She smiled, asked him to be seated and calm himself, and poured him a cup of real coffee. Very few in Detroit had access to real coffee and the aroma was magnificent. It was one of the benefits of her association with the Jewish merchant. She waited until he took a couple of sips and felt more composed.
“That is so good,” he said with a sigh.
“And now you may tell me what troubles you.”
“Do you know what a loose cannon is, my dear? No? Well, it is a term that I believe comes from the navy. If a cannon on a ship breaks loose during a storm, it can careen all over the ship, injuring and killing people, smashing things, and causing enormous damage to the ship until it is either gotten under control or hurled overboard. Some ships have been sunk by loose cannon, both literally and metaphorically.”
“And Banastre Tarleton is such a loose cannon?”
“Indeed. He makes up his own rules and they are brutal. It has just come to Burgoyne’s notice that Tarleton has been sending out raiders to pillage, torture, rape, and slaughter innocent civilians who happen to be in between the rebels at Fort Washington and here. He wished to convince the rebels that Indians are doing the attacking, which would cause the rebels to retaliate against the red savages, which would then cause the Indians to fight on our side. Even if the Americans won such a war, which is very likely, it would distract and weaken the bloody rebels.”
“Awful,” she said thoughtfully. “I suppose it makes some appalling sense from a military standpoint since it would necessarily weaken his enemies, but how absolutely terrible. But how do you know all this?”
Fitzroy sipped some more coffee. How marvelous it was and how wonderful it was to have someone like Hannah to confide in. He considered himself to be a truly fortunate man. Perhaps the colonies weren’t as uncivilized as he first thought.
“It began with tavern rumors that we immediately pooh-poohed as coming from loudmouthed drunks either bragging or complaining. After all, who would even think of doing such horrible things? Then several men who had served with the monster in charge of these forays began to speak up. They’d left because they couldn’t stomach being part of the atrocities. Burgoyne heard of them, talked to them, and then confronted Tarleton with what he’d learned.”
“What happened then?”
“Tarleton laughed at Burgoyne; absolutely just laughed right in his face. In effect called him soft and an old woman for caring about the plight of civilians. He said the purpose of war was to kill the enemy and it didn’t matter if the enemy was old or young, man or woman, they had to be destroyed. He said that anyone between here and the rebel enclave was presumed to be a rebel and should be hunted down and killed like dogs. Burgoyne was appalled. He asked if Tarleton had heard of a lady named Jane McCrea. Have you?”
“Of course,” Hannah said solemnly. “She was the young lady who was murdered by Burgoyne’s Indians during his advance to Saratoga in ’77.”
“Yes, and it didn’t matter at all to the Indians who murdered her that she was a Tory and not a rebel. She was an innocent, and it meant that people thought Burgoyne was hell bent on killing innocents. It inflamed the frontier and brought many hundreds, if not thousands, of undecided Colonials into the rebel camp, which was a major factor in Burgoyne’s defeat at Saratoga.”
Fitzroy managed a small laugh. “At least it was a major factor in Burgoyne’s mind. He was able to blame the Indians on his defeat rather than his other shortcomings. Regardless, Burgoyne was determined not to let that happen again, and here he finds that Tarleton doing exactly the same thing and laughing about it.”
“What did Burgoyne do?”
“He ordered Tarleton to stop the attacks and call back his wolves. Tarleton said it was impossible. He said they operated on their own and without plans, and he had no idea where they were. He said he didn’t expect to see them until spring. He’s lying, of course. There must be a rendezvous point or some other means of getting messages to those animals.”
She sprawled out on the bed and allowed the bottom of her robe to open, showing her shapely legs. “But why does that bother you so much, my noble little major?”
“Because I enlisted the monster who is preying on the innocents,” he said angrily. “His name is Braxton, and back in Albany, I gave him a commission as a militia captain since, as I recall, he already led a group of about fifty armed men. His face was terribly burned and his hands were mutilated and he hated the rebels for maiming him. But I never thought his hatred would cause him to rape and murder when I sent him off to Detroit and Tarleton’s sublime leadership.”
Hannah walked over, sat on his lap and held his head in her hands, then buried his face in the warmth of her bosom. “Now how could you have predicted what this Braxton would have done, or that Tarleton would give him such odious directions? You couldn’t, my dear major, so please quit blaming yourself for the actions of others.” Curiously, she realized she meant what she’d said.
Fitzroy took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. She was right, of course. She was almost always right and he appreciated that. “You are good for me, Hannah Van Doorn.”
“I know,” she purred. She undid the strings of her bodice and let her breasts fall free. His lips quickly found her nipples and she felt herself becoming aroused. She would have to get this tantalizing information to Abraham Goldman so he could forward it to Fort Washington, but not right now. Fitzroy’s hands had begun caressing the moistness of her inner thighs, and her body was responding as it always did to his gentle touch. The damned war could wait for an hour. Maybe a couple.
* * *
Sarah was surprised and pleased to see Will. “I thought you’d left?
“And I thought you’d be glad I’m still here.”
She tapped him on the arm and smiled warmly. “Of course I am. I had just reconciled myself to being without the pleasure of your company while you tramped around the wet and soggy forest looking for Redcoats.”
“Apparently something’s come up. General Tallmadge wants me to accompany him to one of the hospitals tonight. It seems there’s a very unusual patient.”
Sarah nodded grimly. “I know and I will be there too. Mr. Franklin has a similar appointment tonight at the hospital and it must be for the same reason. I am to accompany him and make sure he doesn’t get into any difficulties. Sometimes he’s forgetful.”
That evening the small group assembled in the foyer of the small wooden building they grandly called a hospital. A short and youthful-looking man named Jonathan Young said he was a physician and guided them in. Franklin murmured to Sarah that his name was quite appropriate and she noted that the doctor seemed quite nervous.
“Not too many beds are occupied right now,” Young said. “It’ll be different when the fighting really starts. Right now all I’ve got are a couple of fevers and some broken bones brought about by brawling and accidents. Nothing that purging, bleeding, and leeching won’t cure.”
Sarah shuddered. She had no idea just how leeching or bleeding might help a sick or hurt person, but she’d always accepted it on face value because it was such a traditional way of caring for the sick and injured. But purging? Violently emptying her bowels had nearly killed her when she was in the stocks, so how could it possibly help, and particularly if a person was already weakened? She wondered if the same applied to leeching and bleeding. If so, did the medical profession know anything at all about how the human body worked?
Doctor Young guided them into a small room off the main ward. “We keep sick females in here. When there are no women patients, which is usually the case, we use it for storage.”