Saratoga (20 page)

"Why?"

"Because he had two Indian scouts with him, as indecently clad as most of their tribe. Do you see what I mean, Captain?" he asked. "Miss Rainham is forced to ride behind primitive men whose bare buttocks are clearly visible. She'll have to avert her eyes throughout the entire journey."

Jamie Skoyles also had reservations about the expedition that Elizabeth Rainham was undertaking, but his misgivings were not related to the Indians. His concern was that she was leaving the safety of the camp to make her way through country that might still harbor pockets of American rebels. Notwithstanding the presence of Harry Featherstone and a small detachment of redcoats, Skoyles feared for her safety. He was also envious of the major's opportunity to spend so much time with Elizabeth away from the stink and bustle of the camp at Skenesborough. Whatever else he told her on the way, Skoyles mused, Featherstone would certainly not mention the two Canadians whom he had hired to exact revenge on his behalf.

"It's her birthday in a month or so," said Westbourne.

"Who?"

"Miss Rainham."

"How do you know that?"

"The major told me. The lady will be twenty-one, apparently. When we reach Albany, there's even a possibility that they'll ask the chaplain to marry them."

Skoyles was alarmed. "Are you sure?"

"Major Featherstone sees no point in waiting," the other explained. "Miss Rainham's family talked of a wedding in Canterbury Cathedral but that would be a year or more away. I must say that she looks far too young to become a wife but, then, I hear that Baroness Riedesel was married when she was only
sixteen
. I find that extraordinary."

"Yet you can see how happy their marriage is, Lieutenant."

"Yes, I have noticed that," said Westbourne, "and, as you know, I rarely take account of such things. I'm not minded to take a wife myself, but I wish the major and Miss Rainham well. I'm sure they'll be extremely happy together."

"What on earth makes you think that?"

"Major Featherstone told me so himself. He's just dying to wed."

Elizabeth Rainham had not been deterred by the prospect of many hours in the saddle. Eager to see her uncle again after such a long time, she had brought letters for him from various members of her family. She was also relieved to get away from the camp at last to see something of the countryside at close quarters. Elizabeth was treating the visit to Bitter Creek both as an adventure and as a welcome chance to spend some time with the man she loved. Enjoying the sensation of freedom, she could not understand why Harry Featherstone was so distracted.

"Don't you feel well?" she asked.

"Yes, yes," he replied. "I'm fine."

"You've not spoken for the last few miles."

"I'm sorry, Elizabeth."

"Did you have too much to drink last night?" she teased. "Is that why you're so quiet today? How late did you play cards?"

"Not late at all," he said, managing a smile. "And I don't mean to neglect you. This is the best day I've had so far in the campaign. We're together at last, away from the hurly-burly of the camp."

"Yes, Harry."

"It seems like an age since we last went riding together."

"It was almost exactly two years ago to the day."

"How can you remember that?"

"Because I had good reason," she said with a nostalgic smile. "We rode across Chartham Downs on a Saturday afternoon. When we got back to the house, you proposed to me."

"Bless me!" he exclaimed. "Did I?"

"Don't tell me you've forgotten."

He laughed. "No, Elizabeth. You had the kindness to accept my hand." He looked around. "When you did that, however, I don't think you expected that our next ride would be through the Green Mountains."

Guided by two Indians and followed by twenty redcoats on foot, Featherstone and Elizabeth were mounted on two of the finest horses available. Though she rode sidesaddle, she had complete control over the animal and even kicked him into a brisk trot across open land. For the early part of their journey, they had accompanied Colonel Skene, who was going to Castleton with some German soldiers in search of recruits, but they were now on their own. With the redcoats to protect her, Elizabeth felt completely safe. The only thing that worried her was the howling of wolves up in the mountains.

"They sound as if they're getting closer," she said.

"Wolves are a menace. We shot dozens of them after the battle at Hubbardton. They came down in large packs to feed off the dead."

Elizabeth was shaken. "Feed off them? Surely, all those who died were given a decent burial?"

"Our own men were, of course," said Featherstone, "and we buried Colonel Francis out of respect for the fight he put up against us. But we didn't bother to dig graves for all the rebel casualties."

