Okay this little tidbit should have gone with chapter 13 but it would have been huge so I cut it down. Enjoy the twofer!

14.

Tavington did in fact manage to procure a puppy for Jason. After asking the shop-keep if he knew of anyone with puppies, he bought the speckled, runty- looking, little spaniel-terrier mutt from the town blacksmith.

As a deliriously happy Jason held the squirming creature in his arms, Tavington paid the man what turned out to be a reasonable sum and prayed the little flea-bag wasn't gun shy.

The blacksmith could have easily demanded a much higher price and Tavington would have paid it. It made Jason happy, which made Esther happy, which in turn, made Tavington very happy.

He never counted on how unhappy the inn keeper would be with Jason's insistence that the pup sleep in his room instead of the stables with Sue and Sam.

Jason pleaded his case, "Someone will steal him."

"No one will steal him Jason, he'll be with Sue and Sam," Esther soothed.

"But Ma, he'll miss me."

Esther glared at Tavington. Tavington glared at the inn keeper.

In the end, the pup slept in Jason's room. But only on the condition it stayed in the wood box and Jason had to promise not to let the puppy make a mess on the floor.

Tavington and Esther battled with him the rest of the evening over the puppy. The boy was too excited to eat a late supper and picked over his food. Jason tried out different names for the dog. Tavington suggested Satan which earned him a swift kick from Esther under the table.

Finally, after officially naming the dog 'Speck', Jason was content to wash up and turn in for the night. Speck's box stayed right next to Jason's bed of course but at least boy and beast were settled.

Tavington was turning to go when a question from Jason stopped him dead in his tracks.

"Hey, wait, I need to ask you something. What do I call you now?"

Taavington didn't know how to answer and had to stop to consider it. He sat back down on the edge of Jason's bed. Jason was watching him with very solemn brown eyes and he made his decision. Or rather, he let Jason make the decision.

"Well, let's see, you could continue to call me Mr. Tavington, I suppose- some step-sons do that. Or you might prefer Tavington or even Tav as some of my friends call me…..my mother and father called me Will, and I loath Willy or Al….But I do not mind if you would like to call me Father."

Jason smiled and Tavington knew then where this was coming from. Jason wanted Tavington to be his father and to acknowledge him as such. He only hoped that he could live up to Jason's expectations. He hit the proverbial ball back into Jason's court.

"The point is Jason, you may call me whatever it is that you think I am to you. Regardless, I'll know what comes from your heart. Do you understand?"

Jason nodded and yawned.

"Good," Tavington said, smoothing his hair because Jason hated it ruffled. "Now go to sleep."

Jason rolled to his side and shut his eyes. "Goodnight, Dad."

Tavington like the way that sounded. Fatherly, but different than 'Papa'.

"Goodnight, Son," he answered. He liked the way that sounded too.

Tavington quietly shut the door that separated their two rooms and found Esther-fresh from her bath- waiting in bed. He shucked his clothes quickly, silently watching her silently watch him with a sleepy smile on her face.

Esther made a quiet squeak as the force of his weight on the bed ropes caused her to roll towards him with the sheets she seemed to be hiding under. Tavington caught her in his arms and drew her even closer.

"I think the bed ropes might need tightened," Esther said evenly with a note of amusement in her voice.

"I think the bed ropes are perfect the way they are," he answered lightly and squeezed her when he noticed she too was naked. "You little minx."

Tavington let a hand skim down to her knee, and then pulled her leg over his so he could stroke the length of it from thigh to toes.

"I reckoned it would save us a few minutes," she said giggling from his feathery touch.

Tavington smiled, appreciating the thought, especially now after the day they had. This is why he loved her. Because she could be cheerful and lovely even as she walked through Hell. He whispered his words against the milky sweet skin of her neck, breathing in the light lavender scent of her hair. "You reckoned well, darling, but why the rush? We have all night."

She was stroking his neck and shoulders now in the way that always drove him insane. When she didn't answer he drew back to look at her and her face took a more serious expression. At first, Tavington thought she might tell him about seeing Putney but she startled him by declaring instead, "William, I want a little girl."

"A little girl? As in a daughter?"

"Is that alright?" she asked. "If I gave you a daughter? Our daughter? Oh, William, I want a little girl so badly. Our little girl."

Tavington was silent for a moment and maybe just a little overwhelmed. Not in a bad way, but it was the last thing he expected her to say.

"Of course. We can fill the house with children. Sons and daughters….as long as they all favor you," he said wryly.

"Oh no, some of them have to look like you too, but those children will have my temper, she teased.

Tavington rolled his eyes and muttered sarcastically, "God help us all. They'll be cracking the knuckles and splitting the shins of every man in the Ohio Country. They will create a wood spoon shortage."

Esther narrowed her eyes and attempted to hide the smile creeping up her lips. The she did the one thing Tavington had been patiently waiting for al day; she kissed him.

Their consummation was slow and unhurried. Tavington took his time with her, coaxing each response from her, trying to savor every inch of her luscious curves, knowing other things might be distracting her and trying to steer her attentions towards him only.

It was good. She felt so good. But it was also different. Strange and surreal. Not at all like the afternoon in his cabin. Aside from her inexperience, she was holding back and although it thoroughly pissed him off, Tavington knew she couldn't be faulted. He tried to be tender with her and gratefully took from her everything she willingly offered.

Later, as his new wife dozed off to sleep in his arms, Tavington held her close. She was everything to him now, body, mind and soul. He let his head rest against the pillows while he thought about a few things.

In the candle light Esther looked exhausted and Tavington didn't doubt she was. But there was something else in her expression. Worry? Fear? Something he couldn't name because she wouldn't tell him. Was she thinking of this Putney fellow? Tavington certainly understood why. It would have been no different for him if Benjamin Martin himself had walked out of that very taproom.

He wanted to do something about it and considered his options.

Slowly Tavington felt something dark move in the back of his mind, a shadow, with just a hint of a voice. His voice.

Kill him.

That was something Tavington hadn't thought of for a very long time, killing.

As a soldier it was something one became used to. It was expected. You either killed or you were killed during battles or a raid.

But the hunting of the enemy, well now, that was a different story. The hunt was what fueled the bloodlust inside him. He felt that bloodlust rise again with the anticipation of what he knew he was about to do.

The anticipation was another exhilarating part of the hunt. Knowing you were going to find your enemy and more than likely kill them was a rush in itself. It had always made Tavington wonder if he were born to kill and at one time, he even craved it.

Of all the things Tavington fed on in life; the alcohol, women, gambling and so on, the power one felt from ending the life of another was a high like no other.

James Putney hurt his woman. James Putney needs killing. He should be cut like a blight from the Earth, erased and disposed of like garbage.

Tavington could easily turn him into a missing person that no one would really ever miss. It would be so simple. He already had a plan in his mind of how he could accomplish the task.

Do it.

What if he had recognized Esther or Jason? Would Putney remember her? He hadn't seemed to notice any of them in the tavern. But if Putney had seen Jason, he would certainly know he had fathered the boy. There was no doubt about that.

He could take the boy. No judge or magistrate in the country would deny him.

And there it was, laid bare before him.

Tavington felt an anxious tightening in his chest and in his mind the darkness overcame him. Like a force trying to get past him, pushing him aside as if they both fought for the same space.

Colonel Tavington sighed heavily, sat up in bed and looked down at Mrs. Tavington. He watched her sleep like a sentry, guarding her but careful not to touch her. When he was certain she wouldn't wake, he slipped out of bed and dressed as quickly and as quietly as he could.

He knew what he must do now.

Stepping out into the darkness, he disappeared into the night.