The Bastard Son (Winds of Change Book 2) (13 page)

“I remember my family,” she whispered. Her heart pounded. “Pray let me go. Leave me alone.”

“How can you think I would do so? I have been searching for you since the day you disappeared. What the hell have you been thinking? Going against my brother. Jane, he’s a mad man. I didn’t realize it until that day.”

“I’m not your concern,” she said, struggling to free herself from his grip. “Let me go!”

“Not my concern! You have been my concern since the day you agreed to be my wife! Now I learn you have married another…a bitter enemy. What do you want me to think, Jane? I love you.”

She shook her head. Her breathing quickened. “If that is love, keep it! My family lies beneath the ground. My family, Joseph! How could you allow it to happen? I saw!” she screamed louder. “Reese…was only fifteen. He saved you. I can still hear his screams as a knife plunged deep into him, and in the next, a sword took his head…” She couldn’t catch her breath. “My grandfather fought and fought until he could fight no more. The man you had asked for my hand…he thought you a gentleman. They dragged him from his bed. Laughing, taunting him.”

Her eyes lay within the past, reliving scenes in front of her. She looked back up to him. “Tell me once more how you love me, for the love I felt for you died that moment. For I found that love only a figment of my imagination.”

“You don’t know,” he said. His hand cupped her face. “I knew nothing of Henley’s plan. I would have killed him upon the spot if I hadn’t had to look after you. Then everything fell apart. You stared blankly into space…acting as if you didn’t know me…”

She hit his hand. “Let go of me. I don’t want your excuses. It doesn’t matter. What is your plan now? Hand me over to your brother. Would that complete the whole destruction of the Kilmer clan?”

“No, you foolish woman! I want only to take you from all of this,” he declared loudly. “This is a mess. I will take you far away. We will leave…”

“You are as mad as your brother!” she screamed at him. “Don’t you think I wanted to marry my husband? I love him, truly, with everything within me. He gave back to me life. The life that you took from me!”

Instantly, Jane regretted the words she had uttered, for a rage ignited in him. His grip tightened on her arm. She screamed and tried in vain to push back upon him. He took her harshly into an embrace, pushing her hard, back against the wall.

He kissed her, but she fought back. Twisting away, he reached for her. She tripped. His foot caught upon the hem of her dress. She heard a rip. Struggling, she cried, “Don’t, please.”

Suddenly out of nowhere a small voice emerged. “Let go of my mother!”

Jane fell down, hitting her head on the side of the foyer table. Ignoring the pain, she pulled herself up to her knees and watched in shock as Caleb jumped from the stairs on her attacker.

The force of Caleb’s jump sent Joseph to his knees. The larger man tried in vain to dispense with the nuisance, but Caleb refused to release his grip. Jane scrambled back to her feet and grabbed the only thing she could get her hands on quickly, a vase of flowers.

She broke it over Joseph’s head and sent him sprawling on the floor drenched in water. She didn’t know if he was dead or alive. She didn’t care.

Careen and Anna stood in shock at the top of the stairs. Jane didn’t say a word to anyone for a moment, catching her breath. Then, she pushed back her hair. She bent down and picked up Caleb.

She announced soundly. “We are leaving!”

Caleb squirmed down out of her arms. “I can walk,” he said emphatically, but his small hand took hers.

Jane looked a sight. Her dress torn, her hair disheveled. She walked as quickly as she could out to the stables with Caleb.

Careen ran up beside her. “Miss, where are ya going?”

“Back to Elm Bluff. Tell no one but Mr. Peterson. Do you understand, Careen?” she ordered. “Do you understand?”

“How are ya going back?” Careen asked confused.

Jane looked down upon Caleb. “We will ride.”

* * * *

Jane tightened her grip on Caleb. His little body had nestled into her arm as they rode. Her arm cried for her to move it to another position, but Caleb slept and she dare not move him.

Careen begged Jane not to try the undertaking. “The roads ain’t safe ma’am. It’s late.”

“It’s not safe here, either, Careen. I would much rather take my chances on the road than with what I am leaving.”

The road was dark and long, but she didn’t mind the ride. For the first time in such a long time, she felt in control. She didn’t care a fig for what she had been told this night.

She had no idea what awaited them, but she would work through it. She knew only one thing…she wasn’t going back to Charles Town.

