Less Than a Gentleman (30 page)

Hickman’s eyes flared. “Bitch. You’ll pay for this.”

Glass exploded as the front windows shattered from the heat. Charlotte buried her face in Caroline’s skirt.

She wrapped an arm around Charlotte and looked toward the river. What was Edward doing? Her blood froze when she spotted him on his knees in the grove of loblolly pines. She dropped the bundle of clothes.
No
. He had dug up the horn of gunpowder. “Edward, no.”

He leapt to his feet, the musket in his arms.

“Edward, no!” she screamed.

He charged toward them, raising the musket to his shoulder. “I hate you! I hate you!”

“Meddlesome child,” Hickman muttered. He pulled his flintlock from his belt and took aim.

C
HA
PTER
T
HIRTY-
F
OUR

C
aroline spotted a man darting from the trees toward Edward. She shoved Hickman to the side just as his pistol sparked and fired.

The man and Edward hit the ground rolling. She watched, terrified, waiting to see if either of them would stand up.

“
Bitch!
” Hickman slapped her so suddenly, she tumbled back on her arse. Pain lanced her cheek.

“I want that man alive!” Hickman bellowed.

Pugsley sprinted toward Edward and his rescuer. He stopped beside them with his musket ready.

Jacob slowly stood and helped Edward to his feet.

Hickman stalked toward them. “You. What is your name?”

Jacob glared at the redcoats.

Caroline rose to her feet. Charlotte clung to her skirts. In the distance, she saw Betsy disappearing into the woods.

Hickman kicked Edward’s musket aside and studied Jacob. “You’re the slave that lives by the mill, aren’t you? You just interfered with my business. I wonder what else you’re guilty of.”

Jacob’s throat moved as he swallowed hard. He shoved Edward toward Caroline.

Hickman stepped closer to him. “If we investigate your cabin, what will we find? Bows and arrows? Gunpowder? You’ve been sabotaging my supplies, haven’t you?”

“Edward! Charlotte!” Virginia’s frantic voice shouted behind them. “Where are you?”

Caroline swiveled to see her sister coming around the burning house. Dottie followed her, carrying the baby.

“Mama, we’re here!” Charlotte ran toward her mother.

Virginia fell to her knees, sobbing.

Caroline grabbed Edward and whispered in his ear, “Saddle the horses and escape!” She pushed him toward his mother.

Hickman strode toward her. “You’re not leaving, Miss Munro.”

Caroline stood still as she watched the children reach their mother. She prayed Virginia would do as she asked.

“Touching.” Hickman eyed the reunion impatiently, then dragged Caroline back toward Jacob. His bony fingers dug into her arm. “ ’Tis a shame I’ll have to arrest this woman as a traitor. She’s been spying on me, and the penalty is death.”

Caroline’s eyes blurred with tears. She glanced over her shoulder and saw Virginia and her children hurrying around the burning house. Would it be the last time she ever saw them?

“Let her go,” Jacob said. “She’s done nothing.”

“How would you know the extent of her guilt unless you were guilty yourself?” Hickman asked. “Tell me, are you prepared to confess in her stead?”

Caroline shook her head. “No,” she whispered.

Jacob glanced at her briefly, then squared his shoulders. “I am your spy. I worked alone.”

Hickman scoffed. “I don’t think so. No matter what you claim, I believe Miss Munro was helping you. And someone else, I wager. Matthias Murray Thomas. Where is he?”

“I don’t know the man.”

“Liar!” Hickman let go of Caroline and seized Jacob by the shirt. “He owns the plantation. He owns you! You should be happy to turn him in.”

Horse hooves thundered toward them. Caroline moved back slowly as two of Tarleton’s men rode up. One pointed a pistol at Hickman.

The other spoke, “You’re under arrest, Hickman. We have orders to take you to Tarleton immediately.”

“That won’t be necessary, Greville. I have the spy right here. He has already confessed.”

“Is that true?” Greville eyed Jacob, then glanced at the burning house. “What the hell is going on here?”

“This spy was using a secret corridor behind the library to eavesdrop on my conversations,” Hickman explained. “He set fire to the house to cover up his crime, but I caught him.”

“You confessed?” Greville asked Jacob.

“Yes.” Jacob shot Caroline a pointed look.

Her heart pounded in her ears. Did he have some sort of plan?

“I’m sure he didn’t act alone,” Hickman continued. “Miss Munro helped him. And I believe he can tell us the whereabouts of another accomplice, Matthias Murray Thomas.”

“Now that I would like to know. I have unfinished business with that bastard.” Greville dismounted. “There are four of us soldiers, all together. Surely we can persuade this man to talk.”

