Dear Readers, thanks for being patient and waiting for this chapter. It was a hard chapter to write.

JScorpio

Chapter 42 How Quickly Things Change

Melanie yawned as she checked the food by the campfire. The hungry dragoons had consumed most of it, so she could soon begin cleaning and packing up the camp's dishes.

She sat down on a fallen tree for a moment and looked around at the activity in the cavalry encampment. The men were finishing up breakfast and milling about. From her point, she noticed that all the tents were down and being packed onto the horses along with various other sundries.

Miss Prescott hadn't slept well these last few nights on the road with Tavington's legion. This detachment had been assigned to escort the girl back to her family's plantation. She laid awake, sad and worried, knowing that her time with Major Bordon was dwindling.

As Melanie let out a sigh, Colonel Tavington breezed quietly past her. Her eyes followed him as he made his way down to the creek to shave. The girl turned to look back at the water and caught sight of Alex coming from the brook freshly groomed. She cocked her head to the side as she watched the two men pause upon meeting, speaking too softly for her to hear them.

Bordon saw Melanie as he ascended the creek bank and smiled warmly at her. She returned his look with a shy grin, blushing all the while. As he walked past her, his hand lightly squeezed her shoulder.

Once in the clearing, Major Bordon spoke to the soldiers. "Break camp. Finish packing. The colonel desires to moves out in thirty minutes!"

A round of 'Aye, sirs' was were heard from the ten dragoons as they quickened their pace.

Walking back toward Miss Prescott, Alexander took her hand in his and led her along with him. He pushed her behind a great oak tree where she was out of view of the rest of the campers. Once there, he pinned her playfully back against it and gave her a lingering kiss.

"I missed you, this morning, Mrs. Bordon," he remarked quietly as he looked down at her. He nibbled on her ear and whispered, "pray, tell me how much more time until we can have relations again?"

"Um…..Alex…," she said as she kissed his neck to tease him. "Not much longer, darling. The midwife said to wait six weeks….I should be healed completely by then."

She looked demurely up at him, taking a moment to explain that she could not sleep, and had arisen early this morning and started breakfast. As the couple talked and teased with each other, they seemed not to know they were being watched.

Indeed, Colonel Tavington saw their intimate exchange from where he stood in the creek. A pang of jealousy tore at his heart, still regretting that he'd adhered to decorum and not made advances to the woman. He would always have the memory of a few stolen moments with her, how she pushed and swerved across his lap, how he felt inside her and came so quickly. But sometimes the memory didn't seem to be enough.

The commander sighed as he crouched down to begin shaving. William consoled himself with the fact that he would no longer be exposed to their intimacies after leaving Miss Prescott at her plantation.

Melanie and Alex soon made their way out from behind the tree. Once back in the glade, the major leaned casually back against the great Oak, surveying his men as they hastened to finish breakfast and packing. His lover stood close by, watching the camp, but her mind was a million miles away, still preoccupied with her impending life at home without Alexander.

Suddenly, Bordon came forward off the tree. He cocked his head to the side, his face painted with both intent and quizzical looks. Miss Prescott gazed up at him, puzzled. Then she heard a distant sound, like thunder.

A feeling of dread washed over her as she saw a look of alarm come over the officer.

"To Arms! To Arms!", he cried to the others. Bordon quickly grabbed Melanie's wrist and threw her behind the large tree. She stumbled a bit down the embankment but rapidly got back to her feet. Alexander pulled his pistol from its holster and handed it to the young woman. It was already loaded and ripe to go.

"Use this!" he shouted above the loud hoof beats and shouts of men. "Don't be afraid to defend yourself!"

Melanie shook her head in mute compliance. "Stay down!" he instructed her.

With that, she ducked behind the dirt grade and tree, smartly hiding herself. The girl heard the gunshots ringing out, loud in her ears as she now smelled the acrid gunpowder. She turned her head to see Colonel Tavington bounding up the mound toward his men.

