Chapter 47 Analyzing Things

It had been a little over a week since Lieutenant Colonel Banastre Tarleton had arrived at the Prescott plantation to recover. The officer's injured hand hurt every day, and while he was glad to be alive as he knew many good redcoats weren't, he knew that he fared better than some.

Likewise Colonel William Tavington was in near the same situation. He had been here now for six weeks. Both of their military lives had changed and their futures were uncertain. Both had sent letters to General Lord Cornwallis: one asking for reassignment to a less physical post; the other asking to resign a commission.

The recovery left plenty of time for reflection and contemplation. The same thing gnawed at both men: the devastating loss on the Saunders' land, the Cowpens, in the South Carolina piedmont. Neither man had spoken in detail, aside from customary reports to superiors, of the defeat. This afternoon, both men decided to analyze what happened, as lessons for the future, and to save both of their own sanity.

William had brought his field and personal diaries as well as notes he'd jotted during the course of his recovery, as he recalled things. Banastre had the same, as well as a copy of the report he'd submitted to superior officers. Both men sat now in the formal parlor which had become Tarleton's temporary chambers, pouring over their notes.

As they laid their notes out and opened their diaries, Tarleton began. "I have heard since the battle now that Morgan had halted the colonials running and they'd actually camped near the field. A letter intercepted from General Morgan stated that he had a chance to thoroughly survey the field. He learned the terrain and led us right to where he wanted us, I surmise."

"No doubt some of the local men fighting with him knew the land as well," Tavington chimed in.

"Yes, and Old Morgan put us right where he wanted us, I suspect," Ban commented. "Those woods and swamps on either side only left us a small area of open field to fight in. He funneled us right in to his men."

"I think the lay of the land was deceiving as well," William spoke up. "I thought it was flatter than what it actually was. It sort of rose on a gentle incline, and he hid his men in that swale on the other side. I rode close enough to see the drop."

"I suspected that, as well," Colonel Tarleton remarked. "Our men were running and fighting uphill actually as well as the horses running up the low grade as well. I agree—it was very deceptive."

Both men paused looking over a map of the area and consulting their field diaries. Banastre went on. "One of my Cornets, Stennis, commented to me that he was unhorsed three different times by the mud. He swore that the beast couldn't get adequate footing."

"Yes," agreed William, "the muck wasn't the most conducive to proper cavalry riding."

He took a breath, then went on. "Private Cole visited me in the hospital tent," Will began, "and though I was in pain, I distinctly recall him complaining that he couldn't get a shot off; he had only his saber to rely on. He said his powder was wet even though he tried his best to keep it dry. That makes me wonder how many other men had waterlogged gunpowder."

"Who knows," Ban said, "We marched all those miles in the rain; it's a wonder that anyone's load was dry."

"With that said, how many days and miles do you think we chased them," questioned Tavington aloud. "That did not help us any. We had ridden hard for so many days and miles. We went without several meals in the order of gaining distance. We had little sleep for a couple of weeks during all this. I'll admit, I was tired myself."

"We all were," admitted Tarleton, "but we knew the men could do it and we never ask them to do something we wouldn't do ourselves."

"Yes, but every man has his limits," William pointed out.

"True."

"But the thing that puzzles me most is the account of how many men Morgan had on the field," Tavington announced.

"Yes, I was wondering that, too," Ban stated. He pulled out some notes he'd jotted down and handed them to Tavington to peruse.

Tarleton spoke as William read the notes. "Those are from a letter that was intercepted from General Morgan to General Greene. It states that he only had 700 men on the field. Now, Tav, how many battles and skirmishes have we been in these last few years?"

"Dozens."

"I know I am young and maybe don't have all the experience as the generals have," Banastre remarked, "but just from the different sized battles and skirmishes we've been in, I think I have become a decent judge of numbers of men on a battlefield."

"Yes. I think I have as well," Tavington added. "I think, he had at least double that number of men. I will venture to say at least 1500—more than us."

"Precisely! Quite a braggadocio to talk of how he beat a superior force with fewer men," Tarleton spat.

"Not to mention what that kind of propaganda is going to do for the morale of the rebels, not to mention swell their ranks," William sniffed.

Both men became introspective again, ruminating on what they'd just discussed. After a moment, Will broke the silence.

