Chapter 28 Taken
Melanie and Bridget hurried out of the fort gate with their lone escort trailing behind, hardly able to keep up with the two girls. Miss Kilpatrick had been asked to quickly gather some berries to make an additional dessert for additional—and unexpected—guests joining the Lord General for dinner this evening. She enlisted Miss Prescott's help in order to collect the fruit twice as fast.
The girls hastily filled their baskets as they chatted idly. The sentry, a young infantry private grabbed at the last minute and pressed into guarding the two girls, wasn't much interested in the task at hand. He stood by quietly, bored stiff, and only half heartedly watching his charges.
The young women also weren't paying much attention to their surroundings. The two just enjoyed being outside the fort and engaging in meaningless prattle. While bantering back and forth, they were trying to finish up and get the berries back to the kitchen; time was of the essence to get the fruit to the cooks in time to get the desserts baked and ready for the guests.
Miss Prescott stretched her body to collect some distant berries when she felt herself topple off balance. As she struggled to regain her balance, she felt a rough hand clamp down tightly over her mouth, startling her and causing her to drop her basket.
Unable to scream audibly from behind the hand, the girl struggled and flailed as hard as she could to get away from her attacker. As she was being dragged backwards, she helplessly saw Bridgett and the sentry, going about their business and unaware that anything was wrong.
As she was pulled backwards through another hedgerow, her skin stung and burned as the branches scratched her. She also felt her dress getting caught within the branches, sure that it was going to be torn off. Once out of the hedge, she was relieved to see her dress still on her body, but worried about what else might happen.
The dragging stopped and Melanie felt her body dropped unceremoniously on the ground. The young woman looked up and found herself surrounded by non uniformed men with guns trained directly on her. Then she felt a knife blade against her throat.
"Make a noise or a move and we slice your throat."
Miss Prescott said nothing as she looked up in fright at the men. She immediately decided to comply with the threat for her fear of knives was still at a fever pitch after being stabbed 18 months ago. The young woman felt sick to her stomach, scared to even think about what may happen to her.
Melanie kept her eyes cast down, afraid to look her attackers in the face. But after a moment, she became brave enough to steal a couple of quick glances at the group. She noticed one in particular, a handsome young man with blonde hair. The girl recognized him, but couldn't place from where. She tried hard to recall his name, but could not remember.
The men talked very in hushed tones, leaving Miss Prescott to strain to hear what they were saying. She hoped they might divulge something: where they were taking her, what they would do to her, who they were? The group was successful in keeping hush this information.
After a moment more of their hushed conferring and secret hand signals, the men turned back to face Melanie. They roughly jerked her up to her feet and roped her hands. Lastly, a blindfold was put over the girl's eyes and a gag put in her mouth.
Unable to see, she held tight to the sleeve of one of her attackers to steady herself as she was made to walk. The girl stumbled, was caught, and kept afoot. She could hear horses whinnying and stamping, and felt they were near for she could smell the strong, dirty scent of the beasts.
Melanie felt her body gripped, then cradled and lifted upwards onto a horse. By the voice, she knew that she had been put on the saddle with the young blonde haired rebel. The young woman had been able to discern that she was now in the custody of rebels by their local, country accents. She desperately hoped these men weren't part of the zealots that killed her family some months ago.
Feeling with her hands in front of her, Miss Prescott found the saddle horn and gripped it tightly, preparing to ride. As she sat there waiting, her heart sank realizing that she had not heard Bridget's or the guard's voices or noticed a struggle. She could only surmise that her captors had quietly nabbed her and left the other two to go about their business, not noticing that anything was wrong.
After another moment of hushed rebel voices, she felt the arms of her captor lock her body tightly between them as he gripped the reigns. With a tug on them, the horse bolted forward with a jolt, seeming to jar Melanie all the harder since she could only feel her motion.
Although her attackers kept their moves quiet, Miss Prescott hoped her friends had noticed by not that she was missing and had begun looking for her. She prayed that they would glimpse her being taken away and summon help.
