Chapter 8 The Truth At Home

After riding for a couple of hours, Melanie looked about and noticed familiar countryside. She smiled, knowing she was close to home. But, they were soon stopped by British infantry approaching on the road. All the occupants of the wagon were made to get out. Melanie was content to let the kindly gentleman Bentley do the talking as the wagon was searched for contraband.

Melanie, still dressed in her mob cap and apron looked every bit the part of a servant girl. She noticed the soldiers searching the wagon and she thought they actually seemed happy not to have found anything. To her, they looked weary and were probably glad they didn't have to expend any extra effort to confiscate anything illegal or take this family into custody. She was happy not to have to go back into it, as well.

Miss Prescott continued to stay quiet as she stood beside the carriage. Not wanting to call attention to herself, she acted shy and retiring. One of the Redcoat soldiers tried to flirt with girl innocently and shyly rejected his attempts at introduction.

Mr. Bentley was made to show the letters from his brother about joining him in the Kentucky Territory. After a few more minutes, once the soldiers were satisfied they were just another family fleeing the war torn area, they were let go to get on with the trip.

A little while later, the wagon made a turn onto a road which Melanie recognized. Her heart began to race as she picked out the boulders and trees that marked the entry to Prescott Plantation.

At the end of the long lane which led to the house, which could not be seen from this point as it was obscured by woods, Miss Prescott climbed down from the wagon. She thanked the driver graciously and bid the Bentley family farewell. She turned to walk up the driveway as the carriage drove away.

Melanie had walked the tree and field lined lane many times before when growing up. She intended to once again enjoy making this trek to her house.

Savoring her walk up to the house, she knew she was almost in view of seeing her beloved home. She had only to round the bend in the road, which had a patch of woods to the left, obscuring the view of the house and barns still. Melanie raced, knowing that when she cleared this, she could see the house. But, hearing noise, she stopped in her tracks just short of passing the woods and still out of sight of the house.

As Melanie listened, trying to discern what she heard, she was glad to be hearing anything. It was a good sign to her, feeling that at least the place had not been burned down. Cautiously, she crept forward to clear the woods, curious to see what was going on.

Finally, the house and barns came into full view. It was rife with activity; much different than the peaceful plantation she remembered. Despite the noise and humanity, Melanie took a breath, sighing in relief to be home.

There were white canvas tents all over the grass for as far as the eye could see. Horses, wagons, and a mass of humanity were everywhere. She saw men, women, and children. And, what looked like hundreds of Redcoats.

The three rebels at Fort Carolina had been right! The Redcoats had moved in and had taken over her family's plantation.

Standing still another moment, she strained to catch a glimpse of any of her family members. When she saw no one she recognized, she decided to move into the crowd. After all, she'd passed as a house servant at the fort, certainly she'd blend well with the camp women.

Melanie inhaled deeply to calm her nerves, let her breath out slowly, and headed toward the tent city. She held her head high, put a smile on her face, and strolled confidently amidst the tents, swinging her basket.

In and around the tents, she saw women sewing and washing clothes. Others were cooking. Her eyes widened as she saw a whore leading a soldier into her tent. Some of the children played amidst the canvas homes, while others helped the adults. Some of the little ones drew and carried water. She could see large tents to her far left, which she thought were probably hospital tents.

Miss Prescott veered to the right and ducked under a clothes line full of damp garments. Ahead of her lie the barns and outbuildings, bustling with activity.

She continued to seek a familiar face, peering into each barn, hut, and shed that she passed. No one noticed her, for to her relief, she did indeed look like just another camp follower.

At the stable, she finally saw someone she knew. Melanie smiled when she saw Mr. Barnes, the head farm hand. She regretted not having the chance to speak to him, for he was being berated by an irritated British officer. The young lady grinned at the sight and moved on.

Melanie surmised that her family must be locked inside the house somewhere. As she moved toward it, she saw two ladies leaving it through the back door. They were removing their aprons.

Good, she thought. Breakfast is over. The house should be empty and quiet now.

The girl made her way into the cellar first, just under the house. She was surprised to find that her father's vast store of wine had virtually been cleaned out. The officers are obviously enjoying the fine wines, she thought.

"Mother? Father?" she called softly, looking for them. She spoke again and heard only silence. Soon, she moved back up the stairs and out of the coolness of the place.

Now in the house, Melanie moved in and out of the rooms on the first floor. She noticed that her father's study had been made into a bedroom, probably for an officer, she guessed. The other rooms had been left much the same as they were when she lived there months ago.

