Thanks for all your comments. I'm glad I have some of you even "crying" to think this story might be coming to an end. lol. I've had threats if I DARE to kill of Tavington. Hm. Anyway, here goes. Enjoy. :)

Chapter 21

I gathered my few belongings...my clothes, really, since that was all that belonged to me, and threw them into the leather satchel I'd been given months ago. I fought the tears, knowing they would do nothing to help me. There was no heart beating in that chest of his. He wasn't setting me free, he was sending me away. Where could I go? As far away from Colonel William Tavington as I could go. If only I could just go home!

For the first time in weeks, I thought of my old home. How was poor Uncle Dave? Did he miss me? What must he be thinking? If only I could send him a letter, or some message to let him know I was ok.

I walked to the entrance of my tent. With a wistful sigh, I turned back to look at what had been "home" for the past months. Although I would never have thought it in those early days, I would miss this. It had become my sanctuary, my refuge. And it kept me ever close to...William.

What a dreadful man! Was this punishment for shunning his advances? Or did he really care so little for me? For my own sake, I chose to believe the latter. If I could believe he did not care, then it might be easier to stop caring myself.

I stepped outside then strode toward Shadow. No use dragging this out. I saddled my horse, then without hesitation, swung up onto his back.

Wilkins ambled toward me, a sympathetic smile on his face. "It's been nice having you here, Laura Hanson. I'm sorry to see you go. But I guess it's for the best."

"For the best?"

"He's setting you free. Going against his desires and even his own common sense. He knows you're not in league with Martin. And he knows he can't hold you here any longer."

"I'd like to believe that's his reason." I smiled down at my one friend. "I'm going to miss you, you big lug. Thanks for all your support and friendship."

He reached up and took my hand, squeezing it gently. "Where will you go?"

I shrugged. "Where can I go? I have no home."

Just then I saw Tavington emerge from his tent. He glanced in my direction, and a deep scowl twisted his handsome face. His lips moved, and I could just imagine the curse he'd uttered. I squared my shoulders and raised my chin.

"Have a care, Wilkins. Make it through this war alive, will you?"

I turned Shadow away and was about to spur him into action.

"Miss Hanson, will you leave without even saying good-bye?" Tavington strolled up to us and grabbed hold of the reins.

I blinked against the burning in my eyes, willing the tears to evaporate. "Good-bye, Colonel." I offered what I'm sure was a poor excuse for a smile.

As he gazed up at my face, his expression softened. "You will see, my dear, that this is for the best. This camp is no place for a-for a lady such as yourself."

"A lady?" I barely stifled a laugh as my eyebrows arched.

Tavington reached for my hand, then pressed his lips to it. "A lady."

"Still trying to charm, up to the last minute?" I shook my head then kicked Shadow into a canter.

I had ridden out from camp only half an hour. Though I racked my brain for a plan, I had no idea where to go. I thought of the village, but what could I do there? The inhabitants most likely were not there, if they were wise.

I didn't have to think long, however, for the thundering of horses' hooves throbbed behind me. I pulled to the side of the dirt road to allow the riders to pass. The pounding came to an abrupt stop. I turned in the saddle to look behind me.

"Well, well, lads. What have we here?" A man, who looked to be somewhere in his late forties, wearing civilian clothing, rode up and steered his mount in front and facing me. "Who are you?"

"My name is Laura Hanson. Who are you?"

"She's been riding with Tavington and his buffoons," Another rider called out.

The man in front of me assessed me, his head cocked to the side. "Is that right, little lady?"

"Well, yes. I wasn't with them, though. I'm a patriot, and Colonel Tavington knew that."

A murmur rippled through the band of riders. Several voices rose above the din.

"Why did he keep you, then? And why has he suddenly let you go?"

"It's a trap. He sent her out to find The Ghost."

"No." I shook my head. "Or, if he did, I don't know anything about it."

"Don't you?" the man in front of me, who I assumed was the leader, asked.

Impatience flared within me. "Tell me where you want me to go, and I'll go. I don't have a place of my own. That's why Tavington set me free. Because he's a cruel, cold hearted–" I cut myself off, afraid something very unladylike might come out of my mouth if I went on. So on top of everything else, he'd been a bad influence on me. Such words had never been a part of my vocabulary, not even in my mind.

