THE CRY FOR FREEDOM (Winds of Betrayal) (10 page)

From his vantage he saw the swell of her perfect breasts. She responded eagerly to his touch, arching forward, wanting a closeness that her only her instincts understood.  My God, he thought, she is made to love, and she’s mine!

In the distance a sound emerged. At first he ignored it, but it came closer. The shrill of Zachary’s voice resounded, louder and louder. Gabriel sat up. A smile concealed his frustration. Hannah pulled her gown back in position. Her hair, though, was ruffled.

“By God! If I get my hands on that boy,” Gabriel declared under his breath.

“Gabriel,” Hannah whispered. He took her hand placing his lips upon it.

“We will just have to be patient,” he said, his breathing heavy. “It’s better this way. I doubt I would be able to leave.”

“Can’t I go with you? I can’t bear to be apart,” she pleaded.

“Hannah,” he pulled her to her feet, helping her with her clothes. “I will be back. Aren’t we to be husband and wife? It is I that should be worried you will forget me.”

“Never,” she stated emphatically.

“You better not,” he said. He helped brush the grass off her clothes. Oh, my God, he could ravish her right now. Zach, be
damned.

But no, everything was going well and falling into place. There was no need to jeopardize his situation, not now. There could well be consequences to such an action, and he wouldn’t be here. He wanted no blemish upon him or Hannah. He was too ambitious. He would just have to relieve his frustration elsewhere until then.

Before Mrs. Corbett had told him, he had been at wit’s end. He had suspected that the Corbett’s were wealthy. He had been around Jonathan too long to not have an inkling. He worried though, when he had asked for Hannah’s hand, there had been no immediate proclamation of such. There came his hesitation. For although he wanted, loved, Hannah, he had to be sensible.

Jonathan always told him he tried to take the easy way out. He was right, Gabriel thought. He had been resentful of the fact of the order of his birth. Life would have been so different if he had been the first born. Although Gabriel, at times, found Jonathan a little too judgmental, he needed him. He rode beside Hannah, smiling. He had been indeed fortunate with the commission and a beautiful, wealthy fiancé. Yes, everything was going wel
l
.

The wind gusted. A storm brewed on the horizon. Hannah could smell it. Darkness clouded the sky making the day seem as night. Then she felt a few droplets of rain.

“We need to get in, Hannah,” Zachary begged.

Hannah wanted nothing more than to deny the looming storm. When the tree branches leaned to and fro with a harsh wind, Hannah had no choice but to follow. The weather matched her mood. She would have liked to have galloped on, letting the speed chase away the worry. Jonathan and Gabriel had left no more than a week before, but it seemed so much longer. She didn’t know how she would survive for the next six months. Oh, what would she do if it lasted longer?

Upon rounding the bend, her destination came into view, the large, colonnaded brick house with the rows of slave cabins. They were riding in from the back. Hannah spied a group of slaves, field bucks, behind the curing barn. She glanced over at Zachary. He didn't seem to take note. She watched their heads lift up. Their eyes followed the two riding up to the stables.

Moving closer, she could hear
Franklin, the overseer, screamed at the top of his lungs at a small slave boy who Hannah noticed ran like the wind toward whatever Franklin had directed him to do.

“Don't think I will spare the whip this time!” Franklin yelled out for all to hear. Hannah cringed. She hated it all. Her father harshly reprimanded her every time she complained.

“It is best you not interfere, Hannah,” her father soundly stated. “You don’t understand what is going on. It is none of your business. I don't hear you complaining about what all has provided for you. And the same will be said as to how the plantation is run. It isn’t for you to dictate.”

But in honesty, she hadn’t seen much of the cruelty she had heard
of on other plantations. She wondered for a moment about how the Witherspoon's ran their estate. Gabriel had talked of buying their own.

“Close by, of course,” he said. “I
know you want to be close to your family. It won't be as big as my parents, but we will add on in the years. I will build you a big house. One in which we can add several little Witherspoons.”