Hoping that Careen’s instructions had been correct, Jane rode toward home. She didn’t know how much longer the ride would take. Moreover, she couldn’t travel quickly with Caleb in her arms.

Rounding a bend, her heart fluttered. Did she hear horses riding fast? Oh, God! What was she to do?

“Caleb,” she whispered. “Caleb. We need to…”

She had no time to continue her train of thought for the horses quickly over took her pace.

“Hold on, Caleb,” she said, preparing to urge her horse onward, but in that moment a voice called to her.

“Mrs. Meador! For God’s sake, stop!”

She turned. Riding closer, she saw plainly it was Colonel Leckie! She reined in her horse. Caleb woke. She could feel his fingers gripping tightly to her. She soothed him, “It is fine, Caleb.”

Colonel Leckie rode up beside her, shaking his head. Even in the moonlight, frustration strained his face. Behind him, Jane saw the morning breaking over the horizon.

“What the hell do you think…?” he began, but his voice trailed off when his eyes fell upon Caleb. He gave Caleb a small smile. He rethought his words. “What do you have planned?”

“We are going home,” she said simply. She kicked her horse’s side.

She could hear him sigh, but he said nothing. He followed her down the road. A short time later, the sun rose over the trees and Elm Bluff came into view.

Caleb gasped on the sight before him. He looked up at her. “We are home, Mother?”

She smiled down at him. She found she liked the sound of the word.

“Yes, my little general. We are home.”

The rebels made camp outside of Cowpens. Shelby ordered the horses fed and readied and the troops to eat, preparing for what lay ahead. It was time.

Sumner and Elijah reported back to the leader of the small army. Shelby’s response, “So, the table is set for us to make our stand.”

“It would seem so,” Sumner said plainly. “Ferguson has dug in for battle. I would assume he knows we are coming. It isn’t hard to decipher he believes he is at an advantage in his position. The area isn’t a real mountain, but a thickly forested hill. I would say it runs a long amount, say five, six hundred yards. It’s somewhat flat and clear of trees and underbrush.”

The pounding rain had subsided at least for the moment. They needed to begin their march.

“We will march to greet them there. I feel I know Ferguson well enough. He has chased me enough around these parts. This battle is of the utmost importance, more so than most realize.”

Sumner nodded in realization that Shelby considered it vital. So much so, Shelby had put aside his ego, letting Campbell take charge to ensure that the groups came together and fought as one.

“I believe we are ready. I know I’m anxious to begin. I hate the waiting, negotiating amongst ourselves to get anything done. I’m so tired of pacifying everyone. The men are readied to fight and to expel their frustrations.

“I know you have pressed them hard,” Sumner said, glancing around the encampment. “But it has been needed, Shelby. I hear you left the footmen with Neil from Virginia.”

“We had no choice,” Shelby asserted. “But they have been instructed to follow at a fast pace. Disencumbered from the burden of them trying to keep up has been the reason we have gained upon Ferguson.”

“I don’t think he believes we can fight our way up the steep wooded slopes. From what I could see, he has only barricaded himself by placing wagons and their baggage instead of using trees as a barrier.”

“He must consider himself in good position,” Shelby said.

“It would be my suggestion to play it similar to Saratoga from what I have heard about the battle. Had a friend that was there. Dr. Corbett talked endlessly about how Captain Daniel Morgan used the Virginia riflemen. They aimed at the officers,” Sumner offered. “I would take aim at Ferguson. He shouldn’t be hard to find wearing his red checkered hunting shirt…and that damn whistle of his!”

“It has been a thought upon my mind,” Shelby looked across at Sumner and smiled. “We will see. We will see.”

* * * *

Sumner mounted up beside Shelby. During the heat of summer, they performed their movements at night. So they had marched all night and crossed Broad River by the dawn of the day. Rain once more greeted the men, but it didn’t halt their progress. It was, though, problematic with their rifles, in keeping them dry.

The thought that they were about to do battle with other Americans was not lost upon Sumner, but it was inevitable. It had been a civil war for months now.

Looking up, Sumner noted the sun beginning to break through the clouds. The only sounds breaking the forest stillness was the rushing of water tumbling over rocky beds of the Broad River. He paused for a moment to admire the lofty, blue mountains in the distance, giving way to a dreamy appearance. He looked ahead to the winding hills in front of them. The sensation the sight evoked gave way to a multitude of emotions.

