Chapter 22 Finding Shelter
Melanie sighed as the lukewarm breeze of the September day kissed her cheek. She brushed back some stray strands of hair from her face with her bound hands. The girl stayed quiet as she sat atop Major Bordon's horse, looking down at the officer who now stood before the beast, holding the reins.
It was near sunset and the small group of Dragoons was behind schedule. The men had stopped for a few moments to relieve themselves, making this the last stop for nature's call until they returned to the fort, only miles away. Bordon stood casually talking with Lieutenant Scott, waiting for a couple of the men to return from the woods nearby.
Being allowed to go first, Miss Prescott had returned quickly and remounted the Major's horse. Waiting silently on Bordon's mount and paying no attention to the men, she reflected on the events of the long day.
A small contingent of Dragoons had left the fort early that morning. Melanie had been awakened abruptly before dawn by a maid, told to eat breakfast quickly and ready herself to leave soon after with the men. Riding out of the fort at the first rays of morning light, a still sleepy Melanie had fought to keep from falling back asleep.
The girl kept quiet, knowing better than to ask any questions. Instead, she kept her ears open and at a stopping point at a crossroads, heard the men conferring about which direction to go and what the letter had said. She assumed then that someone had sent a message into the fort asking to see her. By mid morning the September heat had become stifling as Miss Prescott tried to guess what would happen. Would the rebels pump her for information that she knew Major Bordon would censor? Was Bordon planning to take back some captured British officer using her as bait? Was His Majesty's Legion preparing to give her up to the colonials? She could only speculate.
Just after lunch, the group had ridden up to some nondescript cabin in the middle of the Carolina wilderness. With white flag flying, the Dragoons had been welcomed in temporarily. Bordon, Scott, and Miss Prescott were ushered in quickly and introduced to Colonels William Washington and Francis Locke of Gates' colonial army, and a man not in uniform named Thomas Sumter. Melanie had deduced him to be local because of his country accent.
Within the confines of the log house, the girl sat mute in the corner as the Redcoat and Rebel officers sparred across the table. She soon realized that she was being exploited again by the British and knew that she would be going back to the fort tonight. Still, she listened keenly for any information and news of the outside world.
After three hours of what became mind numbing gibberish to Miss Prescott, the meeting broke up with Bordon nearly dragging her out of the cabin. Melanie could tell that the officer was mad, clear to her that he had not obtained whatever his objective was at the gathering. This was confirmed when the young woman heard the Major mutter, "That was a damned waste of time and now we're running late," to Lieutenant Scott under his breath.
Major Bordon's sharp bark brought Melanie out of her thoughts. "Tracy! Kidwell! On the double!"
"Yes sir!" the two cavalrymen shouted from the woods where they were relieving themselves. In a moment, they scurried back to the group just as the Major was mounting his horse.
Alexander Bordon let out an audible sigh as he seated himself in front of Miss Prescott upon his steed. The post meeting irritation from earlier in the afternoon had now turned into weariness.
"We've not much time until sunset," remarked Alex. "We're going to have to pick up the pace if we're going to get anywhere near the fort before dark."
The officer looked intently up the road, then continued. "I think we're eight to ten miles away. If we ride hard, I think we'll be within a mile or two just after darkness. Hopefully we're familiar enough with the area that by then we'll be close enough to be able to find our way in after dark."
A sudden gust of air blew over them, making the horse stamp. Bordon looked up at the gathering clouds in the sky. The temperature had dropped within the last hour, cooling them all off after a hot day. "I think we're going to get rained on, gentlemen. Maybe a storm," he observed.
Turning his horse back to look at his men, Bordon requested, "Let's make it quick men. We've no time to waste."
The officer turned his head slightly back and said over his shoulder to Melanie, "Hold on. This is going to be a fast ride."
With that Miss Prescott brought her bound wrists up in front of her and grabbed fistfuls of the Major's wool jacket.
"Hiyah!" the officer commanded in a lightly restrained tone. The assembly of ten Dragoons was then off, first at a cantor, then at a gallop. Melanie, riding pillion behind Bordon, straddling the horse as a man would, knew that her body would be sore and aching by the time they returned to the fort from the constant bouncing of the journey.