She laughed with him about his dreams.
The only dream she had was being with him. She hadn’t given much thought to anything else.
I will tell Gabriel not to use the whip. 

Her Uncle’s hands sat on his hips with a grimace grinded in his face. Irritation illuminated in his voice. “Glad to see you had the sense to come in out of the rain.  It’s about time.”

Startled by her uncle’s remark, so different from his usual calm manner,  Hannah wasted no time in retreating toward the house. The scowl on her uncle’s face told her not to linger. Hannah comprehended well Zachary would have liked to have retreated also but his father called him back.

James stood within the doorway. “Did ya get any wind
of what’s going on?”

“No,” she replied. “Whatever it is, Uncle Nathanial is extremely upset.”

James nodded his head upward. “I heard some. Been talked about before, but Dunmore gone and dun it. He promised any slave who deserts his master and joins up with the loyalists his freedom. Father’s jumpy. McNair, the Witherspoon’s overseer, and Father have talked all afternoon.”

Hannah glanced back over her shoulder at her uncle. The Tory governor had indeed undercut the planters. The underlining goal to unleash turmoil, which Hannah was certain it had. Wasn’t that what she saw in their eyes as she rode by?

By nightfall the storm had begun. Hannah, as was her custom since Gabriel left, sat at the desk in the drawing room. She wrote to him every day. The wind and rain beat against the windows.

Faith and Betsy seemed unfazed by all around, sat and played contently with their dolls.

Intent upon her purpose, she didn't notice her uncle when he walked into the room. “Can I see you but a moment, Hannah?”

Startled, she nodded, smiling at her young cousins as she walked by, following her uncle down the hall. Her Uncle held open the door to his study until after she entered. He closed it and turned back to her and his sons, James and Zachary. The boys, already seated, eyed Hannah. James mouthed, “Do you know what this is about?”

Hannah glanced over at her uncle who was pouring himself a drink. She shook her head. James raised his eyebrows, as though excited to be included in such a talk. Zach sat nervously. His eyes betrayed his dread in his fathers’ expectations of him: expectations which even before his father asked of him, he would fail.

Uncle Nathanial took a sip of his drink. He motioned for her to sit and then settled himself in his chair behind his large cluttered desk.

“I’m certain by this time all you have caught wind of the situation at hand. The fool Dunmore will bring down the ruin upon us all with his proclamations!” He caught himself remembering suddenly of who he was speaking with. He breathed in deeply. “I’m not unduly worried, but it’s always wise to prepare. In saying that, Hannah, the Witherspoons have sent over a note inviting you to stay with them until Gabriel returns. I take it from their message they feel you may be safer within their home, but in truth I don't believe anyone can tell you it will be safer anywhere.”

“I would rather be here, Uncle,” she said without hesitation, for no matter for much she loved Gabriel, the thought of staying alone
 in the same house with his mother sent shivers down her spine. No, she would stay where she felt at home.

“It is what I hoped you would say. I know that you know well how to use a gun, even better than some in this room. I want to show you three where
I keep my guns, in case. Hopefully, it will never be needed. I don't want anyone, even the house slaves to know.”

He threw a look over at Zachary who squirmed in his chair. Turning his attention back to his niece, he continued. “If the occasion arose, we need to be prepared to use all our resources. Your father sent you here to be safe. I’m not certain that it is. Raids have begun along the river. There is the threat of slaves revolting. Now with
that damn fool Dunmore!”

A pounding on the door disturbed their meeting. Hannah’s heart skipped a beat until she heard her aunt welcome someone in. She called to her Uncle. He
immediately rose to his feet and dashed out. The cousins sat without a word nor did they move. Hannah jumped, almost leaping out of her chair, when the door whipped back open.  

“James, Zach, get your boots on!” their father snapped. “The battalion in Williamsburg needs horses. Hampton is under attack from one of the raiding parties. Can’t trust anyone but ourselves at the moment. The messenger has just taken off to tell the Witherspoon’s. Take as many as you can.”

Hannah swung round. James immediately jumped into action. Her eyes, though, fell upon Zachary, whom trembled. His face had turned white from fear. His hands came up to his face, he started rocking.

