Saratoga (24 page)

Redsnake was impatient, nudging Skoyles to remind him to pass over the telescope. The Indian was forced to wait. Peering through the instrument, Skoyles had just seen someone he recognized, coming out of the gates on a horse. It was Ezekiel Proudfoot, looking fit and well. Skoyles smiled, pleased that the man was still alive, even if in the enemy ranks. Unfortunately, his former friend was the last person he was allowed to see. Skoyles suddenly felt a sharp blow on the back of his head, and he lapsed into unconsciousness.

"Do you know where Captain Skoyles is?" asked Elizabeth Rainham.

"On his way to Fort Anne."

She was dismayed. "Fort Anne? Is he involved in an attack?"

"No, Miss Rainham," said Tom Caffrey jocularly. "Jamie Skoyles is a brave
man but even he wouldn't consider an attack when there are only two of them. He's on a scouting expedition."

"Oh, I see."

"Is there any message I can give him?"

It had taken Elizabeth a few days to recover from the events at Bitter Creek and to realize just how much she owed to Jamie Skoyles. Since her return to Skenesborough, she had been monopolized by Harry Featherstone and therefore unable to make contact with Skoyles. She felt guilty that she had not been able to express her gratitude properly and, with Nan Wyatt beside her, had come in search of him. Caffrey had met the two women outside Skoyles's tent.

"You might give him this," said Elizabeth, handing over a letter. "I was going to leave it in the captain's tent."

"I'll make sure that he gets it."

"When do you expect him back, Sergeant?"

"Impossible to say."

"I'll hope to catch him another time."

"Jamie will be delighted to hear that, Miss Rainham," said Caffrey, beaming. "May I ask how you're feeling now?"

"Much better, thank you."

"What happened at Bitter Creek was very upsetting for you."

"It taught me an important lesson," said Elizabeth seriously. "It was very naïve of me to treat a military campaign as if it were a pleasant excursion. I know better now."

"Stay in the camp where it's safe, ma'am," cautioned Nan.

"Oh, I will."

"Leave the soldiering to trained soldiers. I'd never have dared to ride off the way that you did." She turned to Caffrey. "I daresay that Polly takes the same view as me."

"She does," he agreed. "Polly knows how treacherous our enemies can be. She wouldn't venture outside the camp."

Elizabeth felt a twinge of remorse at the mention of Polly Bragg. She had been told to ensure that Nan Wyatt spurned the other woman in future but she had deliberately refrained from doing so. For one thing, she did not like being given orders, even if they came from Harry Featherstone. But the main
reason she had disobeyed him was that the friendship between Nan and Polly was indirectly valuable to her. While the latter was primed to pick up any gossip about Elizabeth, her maid always brought back snippets of information about Jamie Skoyles. And Elizabeth had started to take an obsessive interest in him.

"Thank you, Sergeant Caffrey," she said. "We'll not detain you."

"No," Nan added. "I know that you and the other surgeons are always busy. Polly tells me that you're on duty twenty-four hours a day."

"It feels much longer than that somehow," he said.

"You must have so many thankful patients."

"They thank me best by staying alive."

"Do you ever get time to sleep?" asked Elizabeth.

"Sleep?" He laughed drily. "That's not part of my army rations, I'm afraid. I wish it was."

"You knew Captain Skoyles when he was in the ranks, I believe?"

"That's correct, Miss Rainham," he said cheerily. "He began as a private, just like the rest of us. Except that Jamie Skoyles was never quite like the rest of us. I could see from the start that he was destined for higher things."

"Why?"

"He's a natural leader. It was only a question of time before he was promoted. Gentleman Johnny has great faith in him," he stressed. "That's why Jamie was chosen to go to Fort Anne. There's nobody quite like him. Jamie Skoyles is the sort of man who never lets you down."

The first thing that Skoyles did when he regained consciousness was to put a worried hand to his head. He was relieved to find that his hat was still on and that he had not been scalped. In fact, the hat had prevented any wound being opened, but the back of his head was nevertheless throbbing violently. Skoyles knew at once why he had been struck by Redsnake's tomahawk. The Indian had stolen the telescope that he prized so highly. Skoyles guessed that the two horses would have disappeared by now as well. Redsnake had betrayed him, one more Indian who would desert the army and make off with his booty.