After an hour or so of tiring riding and in the waning hour of light, the band of Dragoons came upon a small road block of rebels. Even the always astute Bordon was surprised to see this. The group stopped a few yards back from the rebels, clearly militia, and hesitated. The Major wondered how many men may be hiding out in the forest to the side and behind them.
"Look into the woods and off the road, men," the major instructed in a low voice. "Eyes open. Observe everything."
Lieutenant Scott, who had been riding in the rear, trotted his horse forward meet his commander. Bordon leaned over to his second and commented softly, "I think that meeting was a set up to get us out of the fort. Let's assume this is a trap."
"Yes," agreed Scott. "Daring of them to stop us on a main road within only miles of a British fort. They're becoming brave—or desperate."
Bordon laughed haughtily. "Move forward, men," he commanded under his breath.
The group paced ahead at a cautious trot. After a moment of the pace, Bordon turned to his young Scott.
"Lieutenant, ride a few steps forward and give a warning," he directed. "I'll move back into the middle of the men to guard our ward."
As an afterthought, Bordon trotted up a few steps to catch back up with his Second. "Scott, there are only ten of us. Let's try to end this peacefully and get by this without a skirmish since we don't know how many of them there are, yet still, make a show of threat and power."
With this, Bordon blended back into the middle of his men. He felt and heard an audible shudder come from Miss Prescott.
"It will be alright," he assured her softly. "You're protected. We're going to try to end this peacefully before it begins."
The men fell into formation around Bordon as they rode on carefully behind Scott, all of them looking around into the woods, listening and watching for any movement. Bordon was wary of the situation, not knowing how many men could be amongst these rebels.
"Remember, Dragoons show no fear," he reminded his men quietly. "Let's make it threatening and hope they back down without a fight, since there are so few of us."
The soldiers nodded in compliance and everyone rode forward in caution. They watched Scott signal halt with his hand and held their place. The dragoons discreetly drew their pistols, holding them down loosely, waiting for a sign to move to fighting stance. They all listened to Scott's words to the rebels blocking the road.
"This is His Majesty's road," he shouted with dignity and confidence. "You are ordered to clear the path. If you do so immediately, there will be no retribution. You have our word of honor. If you don't, there will be bloodshed."
After a moment of silence between all factions, Scott spoke again. "These are generous and unusual terms given by His Majesty. I advise you take advantage of them. They won't be given again."
"Give us the girl and we'll let you through," the lead rebel shot back.
"No. That is not in our terms," Scott called back firmly. "I warn you to disperse immediately. We have the advantage sir, of being on horseback."
"Yes, your reputation precedes you," the rebel countered. "All we want is the Prescott woman, and you may pass."
"King George's army does not yield to traitors," barked Scott, "nor do we make deals with them. Again, we are giving you insurrectionists one last chance to leave without bloodshed."
"Go get her, boys!" the rebel leader shouted. With that, a band of about fifteen to twenty rebels raced toward the Dragoons on the road and from out of the brush.
"Charge and attack," Bordon shouted. With that, the Dragoons charged in pairs into the rush of men, fighting on horseback on the road and some heading into the brush to chase the rebels.
Alex quickly pulled his horse into the cover of the forest a few yards off the road, shooting his pistol from there. Watching the skirmish from the woods and cursing himself for having a prisoner on his saddle that he needed to guard, it pained him that he couldn't be out in full combat with his men. Still he shot alternately from his long gun and pistol, passing them back and forth to Miss Prescott to hold in between shots. She also held his powder horn and paper cartridges, passing them to him as he reloaded quickly and with precision.
Bordon continued to shoot from the protection of the underbrush until he saw a rebel get through the gunfire and making his way quickly toward him on foot. Knowing he had to protect Melanie, he shouted, "We'll have to outrun him." He pushed his musket back into its holder on the side of his saddle. Then he holstered his pistol as his heels pushed into the horse's ribs, making it lurch forward.
"Hold on to me tight," yelled Alex over his shoulder at Melanie. At once, the girl brought her bound wrists up and slid her arms over Bordon's head, bringing them down and wrapping them tightly about his waist. As the horse started to run, she buried her head in Bordon's back, scared.
After running and shooting back ever so often at the pursuing rebel, suddenly Bordon came to a stop. He let the rebel man approach him, covering the two on horseback with his pistol.
