!" He pushed his way through the crowd to the front, then turned to Mr. Howard. "This man gives Martin and his men supplies."
"Quiet!" snapped Mr. Howard.
"He brings them to Black Swamp."
"He's a liar!" Anne yelled, drowning outher father's curse.
Blood pounded through my head, the sound filling my ears so that I did not hear the rest of the exchange. And then I heard Tavington.
"Thank you very much," he said in his silky voice. Then slowly, he replaced his helmet. "Shut the doors."
As he turned to leave, he saw me. The smirk that had been on his lips vanished, and his bottom jaw dropped open. His eyes bore into me. Any pride that might have remained in me melted away. I'd show him fear, submission. Whatever he wanted to see, if only he would desist from what he was about to do. Neither of us spoke a word. A whole conversation passed between us without a sound. Please! Don't do it! I cried, allowing the tears that had sprung to my eyes to spill and roll down my cheeks.
In his eyes I saw indecision. Hope welled within me. I took a step toward him, about to utter his name. The line between his eyes deepened for a split second. Then he drew his lips together in a taut line.He raised his head, arching a single eyebrow, then rode out.
"But–you said we'd be forgiven," the fat man who'd given the information cried.
I looked up at the man I still believed I loved, and backed my way into the crowd.
Tavington turned, smirking at the informant.
"And indeed you may." He then turned his icy gaze to me. "But that's between you and God."
Wilkins pushed inside and ran toward me.
"Laura, this is ridiculous. Come on out of there." He spoke with a note of impatience in his voice, but no alarm. He still had no idea.
I raised my head and took a deep breath. "I'll take my place right here, thank you very much. I don't consort with traitors." My lips quivered, and a fresh crop of tears rolled down my cheeks.
"Captain Wilkins!" Tavington snapped.
Wilkins frowned, then let out a frustrated sigh and hurried out.
Two foot soldiers proceeded to close the doors. The last thing I saw was Tavington's face, a faint look of regret in his eyes before he turned his horse away.
Voices rumbled all about me, but I paid them little attention. I kept staring at the doors, hoping he would relent. I felt a hand on my shoulder, and turned.
Anne looked at me, her eyes wide. "You know what he's going to do."
"Yes," I said, my voice coming out more like a sob. Even as I spoke, the shutters were closed on the windows, darkening the interior. I heard a chain rattle at the door, and the click of a padlock.
So this was all I meant to him.