She saw that the paintings, decorations, and other valuables had also been left alone in each room. Miss Prescott was grateful and satisfied that the British had not looted the house and had treated things with respect.

After having looked about the first floor, Melanie found herself back in the dining room of an essentially quiet house. She reached out and touched her mother's fine china, which was stacked up on the table. It was obviously being used for the officer's meals. As she peered through the doorway into the kitchen, she saw a woman cutting vegetables. This made Miss Prescott wonder what time it was, suspecting that it was most likely mid morning, between the meals.

Since Melanie didn't see her family, she suspected that maybe they were locked up in one of the bedrooms upstairs. She spied a pile of shirts haphazardly folded by the doorway into the kitchen. Picking them up, she carried them with her lest she run into someone who questioned why she was there.

Once upstairs, she padded softly down the hallway, peaking her head into the open doorways of each bedroom. She knocked and turned the door knobs as quietly as possible on the closed doors.

"Mama? Father?" she whispered into each room, listening quietly for an answer. As she neared the last of the bedrooms, she started to wonder where else the family could be.

At that room, Melanie's heart beat faster and she grinned when she heard drawers opening within it. She hurriedly stuck her head in the door and was caught off guard by the sight of a British officer within!

She jumped slightly, then composed herself instantly. The man looked irritated as he rummaged through the bureau drawers, as if he'd lost something.

"Oh, I'm sorry sir," she apologized and curtsied to the gentleman. "I didn't realize anyone was in here."

"It's alright, girl," the officer replied in a friendly manner. He didn't give her a second look. Her English accent and servant outfit had fooled him.

She continued to play at her disguise. "Do you have anything for the laundry or mending?" she asked. She held out her arms displaying the garments she carried.

The man shot her a funny look. "Someone's already been round to collect the laundry," he stated.

"They have?" Melanie questioned, feigning innocence. "Oh. I didn't know. But I can take more if you have anything else." She smiled.

"I don't, but you might check in Captain Waring's room down the hall. I heard him say that he'd ripped one of his shirts just this morning."

She bowed her head with a smile and curtsied again. "I will. Thank you sir."

~/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/~

"I think I know where she may be," William thought as he recalled the exact words he said to Cornwallis earlier that morning. The General had been awakened immediately when it was found that Melanie Prescott had vanished.

Colonel Tavington and Major Bordon led a small patrol across the countryside to find the missing girl. They rode quickly, searching the woods and fields along the route to Cascadia. In only a few hours, they came upon the lane leading up to the Prescott Plantation and scampered furiously up it toward the house.

The Green Dragoons cut a menacing figure through the morning air as they rode up the grass toward the main house and tents. An officer, suited in Redcoat infantry finery, walked to meet the approaching horsemen. Will Tavington raised his arm to signal a halt.

"Captain," he acknowledged with a bob of his head. "I'm Lieutenant Colonel Tavington, Green Dragoons. We're looking for a young lady that went missing from Fort Carolina early this morning. We have reason to believe she may be here."

"Look about as you please, sir," the Captain replied while looking up at the cavalry commander.

Alex Bordon began to dismount, dispensing orders to the men in the group as he did. "Keep it discreet men," he instructed, "we don't want to scare her away."

The Major watched as the men dispersed into several directions. He took off his helmet as his superior dismounted his horse. Tavington and Bordon had thought it a good idea to keep the search of a lower profile, afraid they might flush Miss Prescott further into hiding. They surmised that if she was here, she must know the land around the area well and have knowledge of all its hiding spots.

The two commanders worried because Miss Prescott still wasn't altogether healed from the ambush a few months ago, hoping that her little jaunt out of the fort hadn't weakened her into a relapse. They also had dread that she may have fallen into rebel hands along the way. They could have killed her, or she may be sharing information she knew of the fort with them, if they offered the right price. After all, she may have been a pacifist's daughter, but she was now an orphan—a colonial one at that. And, if she was desperate enough to get free from British hands, she might consider any offer of help. Even though they had saved her life, they still didn't know her as a person that well. And she was a Colonial. They were weary to give trust to any Colonial. The two officers only hoped they could find her amidst the clamor of the camp.

Major Bordon heard Colonel Tavington swear under his breath as the commander removed his helmet. "Damned foolish girl!"

Alex grinned at the Colonel's exasperated remark, then laughed to himself. He agreed completely.