"Well, no matter, we were soundly beaten and there is no excuse for the defeat," Tavington said stoically. "We were plain outdone. We must mark this well for the future."

"Yes," Ban replied simply.

A week had passed since William and Banastre's conversation in which they analyzed their defeat at the Cowpens. It had been two weeks since he'd sent his letter by messenger to Cornwallis requesting reassignment. He watched anxiously today when the runner had come and gone with no reply, leaving him disappointed.

Colonel Tavington shook off his disappointment as he made his way through the hospital tents. He savored the warm afternoon. The white clouds had become thick and dark as a spring storm was in the making. He looked about at the others looking up at the sky, and watched as the orderlies and camp followers started to tie down the tent flaps in anticipation of a strong thunderstorm.

As he cleared the outbuildings, he looked down the gentle incline and caught sight of Miss Prescott. She stood on the banks of the creek. The girl was tossing rocks into the deepest, widest part of the creek, where the water pooled just down from escaping over the shallow falls.

William ambled slowly down the knoll toward the young woman.

"May I join you," asked Will just as she raised her arm to toss another rock in to the brook.

Melanie looked at him, disturbed by his presence as they were alone again. It seemed that the last few times she'd found occasion to be alone with Colonel Tavington, he'd made advances toward her.

"Yes, but I want you to stay over there," she requested. The plantation mistress through the stone into the pool of water, making a large plunk.

"Very well," the officer complied, "I'll keep my distance."

"While throwing your stones have you noticed the sky," he asked cordially. "It's going to storm soon."

"Yes, I noticed," she acknowledged. "Are they getting prepared up there?" The young woman motioned back up toward the hospital tents.

"Yes, they are tying down the tent flaps," William assured as the girl nodded her head. "You should get back up to the house."

Again, Miss Prescott said nothing only nodding her head.

He watched as Melanie reached down to pick up another rock. "You've kept to yourself these past few days," he commented as she pitched the stone into the creek, "Is anything wrong?"

"Just thinking," she said, not picking up another stone. Instead she stared out across the brook. "There's confusion. So many decisions that need to be made."

"About what?" queried William as he shifted his weight from one leg to the other.

Miss Prescott hesitated slightly, then spoke. "Business," she lied, blurting it out. "Business." The girl looked at him shooting him her most believable look.

"Yes, I understand," Tavington replied. "But you will catch on."

An awkward silence passed between the two. "Is that all you're worried about?"

"No, your actions and advances don't help anything," she answered flatly.

The officer looked down at the ground then back up the young woman. He sighed in frustration. "Am I to act as though I feel nothing for you…..hide my feelings?"

"Yes!" Melanie answered immediately. "No!......I….I don't know. I can't take having to sort through your feelings and my own feelings while I grieve. My hands are full." She shook her head, then crossed her arms in front of her, flustered.

"I think that's a convenient excuse to push some chances away," Tavington pointed out.

Miss Prescott rubbed her forehead with her hand. "I just…….I just can't become someone's mistress again. I don't want to become another officer's whore."

William opened his mouth to protest, but the young woman stopped him. "You know, it didn't even make a difference to anyone—and never will—that Alex and I loved each other. No one cared about that. They only talked about the action; the coupling. I'll always be Bordon's whore."

"You think I will make you into that?" asked Will.

"Yes! I think I will be known as Tavington's whore," she shot back. "You're already making improper advances to me that you want me to fulfill."

"Very well then," the officer answered through gritted teeth. "I will not make anymore advances. You have my word."

"Thank you," answered Miss Prescott in a subdued voice.

A heavy quiet passed between the two as both of them looked out over the water. After a moment, Colonel Tavington broke the silence.

"You make yourself a prisoner," he pointed out, speaking his mind. "You're a slave to the past and a dead officer. It's easy for one to find a sense of security with imprisonment. You're restricted and safe. You adhere to routine. You're kept and protected. You don't breech the border because it is safer to stay bound in the prison."

"I've grown used to it," Melanie retorted. "You redcoats kept me prisoner for two years."

The two of them stood separated by a few feet, yet glaring at each other. Miss Prescott turned away and rubbed her forehead again, a mild headache beginning to form.

"Just…..please," she stammered, "Stop adding to my confusion."

"I gave you my word that I would stay away," Tavington said in a disgusted voice. He turned quickly and made his way up the small incline.