He could see Jane’s beautiful face in front of him. He could see his home as it once stood and in the same frame he could see his father. He wondered for the first time if the Governor would be proud of him…of the stance he had taken.

More than likely, the Governor would have been disappointed that Sumner stood against England, but in his heart, Sumner knew it was the right thing for him. His father hadn’t lived in the shadow of not having a name. His father didn’t know what it meant to be called a bastard. No matter how well his father loved him or treated him, Sumner hadn’t his name. That was why he fought for the cause, for within him he felt all men should be judged by their own deeds.

“Colonel Shelby,” Sumner called out. “Elijah!”

Sumner spurred his horse alongside Shelby and Elijah. Sumner had ridden ahead a few miles and now returned with a scouting report. He pointed up the road. “There is a picket-guard not far ahead of us. Let us take them.”

Along with himself, Shelby gestured for a couple of men to join Sumner and Elijah. Galloping ahead, Sumner halted when they reached the bend in the road. Dismounting, Sumner edged forward with Elijah, and then he nudged his friend.

Elijah nodded, knowing what was expected. The road was laid out so that it gave only a short view of the area. Sumner had expected to find the Loyalists guard spread out, keeping lookout. Instead, the picket-guard was standing around talking amongst themselves.

Sumner eased up from behind the men, close enough to retrieve a couple of the rifles that had been set down against the trunk of a tree. He signaled Shelby.

“Gentleman,” Shelby rode up to the group. Immediately, one reached down for his rifle, but to his surprise it was no longer there, but found instead Sumner standing with it aimed at him. Elijah stood not far away. The surprised Loyalists looked all around. The other two who had their weapons, slowly placed them down.

“A smart move,” Shelby said. “Now, let us join the rest of our group.”

Sumner stepped beside Elijah. “Not bad. Didn’t fire a gun. No warning was able to be given.”

“A good omen!” Elijah agreed. He pushed one to move quicker, a young lad of no more than seventeen. “It is a good day to do battle.”

Sumner nodded. “In that it is.”

Sumner heard the roll of the British drum. The British still didn’t know the Patriot militia was upon them. Sumner surveyed the lay of the land. The end of the mountain on the left descended gradually; in front of Sumner the rise was rather rigid and to his side was a low gap through which a road passed.

In their approach, the overmountain men surrounded the British Major. Campbell was to Sumner’s left with Shelby; Sevier was on Sumner’s right and next to him was Cleveland’s men on the other side of the road, who had to tread through swampy land.

Sumner was set in his position, but watched as the other units tried to maneuver to theirs. Galling fire interfered with the action until Shelby called, “Press on to your places. Then your fire won’t be lost!”

A few minutes later, the order was given. The battle had begun.

* * * *

Sumner fought ahead. He closely engaged to the frontline. Cries resonated; rifles exploded. Howls of the overmountain men erupted as they took vengeance on the British foe.

A furious charge of bayonets was repelled. A band of rifle fire compelled Ferguson to order his men back to the top of the mountain. Within the destructive fire another charge sounded. Ferguson once more sent a platoon charging down the mountain, but once more was met by a wall of fire power.

Being attacked on all sides, Ferguson had nowhere to turn. Ferguson met the barbarians he himself had ignited against him. His message to march his army over the mountains, hang their leaders, and lay their country waste with fire and sword, had been delivered. And this day, it had been answered.

“Give them Indian play!” cried out loud and clear from the Americans. The frontiersmen, as was their custom, sought cover only to snipe their rifles with deadly accuracy toward their enemy.

Sumner leveled his rifle and set aim on the man in a hunter’s shirt, blowing hard on that damn whistle. For a brief moment, Sumner admired the major for his courage because Ferguson had to have known the battle was over almost before it began. Being a good brave officer, Ferguson made every effort that could be done, but he was Sumner’s target. Sumner fired.

The smoke cleared. In just over an hour, Major Patrick Ferguson lay dead. His entire Loyalist unit was either dead or taken prisoner. The battle won, decisively.

Sumner walked the battlefield. Ferguson’s body lay spread out, having taken at least seven clear shots.

A clear and dominate victory for the Patriot cause, one long needed within the South. The American Whigs decimated the American Tories. A cry arose from the mountain that the South wouldn’t go down without a fight.

