MacFarlane's Ridge (34 page)

“I know. Why did you come back, Cam?” Wanda asked abruptly.

Cam was startled. “I… well, you left me the letter, and the dress patterns and stuff.”

“No. I mean, why did you come back once you found the letter? You didn’t come back here just to keep me company, did you?”

“I found a document,” she said softly. “From a royal court, held in June in Pennsylvania.” She looked up at Wanda. “I think he’s alive.”

For a long moment, Wanda stared back. She blew another stream of smoke from her nostrils, and said slowly, “I think he is too.”

Cam hugged her impulsively. “Will you help me find him? You will, won’t you?”

Wanda rolled her eyes in mock indignation. “Well, geez, honey, it’s not like I have anything else to do, you know, riding around the countryside and all…”

“Stop it. You knew about that court document, and you’re going to help me,” smiled Cam.

“I reckon if I don’t I’ll hear about it forever, won’t I? You should be nice to me. I might just be your great-something grandma.”

“Aha!” Cam’s eyes widened. “You’re not, and you know it. I found out about Jamie, by the way. It was nice of you and Angus to take him in.”

“Yeah, well, he was in need of being taken in, believe me. Foul-mouthed little cretin. But he’s basically a good kid, and Mollie’s helped him a lot.”

Cam nodded. “She does that. Takes in those that need it.”

“Yeah.”

They watched as the small carts rolled out of the mine, from between the three stones, coming to a stop in front of a row of larger wagons. The men were stripped to their waists, shoveling the heavy ore into the wagons for transport to the foundry. Even in the cool afternoon, Cam could see the sweat on their bodies.

“Do you know anything about where he is now?” she asked Wanda suddenly.

There was silence.

“Wanda? I’ve known you long enough now to figure out that if you’re not talking, the news isn’t good,” snapped Cam.

“It ain’t great,” Wanda admitted.

Cam felt tears of frustration welling up. “Wanda, I have traveled a long way. I am tired, I haven’t slept in two days, I’ve lost my shoe and I smell bad. I am covered in bruises and scratches and my whole body aches, and now you… you…” She choked on the words. “You won’t even tell me what I need to know, what I came all this way to find out!”

Wanda watched her speculatively.

“Now, you tell me,” Cam whispered. “You tell me where he is, no matter how bad it is. You tell me, Wanda.”

Wanda could see Erskine headed their way with Lucas. She looked at Cam. “I think he’s being held on a prison ship.”

Cam looked at her in horror. “I thought he was in Fort Wyndham!”

“He’s not there yet. He won’t be there until the end of the month,” Wanda confessed.

“Ladies!” called Erskine, cutting the conversation off abruptly. “I’ve asked Lucas to take you back to the manor. I have business here to sort out. I hope you dinna think it rude of me.”

Wanda smiled. “That would be fine, Mr. Erskine. Would it be all right for Cameron to stay with us until we leave? She’ll be traveling on to Philadelphia with me.”

He beamed at them. “Fine, fine. Tell the housekeeper she’s to be treated well, would you, Mrs. Duncan?”

Wanda winked at him, and they climbed onto the wagon seat beside Lucas. He stared at them. “Ye can’t sit up here, misses,” he said firmly in his thick brogue.

Cam glanced at the back of the cart. It was heaped high with piles of ore, waiting to be taken to the foundry. “I’m not riding back there. Why can’t we sit up here with you?”

Lucas frowned. “Not fittin’, I should say, miss.”

Suddenly it hit Cam – she couldn’t believe she didn’t see it sooner. “Is this a race thing?” she spluttered.

Wanda intervened diplomatically. “Lucas, are you concerned that it’s not proper for a couple of white women to be sharing the front seat of the wagon with you? Is that it?”

“Aye, tis exactly what I am concerned about, miss,” he nodded.

Wanda sighed, but didn’t budge. “Well, honey, I’ll tell you what. My friend is tired and wants to go back to the manor. Anyone says anything about it, you just let me handle ‘em, okay?”

Lucas smiled, and clicked the reins. “As ye say, miss.”