The noise of the fighting seemed deafening. The gunshots, the war shouts, the tied up horses stamping and neighing in fright, injured men groaning, and the scraping and clanking of metal swards and rifle barrels made Melanie cringe. The poor girl tried to cover her ears.

Every time Miss Prescott poked her head up to steal a glance at the action, her vision was obscured by the smoke from the campfire and the discharging guns. She would not look for very long, wanting to stay down, afraid of being discovered. At each glimpse, she would catch glimpses of color: militia drab brown or dragoon red and green, unable to distinguish a face.

They were like ghosts moving in and out of a mist. Still, Melanie stayed hidden, afraid for herself and worried for Alex.

After only a few moments, but what seemed like an eternity to her, the din ceased. It was over. Miss Prescott rose up slowly, anxious to know what had happened. As the smoke floated lazily away, she saw bodies from both sides strewn haphazardly all over the glade. She covered her mouth at the sickening and startling sight, not wanting to gasp and make a noise.

Her eyes scanned the area looking desperately for Alexander. She wanted to call out for him, but fright kept her mute. Suddenly, she saw a figure standing alone and recognized him immediately as the young blonde rebel who'd led the band that kidnapped her. She knew him to be Corporal Gabriel Martin, son of Benjamin Martin, the South Carolina militia colonel that the dragoons so hungrily sought.

Scared that they had come to take her back, and remembering her horrid experience at their hands, she raised the pistol to defend herself. The young woman aimed it shakily at young Martin, who had inexplicably dropped his long rifle and now brandished a knife, stalked purposefully toward a dead dragoon.

Melanie was still worried for Major Bordon. She continued to wonder where he was, still looking over the clearing for him. The girl tried hard to push the thoughts of fear and wonder out of her mind so that she could shoot Corporal Martin. The young woman cursed her shaking hands.

Finally, the chance for a perfect shot at the young rebel presented itself. He had moved even closer and stood still over the dead dragoon, his back to Miss Prescott. The woman tried again to shoot but her hands trembled even more now.

Suddenly she heard a loud cry that made her jump. As instantly as the noise had startled her she saw the seemingly dead redcoat flip himself over and force a sword up through young Martin's gut. Melanie doubled over and threw up at the sight of the tip of the saber protruding from the rebel's back dripping blood and innards.

When the sickness passed, she wiped her mouth and stood back up slowly to survey the scene. The young woman now saw Colonel Tavington standing over Martin, pulling his weapon from the prostrate rebel's abdomen. She continued to gaze in horror and disbelief at the scene, watching as the dragoon commander slipped his hand inside his jacket to check his own wound.

Miss Prescott panicked when she saw the cavalry leader begin to run toward the horses, afraid she would be left behind. "Colonel!," she cried frantically, "Please stop!"

The officer stopped in his tracks, recognizing the voice, and spun on his heel. The girl ran to him, where he caught her in his arms.

"Miss Prescott, are you alright?" gasped the colonel.

"Yes! Where's Alex? Have you seen him?"

"I lost sight of him in the scuffle."

Melanie turned and began scanning the area for her lover. "Alex!," she called frantically. "Alex!"

Tavington joined her, surveying the carnage about him. He moved from each prostrate dragoon body to the next, hoping to find his men only down and wounded. The officer turned each red jacketed man over, continuing to find one dead cavalryman after another, and feeling more sick and defeated with each one. The colonel began to realize that he'd lost nearly all his men.

Miss Prescott continued to skitter about looking for Alexander. "Bordon," she heard Tavington yell. "Bordon!?"

The outstretched arm of a dead rebel near made Melanie tumble, stopping her abruptly. She looked down and was stunned to recognize the pain contorted face of the kindly Reverend Oliver. The girl dropped to her knees beside the man who had cared for her flogging wounds while in rebel confinement.

"Oh, Reverend!", she exclaimed, "What are you doing here with these men?" She saw his cartridge box open and blood stained and assumed that he'd fought with them. The girl instantly wondered why this man of God had done that, then she remembered him telling her of how war made even the most devout of Christians act queerly.