Skoyles took it as a compliment that he had not been killed when at his mercy. Nor had he been left defenseless. Redsnake had taken his hunting
knife but left him with his musket, pistol, powder, and ammunition. They were small consolation to Skoyles. He had lost his horse, his guide, and his telescope. In doing so, he had lost the means to go on, to track the rebels all the way to Fort Edward. He would never catch up with the departing army on foot. All that he could do was to try to find his way back to Skenesborough.

When he got to the place where the horses had been tethered, he had confirmation that Redsnake had taken both of them. Skoyles began to retrace his steps, looking for some of the landmarks he had noticed on the journey there. Childhood experience came to his aid. During the years he spent in Cumberland, he had loved to explore the fells, often traveling several miles from home. Skoyles frequently got lost. With a combination of instinct and tenacity, however, he had always contrived to find his way safely back somehow. That early training had stood him in good stead on many occasions. It would not let him down now.

Skoyles did not linger. Breaking into a trot, he maintained it for a couple of miles, following the hoofprints whenever they were visible. He had no hope of overhauling Redsnake. The Indian would be hopelessly out of his reach. Skoyles loped on. It was the unremitting ache at the back of his head that made him eventually stop. He paused beside a stream, drinking some water and washing his face to refresh himself.

Setting off again, he reviewed the situation. Skoyles was not looking forward to his return. The report he would have to deliver to General Burgoyne would be embarrassing. Gentleman Johnny would be outraged at the loss of his beloved telescope. It was one of his many expensive accessories, and it also had sentimental value for him. All that Skoyles had learned on his trip was that Fort Anne had been vacated at speed by a nervous enemy. The intelligence would not atone for the loss of two horses, an Indian scout, and a telescope. He feared that he would lose Burgoyne's confidence and be ridiculed by Harry Featherstone. Worst of all, news of his failure on the mission would be immediately passed on by the gloating major to Elizabeth Rainham. That thought made his head pound even more.

It all helped to make him feel annoyed with himself for placing his trust in Redsnake. The temptation to steal the telescope and the horses had been too much for the Indian. Skoyles lengthened his stride, pushing himself harder by way of a punishment. His head still hurt but he lived with the pain. He had covered a few miles when he heard what sounded like a muffled shot. It put
him on his guard at once. After checking that his musket was still loaded, he moved on slowly, much more circumspect now.

The noise seemed to have come from his right. The neighing of horses and the startled cry of birds had followed the shot before dying away. His ears could pick up no other sound. Bent double, Skoyles crept on through the undergrowth. The trees then began to thin out and he caught sight of two horses about thirty yards away, tied to some bushes. Though he could not be certain from that distance, Skoyles thought that he recognized the animals as the ones that he and Redsnake had ridden. When he got closer, there was no doubt in his mind. They were the same horses. He had caught up with the Indian, after all.

Skoyles was puzzled. Whoever had fired the shot, it could not have been Redsnake, because he had no gun. Yet there was no sign of anyone else or of another horse. Edging forward, he caught sight of something that was protruding from behind a bush. It was a pair of bare feet and he knew instantly that they belonged to the Mohawk. Someone, apparently, had shot him. Skoyles wanted to make sure that he was dead. But he got no closer to the fallen man.

"That's far enough, mister," said a stern voice directly behind him. "Unless you want to join that Indian, throw down your musket."

"Who are you?" asked Skoyles.

"I won't ask twice."

There was enough menace and authority in the voice to convince Skoyles that he had to obey. Dropping his weapon to the ground, he put up both hands and turned slowly round to face a stocky individual of middle height who was holding a hunting rifle on him. The man was in his early thirties and there was an air of prosperity about him. He was well dressed and wore a broad-brimmed hat that he touched politely.

"My name is Isaac Harman," he said. "Who might you be?"

"Jamie Skoyles."

"And what is Jamie Skoyles doing in this godforsaken place?"

"I might ask the same of you, Mr. Harman."

"Not while I'm holding this rifle."

"Why didn't you shoot me in the back?"