The rocking motion of the cart soon lulled Cam to sleep, and she awoke to find herself slumped over against Wanda. The wagon had stopped in front of a large house, and a few men were strolling towards them.

“Wake up, princess,” called Wanda. “We’re here.”

“Mmrph.” Cam sat up, stiff from the nap.

“Mrs. Duncan,” called one of the men. He offered a hand to Cam to assist her, and she ungracefully toppled into his arms.

“Cam, this is Peyton Basham, the major I told you about. Peyton, this is a dear friend of mine, Miss Cameron Clark of Virginia,” Wanda said formally.

Cam regained her footing, apologizing profusely for stomping on the major’s toes, and brushed herself off. He was staring at her, and it occurred to her that she looked thoroughly disreputable. “I’d like to go wash up,” she mumbled.

“Mm, I would expect so,” Basham replied pleasantly. His eyes flickered up to Lucas, as Wanda jumped down nimbly from her perch on the seat.

“Thank you, Lucas,” she called gaily, waving goodbye to him. Lucas turned the cart and began his trip back to the mine.

“You ought to be more careful,” he drawled softly, but just loud enough for Cam to hear. “You can’t trust the free ones any more than you can a slave.”

Cam decided that she didn’t really like Basham, but Wanda dismissed him with a flip of her hand. “Oh, pooh, Peyton. You’re just part of that whole Virginia aristocracy, and you can’t get past it. Lucas is very nice and I’ll be damned if I’m going to ride in the back of a filthy old horse cart when there’s a perfectly good seat up front for me to sit on. Now, if you’ll excuse us, my friend needs to go in and rest a spell.”

Cam couldn’t believe her ears. Wanda was playing the Southern-belle routine to the hilt. As they crossed into the foyer, Cam whispered, “What was all that about, Scarlett O’Hara?”

“I didn’t want to get into a conversation about the merits versus the evils of slavery with Peyton,” Wanda shrugged.

Cam couldn’t think of anything to say to that, beyond “What merits?” so she allowed Wanda to escort her upstairs. The housekeeper, a Mrs. Mudd, drew her a bath, and she was finally left alone.

I’m here at last, she thought. Robert’s on a prison ship, but I’m one step closer to finding him.

She soaked for a while, and scrubbed herself gingerly with a bar of lavender soap. When the water finally cooled, she climbed out reluctantly and dried herself off. Digging around in her bag, she pulled out her spare chemise, dress and stockings, which she had made following the patterns in Wanda’s letter. She dressed quickly, and then sat on the large four-poster bed for a moment.

Mrs. Mudd woke her the next morning, bearing a tray of porridge, bread and black coffee. “Miss? Are you awake?” she asked gently.

Cam cocked one eye open at her. “Umm. What time is it?”

The plump housekeeper smiled at her. “It’s about half past eight, dear. The rest of the house has been up for hours, but Mrs. Duncan said you needed your rest. She said you’d had a rather difficult journey.”

You don’t know the half of it, Cam thought, stifling a grin. “You could say that,” she replied. “Where is Wanda right now?”

Mrs. Mudd smiled pleasantly. “She’s waiting for you in the library. She said to tell you to come find her once you’ve eaten.”

Mrs. Mudd seemed nice, a lot like Granny Emily. Cam wolfed down the breakfast, realizing it had been two full days since she had eaten. She had packed some jerky and biscuits in her bag, but had quite forgotten them in all the excitement.

Wanda was seated at Erskine’s desk in the downstairs library. “I talked to Basham last night. He did indeed write a letter to Angus. I asked him to.”

“Well, good. I guess that means I really am here.”

Wanda smiled. “What do you suppose would happen if he didn’t write to Angus? There would be no letter for you to find, and so you wouldn’t be here. Would you have just not come, or would you just disappear in the middle of the night?”

Cam shivered. “Good question. I can’t say I like the idea of just vanishing like I was never here.”

“Mm. Something to think about, isn’t it?”

Cam looked at the desk. “What is that you’re reading?”

Wanda wiggled her eyebrows. “Top secret spy stuff,” she grinned. “No, not a really huge secret. It’s a list of the men in the 16
th
Regiment of Light Dragoons.”