Melanie tried to rouse the minister and could not, realizing that he was dead. She squeezed his hand and whispered, "Thank you for taking care of me; I'll never forget that. God be with you."

She rose and turned only to spot a stocky dragoon laying curled on his side only a few steps from the Pembroke preacher. The young woman rushed the short distance and soon found herself standing over Alexander.

"Alex! Oh my God!", cried Melanie as she dropped onto the ground beside him. She took his hand and touched his face with the other. "Alex darling, can you hear me?"

"Yes," he whispered looking at her, his face twisted in pain. Bordon's eyes were water filled and glassy.

"Colonel!," she called. "I found him! He's alive!"

Tavington arrived just as she was turning Alexander onto his back. The major groaned horribly as she did, his hands holding his middle.

Melanie pulled her lacey handkerchief from her skirt pocket and wiped the blood from around Bordon's mouth and chin. She then pulled his body into her arms as she looked about for something to wrap around him. Tavington peeled off his jacket and laid it over his subaltern.

William cringed to himself when he saw the stab wound in his aide-de-camp's abdomen. He saw how much it had bled, and just how much of the fluid stained the grass near his body and feared the worst. He'd seen too many soldiers with wounds that bad. Still, he took off his own green vest that had hung loose and unbuttoned on him moments earlier as he groomed at the creek and folded it into a makeshift compress. He laid it delicately against Bordon's wound then applied slight pressure to it. The injured dragoon moaned loudly as his commander did so.

"Easy Bordon," Tavington soothed, "Don't move or talk."

"Yes Alex," Melanie assured, "Hold on darling. We're going to get you to help."

Major Bordon let out another whimper of pain. The officer was in so much agony that he could barely utter a sound. In just another moment, his breathing grew ragged and uneven.

As Melanie felt Alex's body shudder, she looked at Tavington with alarm. She became panicked when she saw the look of worry on the commander's face.

"No! NO!," she screamed as she looked back down at her lover. "Alexander, please! Hold on! We're going to get you to a surgeon."

The second in command began to cough and moan simultaneously, spitting up blood as he did. Melanie lovingly wiped it away. The girl felt his body, which had been tight and rigid in pain, relax and go limp. The young woman noticed his chest no longer struggling and heaving for deep breaths; now they were shallow.

"Oh Bordon," Tavington lamented, shaking his head in disbelief as looked at the mortally wounded man. William felt absolutely sickened knowing that he was losing the best second in command he could have.

Miss Prescott saw this and began to weep. "No Alex, DON'T!", she sobbed. "Please darling, don't go! NO!" She began to rock him as his pain filled eyes looked up at hers.

"Oh God NO! Alex PLEASE! I love you so much! NO!" The girl put her lips to his and kissed them. Then she lovingly kissed his cheek and forehead.

"Alex, please," she whimpered sadly.

"Melanie," Alex whispered raggedly. "I love you."

With that, Major Bordon let out a slow, ragged breath as his body went limp.

Melanie stared at him for a moment, anxiously watching for his chest to rise again. When it didn't, she began to shake in disbelief. "Alex? ALEX?!", she moaned, "No! Oh No!" The girl pulled his dead body against hers. She held him as tightly as she could, crying hysterically in grief as she rocked the dead officer.

Tavington, kneeling beside them, put his hand on his forehead, closing his eyes in exasperation. Then he rose and looked about at all the dead redcoats and rebels. The dragoon commander shook his head and fought back his own tears, realizing he'd lost his whole detachment.

Numbly, he rose and walked away from Miss Prescott, still wailing in grief over Bordon. The colonel stumbled up the hill, his mind a blur, not sure what to do. As he walked, some of the confusion cleared and he knew he had to get himself and Melanie to safety. The bullet wound in his side ached and throbbed terribly. The officer thought that he may be able to make a horse ride, but surmised that besides the pain of riding wounded, it may make the injury worse.

William suddenly realized that he was at the road's edge as his mind cleared even more. He heard the faint sound of a wagon coming toward him. The colonel sighed in relief for he was out of uniform, wearing only black breeches and white shirt, untucked and blood stained. Tavington realized he would not look as threatening like this and could stop a carriage easily.