Jacob grabbed Pugsley’s musket and wrenched it from his hands. He hurled the bayoneted weapon toward one of the horses. The horse reared, tossing the mounted greencoat to the ground.

Jacob sprinted toward the river in the direction of the mill. The soldiers gave chase.

Caroline hesitated, then turned and ran toward the stable. She hoped Jacob wouldn’t feel she was abandoning him, but she couldn’t take on four soldiers without help.

When she reached the stables, she found three horses saddled and ready to go.

Virginia had tied an apron around her shoulders, creating a safe, attached cradle for the baby that left her hands free. The baby nestled quietly against his mother’s chest. She was mounted on the first horse with Charlotte seated behind her.

Virginia stifled a sob as tears slid down her cheeks. “Oh, thank God! I thought they wouldn’t let you go. I was so afraid—”

“Shh.” Caroline reached for her sister’s hand. “There’s no time. You must leave.”

Seated on the second horse, Dottie spoke, “We’re going to the Pee Dee. Matthias’s uncle is there. And Miss Jane.”

“Good. Travel slowly and be careful.” Caroline strode to the third horse. “Get down, Edward, and sit behind Dottie.”

“Aren’t you coming with us?” Edward asked as he dismounted.

“I cannot. I need help to save Jacob.”

“Where is Betsy?” Dottie asked as Edward settled behind her.

“I don’t know. I saw her slip into the woods.” Caroline swung up onto the horse and took the reins. “I’ll find her later. For now, you must go.” She dug in her heels and headed for the orchard. Glancing back, she saw Dottie and her family ride into the woods. Thank God they would be safe. Now if she could only save Jacob.

First, she would have to remember the way to Snow’s Island. She had traveled the route before in a daze. Had it only been yesterday? She followed the trail until it forked. Which way had Jacob gone?

She heard the sound of horses coming fast. Friend or foe? She steered her horse behind a thick growth of swamp holly. Two horsemen sped by—Matthias and the younger boy, Simon.

“Wait!” she screamed. “Matthias, stop!” She charged after them, shouting.

Simon glanced back. With a yell, he reined in his horse.

Matthias pulled to a stop. “
What?
” His grim expression softened with surprise at the sight of Caroline.

She caught up with them. “Thank God you’re here! I need you.”

Matthias turned his horse toward her. “Does this mean you forgive me?”

“Yes. I mean, no.” She shook her head. She was babbling like an idiot.

“Someone hit you?” He eased his horse closer. “
Who is he?
”

She touched her cheek. There was a murderous glint in Matthias’s eyes, so fierce it left her speechless. How could she have ever thought this man was a servant? He exuded strength and authority; he could kill without hesitation for the right cause. He was exactly who Jacob needed right now. “You need to save Jacob. Hickman arrested him as a spy. I’m afraid Hickman will torture him ’til he tells them where to find you.”

Matthias sat back in his saddle. “How many are there?”

“Four. Hickman, Pugsley and two soldiers from Tarleton’s troop.”

Matthias glanced at his young companion. “We’ll save time if we don’t go back for more men. Can you take one of them?”

Simon snorted. “I’ll take two.”

Matthias turned to her. “Stay out of this. Go to Snow’s Island and wait for me.”

“I will not!”

“I cannot bear to lose you! ’Twill be bad enough to lose Jacob. He—he’s my brother.”

“You can save him,” she assured him. “Go!”

He nodded once, then urged his horse into a gallop. Simon followed. Caroline waited a moment, then trailed behind them at a slower pace.

Soon she could see the large plume of smoke billowing up into the blue sky. She followed Matthias into the woods on the far side of the house.

He had already dismounted and was staring at the smoldering husk where his grand home had once sat.

“I should have warned you. I’m sorry.” She pulled her horse to a stop beside them.

He scowled at her. “Dammit, Caroline. Why couldn’t you do as I ask?”

“You didn’t ask. You ordered.”

He raised his arms to grab her as she slid from her horse. “If I ask nicely will you go away?”

She touched his cheek. “I’ll try to stay out of danger, but don’t expect me to leave you. I cannot.”

He took her hand and kissed the palm. “I love you, Caroline. I will always love you.”

“I love you, too . . . Matthias.”

“Was it Hickman who hit you?” When she nodded, he stepped back with determined glint in his eyes. “Are you ready, Simon?”

“Aye, sir.” The youth gripped his musket.

Matthias adjusted the knife in his belt, grabbed his musket, then sprinted through the woods toward the river. Simon ran after him.