~/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/~

Inside the house, Melanie made her way down the stairs and back outside. Unsuccessful at locating her family within, she reasoned that they must be holed up in one of the tents or barns.

As she looked about the barns and tents, she was oblivious that the Green Dragoons had arrived and were looking for her. The soldiers kept the search discreet all the while that she looked about for her family.

Melanie realized that she was still absentmindedly carrying the clothes she picked up from the house. After remembering the garments within her arms, she checked the last outbuilding for a sign of her relatives.

Just as Miss Prescott peeked into the structure, a young Dragoon strolled past her. He looked at the girl. Seeing her from the side with her mob cap and apron on with a pile of laundry in her arms, he dismissed her as a camp follower. The soldier walked on ahead.

After he'd passed, Melanie stepped back out of the barn, not knowing that one of Tavington's men had just passed by her. Although she had thought earlier that there would be a search for her, her own hunt for her family had left her complacent. Finding them now was the most important thing on her mind; remembering to hide from her own hunters was overshadowed.

Melanie crossed the open pathway and entered the sizeable tent area. It was bustling with noise and activity. She made her way between some tents and popped out into the main aisle way between them. As she strode the path, she looked back and forth from one tent to the other for her parents. She'd try to peer into open tent flaps when she could, thinking they might be confined to cots. The girl could think of a sly way to get into the closed tents later, if need be.

A few moments later as she walked along, Melanie became absorbed in her thoughts. She mused about where else the family could be and how she'd find them. In fact, Miss Prescott was so consumed by this that she meandered aimlessly for just a minute, unaware for the moment of what was going on around her. As she did, she never even noticed the Dragoon walking toward her.

The cavalryman looked straight at the pretty young woman, strolling about opposite him. He walked on, thinking her merely a servant girl. Melanie's simple, yet clever disguise fooled yet another person.

Another moment passed and Melanie snapped out of her reverie. She found herself at the end of a tent row near the house. The camp laundry was right before her. The young lady set the garments slung across her arms down next to another pile and looked around. As her eyes lifted, she spied the hospital tents.

Miss Prescott hurriedly marched to the makeshift hospital, figuring that her family could be in there. Knowing them and their compassion, she surmised they'd want to help wherever they could.

Arriving at the tent door, Melanie stepped through the flap and into the hospital. The cots were full. This was the recovery tent. Through the open flap at the back of the tent, she could see surgeries being performed in the tent directly behind this one.

She wandered through the tent, which was calm, looking about for her family. Her head moved from side to side, gazing at each cot, hoping to see a parent or sibling standing there between them.

"Yes, this one's gone," Melanie heard a man's voice remark. She looked to her right and saw a doctor and a medic next to a bed. "Take him outside for burial."

She watched, then quickly snapped her head back the other way as the surgeon pulled the sheet up over the dead soldier. An instant later, she heard the men picking the dead man up and carrying him out.

As they did, Melanie heard a soft voice to her left. "Miss," a male voice called faintly. "Oh, Miss?"

The young woman moved toward the voice. On a cot, she saw an older soldier struggling to lift his head. "Miss?"

She rushed to his side. "Yes, sir?"

"Might I have a sip of water, please?"

"Yes," she answered compassionately. "I'll get it for you."

She looked up and spied a water pitcher on a table near the edge of the tent. The girl went to it and filled a glass, pouring the pitcher dry. She then ambled back over to the cot.

Just as Melanie pulled a stool to the bed, a large Dragoon private entered the tent at the opposite end. He swaggered slowly through the tent, glancing across the aisle, back and forth at each cot. He drew near to where Miss Prescott stood.

"Here sir," said Melanie as she slipped her hand behind his neck and gently lifted his head. As she put the glass to his lips, she coaxed, "Slowly so that you don't choke."

The cavalry private heard the sweet, English-accented voice and turned his head toward the sound of it. Stopping at the foot of the cot, he saw a nurse helping one of his injured countrymen. He viewed the man drinking the water, and saw the mob capped head of his nurse, who was looking down at her patient, intently tending to him. Her face was obscured from the sight of the dragoon as the girl gently encouraged the sick man to drink.

The soldier quickly moved on, not knowing she was the lady he sought, Miss Prescott. He then exited the tent through the back flap.

Melanie had heard someone walking through the tent, then leaving it, but didn't turn her head quickly enough to see who it was. When she looked back at her patient, his water glass was empty. She pulled the sheet up to his neck to cover him. "Rest now," she instructed. He thanked her weakly.

