Less Than a Gentleman (27 page)

Satisfied with the white, stricken faces of Caroline Munro and her nephew, Ezra left the nursery to the sound of the little girl’s sobs.

C
HAPTER
T
HIR
TY-
O
NE

“Y
e disappeared with my daughter last night,” Jamie Munro announced as he rode beside Matthias.

“We had some urgent matters to discuss.” Matthias felt his face redden. For the past five miles, the Scotsman had glowered at him. Never had a short journey felt so long.

“Aye, I have no doubt ye were feeling a wee urgent. Tell me, lad, what exactly did ye discuss?”

Matthias hoped the village of Kingstree would suddenly appear around the next bend. Marion had put him and Major Munro in charge of the evacuation. Richard, Quincy, Josiah, and a dozen more men rode behind them. “I asked Caroline to marry me.”

“That’s great news,” Quincy said.

Jamie Munro huffed. “He dinna ask me for permission.”

Matthias took a deep breath. “I believe you told me that she’s allowed to make her own decisions.”

“Aye. So was she smart enough to refuse you then?”

Quincy and Josiah snickered.

Matthias gritted his teeth. “No, she wasn’t.”

“Are ye calling my daughter a dimwit?”

Matthias slanted an impatient look at his future father-in-law. “She’s as clever as her father.”

Jamie’s eyes twinkled. “I like grandchildren. Do ye think ye can manage that, lad?”

“Yes, sir. It will be my pleasure.”

“ ’Tis my daughter ye should be pleasing. If ye can. Ye’re no’ one of those minute men from the north, are ye?”

“Excuse me?” Quincy scoffed. “I’ve given you four grandchildren.”

Jamie shrugged. “Aye. I’ve about decided to accept you.”

Quincy snorted. “Welcome to the family, Major Thomas.”

“Aye,” Josiah added. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you.” Matthias slowed his horse as they rounded the bend. The road in front of them was narrow and straight, tightly hugged by thick vegetation on each side.

Jamie came to a halt, holding up a hand to alert the horsemen behind them. “Ye suspect a trap?”

Matthias scanned the trees. “Let’s divide and meet in Kingstree. Richard and I will take a group to the left.”

“Agreed.” Jamie veered to the right, motioning for Quincy, Josiah, and six of the men to follow. They had just entered the forest when musket fire erupted.

“Take cover!” Matthias yelled.

More shots rang out. Two men fell. The horses reared and whinnied as men scrambled for cover. Choking smoke surrounded them. Shouts of
huzzah
echoed around them, signaling the British advance. His men panicked, knowing they were outnumbered.

“Disperse!” Matthias hollered as he weaved amongst the men and their agitated horses. Their group of seventeen partisans had no chance of victory in a conventional battle. It was better to lead the British on a chase into the nearby bogs of the treacherous Tarcote Swamp.

Fifteen partisans, Matthias corrected himself. The two men who had fallen in the road were not getting up.

“Go!” he shouted, relieved to see Jamie Munro and his group riding safely away. The musket fire ceased, followed by an ominous silence. Tarleton must have given the order to mount and give chase.

“Come on!” He waved at Richard, and they charged through the trees.

The pounding of horse hooves followed them. Tarleton and the dragoons were hot on their trail.

He headed for the Tarcote Swamp. He and Richard had hunted and fished there as boys and knew every path.

Silently, they skirted the bogs. A few times, they backtracked to leave false trails into pools of muck. The British continued to hunt for them. He could hear their shouts and curses echoing through the swamp.

He led them to a path, then guided his horse into a creek. Upstream, he emerged on the other bank. As he hid behind a tall thicket of swamp titi, Richard joined him.

He noted the sweat on his cousin’s ashen face. “Are you all right?”

Richard shook his head. “No.”

“What—” Matthias heard the sound of horses. Tarleton and his troop dashed along the path on the other side of the creek, passing them by. Their white pants and green coats glistened with black mud. Matthias spotted Greville in the rear as they charged out of sight.

“Thank God they’re gone.” Richard slid from his horse and crumbled to his knees.

“What’s wrong?” Matthias dismounted, and when he grasped his cousin by the shoulders, warm blood oozed onto his fingers. “Richard, no.”

A dark stain blotched the back of Richard’s coat where a musket ball had ripped into his shoulder.

“You will not die from a bloody shoulder wound,” Matthias growled. “Do you hear me?”

“I’m not dead. Yet,” Richard mumbled.