“Oh, my God! What have I raised? Blast you, boy. Get a move on,” Joseph screamed raising his hand. He delivered an intense blow to his head.

“Uncle,” Hannah stood. “I can go.”

“No, no,” he said. His wrath growing, his face distorted with rage. “I will.”

“You are needed here. If it’s just bringing horses in?” she explained calmly. “James and I can stay at the house.”

His eyes still seething at his son, she took it she had her answer. She ran from the room. “I’ll change into some breeches.”

* * * *

The rain pelted down. During the
daylight and good weather, the six mile ride was one to be enjoyed, but not dragging horses' leads in the pouring rain. Hannah pulled her hat down more over her ears. Fighting back the elements, James and Hannah made slow progress. The night was dark, with only lightening to show the road. Hannah's arms ached. She was cold, soaked to the bone, but determined.

“Much rather ride in this than deal with Father,” James shouted over the rain. The only words uttered during the ride.

Hannah readily agreed. A surge of sympathy for Zachary overcame her. He would never be the person his father wanted him to be.

Relief flooded Hannah when they entered the Square. Despite the rain, the Square was crowded with men, militia readying to mount up. James was first to hand over his band of horses. A man reached for hers.  The rain descended down so hard she couldn't even tell who he was, but at that point she didn't care. She happily relinquished the hold upon the rope. She was exhausted. James had to ask a few men before they found William, who stood ready to mount upon the command.

Through the wind and rain, Hannah could see her brother shake his head, but a smile framed his face as she made her way up to him. “How come I’m not surprised to see you?” William said raising his voice to be heard.

The rain still descending, Hannah tried to tell him what happen, but she thought he only heard half for he had his other ear listening for orders.

Turning back to his sister, he said, “Father’s at Raleigh’s Tavern. Jinnie and Malcolm should be at the house, but they won’t be expecting you.” Then the order came down; William quickly leaned down talking in her ear as water poured off them both.

“You should go over with Lydia. She could always use the company.”

Hannah smiled back and nodded through the rain. She leaned up and kissed her brother’s cheek. “God be with you.”

He mounted and the battalion rode off through the incessant rain. Hannah turned to James and pointed to her home. She wanted only to change and go to bed. She would visit Lydia in the morning. Soaked to the bone, they made their way to the closest house.

Oddly quiet, Hannah touched the front door lightly and it opened without resistance. Stomping their feet to beat off the excess water, Hannah called for Jinnie. No response came. The lamp on the foyer table was lit, meaning her father wasn’t home, but she hadn’t expected him to be.

“Go get changed, Hannah. I’ll light a fire to dry off,” James offered as he shook the water off his coat on the porch before entering and shutting the door.

Hannah breathed out and nodded. She shook her hands trying to get feeling back within them. “I’ll bring you down something to change into.”

She ran to her room. Shedding her wet clothes, she hurriedly dressed.  Immediately she felt better with dry night clothing. She retrieved some of Jonathan’s clothes, which although big, would serve the purpose. She started back down the stairs.

Hannah heard a scraping sound and turned. In the dim lit foyer she saw an abrupt movement. She paused. To her horror, a strange voice echoed throughout the house that sent a shiver up her spine.

“I thought you said no one would be home.”

“Ah’m sor’, sir. Ah sorry. Not suppose’ to be,” Malcolm’s voice rang clear.

“Tie the boy up,” the voice commanded. “You do know where some rope is at, don’t you?”

“Yes’m, sir. Yes’m, sir,” Malcolm replied nervously.

The recovery took only seconds, but to Hannah it spanned an eternity. She eased back up to her father’s room careful not to make a noise. She knew well where her father kept his pistols. Her wet hair still dripped down her neck. She loaded up the two pistols and quietly made her way back down the stairs. Her heart raced. She bolted toward the parlor. James seemed to be breathing, but was tied to the chair. She nudged him, but to no avail. He was unconscious. Voices carried down the hall. Startled, she turned toward the sound.