In a moment, a covered Conestoga wagon rounded the bend in the road. Colonel Tavington walked fast toward the road to meet it.

"Whoa," the driver called to the horse as he saw the man coming toward them. The wagon held a middle aged man and his wife. They looked down at William in concern.

"You're hurt, man!", the driver exclaimed.

"Yes," Tavington replied.

The couple eased noticeably when they heard William's English accent. "Don't worry, son," the driver soothed, "We're loyalists. I'm Mr. Hughes and this is my wife. What's the trouble?"

"I'm Colonel William Tavington, and I've lost my whole unit," the officer answered in a winded voice. "Rebels ambushed us moments ago."

"Good God! We'd better get you out of here quickly! There could be more nearby!"

"Yes," agreed Will. "There's a woman down there. We need to get her."

"Surely," Mr. Hughes acknowledged. With that, he brought the horse and wagon down the lowest grade of the hill slowly, following Tavington. The Hughes' eyes rounded at the terrible sight of dead soldiers laying about with the breakfast fire still burning.

Mrs. Hughes was moved with pity as she saw the weeping girl cradling a dead soldier. She climbed down from the wagon and moved to comfort the young woman. "Miss, please," she bade, "come away. We're going to take you to help."

Melanie said nothing, continuing to cry as she held Alex in her arms.

"I'll send a burial detachment back to take care of the men," Tavington said to Mr. Hughes, "but could we take him? He was my second in command."

The colonel paused for a moment, then went on. "She's his wife," he lied to the couple. William was too tired and spent to want to deal with a grief stricken Miss Prescott and her possible reaction to having to leave her dead lover behind.

"Surely," Hughes replied. "We can take them both."

While the wagon's owner and wife helped Melanie into the back of the vehicle, Colonel Tavington retrieved all the sensitive natured documents and maps that he could find from his and Bordon's saddlebags. He placed the papers in the wagon then helped Mr. Hughes lift Bordon's body into the thing, placing him in Miss Prescott's arms.

William climbed in slowly with the help of Mr. Hughes, and eased himself into a sitting position. The officer settled in for the ride, hoping they'd make it to the safety of the British without any trouble from the rebels.

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The ride to the British encampment seemed long, but was thankfully uneventful. Tavington winced and groaned most of the way, his wound hurting with every bump, hole, and rut the wagon's wheels hit. William said nothing the whole way, wearily watching Miss Prescott who sat numbly holding the dead Major Bordon in her arms.

Once safely through the perimeter of the camp, the wagon stopped and the colonel was helped out. He was immediately surrounded by mid level officers to which he conveyed the story of the ambush. William requested a burial detail to fetch his men from the creek, and for special handling of his slain second in command.

A group of redcoats soon set upon the wagon, bearing Alexander Bordon's body out of it. Melanie still gripped the man as they did, holding his cold hand while they bore him out of the wagon. When the men gently tried to push her back to take the major's body for burial prep, she resisted. The girl clung to Alex, not wanting to let go of him.

"No! NO!," Melanie screamed. She held steadfastly to the dead officer.

Tavington turned to see the uproar this was causing and stepped in. He gripped the young woman's shoulder and hand, trying to convince her to turn loose of Bordon's body.

"Miss Prescott, please," he pleaded. "They need to attend to him."

"No!," she cried. "No!" Melanie's weary and grief stricken mind prevented her from thinking straight; she thought that somehow, even though he was dead, he would not be gone if she could hang on to him one last time.

The men were pulling and Tavington was trying to tug the girl away from him. Melanie was weeping all the while. After another moment, William was finally able to pull the distraught young woman away.

Melanie wailed as she felt Bordon's body ripped from her hands. "No! Please," she cried, still reaching for her dead lover. She looked in despair up at Colonel Tavington, tears streaming down her face.

"Don't let then take him away," she begged, still sobbing.

"Melanie," he said, using her first name attempting to get through to her, "They have to. They have to take him."