Melanie turned and yelled back at him. "You're not the only one who has feelings! I do have them for you. Please understand and forgive me. I'm just not free to pursue them."

Tavington, who had turned to look back at the young woman as she shouted at him, did not answer. He kept silent, only shaking his head. The officer turned back to continue walking. He muttered under his breath in frustration. "You could be."

The girl watched as the colonel walked away. In just a moment, she felt the breeze pick up to a stiff wind and thunder began to crack. She lifted her skirt and ran toward the house. Once inside she went straight up to the nursery which had become her temporary room for the last few weeks. She slammed the door shut then threw herself down on her bed. As she wept into her pillow, she wondered why simple feelings could be so difficult.

The thunderstorm from yesterday afternoon turned into a series of storms that hit the plantation all through the evening and throughout the night. This morning dawned to much sunshine and a clear blue sky. Colonel Tavington made his through the hospital tents, helping where he could as he had become bored without active duty. He did what he could as his range of motion and lifting heavy weight was still impacted by his abdominal injuries. William was helping to secure a tent flap when he overheard his name mentioned.

"I'm looking for Colonels Tavington and Tarleton," the young man said.

William spoke up from where he stood securing the canvas flap. "I'm Colonel Tavington."

"Yes sir, and where is Colonel Tarleton?"

"He's up at the main house," replied William.

"General Cornwallis sent me. I have a message for both of you," the soldier announced.

Tavington reached out for the message but the messenger pulled it back toward him. "Begging your pardon, sir, but I have orders to deliver the message to both of you at the same time and I am to await your answers."

"Certainly," said Will a bit puzzled. "If you will follow me to the house, I'll gather Colonel Tarleton and you may give us both the message."

"Thank you, sir," the young messenger replied.

Once at the house, he asked the soldier to wait for him in the dining room, where he would bring Colonel Tarleton momentarily. With that, William headed toward the formal parlor expecting to find Banastre resting on the couch. Once in the room, he found the divan empty. He spied a lady's shawl and mob cap on the floor and shook his head. Obviously, he thought, Banny had a bit of company at the moment, but where was he?

In an instant, William heard muffled noises coming from the study that was used as on office. The officer made his way to the office next door and found the door locked. He listened for another moment and heard more voices through the door.

"That's it, darling," the male voice said, "Take it all the way down."

Will knew the voice to be Ban's. He closed his eyes and shook his head. Even though Banastre was recovering from a hand injury, it did not stop him from going after the ladies. Tavington chuckled to himself.

Wondering who the woman was who was in Ban's company, Tavington quietly knelt down in front of the door and peered through the keyhole. He fought to keep his snickering quiet when he saw the back of a raven haired woman on her knees before Banastre, obviously orally pleasuring the commander.

William got to his feet, still trying to contain his own laughter. He thought he would give the couple another minute alone before he would knock on the door. Tavington had recognized the girl even from the back, as one of the camp followers who doubled as a nurse.

"Oh….you're doing well, love," Ban said, Tavington hearing that much through the door.

Smirking again to himself, he thought it was finally time to break up Ban's fun. He knocked on the door and called through it. "Ban? Are you in there?"

"Uh…..yes Tav…..but….uh….I'm busy at the moment."

"We've been summoned to meet with Lord Cornwallis' messenger immediately," informed William.

"Oh…uh…..very well…," Ban stammered in the midst of the girl pleasuring him. "I'll…..uh….I'll be there momentarily."

Tavington chuckled silently and walked away from the door.

Inside the office, Banastre eased his swollen member from the young lady's mouth and quickly pulled the dark haired camp follower up from her knees. "That was divine, dear."

He turned the girl away from him and pushed her down onto the table. "Bend over, love, we're not finished yet."

"Oh Colonel," the girl cooed as she readied to receive the man. She reached backwards and gathered her own skirt up to her waist.

Commander Tarleton smiled at the tantalizing view of her naked rear as he nudged his breeches down a little on his hips. He then thrust his erection into her making her gasp. As he began, he bent forward and murmured into her ear. "Now, try to keep your cries of pleasure quiet, love."

With that, he began quickly heaving himself in and out of the girl, building him and his partner up in fast time. Soon, the girl began to moan, in which he came an instant after she did.