"You give up, huh?," asked the rebel man cautiously.
"No," Alex replied. "Don't you know who I am?"
"No," answered the young man.
"I'm Brutal Bordon. Isn't that what you rebels call me?"
"Oh, Yeah, now I remember," replied the rebel.
"Seems you have a choice here," Bordon cajoled. "Wouldn't you rather have an important officer such as me—a very valuable prize. Or do you still want the girl?"
Bordon watched closely as he could tell the man was making up his mind. Melanie raged inside, angry that Bordon was doing this.
"I'm by myself. Seems you've been successful at drawing my men away from me. I've no one to help protect me and a prisoner riding on my horse to slow me down."
"I'd take you both," said the rebel. "But just give me the girl, and then I'm going to kill you."
"Go ahead. Take her," Bordon said fearlessly.
"What!?" Melanie gasped in amazement and fear. She watched the man draw slowly near the horse to pull her down. As the rebel reached up to get her, he turned his back on Bordon.
In a flash, Bordon pulled his saber from his scabbard and swung, decapitating the man instantly. Melanie held her breath taking it all in. She watched in disbelief, astonished at how fast the officers movements were, seeming almost a blur of a continuous fluid motion.
"Oh," Melanie half moaned, half sobbed as she looked at the man's headless body lying next to the horse. Feeling sick, she turned her head away and buried her eyes in the back of Bordon's shoulder blade.
After a moment, Melanie began to sob quietly onto the Major's back. Then, with bound hands, she bravely hit him between the shoulder blades as he tried to return his sword to its holder. "I thought you were going to give me to him. You said you'd protect me."
"Calm down," he coaxed. "It was just a ruse to get him to get close to the horse and let his guard down. I have orders not to let anything happen to you."
Melanie wiped her eyes, then jumped with a gasp as a huge clap of thunder rang out around them.
"We'd better catch up with the others," Bordon said.
Still hearing gunshots, Alex knew the fight was still raging over on the main road. He decided to ride a little deeper into the woods for just a few more moments.
After another minute of riding, the two came upon a clearing. Bordon looked up at the skies, the storm clouds growing more ominous by the minute. The wind had picked up, moving the tree tops in a rough sway. Melanie shivered as it had turned a bit colder.
Pushing his heels into the horse's ribs, Major Bordon continued on. He entered the forest again on a narrow path hardly wide enough to accommodate the horse. Melanie buried her face again in the officer's back, shielding it from branches stretching onto the narrow footpath.
The thunder became louder as the couple continued the trek through the forest. The trees started to whip violently around them as the forest darkened from the storm clouds over head. Soon, they came out onto a cow path. With the storm clouds darkening what little sunlight remained, Bordon wasn't exactly sure where they were.
Another loud crack of thunder and blinding flash of lightening made Melanie gasp. Bordon quickly pulled out his map, trying to discern the cattle path they were on, but could not make it out, having to strain his eyes. He folded the map again and shoved it down in his pack.
Major Bordon was concerned now with the lightning and the wind gusting so furiously as to blow them off the horse. What worried him most was that it was almost too dark to see anything now and he couldn't pinpoint where they were in approximation to the fort.
"Where are we," asked Melanie. "Are we going to make it back?"
"I don't know," Alex replied. "I've got to find shelter for us now."
He kicked the horse up to a trot along the unfamiliar path. The officer looked around him, scouring the woods and countryside for a cave, shack, rock over hang or anything that would afford them protection from the rain and dangerous lightning.
As they paced along, he felt Melanie's arms tighten around him. Feeling her shiver against his back, he spoke. "Are you cold or scared?"
"Both," she answered, her voice dotted with fear.
"We'll be alright," he tried to assure her. In his mind, he was trying to think about what to do if they didn't find shelter soon. Quickly pitching a small, makeshift tent, or throwing together a small shelter of branches and brush was an option for protection from the rain. But he knew it would not stand up to the raging winds and fierce lightening of this storm.
The Major stopped his horse. Melanie looked about her, wondering if he'd heard or seen something in the woods. She felt his left arm reach downward, then recognized the familiar brushing sound of him pulling his knife from its scabbard. In a flash she forgot about the impending storm and instinctively reacted to the sound with a startled gasp.
"Hold still," the officer requested.
