The Gentle Rebel (25 page)

All night she walked the streets, and the next day she listened to the talk in the taverns, and found out that Nathan’s hanging was to be a celebration of sorts. The Tories looked on it as an example for other traitors, and she heard bets made as to whether he would break his neck in the fall or die of strangulation, kicking wildly.

Her mind raced madly, and fear was a metallic taste in her mouth.
If only his father were here!
she thought. But there was no time. Finally in the early afternoon she passed by a church, and some impulse drove her to enter and take a seat in the dark recesses. A few candles burned on a table in the front, and a few people sat quietly with their heads bowed. She didn’t even know what sort of church it was, but that didn’t seem to matter.

The quiet soaked into her, and her fear lost some of its piercing sting as she began to pray. It was a strange time for her, for like most, she had always prayed calmly, rather routinely. But desperation numbed her now, and she began to weep, her chest heaving and great choking sobs racking
her body. There was no eloquence, no fine phrase.
Help, O Lord! Oh, God, have mercy!
Over and over she cried out, as if she were dying herself. Never had she experienced such a paroxysm of grief and terror, and she remembered once what Rev. Zachariah Kelly had said in a sermon: “Men only seek God out of desperation.” Now she knew it was so.

Finally her sobs ceased; suddenly a strange peace seemed to fill her mind, and the exhaustion and fear faded. She heard no voices and there was no mystic vision, but a passage of Scripture quietly drifted into her mind. At first she ignored it, thinking only of Nathan, but it came back, not once but several times:

The words were very familiar, for they had been the favorite verses of her pastor, Rev. Kelly. Many times he had quoted the entire twenty-seventh psalm from the pulpit, and she seemed to hear his voice as the words continued to flow through her spirit:

She got to her feet and left the church, and there was no trace of fear in her. As she made her way through the streets, she repeated the words:
“Teach me thy way, O Lord, and lead me in a plain path because of mine enemies.”

And there was still no fear in Laddie as she stood before Abigail and said, “There’s not much time. They’re going to hang him in the morning.” She had come to the Howland
residence because no other course had occurred to her. She had never been a believer in visions and dreams, but as she walked the streets after leaving the church, she somehow took the impulse to go to see Abigail as part of the “way” that she felt God was going to show her.

Abigail was trembling, and she collapsed on the sofa, moaning. “I’ve
tried
to help! Can’t you understand that? I’ve had my father practically on his
knees
begging General Gage—and it’s no use.”

“Have you seen him?”

“I—wanted to. I even had Father get me a pass from General Gage!” She leaped up and ran to the desk. Picking up a sealed envelope, she held it up, then threw it back on the desk with a groan. “But Mother won’t hear of it!”

“So it’s no visitors ’cept them wot’s got a pass signed by the general his own self!”

The words of the corporal echoed in her ears, and in that instant she knew what she had to do! There was no dreary planning, no wrestling with details; it sprang into her mind fully formed, and with a leap of her heart she remembered the words “ . . . lead me in a
plain
path.”

Carefully Laddie moved to stand in front of the desk, and asked quietly, “How did he get taken?”

“We don’t know,” Abigail whispered. She looked with a tremulous mouth at Laddie, adding, “He came to see me, of course.” And despite the trembling lips, there was a flash of fire in her eyes, pride that a man would risk his life for her! “And I was so afraid! I tried to get him to leave—but he wouldn’t listen!” She gave a small smile and shrugged, “Love makes people do strange things, don’t you agree?”

Laddie thought of the plan she was determined on; there was a strange smile on her lips as she answered quietly, “Yes, a man will do strange things for love—and so will a woman.” Then she demanded, “And why can’t you use the pass—go see him, Miss Howland? If he’s going to die for you, the least you could do is go say goodbye!”

Abigail dropped her head in confusion (exactly as Laddie had hoped!), and in one smooth motion, Laddie turned, picked up the pass and shoved it into her shirt. It took less than three seconds, and she said quickly, “I’m sorry to have bothered you, Miss Howland. I’ll be going now.”

Abigail looked up with a startled expression as Laddie reached the door, and she cried out loudly, “
I
can’t go to him! Can’t you see that?”