After he tugged his pants back up and she'd pushed her skirt back down, he gave her a small but affectionate kiss. "I'll see you again soon, love." From there, they separated: Ban on his way to meet Tavington and the messenger and she on her way to the parlor to gather her shawl and cap.

Tavington was standing in the dining room with the messenger when Tarleton breezed in, tucking his shirt into his breeches with his left hand. His white linen shirt was open and his breeches unbuttoned and flapping around his knee, no stockings and in his bare feet. He did look rumpled as a man would look after recovering in bed.

Melanie entered the dining room as the two officers were making introductions with the messenger. "Oh, this is Miss Prescott, the owner of this beautiful plantation," Banastre said to the courier.

"Pleased to meet you, miss," the young soldier greeted, "but the message I have is for the two colonels only."

"I understand," she said. With that, she closed the doors from the large drawing room and entry way then closed the doors behind her as she exited into the preparation area.

Both colonels sat down as the messenger opened his notes. "General Cornwallis has replies to both of your requests."

The soldier looked at Banastre. "Colonel Tarleton, your resignation is not accepted. Lord Cornwallis states that you with one hand are a better soldier than many of the men he already has. He states that he would rather have you missing a limb then not have you at all. He kindly and respectfully suggests that you begin your rehabilitation with learning to do everything with your left hand. He has the utmost confidence in you and says that he knows you can do it. He will wait for you to gain confidence with your left hand. When you are proficient, he will restore you to legion commander. Take a few weeks then report to him. Also, he has abolished your brevet position and made you a full Colonel."

William's eyebrows rose at the message from the Earl. He looked across the table at Ban to see a sight he'd never seen before. For once, the normally talkative and charming Tarleton was dumbstruck, his mouth open and eyes as large as saucers. He was at a loss for words.

"Uh….might I answer for my fellow commander," Tavington asked. "He accepts and will begin rehabilitation right away. He will keep the general apprised of his progress."

Tarleton, still mute, shot a look at Tavington that silently asked if his friend was insane. William assuaged his fears. "I'll help him. I am ready myself, to try to begin fencing and combat again. We will help each other in our rehabilitation."

"Excellent," the messenger said with a smile. "The earl will be pleased to hear it." He flipped to another piece of paper and looked at Colonel Tavington.

"Colonel Tavington," the soldier addressed, "The Lord General understands your need to be moved to a position that requires no combat at the moment. Therefore, you have been put on his staff as his cavalry liaison. You have also been promoted in rank to Brigadier General, and have been made the commander of the cavalry. As such, for the period that you can not fight, you will attend to the administrative and liaison duties of the cavalry. During battles, you may stay on the back lines with the generals, advising and consulting. When you are able to fight and ride again, you will have the privilege of leading your legion into battle again. For now, Colonel Tarleton will be in charge of the physical activities of the cavalry and leading it into battle."

The young messenger paused, took a breath and folded his papers. He looked at both of the stunned commanders. "The General knows that the two of you will work together well and that there is no jealousy amongst you, only the sense of camaraderie."

"Well, please tell the Lord General that we will make regular reports to him and that we are deeply flattered," Tavington commented as the men all stood from the table.

"The earl will be pleased that you've both accepted," the young man said. As he left, he bowed his head in respect to each man. "Colonel. General." With that, the messenger hurried out of the house.

Melanie knocked on the closed dining room door as she'd seen the messenger leaving. William let her in and told her the news.

She quickly called to her two main servants. ", would you please bring up a bottle of champagne, and ask Mr. Andrews to join us here. You are to stay as well."

Within a few moments, Melanie's two trusted servants had joined them in the dining room. Mrs. Sloane filled five glasses with the bubbly drink.

"What are we celebrating," asked a puzzled Mr. Andrews.

Melanie smiled, truly happy for the two officers who had rescued her over two years ago, and who she had become fond of at the fort, and now as they recovered at her farm. "Both of these men have received promotions in rank. Colonel Tarleton, who was in the position of brevet Lieutenant Colonel, has been made a full colonel. And Colonel Tavington, is now a Brigadier General."

The group of five in the dining room raised their glasses as Miss Prescott toasted the two officers. "A toast to Brigadier General William Tavington and full Colonel Banastre Tarleton. May you both recover fully, fight well after that, and live long lives in which to tell of it."

"Hear hear!" the group replied.