"You just left them on the battlefield? How revolting!"

"It was necessary. In any case, burying them would have been a wasted gesture. When we rode away, the wolves were starting to dig up bodies from the ground." She grimaced. "You can see now why I choose to keep certain things from you."

"Yes," she agreed. "The very thought of it induces nausea."

They rode on in silence for a couple of miles before cresting a hill that commanded a view of the valley below. Elizabeth's heart lifted. Beside the creek that snaked its way along for over a mile was a large, two-storied timber house with a series of outbuildings forming a courtyard in front of it. A mill had been erected at the water's edge, and its wheel was turning steadily. Cattle grazed nearby. Horses were penned in a field adjoining the house. In the evening sunshine, it looked like an idyllic spot and Elizabeth believed that she recognized the place.

"This must be it," she exclaimed with excitement. "Isn't it beautiful, Harry? Exactly as Uncle David described in his letters. I can see now why he came here."

"Why is it called Bitter Creek?" asked Featherstone.

"I don't know but it ought to be given a much nicer name. Can we go down there?" she pleaded. "Uncle David is going to be so thrilled to see us."

Featherstone smiled indulgently and nudged his horse forward. She kept pace with him on her own mount. Relieved that they had at last reached their destination, the soldiers trudged behind them. Eyes on the house below, they followed a winding track down the hillside. There was no whisper of danger. When the column got within fifty yards of the house, however, shots rang out, and one of the Indian guides dropped dead on the ground. Two of the soldiers were badly wounded. The noise of gunfire was so loud and unexpected that it made Elizabeth scream in horror. Her horse bucked wildly, tossing her onto the grass.

Leaping from his saddle, Featherstone crouched beside her to shield her from any attack. On both sides of them, he could see long-barreled rifles protruding from the bushes.

"Scatter!" he yelled to his men. "It's an ambush!"

CHAPTER NINE

J
amie Skoyles had always believed that the only way to get a woman out of his mind was to take another woman into his bed. Accordingly, he invited Maria Quinn to join him that evening and share a bottle of wine that he had been keeping for just such an occasion. Maria was more than compliant. A vivacious young woman with red hair that hung in curls and a pretty face that was lit by a bewitching smile, she had joined the ranks of the camp followers in the hope that Skoyles would seek her out again. The night they had spent together after the ball in Montreal had been the culmination of a dalliance that had gone on for days. It had been such a riot of love and lust that it prompted Maria to abandon the safety of Canada for the uncertainties of an American campaign.

She was delighted that Skoyles had finally remembered her, and as they lay entwined in his tent, he wondered why he had not done so before. An hour of raw passion with Maria Quinn had obliterated all trace of Elizabeth Rainham from his mind. After caressing her naked back and buttocks, he ran an index finger down her nose and onto her lips. She gave the finger a playful bite.

"Are you happy?" he asked.

"Very happy," she purred. "I thought you'd forgotten me."

"After what happened in Montreal? Impossible, Maria."

"Good."

"It's just that I've been rather busy since."

"I can see that from the state of your face and these bruises all over your body." She nestled into his shoulder. "You've been in the wars, Jamie. It's just as well you've got me to kiss your wounds better."

"You do it so beautifully."

"Does that mean I'll be seeing you again soon?"

"I can't promise anything," said Skoyles, drawing slightly away. "I told you before, Maria, that a soldier's life is not his own. This is the first chance I've had since we left Canada to spend time with you."

"I'm a patient woman."

He laughed. "You were impatient enough earlier on."

"Didn't you like that, Jamie?"

"I loved it."

He kissed her full on the lips and she responded willingly. Skoyles was about to roll on top of her again when he heard a noise outside his tent. He held Maria away from him so that he could strain his ears. A second later, the voice of Polly Bragg called out to him.

"Captain Skoyles!" she said. "Are you awake in there?"

"Wait a moment!" he replied, anxious to conceal the presence of his visitor from her. He blew out the candle beside the bed. Snatching up his breeches, he clambered into them before crossing hurriedly to put his head outside the tent. "What is it, Polly?"