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"Miss Prescott."
"Melanie?", Miss Kilpatrick called looking about for her berry picking companion. "Where is she?" The young Irish girl looked about her in all directions, then craned her head to look over the bushes. When she couldn't spot her friend from that vantage point, she walked over to where she last saw her. Bridget spotted Melanie's basket on the ground, berries spilled out of it and knew something was amiss.
"Melanie?" she shouted again, her voice conveying alarm. Then she frantically tore into the nearest clearing looking for her friend.
When she saw no sign there of Miss Prescott, she trotted back toward the young escort assigned to watch over them.
"Private," she called, voice fraught with worry.
The young guard snapped to attention, wondering what was wrong.
"Miss Prescott's gone missing," Bridgett notified the young man.
"Maybe she ran away," he volunteered.
"She loves Major Bordon," Miss Kilpatrick stated," she has no reason to leave willingly."
The servant took his arm and led him to where she last saw her friend. Once there, the redcoat guard examined her basket lying on the ground, berries spilled out of it. He looked over a few feet from there and noticed grass mashed down. A foot over from there he saw lines in the dirt, looking like they may be drag marks. His eyes followed them into the bushes, which were slightly parted. The man noticed a jagged swatch of mint green material snagged on a branch.
He grabbed the delicate piece of cloth. "What color was she wearing," the private asked, unable to remember the shade of the dress the missing woman wore.
"This color," Bridgett acknowledged. "This is part of her dress."
With that, the two immediately ran a few steps to the main road, where they peered up and down both directions looking for a sign of Miss Prescott. They strained to see a sign of the girl, but saw only empty road both ways.
"Let's get back to the fort double quick," the private directed. "If she was kidnapped, they attackers may still be around." He immediately drew his knife and gave it to Miss Kilpatrick who happily took it. "Use this if something happens to me." The private then drew his bayonet covering them both as they quickly made their way back to the fort.
At the gate, the sentry called out an alarm and the fort went into action quickly. Tavington's legion, including Major Bordon, were out of the fort on patrol, so Colonel Tarleton took a detachment to the spot where Miss Prescott Disappeared and surveyed it. Banastre, although not an excellent tracker, possessed enough skill of it by experience to surmise the direction the kidnappers went. Still he split his men into two groups going opposite directions in case the attackers had done the same in order to throw off the trail. They rode off hard in pursuit, looking high and low for signs of Melanie and her assailants.
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Miss Prescott was sore and tired from riding for so long. She had no idea which direction they'd gone or no inkling of how many hours they'd traveled. The men she was with had spoken little and only in hushed voices when they did.
Early on, when they first left with the girl, the group split into two, wanting to confuse any would be rescuers with tracks in different directions. Although she was blindfolded, she could feel her group leaving the smoothness of the main road. The horse dipped down and forward, off the road into the woods. She also could tell that they must be on a little used path in the forest, for it was narrow, the branches of trees snaring her clothes, grabbing at her body and scratching her.
They would ride through sections of woods on narrow paths, then she'd feel the horses stop. After a moment's hesitation, the horses would step up and cross a main road, for the hooves sounded different, she surmised. Then they'd enter the woods again, tree branches pulling at her again. She would be thankful when they rode through a clearing, a moment's reprieve from the scratching of branches. When she could feel they were in the woods, she'd lean forward, huddled low to the horse so as not to get a face full of leaves and bark. She'd straighten her body up again when she could tell they were in a clearing.
The young woman tried to listen for the bustle of towns or villages but didn't hear any. She rightly surmised that they probably hadn't ridden through any, not wanting to arouse suspicion as carrying a blindfolded and gagged woman with them. The girl also listened for other horse and wagon traffic, hoping they would pass someone on a road or cowpath, but she heard none of that as well. Melanie guessed that whoever these men were, they must know every little used path in the woods and were sticking to them.