Melanie complied as there wasn't much she could do in the way of movement with her hands tethered together just in front of Major Bordon's stomach. The man quickly pulled her hands away from his middle and held them still with his hand. With dagger in the other hand, he sliced through her bonds, cutting her free.
The girl pulled her freed arms back toward her and massaged in turn each of her sore wrists. Bordon sheathed his knife, then spoke.
"Lean back a little," he asked in a quiet, concerned voice.
Miss Prescott put her arms behind her on the back rim of the saddle, bracing herself as she leaned backward. She watched the Major as he quickly shed his jacket.
"Here," he said as he handed her the red and green wool wrap.
"Thank you," she replied as she donned his uniform coat.
"Hold on, Miss Prescott," Bordon directed, "I'm going to nudge Galahad to move us along a little faster here."
The young lady willingly slipped her arms around his waist again and clasped her small hands together in front of him. As the officer's horse moved along at a trot, Bordon strained in the darkness around him to find a shelter for them. The man was so intent to locate a place of protection that he didn't notice Melanie's fingers absently tracing the gold buttons of his waistcoat.
The officer and the young woman rode on in silence. Her arms still wrapped about Bordon's waist, Melanie could feel the stiffness in his body. She sensed that the usually fearless officer was apprehensive that they were separated from the other dragoons—more so then he let on.
Soon, plump drops of rain began to fall sparingly from the darkened clouds above, spotting their clothes. The wind continued to whip the trees and long grass about the path, with bolts of lightning flashing about the sky. The drums of thunder made Bordon's steed want to shy from the path, making the officer work harder with his legs and the reins to keep the beast under control.
In another moment, they rounded a bend and Bordon noticed the trees thinning out to his right. He slowed the horse up a bit and squinted into the darkness. An instant later, a streak of lightening lit up the area about them, allowing the officer to discern a shape through the trees. Peering into the trees from the back of the horse, Melanie wasn't sure what the Major was looking at.
A few seconds later another flash of lightening illuminated the trees. Bordon's sharp eyes, accustomed to looking about him for signs of trouble and rebels, were rewarded with the outline of a cabin. Melanie felt Bordon breathe a sigh of relief as she saw the shelter as well.
"Thank God," she murmured, glad at the sight of it.
Bordon nudged the horse off the path, riding it through the thin clump of trees. He looked about the area around the cabin as they rode slowly up to it for any signs of trouble. With eyes adjusted to the darkness, Melanie could see only a very small area cleared about the perimeter of the cabin. Bordon, noticing the thick woods to the rear of the house, hoped that no rebels hid within. He cocked his pistol as they neared the door of the cabin, ready to use it.
The major listened about him for any signs of the occupants. The man heard only the sound of the wind in the trees and the drumming of thunder. He turned backwards slightly toward Miss Prescott and whispered orders.
"Speak," the officer commanded. From her past experience of having to ride with the dragoons on raids, she knew what he wanted from her.
"Is anyone at home," she called loudly. "We're in need of shelter for the night."
This was a tactic Bordon favored when they had prisoners with them—especially women or children. He found that isolated cabin dwellers were more likely to open their door to a feminine or child's voice—it was less threatening.
After a moment with only the sounds of the storm, Major Bordon quietly dismounted his steed. He motioned up to Melanie to climb down. She did so, very near silently as Bordon reined his horse to a post beside the house.
The officer looked back at the girl. "Stay close to me," he directed in a low voice, "and don't make me have to use my pistol."
Knowing that the man was referring to her past escape attempts, she sighed and shook her head silently in compliance. Truth be told, Melanie was cold and damp, and had no desire to run away in such a ferocious storm.
They cautiously approached the cabin door, still looking about for any signs of life. With gun drawn, Bordon thumped his gloved hand against the wood. "Open up in the name of King George," he demanded firmly.
The couple waited another moment for a response. When none was received, Alex slowly pushed the door open. Peering into the cabin, he saw that no one was about.
"Stay just inside the door," he instructed Melanie.
In the darkness he could make out a bed in the corner, a rough wood cabinet in the corner, a chair, and a small stool near the fireplace. As he perused the log hut, he speculated that it was a bachelor's home due to the lack of feminine things such as a butter churn, cooking pots and the sparse furnishings. The occupant was probably away hunting.