But the door closed, and in a matter of seconds Laddie was walking as fast as she could in the direction of the business district.

Two hours later she was opening the door of the Winslow warehouse. Quickly she moved to hitch the team of bays to the buggy—the same one, she noted with a slight shock, that they’d gone to New York in. She was thankful the guard had gone for the night, and even more grateful that she had kept her key!

Dark had fallen by the time the team stood stamping in the cold of the stable, and Laddie picked up the bulky package she’d brought with her. The office was still warm, and she pulled a small box out of the large sack, opened it, and withdrew two small flintlock pistols. Carefully she primed them with black powder and then, wrapping two balls in small fragments of cloth, shoved them home with the small ramrod. Carefully she put them aside, then turned to the large bag.

From it she pulled a fashionable dark blue dress, then one by one all the other garments that a young woman of fashion would be likely to wear. The clerk, she remembered suddenly, had been bewildered by a young man buying such garments, but he had not argued, for the price was high—taking Laddie’s meager store of cash nearly to the last farthing.

She stared at the dress, stroking the fine material, and then she faltered—but in the silence as her fears rose, she seemed to hear Rev. Kelly’s voice whispering:
Though an host should encamp against me, my heart shall not fear!
She tossed the dress down, stripped out of her male attire quickly, and in a
few minutes she stood there, dressed in women’s clothes for the first time in months. The freedom and looseness of the dress seemed strange to her, and she whirled and laughed as the skirt rose gracefully. There was no mirror except for the small one fixed over the washstand that some of the men used at times for shaving, but she donned the small bonnet with the flowing veil and stared into the mirror.

Several curls escaped the bonnet, ringing her face, and she had not trimmed her eyelashes in weeks, so they curled up over her large eyes. “I must say, Miss Sampson—you look quite ravishing!” Then she laughed shortly and threw her old clothes into the bag. The two pistols she carefully placed in the belt of the dress, far back at her sides so that they were covered by the short stylish red jacket which she put on.

She ran to the door, opened it, and after driving the team out, shut and locked it. Then she drove toward the jail, her jaw set and her heart steady with purpose.

The dropping temperature bit into her, even through the thick clothing, but she was glad, for the weather had driven most of the citizens indoors, and the streets were practically empty. She drove boldly up to the very door of the red brick building, got down quickly and tied the team to a hitching post. She retrieved the purse she had bought and, conscious of abandoning the masculine swagger she had picked up in past months, walked through the front door, her heart beating evenly.

“Why—wot’s this?” The same burly corporal rose up from his chair as she entered, and he looked at her so hard that she was sure for one heartbeat that he remembered her. But he merely looked baffled and said, “You shouldn’t be here, Miss!”

“Oh, that’s quite all right, Corporal,” she said sweetly, in the most feminine voice she could muster, “I have a pass to see Nathan Winslow.” She smiled at him through the veil and took the sealed envelope out of the handbag.

He stared at her, then shook his beefy face from side to
side. “I can’t do that!” He looked nervously to his right and called out, “Lieutenant Fitzwilliam!”

The officer had been lying down on a cot, and he came to his feet slowly; then as he saw Laddie, straightened up and retrieved his coat from the peg on the wall. “What’s this, Corporal?”

“Lady says she’s got a pass to see Winslow.”

Fitzwilliam had been buttoning his tunic—but he paused and stared at her, then shook his head. “That’s quite impossible!”

Laddie held it out and said, “You refuse to honor an order from General Gage?”

The name seemed to shock the officer, for he suddenly arched his back and his pale face flushed red in lamplight. “Why—uh—I mean, certainly
not!
” He gingerly took the envelope, broke the seal, then extracted the paper inside. His mobile features revealed the shock that the note gave him, and he said at once in a conciliatory voice, “My apologies, Miss Howland. Of course, you may see the prisoner. I’ll take you up myself.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” Laddie said, and took his arm. He said, “Corporal, I’ll remain upstairs until this lady is ready to leave.”

“Yes, sir!”