As she returned the glass to the table, she remembered that she'd used the last of the water. Wishing to replace it, she walked out the back of the tent. As she refilled the pitcher with water from a nearby bucket, she had a thought.

Maybe my family doesn't recognize me with this disguise, she wondered. If I take off the cap and apron, then they might see me better as I walk through the camp.

Miss Prescott went back into the tent and placed the full water pitcher back on the table. She took a quick look at the soldier she'd just attended. He was breathing deeply and already asleep. With that, Melanie took off her mob cap, shaking her blonde hair free of it. She then slipped the apron off. Both items she folded neatly into small squares and placed them in the basket she still carried. As she finger combed her hair to make it neat, she strolled out of the tent, confident her family would see and recognize her now.

Once outside the medical tent, Melanie stood for a moment as she tried to decide where next to continue her search. She turned to the right and slid around the corner of the tent. The young woman ran into the surgeon and orderly she'd just seen in the tent moments ago.

Both men seemed not to notice her presence as they hurriedly jotted some notes. The medic dropped some objects and a letter into a drawstring bag.

"He's ready now," the medic remarked as he readjusted the sheet over the corpse on the litter.

"Alright," the surgeon replied. "Find the Chaplain and tell him we've got another burial." The two medical men then moved in opposite directions, leaving the dead soldier to his lonely silence.

Melanie looked out to the left and saw the vast field used for corn. To one side of it was the Prescott Family Cemetery. Squinting her eyes as she looked over it, she immediately noticed that there was something different about it. The young lady saw that the graveyard had been extended and included dozens of graves now. She assumed that the dead soldiers were being buried there. Melanie was fine with that, knowing her father and especially Matthew would have wanted the men to have a "decent resting place." Her brother the priest may have even been the Chaplain to perform some of the Interments.

Gazing over that place, Melanie picked out the large stone markers of her grandmother and grandfather Prescott. They had owned this land, then passed it on to her father and his family.

Melanie smiled to herself as she fondly remembered them. She recalled the stories they both told of their youth in England, and how they had come over here in the 1720's with hopes of having a better life than they would have had in their homeland. She had loved them both very much and it had hurt her so when they departed the world, only 5 years ago, one right after the decided to go to their graves for a quick visit.

~/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/~

Colonel Tavington and Major Bordon stalked down the far edge of the camp. A dragoon walked behind them leading their horses along, not even noticed by the two commanders looking intensely for their charge.

They were intently discussing where they should search next for Miss Prescott, or the possibility that she may have been picked up by rebels along the way. The two men stopped just outside the hospital tent and continued their talk and decisions to be made concerning the missing young lady.

~/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/~

Quiet and reverently, Melanie entered the now enlarged family cemetery. She easily picked out the headstones of her grandparents amidst all the new wooden crosses dotting the area. As she walked amongst the quiet, she felt it as a relief to leave the din of the camp behind for a few moments.

Once at her grandfather's grave, she knelt on the soft grass in front of it and made the Sign of the Cross upon herself. She smiled as the face of this beloved family member flashed across her mind.

After a moment of silent reflection upon his memory, she absently started pulling the weeds up from around the headstone. She looked to the right and saw the grave of a stillborn baby brother, who would have been the middle child. To the left was her grandmother's resting place.

Melanie stood up to move to her grandma's grave when something caught her eye. She hadn't noticed before, but just behind the graves of her grandparents, she saw white wooden crosses, all bearing the name 'Prescott' in large letters. Her heart began to race and her breathing became labored. She walked apprehensively back to those crosses.

As she neared them, she held her breath and became pale as she realized what each white cross said:

Hayden Prescott died 5 Nov 1778

Marilyn Prescott died 5 Nov 1778

Father Matthew Prescott died 5 Nov 1778

Jonathon Prescott died 5 Nov 1778

Josephine Prescott Died 5 Nov 1778

A cry strangled her throat as she now knew the ugly truth: that the whole family had been massacred and that she was the only survivor. Seeing the truth of this before her eyes made the situation even worse and broke her heart into tiny pieces. Tears stung her eyes and the cry stuck in her throat choked her.

After another moment of this horror, a shriek wrenched itself free from her. With all her hopes of their survival dashed, she dropped to her knees in front of her family's graves. She sobbed so hard it threatened to tear her body apart.