Miss Prescott had lost count of how many main roads they had crossed; how many sections of forest they had traversed. She could feel little sensation in her body, stiff and numb now. Not being able to see magnified every bump and jolt she felt on the horse. The girl was at the mercy and hopefully, good graces, of her kidnappers since she was blindfolded and gagged. All the young woman could do was sit on the horse and pray for the ride to end soon.
After what seemed like hours of this, Melanie could finally hear the hustle and bustle of other people and horses—lots of them. She wasn't sure where she was, but was thankful to stop riding.
In a moment she was pulled roughly from the horse and onto the ground. Still blindfolded, she promptly fell to the ground after her rough landing. The blindfold was ripped from her head, pulling her blonde hair. Then her gag was released.
Still on the ground, she looked up at the group that had gathered around her. She noticed that the young, blonde haired man that she'd ridden with, was still upon his horse talking to some men. Melanie looked about at the faces around her, trying to recognize someone—anyone.
"Redcoat slut," one of them taunted.
The bunch of men around her was growing. It now included some of her kidnappers. All looked ominously down at her.
"Well, well, look who we got here," another man commented. "It's Brutal Bordon's Whore!"
"Ain't so much of a pacifist now, are you?"
"Yeah, you share the bed of a British officer, so you must have turned!"
Melanie swallowed hard and burned with shame as the men jeered. Obviously word of her affair with Alexander had found its way out of Fort Carolina. She wondered if—and how—they might use this against her.
The men continued on making fun of her. "All we need now is Bloody Tarleton's and the Butcher's whores and we'll have three of a kind!"
"Hell, maybe she's been with all the Redcoat officers!"
One of the men yanked her up hard from the ground. The group of men soon closed in on her and began shoving her back and forth between them. Melanie fought them off as best she could, trying to push back and throw punches, yet trying to wiggle out of the group.
She was able to get one punch off and landed it one of the men. He quickly slapped her hard across the face, knocking her off her feet and back to the ground.
"English bitch!" he yelled in his anger.
Melanie tried not to cry but the tears flowed beyond her control. She put her hand to her cheek, which smarted from the slap. The sting and burn were horrible, feeling now as if her face had been knocked askew, her hand holding it in place. The young woman looked at the ground, wishing these men would go away.
"That's enough, men," she heard a voice say.
She didn't dare look up from the ground. The girl could see the men dispersing as she lifted her eyes carefully, stealing a glance for the man responsible for saving her.
A man with dark hair, no uniform, looking aged mid forties appeared before her. He knelt down to face her. Melanie looked at him and immediately knew the man.
"I'm sorry about that," he apologized. "Do you remember me?"
"Yes," she said, relieved. "Aren't you Mr. Martin?"
"Yes," Benjamin Martin answered as he helped her to her feet. They talked as he walked her over to a small, wedge tent.
"I'm sorry about your father," he lamented.
"Thank you."
"I know he worked hard to end this war," Martin recalled.
"Yes, he did," she replied with a small nod of her head.
He held the tent flap open and motioned her through. Inside, there was a bedroll spread out for her. "You must be tired after the ride," he said cordially. "You may lie down if you like. You have my word that the men won't bother you."
She thanked him again. They had removed her blindfold and gag, but left her hands bound. "Would you please untie me?" Melanie asked.
"I'm sorry, but I can't," Martin answered.
Miss Prescott looked down, disappointed. She heaved a sigh and shook her head.
"What's going to happen to me?"
"I'm not sure yet," replied Ben. "We were assigned to get you back from the British, that's all I know."
A moment of awkward silence passed between them. Melanie bravely spoke up, trying to gauge what Mr. Martin might know.
"You rescued me from the British," she commented.
Benjamin knelt down in front of her again. "Miss Prescott, why don't you stop now before you start this game," he acknowledged. "You're not going to be warm and secure in Major Bordon's bed tonight."
Melanie's eyes widened at his revelation, not realizing he would have probably known the same information his men had heard. She swallowed hard and shuddered.
Martin stayed cordial, but firm. "You're going to spend the night out here in a tent just like the rest of us."