Private Chapman nodded to Captain Bordon as the Green Dragoons rode to Jefferson town.
"The Butcher is back, eh?"
Bordon followed Chapman's gaze to Colonel Tavington riding at the head of the calvary. Tavington's cool expression of superiority had returned and he was alert as ever. Bordon shook his head.
"I thought the idea of a baby would have daunted the man," he muttered to himself. But the last thing Tavington looked was daunted as he led his cavalry into the small town, his devious plan lurking at the corners of his smile.
"This town has given aid to Benjamin Martin and his rebels."
After herding the citizens of Jefferson Town into their church, Tavington addressed the people from atop his horse.
"I wish to know his whereabouts." Tavington scanned the nervous faces around him. Come on, one of you must know something . . .
"So . . . anyone who comes forward may be forgiven their treason," He tried again. The populace before him remained silent.
How guilty they looked as their eyes darted about, tongues wetting dry lips . . . A woman holding a small baby caught Tavington's attention. Perhaps this whole idea was overkill and Tavington should leave these people to their simple lives . . . He caught himself sharply. The idea of a baby has softened you. Stop this foolish behavior and do what's right for the King's army.
The silence continued, but Tavington had one more trick up his sleeve.
"Very well. You had your chance," he said nonchalantly, and was turning his horse around as a cry rang out through the air.
"Wait!" A pudgy-faced man in the back called out. Finally. Tavington listened as the man told him of Martin's whereabouts - a marsh near the old Spanish mission.
"Thank you very much," Tavington looked at the traitor mock-sincerely and almost sneered as the man's face glowed with hope of being released.
Tavington paused to glance around at the rest of Jefferson Town's people, all looking frantic now. The fun was over. Tavington now knew where to seek out this "Ghost."
"Shut the doors" Tavington turned his horse around, not looking back as the pudgy-faced betrayer called out after him.
"But . . . you said we'd be forgiven!"
Now outside, Tavington turned to face the man.
"And indeed you may." He couldn't resist a mocking smirk "But that is between you and God." With that, the Colonel's Dragoons shut the doors and put a heavy chain across them, locking it with a padlock.
"Ready to fire the town on your orders sir," Captain Wilkins said, bringing his mount up to Tavington's.
The image of that woman and her baby refused to budge from Tavington's mind and he cleared his throat loudly to drown out the panicked screams from the people in the church. There would be no leniency from Colonel William Tavington - the "Butcher" not today, not ever. A baby wouldn't do that to him.
"The town?" Tavington scoffed "No, burn the church."
Wilkins hesitated. He was a good man. Much too kind for this type of work.
"Burn the church, Captain," Tavington repeated more slowly, as if talking to a child.
Wilkins took a torch from one of the other Dragoons and, under Tavington's watchful gaze, threw it onto the roof of the church. The Dragoons rode out of town, blocking out the screams and cries of pain exploding from the flaming church.
Tavington worked his plan through his mind once more as the Dragoons headed back in the direction of the British camp. Tavington knew he would have time before Martin came looking for him. Enough time to make camp for the night, relax a bit . . .
Gabriel stood outside the burning church, listening to the sounds of his fellow militia men sobbing over their loved ones, lost in the fire. His nostrils flared and he began hyperventilating in disbelief.
He ran to Anne's house, calling her name until he felt it could no longer be squeezed from his throat. He walked back to the church and saw something he had missed before - on what was left of the door, a padlock connected thick chains. They had been locked inside . . .
Gabriel felt his hands crunching into fists. He walked past the chained door, feeling sick to his stomach. As he glanced down into the ashes, a glint of silver caught his eye. He leaned down and retrieved his late mother's necklace, the crisp blue ribbon now black as it crumbled in his hands. Gabriel's father had given this necklace to Anne as a wedding gift. Gabriel tucked the charm into his pocket and stood, a plan firm in his mind. There was only one man who could be responsible for an act such as this.
When Tavington called for a break, his men slipped off their mounts and began unpacking tents setting up camp under a little patch of trees near a stream. Tavington was proudly admiring his perfect campground when Bordon edged up beside him.
"Sir, Captain Wilkins informed me there is a town, Savannah, not far from here that supposedly has gunpowder for a fairly low price - something we are in need of since the militia destroyed our last shipment."
The thought of getting back on his mount and riding for several more hours nearly made Colonel Tavington groan, but the gun powder made it a tempting offer . . .
"Bordon, are you tired?"
"Not at all, sir." Bordon straightened up.
"Then why don't you take a few men out early tomorrow morning and ride ahead there."
"You talk as if you won't be coming, sir."
"Oh I won't." Tavington smiled slightly "I'll be sleeping in." It would be better to have Bordon out of the way when Martin and his men came, lest the Captain get killed and leave Tavington with Captain Wilkins as his aide-de-camp. Wilkins was far too headstrong for Tavington's taste.
Bordon seemed confused, but he nodded.
"Some of our colonial loyalists have family in Savannah and it is likely they'll want to come along also."
"Very well. You depart tomorrow morning then. I'll bring the rest of the men and we shall meet back at camp."
Bordon nodded sharply and left to unpack his tent. Tavington smiled unpleasantly as he thought of the surprise Martin and his men would have when they attacked his much larger and superior force.
The Ghost would finally be laid to rest in his grave.