The colonel held her firmly, gripping her forearms in his and holding her body back against his, direly doing his best to restrain the girl from running toward them. She continued to fight against him.

"Alex! No! ALEX!", she cried desperately. She soon tired of fighting, and doubled over forward in agony. Then she dropped to the ground in grief, a crumpled heap of tears and misery.

Miss Prescott wept uncontrollably as William knelt down beside her. He pulled the miserable young woman into his arms as she sobbed hysterically, trying to comfort her.

Some concerned young privates who had watched the scene unfold approached the couple.

"Anything we can do, sir?" one asked.

"Yes," he said, looking up at the young redcoat. "I'm Colonel Tavington of the green dragoons. This is the wife of my second in command, whose body was just borne away. If you could provide a tent for she and myself to grieve in private?"

"Yes sir, right away!"

Tavington helped Miss Prescott to her feet and followed the private. The girl leaned heavily on the colonel, crying all the way.

They were given temporary quarters in General Winston's tent, where Tavington deposited Melanie in a wingbacked chair—rare for camp living but probably pillaged from a local's home or wagon from fleeing fugitives. He covered her with a blanket then collapsed on the general's cot. William tried to relax, but Miss Prescott's muffled weeping kept him awake.

Thankfully, within another minute, a surgeon was knocking on the tent pole, ready to dress the officer's wound.

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After a couple of hours passed, Colonel Tavington was trying to shift into a position on the cot that would ease the pain of the bullet wound in his side. He noticed that Melanie was awake still in the chair, but crying no longer.

"Colonel," a voice called into the tent.

"Yes," he answered weakly, raising himself up on the cot with a wince.

A private entered and padded over to the bed. He whispered something to the injured officer, then turned on his heel and exited quickly.

William slowly rose from the bed, wincing again in pain as he did, then crossed to the other side of the canvas room. He knelt down next to the chair where Melanie sat and spoke softly.

"Miss Prescott," he murmured, "they're ready to bury him."

"I'm not going," Melanie answered in a quiet, bland voice. She sat still, curled up in the chair under the blanket, staring blindly at the ground.

William sighed, hoping he wouldn't get any resistance from the girl. He knew it was important for her to go to Bordon's burial, for the closure aspect. The officer, in his years in the cavalry, had seen death so many times, but still thought it best to have a final good bye with his men, and he knew the young woman would need this as well.

"Melanie, you should go—"

"No," she replied flatly.

"Please. You need to say good bye to him."

"No," she said, pushing his hand away. "I won't. I can't…..I can't watch them bury him."

"I know this isn't easy," Tavington coaxed, "but I'll be there with you."

"No…please don't make me," she said, tears welling up in her eyes as she looked at the officer.

"I won't make you; you have to make your own decision about it," he soothed. "Just recently, when you were near death twice, he was at your side."

Tears rolled quietly down Melanie's cheeks as she listened to the colonel, but she said nothing. She shook her head in disbelief.

Colonel Tavington rose. He leaned over and kissed Miss Prescott's forehead. "Very well," he whispered. "I'll be back to sit with you later."

She didn't answer him. He left her there, walking toward the tent flap.

"Colonel, wait," Melanie said in a subdued voice, "I'll go."

William walked back over to the chair and helped the girl out of it. He escorted her out and across the encampment, following one of the private's to the burial site.

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It was a short burial rite. Melanie, who was led to Bordon's coffin on Tavington's arm, broke down at the sight of her dead lover. She leaned heavily against William through the brief ceremony who held her tight as she sobbed into his shoulder.

When it was over, he helped her back to the tent, her still sobbing hard all the way. The officer laid her on one of the cots and covered her. The colonel then made his way across the tent to the other cot and gladly laid his aching body upon it.

Will once again shifted on the bed, trying to find a position that would relieve the pain in his side. As he did, he listened to Miss Prescott quickly cry herself to sleep. He looked at the tent canvas and thought sadly to himself of how fast—a matter of only a moment—lives and situations can, and had, changed.