As she followed the officer up the stairs, she noted that the two privates, who had been playing cards, were watching with covert eyes, and she knew as soon as the officer was out of sight, the three of them would buzz with talk, but she put the thought of them from her mind.

“We have to keep a close watch, Miss Howland,” Lieutenant Fitzwilliam said. He was burning with curiosity, and said carefully, “The prisoner—he’s . . . ?”

“We—were to be married!” Laddie brought a sob into her voice and covered her face with her handkerchief.

“Oh—I—I’m sorry . . . !” Fitzwilliams muttered, then took a key as he paused before a heavy oak door fastened with
a huge padlock and chain. As he inserted the key, he said apologetically, “You may see the prisoner alone—I’ll be right here, so call when you’re ready to leave. I’m afraid I must examine your handbag.”

He looked through the bag, then pulled the lock free, swung the door open, saying, “Winslow! Miss Howland is here to see you!”

Laddie was behind the officer, who was a very tall man, and her first glimpse of Nathan came when he shifted and moved around her to the door. Nathan’s face when she saw it was filled with joy, and then he looked full at her, and instantly there was a change. Laddie knew that the officer was watching, and she said, “Nathan!” and threw herself into his arms, so that he had to catch her. She clung fiercely to him until she heard Fitzwilliam sigh, and then the ponderous door swung to with a bang and the padlock rattled noisily.

Instantly Laddie pulled back and looked up into Nathan’s bewildered eyes. He said harshly, “What sort of game is this? Who are you?”

Laddie reached up, yanked her hat off and grinned up at him. “Laddie Smith at your service!” She saw his mouth spring open and his eyes opened wide.

“Laddie!” he gasped. “I can’t believe—!”

She shook her head and whispered fiercely, “That Redcoat is out there with his ear glued to the door, so don’t talk so loud.” He was still staring at her in unbelief, so she said with a smile, “I make a pretty good-looking girl in all this, don’t I, Nathan? I think that fool lieutenant wanted to
kiss
me!” She pulled at the dress, adding, “This rig and all this padding is killing me! I don’t see how women can stand to wear such clothes!”

“Laddie—you shouldn’t be here!” Nathan came out of the shock that held him, and shook his head sternly. “I know you want to help, but there’s no way. They’ll hang you right beside me if—!”

“Nathan, I didn’t come to get hanged!” Laddie snapped.
“Now, listen to me—there’s an officer out there, and downstairs there’s a corporal and two privates. I’ve got the buggy right outside, and when we get out of here, we jump in and I’d like to see them catch us till we get through the lines!”

He stared at the fire in the dark eyes and said, “But they’re all armed, Laddie.”

“So are we!” Laddie reached inside the coat and pulled the two pistols out with a flourish. “Primed and ready to shoot!”

For the first time a light of hope leaped to his eyes, and he reached out and took one. Examining the load, he said with excitement, “By the good Lord—we just might make it!”

She nodded and said quietly, “That’s right, Nathan—by the good Lord.”

He shot a quick look at her, then suddenly dropped his head. He stood there struggling for a long moment, then lifted his face and sorrow was in his eyes. “I—I’d given up on God, Laddie.”

“But He hasn’t given up on you!” Laddie smiled. “Now, we’ve got to wait a few minutes; then we’ll call the lieutenant in. Let me tell you what we’re going to do . . .”

She spoke rapidly, and when she finished he said quickly, “I think we can do it!”

“All right, but we’d better wait a few minutes.”

In the pause that followed, he looked at her and said, “Laddie, I—I’ve thought a lot about you these last few hours.”

“You mean about Abigail!” she shot back instantly, then was sorry for it.

“Of her, too, of course, but that’s different. I mean, I’ve thought of you, and of all I hated to leave, why, I guess my family was first—and by the Lord, I hated to leave you!”

“Did you, Nathan?”

“Yes.” He reached out and grabbed her by the hair as he had at the creek in the woods, and he grinned suddenly, saying, “You’re too pretty to be a boy, Laddie!” He laughed and gave her hair a harder tug as a thought struck him. “Why
couldn’t you have been a girl? Then we could have fallen in love and I wouldn’t have gotten in all this mess!”