Four against two. They might need her. She removed the knife from her pocket and followed them.

Matthias and Simon were close to the river, hiding behind a thicket of palmetto and swamp holly. In the distance she saw the mill and four soldiers.

“I’m taking Hickman,” Matthias whispered.

“I’ll take one of Tarleton’s men,” Simon whispered back. “The one with the broken nose looks familiar.”

“That’s Greville. I’m taking him, too.”

“You mean from the time we were captured?” Simon asked. “I thought he was taken prisoner.”

“He escaped. I should have killed him when I had the chance.”

“Where is Jacob?” Caroline whispered.

Matthias glanced back with a muttered curse. “What are you doing here?”

“Have you seen Jacob?” she repeated.

“Aye.” Matthias grimaced. “But we cannot save him until we are rid of the soldiers. Let’s go, Simon.”

Matthias and Simon separated and inched forward. Caroline remained hidden behind the palmetto, searching for Jacob. The four soldiers had their backs to her as they watched the mill. Two of them were dripping wet as if they’d fallen into the river. She glanced at the river where the wheel was turning slowly.

She gasped.
Jacob
. They had tied him to the waterwheel. His ankles and chest were lashed to one of the spokes. His arms, stretched out along the circumference, were tied at the wrists in a hideous imitation of a crucifixion.

She stared, desperately searching for a sign that he still lived. Yes, his chest was moving. He was breathing. But for how long? Soon he would plunge into the river as the wheel made its turn.

Shots rang out. She saw Hickman and one of Tarleton’s men fall. The other two soldiers scrambled for cover and returned fire.

They could continue to shoot at each other for too long, and Jacob needed rescuing now. She had a knife, and she knew how to swim and climb. Her mind made up, she lifted her skirt and removed her petticoats, stockings, and shoes.

Keeping low, she crept toward the riverbank. Cool mud oozed around her toes. She clenched the knife in her teeth and eased into the murky water. Soon she could no longer skim the riverbed with her bare feet. The river was deep, dredged to allow the waterwheel room to rotate.

Jacob was moving with the wheel in a clockwise fashion, nearing three o’clock. She swam toward him, hoping to meet him before he was swept under. Her skirts tangled around her legs, slowing her progress.

Jacob’s face was swollen with bruises, his mouth bloody where the British had attempted to batter information from him. His eyes widened at the sight of her. “What are you doing?” He glanced about. The men were still occupied with their shooting.

Unable to answer with the knife in her mouth, she steadied herself against the wheel. She grabbed each spoke as it descended toward her. His left hand reached her first. She grasped the ropes and slipped the point of her knife between his wrist and the wheel.

Furiously, she sawed at the rope. His fingers dipped into the water. Time was running out.

“Caroline, let go.”

She heard him taking deep breaths to prepare himself. His wrist descended into the water. Still, she held on and sawed at the ropes.

Her eyes met his. “I won’t leave you.” She took a deep breath and went under. Hanging on to the rope, she was sucked down, down into the dark water. She could hardly see, but she could feel. The rope was giving way. She sawed at it desperately. Her lungs burned.

At last!
The rope floated away, leaving Jacob’s hand free. She kicked for the surface and broke through. After a few gasps for air, she paddled toward the edge of the wheel.
Please, Jacob, still be alive
. She waited for him to emerge.

The minute she spotted his feet, she grasped the rope and attacked it with her knife. She heard his gasp for air.

“Jacob! Thank God.” She leaned onto him and slipped a leg over the spoke where he was tied. She sat up, straddling the spoke like a horse. The wheel pulled her out of the water.

With his free hand, Jacob tugged at the ropes around his chest. “Caroline, don’t,” he gasped. “ ’Tis too dangerous.”

“I’m fine.” She sawed at the ropes, riding the spoke as it approached nine o’clock.

Ten o’clock. She began to slip. She hung on to the rope and sawed.

Eleven o’clock. The rope broke, and his legs were free.

“Take my hand!” Jacob extended his left hand to her.

She grabbed his hand as her body slipped off the spoke and her legs dangled in mid-air. The spoke inched toward twelve o’clock.

Jacob groaned, burdened with her entire weight, made worse with her wet skirts. She jammed the knife handle in her mouth, then used her free hand to grip his belt. As the wheel slowly turned, she eased her left leg over the spoke, so she was once again straddling the wooden beam.

He pulled her toward him, and she slipped her knife under the rope around his chest.

Two o’clock. She sawed at the rope.

Three o’clock. The rope broke. Jacob fell downward, banging against the wheel, his feet splashing into the water below. He was hanging from the wheel, suspended by his right hand.