Alexander looked back at Melanie and motioned her with a nod of his head to come further into the cabin. She obeyed and moved freely toward the fireplace. Bordon holstered his gun and walked toward the door.
"This will do for the night," Bordon commented in a tired voice. "You can have the bed; I'll sleep on the floor." She nodded wearily and heaved a sigh.
"I'll start a fire," said Miss Prescott as she reached into the wood candle box on the wall next to the fireplace. She was relieved to find a few candles within. Looking down at the floor, she noticed a couple of logs, with some kindling and tinder piled at the foot of the hearth.
Just as Bordon stepped out of the cabin, he heard Melanie's voice. "We'll need a little more firewood, please Major." She knew from her experience back at her farm that the small amount on the floor would be enough to start the fire, but not to sustain it.
"I'll bring it in after I deal with the horse," answered the officer from outside. With that, he led Galahad into the small lean-to against the side of the cabin. It was rickety with a few boards missing on the sides, but there was a roof over it and enough wood around it to shelter the animal for the night. Bordon secured the horse's reins to a post and moved in beside the creature. With hardly any room for both he and the beast, Alex was able to move just enough within the cramped area to pull his saddlebags and haversack off the horse.
Inside the cabin, Miss Prescott lit a couple of candles then started a fire fairly easily. With hands on her waist, she glanced at the homemade cabinet, spying a bottle of cider atop it. She stepped over to the tiny cupboard against the wall, knelt down and searched for food. Melanie smiled when she found a bit of dried Venison, some beans and three sweet potatoes on one of the shelves. A bit farther back on the shelf, she found a sack of walnuts and two large apples. With the small amount of food, she had enough to make a bit of stew from the venison, beans and potatoes, and could serve up peeled apples and some unshelled nuts for a sweet. At least they would have a hot meal, though meager, this night.
On the lower shelf, she found a wooden plate, fork, and tin mug, realizing that the occupant had most likely taken his only other 'place setting' along with him in his sack, wherever he had gone. She worried not, knowing that Major Bordon always carried a small mess kit in his belongings. Melanie knew, as well, that the major had a bit of salt pork, Hardtack, and a small flask of wine in his pack, so this would due for breakfast.
Bordon soon entered the shack again, carrying his saddlebags and haversack. He was pleased to see a fire started already as he sat the bags on the dirt floor.
"We have just enough for stew," the girl remarked. "May I have your knife to cut and peel?"
He gave her a sideways glance, silently warning her not to use the knife for other than food preparation. With that, Bordon handed her his haversack, instructing her to use whatever she needed from it. Melanie found his mess kit within and retrieved his jack knife from it.
Alex stepped back out of the cabin and to his horse. In the lean to, he found some oats in a small bin nailed to the wall, from which he spread them out on the ground before his horse to eat.
Just outside the cabin door, he stopped to place the wooden bucket that was near the entry out a little way from the cabin, hoping to catch enough rain in it to water Galahad. Then he picked up an armful of the firewood Miss Prescott had asked for a few minutes earlier.
Back inside, he laid the wood down next to the fireplace then bolted the door. He noticed Miss Prescott standing at the small cabinet, which came up nearly to her waist. Her back was to him, but he could hear her chopping and peeling the potatoes, using the top of the cabinet as a cutting board.
Dropping into the chair, over which Melanie had draped his uniform jacket, he closed his eyes for a moment. As he did, the Heavens opened with a crack of thunder and poured heavy rain down upon the cabin. He smiled, chuckling under his breath, glad they had made it to shelter before the storm became worse.
Clad in waistcoat, shirt and boots, he loosened the stock at his neck, hanging the cravat over the arm of the wooden chair. As one hand unbuttoned his collar, the other hand reached down into his pack on the floor. He found his diary and a pencil.
"While you cook I'm going to note the day's events in my field diary," he said in a weary voice. He would also have to write a short report for Colonel Tavington of the near skirmish just an hour earlier.
Melanie prepared and cooked the meal in silence, giving the officer the time and quiet he needed to make notes and write his report. As she stirred the stew, the warmth given off by the pot did not seem to relieve the chill she felt: the coldness of uncertainty felt at being holed up for the night alone with 'Brutal Bordon.'