~/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/~

Above the noise around him, William thought he heard a woman's scream, although it was faint. He looked about for the cry, trying to spot trouble and hoping his Dragoons weren't the cause of it.

As he looked around, a lone, shapely figure of a woman in the cemetery caught his eye. He took out his long glass to view her more closely. He saw long, curly blonde hair, then recognized her profile as she turned her head to the side. She was weeping. He knew instantly that is was Miss Prescott.

"Bordon," said Tavington, still looking through his telescope intently at Miss Prescott.

"Yes, Sir," he acknowledged quickly, stepping back to face his superior. Seeing Tavington looking at something through his long glass, Bordon assumed there was something for him to see. He pulled out his own glass and aimed it the same direction as his commander's. He too, spotted Miss Prescott.

"Hmmmm," he sighed. "Higgins, Bailey!" Major Bordon slammed his long scope shut and shoved it back into the holder. Pointing toward the cemetery, he asked "See the lady over there?"

"Yes, sir," both privates answered.

"That is Miss Prescott. Apprehend her immediately. Bring her here," Bordon ordered.

The two young Dragoons left quickly. As they did, Tavington closed his scope and put it away. Then he turned to his second in command.

"Made good time for still being weak, she did," the Colonel remarked.

"Probably got a ride," mused Bordon.

"With rebels, no doubt."

"Most likely," Bordon retorted. "Who knows what or how much she told them about us and the fort."

Tavington raised his eyebrows in small surprise. "She's a known pacifist."

"Don't be so sure about that," warned the Major. "Her dead fiancé was a spy."

"You don't trust any Colonials, do you?" asked William.

"Do you?" asked Alex, tossing William's question right back at him.

Colonel Tavington laughed. "No."

Bordon smiled. "I don't trust them because it's my job not to."

"Suspicious bastard, aren't you?" Will quipped.

"It's my duty to notice everything and question anything!" replied Alex.

"You do it too well, sometimes," Tavington joked.

"If I didn't," began Bordon, "you'd have me walloped down to Private!"

Both men laughed aloud. Then Bordon offered his hand to Tavington and shook it heartily.

"Congratulations, sir," he said as he did. "A job well done!"

"And to yourself as well," Tavington said, "possible disaster averted!" Both men were relieved just to have found Miss Prescott. They would have hated to have gone back to the fort empty handed, knowing they'd suffer Cornwallis' wrath.

"Sir?" asked Bordon, wondering why Tavington was congratulating him.

"If you wouldn't have supported my hunch to check here for her," he stated, "then the Lord General would have had us combing every damned swamp and bog in South Carolina for her!"

"Most assuredly," Bordon agreed.

With that, Tavington signaled for their horses to be brought to them.

~/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/~

In the cemetery, Melanie did not hear the dragoons approach her.

"Miss Prescott. Come with us please," they requested.

Startled, she looked up and recognized the familiar red and green jackets. She got to her feet fast and made to run but was quickly seized by the arm.

She was afraid of what would happen if she went back to the fort, not knowing if the British would be angry at her for leaving. Plus, she was home now, and wanted to stay there, even without her family.

Melanie struggled. "No!" she screamed. "I don't want to go! PLEASE!"

Miss Prescott fought the men, digging her heels into the sod, trying everything to get away from them as they dragged her along by her arms. The two soldiers led her from the cemetery and over to where their commanders were.

As she made a ruckus, an infantry colonel appeared out from behind the hospital tent near where Tavington and Bordon stood.

"What's the meaning of this?"demanded the infantry commander.

The two dragoon commanders were mounting their horses as the man approached them with his query.

"She escaped from Fort Carolina earlier today," stated Colonel Tavington. "Lord Cornwallis gave orders to find and return her."

"Oh," the infantry commander acknowledged, then stood aside, watching the events unfold.

A moment later, the privates had returned with the struggling girl held between them. One of them handed her basket up to Bordon. He looked through it for papers or contraband and found only the neatly folded mob cap and apron. He rolled his eyes and sighed, assuming she'd used this as a disguise to get out.

Melanie looked up at Colonel Tavington. She was desperate, not knowing what would happen to her for this.

"Colonel, please!", she pleaded. "Let me stay, please! This is my home! I don't want to stay at the fort!"

"Nonsense," he dismissed. "There is a war on and the men here are busy. They don't have the time or means to take care of a sick girl. You're safer at the fort."