"I'm sorry to rouse you at this time of night," she said, holding her candle close to him, "but Tom sent me. There's bad news, I fear."

"Bad news?"

"You're to come at once."

"What sort of bad news?"

"It concerns Miss Rainham," she said anxiously.

"What's happened to her?"

"There's been an ambush."

"I'll come immediately."

Having no details to impart, Polly went off into the dark and left him to scramble into the rest of his clothing and pull on his boots. When he had lit the candle again, he turned to Maria with a gesture of apology.

"Do you want me to wait?" she asked hopefully.

"No, I may have to ride out of camp."

"You know where to find me, Jamie."

"Yes, I do."

"Then don't leave it too long next time."

After giving Maria a farewell kiss, Skoyles ran all the way to Tom Caffrey's
tent. When he lifted the flap to burst in, he saw his friend dressing the wounds of a soldier who lay on the camp bed. Polly Bragg was helping him. By the light of the candles, Skoyles could see that Private Marcus Wolverton was in poor condition. His jacket had been removed so that a musket ball could be removed from his upper arm, there was heavy bandaging around his thigh, and his hands were covered with abrasions. Pain was chiseled deeply into his face. When he recognized the newcomer, Wolverton gave him a pale smile of deference and spoke with a voice slurred by fatigue.

"No, Captain," he said with a weak smile. "I haven't had a fight with Dan Lukins this time. It's more serious, sir."

"You were part of the escort to Bitter Creek," noted Skoyles, crouching down beside him.

"They took us by surprise."

"Was anyone killed?"

"Five dead, at least."

"What about Miss Rainham? Was she hurt?"

"I've no means of telling, sir. Major Featherstone told us to scatter, so that's what we did. Before I could fire a shot, I was hit in the arm. Another ball grazed my leg. I dropped my musket and limped away. Since I couldn't hold a weapon to fight," he went on, "I thought the best thing I could do was to come for help."

"Yes, yes, Wolverton. You did the right thing."

"He's exhausted, Jamie," said Caffrey. "I had to give him a tot of rum to get any sense out of him."

"I want to hear about Miss Rainham."

"There's nothing I can tell you, sir," said Wolverton. "I wish I could. They seemed to be all round us, hidden in the bushes. We didn't stay long enough to see how many of them there were."

"
We?
" repeated Skoyles.

"He came back with one of the Indians," Caffrey explained. "The other one was killed. They were lucky. Miss Rainham's horse threw her and bolted up the hill. They managed to catch the animal."

Skoyles was disturbed. "She was thrown from her horse?"

"Yes, Captain," Wolverton replied. "The last I saw of her, the lady was being helped toward cover by Major Featherstone."

"But she was still alive?"

"Yes, sir."

"It was Redsnake who caught the runaway horse," said Caffrey, who had prized some of the story out of the wounded man. "He's one of the Mohawks helping to guide them to Bitter Creek. I know that we've heard some bloodcurdling tales about the Indians but this man is a real hero. Instead of riding off himself, he helped Wolverton into the saddle."

"It's true," Wolverton agreed. "I'd never have found my way back here, especially in the dark. But Redsnake seemed to know exactly where to go. He was my savior. If he'd not bound my arm for me, I might have bled to death."

"Where is he now?" asked Skoyles.

"Back in the Indian camp," said Caffrey, "reporting to his chief."

"Was he injured?"

"Apparently not."

"Good," said Skoyles. "I'll need him to lead us back to Bitter Creek. And I'll give him thanks on your behalf, Wolverton."

"He deserves my apologies, Captain," said the other.

"Why?"

"Because the only way that I could stop myself from falling asleep was to quote from some of the plays I've acted in. Redsnake had hour after hour of William Shakespeare inflicted on him."

"I doubt if he understood a word of it."

"I'm not sure that
I
did, sir."

Skoyles stood up. "Who else knows about this?"

"You were the first person I sent for, Jamie," said Caffrey.

"Thanks, Tom. Brigadier Fraser needs to be told immediately so that a detachment can be formed. I'll make sure that I lead it."

"I'll ride with you. It sounds as if I'll be needed there."

"Take me as well, Captain," said Wolverton, trying to sit up.