"Because I wanted to find out who you were. Besides, I like to give a man an even chance. Take that Mohawk, for instance. I shot him right between the eyes."

"How do you know he's a Mohawk?"

"I've come across most of the Indian tribes hereabouts."

"Does that mean you live nearby?"

"I ask the questions, Mr. Skoyles," said the other, taking a few steps toward him. "Now, what are you doing here?"

"Looking for him," replied Skoyles, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. "His name is Redsnake. He knocked me unconscious and stole my horse."

"You're lying. If he had the chance, he'd have scalped you."

"Search him. He took my telescope as well."

The man patted his pocket. "I have it here, Mr. Skoyles," he said, watching his prisoner carefully. "Such a strange object to find on a dead Indian. I reckon it's about time you told me exactly who you are."

"A hunter."

"Not a very good one, by the look of it. There's no game on either of the horses."

"I was just starting out," said Skoyles.

"Do you shoot or trap?"

"Both."

"Why do you need to carry such a valuable telescope?"

"It was given to me by a friend."

Isaac Harman did not believe him. Since the other man had the weapon, Skoyles had to humor him while waiting for the opportunity to strike. Inside his belt under the hunting shirt was the loaded pistol. It would only take a second to bring it out. Harman came within reach of him and studied him with interest.

"You're no hunter, Mr. Skoyles," he decided. "Leastways, you're not here to hunt game. I get the feeling you were after human quarry. Am I right, sir?" Skoyles shook his head. "How come you know the Indian's name?"

"I thought he was a friend of mine."

"Then you know little about the Mohawks. Their name comes from the Algonquian word meaning 'man-eater.' Yes, that fellow you called a friend was a cannibal. His tribe has been known to roast their enemies alive and carve themselves a tasty portion as they do so." He gave a wry smile. "You're lucky. It's not just a scalp you lose if you cross a Mohawk."

"Why did you shoot him?"

"He came at me with his tomahawk."

"What were you doing here in the first place?"

"Ah-ah," Harman reminded him. "I ask the questions, remember?"

"Could I at least have my telescope back?"

"I've no proof that it actually belongs to you, Mr Skoyles."

"How else would I know that Redsnake had taken it?"

"He might have stolen it from its rightful owner."

"That's me," Skoyles insisted. "Look, the name of the maker is inscribed on it. I can tell you what it is."

"Very well," the other conceded. "We'll put that to the test."

It was the mistake for which Skoyles had been waiting. Harman tucked the butt of the rifle under one arm and kept his finger on the trigger. He then used his other hand to take the telescope from his pocket. At the very moment when Harman glanced down at the instrument, Skoyles made his move, diving forward to grab the barrel of the rifle and knocking the other man off his feet. The rifle went off, discharging its ball harmlessly into the air. Before Harman could recover, he found a pistol pressed hard against his temple.

"My name is Captain Jamie Skoyles of the 24th Foot," said Skoyles. "Consider yourself a prisoner of the British army."

Isaac Harman began to laugh uncontrollably.

Major Harry Featherstone arrived early at the house that evening so that he could have a private word with Burgoyne before they settled down at the card table with the others. The general was sympathetic.

"I can see your dilemma, Harry," he said. "Why wait at least a year to marry Elizabeth in a cathedral when our chaplain can perform the office in Albany? I'm sure that we could find a presentable church."

"That's what I told Elizabeth."

"Why is she against the notion?"

"Because it wouldn't meet with her parents' approval."

"Undeniably," said Burgoyne. "Richard Rainham is a stickler for the proprieties. He'll want to see his daughter married in Canterbury with the cream of the county in attendance. However, there are times in one's life when one has to flout parental wishes. I certainly did," he remembered with a chuckle. "Charlotte's father thought me such a highly unsuitable husband that he forbade
his daughter to have anything to do with me. An elopement was the only course open to us."

"That's not the situation here," said Featherstone. "Elizabeth's parents are more than ready to accept me into the family."

"On their terms."

"Yes, General."

"Then perhaps you should effect a compromise."

"In what way?"

"Marry the lady in Albany and have a service of blessing in Canterbury Cathedral when you get back. In a sense, you'll then have two weddings, with all objections answered."