"Seems she's sincere in her hatred," another man called, laughing. The others joined him in his merriment.

"Lover's quarrel?" the leader asked.

"Of course not!" I raised my chin indignantly. "We were not, nor will ever be lovers. I can't stand him. He held me against my will."

The leader turned to the others. "What say you, lads? It seems we've run across Colonel Tavington's love. What would he do–or not do–to get her back? It's a real ace."

"I say it's a trap. She'll escape and tell him where–"

"Why don't you just put a bullet in my head, tie my body to my horse and send me back to Tavington's camp? That would be message enough, don't you think?"

The leader nodded as if considering my suggestion. "Might be a good idea." But before I could even feel frightened, he shook his head. "But that would be equaling ourselves to him." He looked back to his followers. "We're better men than that, aren't we?"

A ripple of "ayes" and grunts of approval ensued.

"So now what?" I asked.

"Where are you from, Miss Laura Hanson?" The leader's voice now held a note of friendliness in it.

"Look, my story is unbelievable, but I've lived in this area for 11 years. Almost 12, now. I lived with my uncle after my parents died, and before I was taken prisoner by Tavington."

"Who's your uncle?"

"His name was David Hanson. Owned a little farm just north of here."

"Hanson." The leader scrunched his face into a thoughtful frown. "Name sounds familiar, but not sure I know him."

"You wouldn't know him." I laughed, despite myself. "And it doesn't matter anyway. He's no longer there."

The leader sat for a moment, still assessing me. "I think I believe you. You're welcome to ride with us if you want. We'll give you protection until you can find your way home."

Relief overwhelmed me. The man in the lead had an honest face, even if his comrades didn't look so honorable.

"What's your name, if I may ask?" I held out my hand to shake since he had not yet offered me his.

"My, my, where are my manners?" He pulled his tri-corn hat from his head then extended his hand, taking mine. "Francis Morgan, at your service."

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Morgan."

He replaced his hat on his head, then turned his horse in the direction they'd been going. "Let's be on our way, then. Good to have you with us, Miss Hanson."

We rode on for some time, only stopping when we arrived at the edge of a thick forest. Carefully, we picked our way through the woods, until we arrived at a little clearing.

"We'll make camp here for the night. Tomorrow we'll find Martin." Morgan dismounted and stretched, then glanced about.

The night wind blew through me, reminding me winter was just around the corner. As I lay back on a pile of leaves I'd formed into a sort of bed, I looked up through the trees to the stars. I missed my little tent, and even the squeaky, not very comfortable cot that had been my bed for so many nights. Mostly, I realized I missed knowing that just one tent over held the man who'd stolen my heart.

I drifted off to sleep, feeling more miserable than ever. How could I have allowed these silly feelings to go so far? I had known from the start he would break my heart, but I thought I had protected it a little more than this.

I awoke with a start. Shouts, sounding much like orders, rang all about me. Something cold and hard jabbed into my side. It was still dark, and I could not see very well. What looked like torches bobbed about in the woods and around us.

"You. Get up slowly, hands in the air." An unfamiliar male voice snapped.

"What's going on?" I yawned and tried to get up without using my hands. As I stumbled back onto my pallet of leaves, rough hands grabbed me and yanked me to my feet.

"A woman?"

A torch was brought near to me and shone in my face.

"Yes, I'm a woman," I said, shading my eyes with my hand. "Can you please get that torch away from so close to my face?"

"Stand back, Sergeant," spoke another voice. A red-coated officer–not a dragoon–a regular, and from the lace and ruffles on his uniform, a lieutenant, stepped up to me. "Well this is an interesting turn of events." He chuckled then turned back to the sergeant. "Tie her hands, and take her along with the rest."

I groaned. What next?

The British soldiers escorted us back to Fort Carolina. A glimmer of hope rose within me. General Cornwallis knew who I was. Certainly he would release me, or maybe–my heart accelerated with hope–maybe he'd send me back to Tavington.