* * * *

Sumner slept under the stars. He had been given the duty to stand guard over the prisoners. A rampage in which all the commanders had trouble containing ensued. A call for Tarleton’s quarter rumbled through the men. Sumner well remembered the massacre at Waxhaw, but Shelby stopped his troops before they descended down the road of vengeance.

“What is better than victory over the Red Coats? In the end, the British will have to live with the defeat which will be the best of revenge,” Shelby declared. Then, he placed Sumner in charge of the prisoners that night, knowing duty would come before personal revenge.

Sumner sat and watched the men. Several times he had repelled his own soldiers. Hard feelings on both sides offered little hope that the wounds created by the conflict would be soon forgotten even after the war. A great deal of healing would be needed.

He himself harbored ill feelings and wondered if he would be able to forgive after the guns were laid down. Then his thoughts went to Jane and his son. To have the life he desired with them…then, yes, he could.

In the morning sun, Shelby greeted him. “I have talked with Elijah. It is the thought to send the two of you up to meet with the army. Marion already asked if we had heard from you before the battle. The issues we have here now are not of your skills. They can be better served.”

“I had hoped of making a detour for a few days,” Sumner replied.

“Elijah told me you married before you arrived. Left her at the altar to join back up. You should have told me.”

“We all have our issues,” Sumner said. “This was necessity, but I had retired from the militia until I recovered sufficiently from my battle wounds, but now I had hopes of...”

“My friend. Marion wouldn’t have asked if he hadn’t need of you. Moreover, Elijah wants to meet up with Pickens. I’m certain there is where our need for you lies.”

Sumner studied Shelby. He had marched his men for hours without refreshment, through torrid rain, to gain a much needed victory. Many of those men wanted to return to their homes and he understood. For years, he hadn’t contemplated his own life. He had only fought. Now, Sumner had someone at home…and the commander wanted him to stay.

“I need only a few days…to ensure Jane is safe. I’ve got this uneasy feeling.”

Shelby stood firm. “You need to address it with Marion.”

“I will see what the need is,” Sumner replied, frustrated. “But I’ll not guarantee what I will do when I get there.”

* * * *

“No, I don’t understand,” Marion said simply. “What in the hell were you thinking, Sumner? Getting married in the middle of a war! Couldn’t you have waited until we have run these damnable British out of our land?”

Sumner leaned back in his chair. He hated wasting time and the last couple of weeks had been spent searching for Marion. He kept missing him. Finally, he caught up with him in this deserted cabin, which didn’t offer much comfort, only shelter for the meeting.

Sumner knew the one known as the Swamp Fox well. He had been with him often after the fall of Charles Town. The short, gritty man didn’t know the word defeat.

“I didn’t need your permission.” Sumner scowled. “Moreover, I didn’t ride up here to get a lecture. If you have a need for me to do something, tell me quickly.”

The one time Indian fighter had led a small group of no more than sixty men in a campaign of annoying raids against the British. He had become a thorn in the side of Cornwallis.

Tarleton had been ordered to capture the allusive Patriot, but he hadn’t been able to do so. Marion was a sly opponent and had no love for the British, stating many times it would be the British arrogance which would be their downfall.

Suddenly, Marion guffawed, a full hearty laugh. “Come now, Sumner. When have you gotten so touchy? I find myself now wanting to meet this lady that you have lost all your patience for. I think you are fortunate to have found a semblance of happiness in these times.”

Sumner’s manner relaxed. He had resented the fact of his summons each mile he had traveled…it was in the opposite direction he wanted to go. He had no inclination to waste his time unless he had a vital mission to complete. He was in no mood for the jest.

“The reason I called for you may serve both our objectives at the moment,” Marion said and took a huge gulp of his ale. “What do you know of the situation with the commander of our Southern army?’

“Rumors only. Gates won’t hold. That I’m certain.”

Marion nodded and motioned for Sumner to pour himself an ale. “I have it on good authority that the next commander will be General Nathaniel Greene. Washington wanted him to begin with. I’ve heard good things.”

Sumner shrugged slightly. He had no knowledge of the man, but he had to be more skilled in the art of Southern warfare and men than Gates. “And this means?”

“It means we will be mounting a campaign soon, but we can’t forget the ones that put their lives on the line every day supplying much needed information.” Marion’s manner changed. He became deadly serious. “I was sent a letter by a mutual friend, Dr. Jonathan Corbett.”