"Are you ready to leave, William?" Vivienne asked as he deposited the last box into the wagon.
Tavington glanced back at Susan, who was petting his horse's nose very gently, the big beast lowering his neck so the girl could touch him.
"In a moment," Tavington responded as he walked towards Susan. She looked up as he neared, her expression blank. Tavington tried to put on what he hoped was a pleasant, non-scary smile and crouched down in front of her to meet her eyes.
"Susan, you have a very important decision to make."
She continued to regard him with big blue eyes, her expression not changing.
"You may return to your aunt, brothers, and sister, or you may come along with Vivienne and I and stay with us as our daughter. Which shall it be?"
Susan's eyes rose to look over his shoulder at Vivienne sitting in the wagon. A little smile, foreign to her face, blossomed across her cheeks, and her eyes flicked back to Tavington's.
Without a word, she threw her little arms around his neck and whispered,
"I'm coming with you."
Tavington couldn't hold back a smile as she laid her chin on his shoulder, her arms still locked around his neck. He picked her up off the ground with one arm and took his horse's reins with the other.
Leading the big animal, Tavington carried Susan back to the wagon, and she leaned in and kissed his cheek before jumping down beside Vivienne. Surprised at how happy her small signs of affection meant to him, Tavington sat in the driver's seat, smugly thinking of how Benjamin Martin would roar to see his daughter so lovingly embracing his worst enemy.
Within moments, Tavington had hooked his mount beside the horse drawing the wagon. Tavington clutched the reins in his hands and leapt up to join Vivienne and Susan. He took one last, longing glance at the expanse of grass leading to the British campground.
You could be there, preparing to win the last battle for England, preparing for the greatest honor of your life . . .
"William?"
Tavington brought himself out of his thoughts at Vivienne's tender voice. He had come too far to go back now. For once in his life, Tavington would follow the plan.
"Let's be off then," Tavington replied and slapped the reins against the horse's back. The little wagon tumbled down the road, its occupants anxiously awaiting the new home that would bring their minds peace at last.
"Fortunately for us, we can be assured Tavington will be at this battle. He couldn't resist staying away. And this time I will kill him."
Benjamin Martin faced his men as they all prepared for the battle at Camden. Martin paced back and forth in front of them, a look of determination plastered on his features.
"Sir, what about your daughter, Susan? Tavington is the only one with information regarding her - " Richard began.
"I will force the information out of him before he dies," Benjamin interjected "Susan will come home with me after this battle. Tavington will be dead, the British will be vanquished, and our lives can return to their peaceful states."
Benjamin swiftly mounted his horse and rode forward a few paces before turning the great beast around to face his men once more.
"We fight for America!" His passionate cry roused the men out of their fear and soon all had joined the chant. Benjamin leaned over to pick up an enormous American flag lain against the side of his tent.
As he raised the flag high into the air, the pieces of fabric Gabriel had so faithfully stitched together flapped in the breeze, streaming out behind the leader of the Continental army as he set off at a gallop for the last battle.
"We won't have to count on Tavington to mishandle his duty this time," General O'Hara commented with a smirk to Cornwallis.
"Yes, one less thing to worry about for us," Cornwallis replied gruffly. Tavington had been a stubborn and disrespectful Colonel, but he did know how to get the job done.
The two men sat upon their mighty horses, keeping the soldiers ready for the attack of the Colonial army. Colonel, formerly Captain, Bordon sat at the head of the cavalry, his posture stiff. Cornwallis could tell the man was anxious about his recent promotion.
"You had better not botch up this job, Bordon," Cornwallis muttered to himself.
"Sir!"
Cornwallis' head swiveled to the source of O'Hara's voice. The General was gesturing uneasily to a mass of men coming over the hill.
The Continental army surged forward, different battle cries mingling in the air to form a fearsome, animal-like sound. Faces were contorted with concentration and spirit. Benjamin Martin led them and his expression, as the British saw as Martin drew closer, was the most intense of all. The red, white, and blue colors of the flag flashed before the eyes of the British as if taunting them.
"Even for the last battle they cannot fight like men," Cornwallis chuckled dryly at the barbaric appearance of the Continentals.
"These Colonials have defied Britain for the last time," Cornwallis shouted to his soldiers. "Onward!"
The red army swelled toward the Colonial men, red swirling with dirty white and brown as they met head on.
Benjamin Martin glided through the mass of British soldiers as if riding a wave. He had only one target on mind, and until he locked on to that target, nothing would stand in his way.
Benjamin's vision was enveloped in fury as his gaze darted from side to side, scrutinizing the area for Tavington. But as Martin pushed through throngs of English soldiers, he saw a sight that stopped him dead.
The Green Dragoon Calvary was charging into battle, but Tavington was not at its head.
Benjamin slowed his horse in confusion, oblivious to the raging battle around him.
"Tavington!" He roared desperately, as if the former Colonel would come if called. Somehow, Martin's cry had reached Bordon's ears, and the new Colonel turned to the source of the shout. When he saw Martin sitting on his horse, stunned, Bordon was filled with vengeful feelings.
"Forward!" Bordon shouted as he aimed his sword low and descended quickly upon Benjamin Martin.
When the leader of the militia looked up, he met Bordon's angry eyes and was only able to glimpse a flash of silver before the tip of Bordon's sword dug into his horse's chest, causing the animal to rear up high and send Martin flying through the air.
Emboldened, Bordon rode past and went deeper into the fray, now confident enough to exert every ounce of energy for this battle. He could not kill Martin - that was Tavington's right, but to knock the man down a few notches was perfectly excusable.
Benjamin dragged his body into a kneeling position; somehow he had not been trampled or shot in the long moments he lay vulnerable in the dirt. The noises of battle seemed to fade away and Martin was swathed by silence and dust from the horses' hooves as it swirled in the air around him.
It was then that realization hit him. Tavington was not present at this battlefield. Somehow he had managed to stay away, managed to hold back killing the man who destroyed the only things he had ever loved.
Benjamin knew what he had to do. He would find Tavington and kill him, wherever the villainous snake had fled to.
Benjamin leapt up and, acting swiftly, grabbed a bayonet from the dust and drove it into the soldier who sat atop a horse surging closer to Martin. Benjamin quickly pushed the soldier off and mounted the horse, not noticing the man sucking in a bloody gurgle of a last breath to gasp out words to his killer.
"Benjamin, Benjamin! What have you done?"
Benjamin swerved among the fighting men, not noticing the man he killed was a Continental soldier - one of his own. His target had changed for the moment and the new target was at the battlefield.
"What the - ?" Cornwallis watched Benjamin Martin ride toward he and General O'Hara, separated though they were from the clashing soldiers and militiamen.
"Sir! He's riding this way!" O'Hara gasped.
"I can see that, you fool! Have your weapon at the ready - we don't know what to expect with this one."
General O'Hara pointed his pistol at Martin and the sweaty militia leader held up his hands in a peaceful gesture as he neared them.
"I only want an answer to my question. I mean no harm to either of you." Martin said, his voice unsettlingly calm.
"We trust you not, Martin. You have made idiots of us too many times already."
"Tell me where Colonel Tavington is," Martin said in his frightening monotone "And you shall never see me or hear of me again."
Cornwallis and O'Hara glanced at each other. The Continentals would be nothing without Martin to lead them . . .
"He's in Ohio, near the south-eastern border," Cornwallis replied slowly. Benjamin nodded his thanks and kicked his weary horse into a gallop in the direction of Ohio. This time, there would be no fellow Americans to hold Martin off. He would destroy Tavington once and for all.