“You’re not dying
ever
!” Matthias removed his coat and bundled it under his cousin’s face. “Dammit, Richard. Why didn’t you say you were wounded? I wouldn’t have led the British in circles for so long.”

“As long as they were following us, the others had time to escape.”

“Shit, Richard. Why do you have to be so noble?” Matthias yanked his shirt over his head and pressed it against the wound. “You’re not dying on me. That’s an order. We’ll fetch medicine from Dottie. You’ll be all right. You’re going to my wedding, remember?”

Richard’s eyes fluttered shut.

C
aroline took the children to the kitchen for the midday meal. Virginia and the baby were asleep, so she cautioned the children to eat quietly. The minutes dragged by as she worried about Thomas. Would the partisans evacuate the townspeople in time, or would they do battle with the British? Was Thomas in danger? Her father? Quincy or Josiah?

The door to the kitchen opened, and she jumped to her feet. “Oh, Jacob.”

“Not happy to see me?”

“I’m happy you’re back. Let me fix you a plate.”

The door opened again, and she spun around. “Betsy.”

Grimacing, Betsy shut the door. “That pig Pugsley is back. He and the captain want their dinner served soon.”

“Are they waiting in the dining room?” Dottie asked.

“No,” Betsy answered. “They went to the library to talk first. Pugsley insisted.”

It must be important
, Caroline thought. “Will you excuse me a moment?” She headed to the door.

“Be careful,” Jacob warned her as she left.

She dashed to the Great House and tiptoed into the secret passageway. With the peephole cracked open, she listened.

“How did the general take the news?” Hickman asked.

“Cornwallis was upset, naturally, but too dignified to scream about it like Tarleton,” Pugsley responded. “I have to tell you, sir, that Tarleton believes you are responsible for the failed supply shipments. He called you a traitor, sir.”

Hickman collapsed in a chair. His shoulders slumped as he rested his head in his hands. “I could hang for this. How am I supposed to prove my loyalty?”

Pugsley frowned at his commanding officer. “Perhaps you won’t have to. They came up with a plan. I heard it all.”

Hickman straightened his shoulders. “Tell me.”

“Tarleton thinks you’re leaking information to the local militia. So his plan was to come here and tell you a falsehood. Did he say something about an attack?”

Caroline pressed closer to the peephole, her heart pounding.

“Yes,” Hickman replied. “He said he was going to attack Kingstree this afternoon and kill the townspeople.”

Pugsley nodded. “He thinks you will alert the partisans so they can charge to the rescue.”

Hickman snorted. “Ridiculous.”

Caroline’s breath caught.

Pugsley continued, “Since Tarleton expects the partisans to show, he’ll be waiting for them.”

She pulled back from the peephole, her stomach twisting as the horrible truth sank in.
Thomas has ridden into a trap.
And her father, Quincy, and Josiah might be with him.

“So, you see,” Pugsley said. “Your problem is solved. When the partisans fail to arrive, Tarleton will know for a fact that you are loyal to the crown.”

“My God, what a relief!” Hickman shouted.

Caroline cupped a hand over her mouth as bile rose in her throat.

“Of course, Tarleton is hoping you’re guilty,” Pugsley continued. “He wants a chance at Marion. If the partisans come, the townspeople will be spared. ’Twill be the partisans who will die.”

Caroline slumped against the wall.
No, not Thomas.

Hickman’s voice sounded far away. “I want you to go to Kingstree after dinner. I have to know what happened.”

She had to know, too. Caroline shut the peephole with trembling fingers.
Thomas. Father. Quincy. Josiah
. Too many loved ones. She had to know if they had survived.

She ran back to the kitchen. Her mouth opened, but the words wouldn’t come. No, impossible to lose them all in one day.

“Caroline?” Jacob rose to his feet. “What’s wrong?”

“Good Lord, child, you’re as pale as death,” Dottie said. “Do you need a restorative?”

She shook her head. The children looked up at her with worried faces, and she forced a smile. “Everything’s fine. I might need to go somewhere for a few hours, but I’ll return soon.” She backed toward the door. “Jacob, can I speak to you outside?”

“What’s going on?” He joined her as she hurried toward the stable.

She quickly explained the situation. “You know the way to Snow’s Island, right? You can take me?”

“Of course.” Jacob helped her saddle two horses.

The journey to Snow’s Island passed in a daze. Thomas. Father. Quincy. Josiah. Had she lost one of them? All of them?