Melanie still struggled in the grip of the Private Bailey. "NO! Colonel Tavington! NOOOO!"

Tavington said nothing back to her pleading. Instead, he looked at Private Higgins and ordered, "Give her to Major Bordon."

Higgins picked the girl up tightly and carried her over to Bordon's steed. He then handed the girl up to his superior. Major Bordon took her over his saddle, seating her in front of him, her legs dangling to one side of the horse and Alex's arm wrapped tightly about her waist to secure her.

Melanie Prescott turned back to look at Alexander Bordon's handsome eyes and besieged him silently with her own, which were full of tears. She sniffled.

Alex felt badly for her. He knew it must have been heart wrenching after all she'd been through, to only now see the graves of her family.

"Please," she begged, her voice breaking.

'I'm sorry, Miss," he answered, "We have our orders."

"Move out!" Tavington called out to his men.

As the small unit of dragoons started away, Melanie broke down and wept, not knowing if she'd ever see her plantation again.

She struggled still, wearily though, within Bordon's strong grip. He could feel her starting to tire out.

"There now, be still, Miss Prescott," he soothed. "You're going to wear yourself down more than you already have done."

Melanie surrendered and buried her eyes in Bordon's broad shoulder and wept. He let her as he rode on silently.

As the Dragoons reached the crest of a hill overlooking the plantation, Melanie raised her eyes, turned backwards and looked at her home down below. She started to sob again.

"I want my family! I want them back," she wailed in grief.

"Shhhh...of course you do," Bordon consoled her. "Settle back against me and rest. Don't exhaust yourself any further or you'll never heal."

Melanie hid her face in her hands and cried hard. She leaned back against Bordon, no longer having the strength to fight the situation or to sit upright.

After Major Bordon's horse had walked on awhile, he looked down at Miss Prescott and found that she had given in to sleep.

Within three hours, the Dragoons arrived back at Fort Carolina. Once safely inside the compound, Major Bordon carried the still sleeping Miss Prescott up to her room. He laid her in the bed and covered her up. He knew that her escape, subsequent journey, the shock of seeing her family's graves, and struggling had worn her still frail body out.

He filled a glass with water from the pitcher on the bureau and set it on the nightstand. After that, he sat down softly on the side of the bed and gazed at her for a moment. My God, she's pretty, he thought to himself.

As he was lost in thought, she slowly opened her eyes and looked up at him, saying nothing and catching him staring at her.

Startled, he quickly looked away, then said in a dutiful tone, "You shouldn't have left the fort."

"I had to," she insisted softly. "You, the British, told me one thing, and the rebels told me something else. For hours I was so confused. I didn't know the truth for sure until I saw my family's graves." Her eyes started to well up with tears, seeing a flash of the family cemetery and graves in her mind.

Major Bordon didn't want her to cry again. He quickly steered her away with a question.

"Who told you what?"

"I was told that my family was alive," she murmured. "Someone had just seen them only a week ago. I tried to tell them that they were mistaken; that all of you told me I was the only survivor."

Melanie stopped for a moment, collecting her thoughts. The girl was still feeling overwhelmed.

She continued on. "Those men insisted that the British had lied to me to keep me here. They told me that the Redcoats meant to harm me and that I should leave."

The Major let out an exasperated sigh and shook his head. "That's ridiculous! You're here so that we can protect you. That day at your home, we were not able to catch all the rebels that hurt your family. Some of them are still out there and may be looking for you. They have reasons to kill you."

Melanie sat up. Her face was now very close to Alex's. Bordon felt his commanding presence ebb from him as she did this, just to have her so close to him. Their eyes locked with each other's, neither of them able to look away from the other. She looked so lost and helpless. He wanted badly to kiss her, but his officer's decorum forbade this.

"Why do they still want to kill me," she asked him, urging him for an answer.

"I think they may be afraid that you could identify them," he answered, "And then, if caught, they know they would be hanged."

She nodded her head and sighed. Alex thought she looked so weary.

"Who told you that your family was still alive?" Bordon queried.

"Three men in the prisoner compound," she answered, still looking innocently and deeply into the commander's eyes.

"That was very cruel of them to tease you in such a manner," he said. With that, he gently touched her shoulders and eased her back into her bed. He covered her up again and said, "Now, rest. You've had quite a day already and worn yourself out."

He stood up and watched her for a moment. She pulled the covers up tightly under her chin, turned onto her side and fell instantly to sleep.

With that, Bordon crept quietly from the room.