“Um, okay,” said Cam blankly. “Is that us or the English?”

“Royal troops, through and through. They’re armed cavalrymen, and they’ve caused General Washington more than a little bit of trouble over the past few months. They’re encamped at Fort Wyndham right now.”

“And that’s why you’re on your way there?” asked Cam.

Wanda nodded. “There’s a Lieutenant among their ranks who has been sending me information. He’s evidently got something he wants me to see in person, and he’s asked me for help. I think he’s going to desert.”

Cam was surprised. “Does that happen often?”

“Occasionally. This fellow is a bit mysterious. He started sending me letters back in September, by private courier. I have no idea why he picked me. Maybe he thinks a woman is a safer ally,” Wanda smiled. 

Cam rolled her eyes. “Right. When do we leave for Pennsylvania?”

“Soon. The British don’t take the city until the fall…”

“Are you sure about that?” Cam interrupted.

“Positive. But they already have encampments and forts in the area. That’s why I need to get to my gentleman in the 16
th
soon.” Wanda gazed at the list again, and folded it up, slipping it into a pocket in her skirt. “If I wait too long, the whole place will be under siege and no one will be able to get back out.” She folded her hands across her chest and peered at Cam. “Now. About Robert.”

“Yes,” Cam replied instantly. “You said he’s on a prison ship.”

“Here’s basically what happened. You can draw your own conclusions. Captain Dominic Thibodeaux of the Lady Meg was given a letter – by Angus, as a matter of fact – a letter of authority from the Continental Congress. It authorized the ship, which is privately owned by Robert and his uncle Andrew, to engage in privateering. At some point, Thibodeaux wrote a letter to Mollie, saying that Rob had died of an infected shot wound, and had left his portion of the ship’s profits to Hamish and Jamie.”

Cam nodded vigorously. “I saw all that. In Mollie’s journals.”

“Okay,” said Wanda, in her lecture voice. “In January of this year, the Lady Meg was captured while trying to board a British cargo ship. Thibodeaux was shot and killed for putting up a fight.”

Cam thought briefly of the handsome sea captain, with his tattooed face and deep smooth voice. “Was he definitely killed?”

Wanda looked at her. “It’s been confirmed,” she said abruptly. “Thibodeaux is dead. Now, at the same time, there appears in the roster of sailors an Alexander MacFarland.”

“Robert,” said Cam automatically.

“Probably. There’s no record of an Alexander MacFarland being on the ship when it left Richmond or Charleston, and I haven’t been able to find any evidence of him signing on later.”

Cam frowned. “So Robert had Thibodeaux write to Mollie, telling her he was dead, and the whole time he was on the ship, as Alexander MacFarland.”

“I think so, yes.” Wanda stared pointedly at her.

“But why? Why would he fake his own death and leave all his money to the boys?”

Wanda shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. My suspicion is that he just didn’t want to go back to the Ridge, and decided to go back to his life at sea.”

Cam shook her head. “It doesn’t make sense.”

Wanda laughed. “Sure it does. Boy, you are naïve.”

“I am not naïve. What are you talking about?”

Leaning across the desk at her, Wanda said earnestly, “There was no reason for him to go back to the Ridge, honey. You weren’t there anymore.”

Cam sat in silence, digesting this. “You really think so?” she asked in a small voice.

“I do. It’s not so far-fetched, really.” Wanda twirled a long strand of red hair around her finger. “Why did you come back here, Cam?”

“To stop them from hanging Robert,” she answered promptly.

“You came back because he wasn’t there. He wasn’t in Haver Springs with you.”

She’s right. I came back not just because I couldn’t let them kill him, but because I couldn’t go on without him anymore…

There was a tap on the door, and Ambrose Meador stuck his shaggy head in. “Mrs. Duncan? Ah’m to tell you we’ll be on our way tomorrow at dawn. He wants to know if your friend will be traveling with us?”

“I already told him she would be,” Wanda snapped. “Sorry, Ambrose. Yes, please tell him she will be accompanying me to Pennsylvania.”

Meador nodded, and disappeared again.