When they crossed Lynches River, the water rose up to her skirts. Sweat trickled between her breasts.

Her stomach knotted. “I think I’m going to be sick.” Soon she would know. She urged her horse to follow Jacob’s up the sandy bank.

A soldier in plain homespun appeared from behind a tree and leveled a musket at them. “You have business here?”

“We have family.” Jacob dismounted. “This is Caroline Munro.” He helped her down from her horse.

“You’re related to Major Munro?” the soldier asked her.

“He’s my father. Do you know him? Is he all right?”

“Aye. This way.” The soldier took the reins of their horses and led them around a dense stand of giant cane.

“What about Thomas, Quincy, and Josiah?” she asked. “Are they all right?”

“They’re fine. You mean the major, right?” the soldier asked.

A sob caught in her throat. Thomas was alive. “M-my father is a major.” Tears streamed down her cheeks.

“Aye. Your father is over there, by the graves.” The soldier pointed to a clearing where men were digging two holes in the ground.

“Oh, God.” Caroline pressed a hand to her mouth. Two bodies lay on the ground, blankets drawn over their heads. Her father, Quincy, and Josiah were helping the gravediggers.

“Papa!” She darted toward him, and Jacob followed.

Jamie enveloped her in his strong arms. “Lassie, what are ye doing here?”

She quickly relayed the conversation she had overhead. She looked at the covered bodies of the two who had died and felt a pang of guilt that she had been so relieved to find her loved ones safe. “If only I had known earlier about the trap, I could have warned you.”

“Aye.” Jamie wiped sweat from his brow. “At least Hickman will take the blame for this.”

“How is Ginny?” Quincy asked. “And the baby?”

“They’re fine.” Caroline hugged him and Josiah. “Is Thomas nearby? I want to see him.”

“I believe he’s with his cousin.” Jamie placed a hand on Jacob’s shoulder. “I should tell you that Richard was wounded. He’s all right. They’ve taken the bullet out.”

Jacob winced. “Can I see him? Where is he?”

“In one of the tents.” Jamie motioned toward the camp. “Ye see the one where young Simon is standing?”

As Jacob strode toward the tents, Caroline rushed to catch up with him. The smell of smoke, sweat and horse dung hovered about the camp. The men, seated about campfires, looked at her with sad, grimy faces.

More guilt nagged at her. She’d been eating fine meals, sleeping in a real bed, trying to pretend the war was far away, when all along it was so close, with men who fought for freedom in spite of hunger and exhaustion. Men who had lost their homes, their families; men who had nothing left to lose but the dirty rags on their backs.

“The boy by the tent is so young,” she whispered to Jacob. “Doesn’t he have a home?”

“No. This is Simon’s home.”

“You and Richard have become good friends?”

Jacob nodded. “He’s the only family I have who will admit to it.”

“You’re related? I thought he was related to Thomas.”

Jacob groaned. “Simon, can we go in?”

“Aye.” Simon lifted the flap to the tent and gave Caroline a doubtful look. “Are you sure you want to see this, miss?”

“I’ll be fine.” Caroline ducked under the flap.

A mixture of blood and alcohol immediately accosted her sense of smell. It took longer for her eyes to focus in the dim light. Richard lay on a cot. A doctor was bandaging his shoulder. A pile of bloody rags lay on the ground, next to a bucket of blood-tinted water. Thomas wasn’t there.

“How are you?” Jacob asked his cousin.

“I’m drunk,” Richard lifted a canteen to his mouth.

The doctor tied off the bandage. “He’ll be fine as long as a fever doesn’t set in. He was telling me about a local woman named Dottie who makes potions and such.”

“Yes.” Jacob nodded. “I could bring some medicine.”

“Good. I think he’ll need it.” The doctor excused himself and left the tent.

Caroline patted Richard’s hand. “You’ll be fine. We’ll make sure you have all the medicine you need.”

Richard smiled grimly. “I’m afraid I may miss your wedding.”

“Don’t worry about that. I’m just grateful you’re all right.” Caroline straightened. “Has anyone seen Thomas?”

“Major Thomas?” Simon asked.

“No, Thomas Haversham.”

Simon wrinkled his nose. “I don’t know him. But I know a Thomas Barrett and—”

“Wait.” Caroline held up a hand. “Did you say
Major
Thomas? Matthias Murray Thomas? Is Jane’s son here?”

“You could say that.” Richard took a gulp from his canteen, then offered it to her. “You might want some of this.”