Wells said. “It’s even better in the day, Major. There will be thousands of Redcoats marching around.”
“It’s amazing we’re safe here.”
“Oh, I think they know someone’s watching them, it’s just that they don’t think there’s much we can do, regardless of what we see, and then there’s the fact that his lordship, Bloody Tarleton, doesn’t want to piss off General Haldimand in Quebec by coming over to this side and roughing up the farmers.”
Prior to the colonist’s revolution, frontier areas like Detroit had fallen under the jurisdiction of the British governor in Quebec. After the war, the boundaries had been redrawn so that anything south of the Great Lakes fell under Cornwallis in New York. Therefore, the land across the river from Detroit was considered part of Quebec-controlled Canadian territory. Haldimand, no admirer of either Tarleton or Burgoyne, had let it be known that no British soldiers other than his would be permitted to operate on the Canadian side of the river. So far, Tarleton had been cowed by Haldimand and it was presumed that Burgoyne would obey the rules as well.
“Tarleton and Haldimand,” Owen said, “It sounds like a theatrical group.”
“And a bad one at that,” said Will. “By the way, my men are camped with yours.”
Neither man had arrived alone in the area, but had shown up alone at the Leduc farm. Another ten men awaited their return a few miles into the woods. They were near a tavern owned by men Tallmadge said were sympathizers to the American cause.
“Sir, did you see Faith?”
Will couldn’t stifle a grin. “I did, and she said to tell you she misses you and wants you to come back as soon as possible.”
“Would it be all right if I left right now?”
Will laughed and punched him lightly on the arm. “It would not. Now tell me, what will farmer Leduc have us do tomorrow?”
“We will work in his fields and take frequent breaks just like the shiftless bastards he usually hires. This will enable us to observe the comings and goings as best we can from over here.”
Will thought of Tallmadge’s request for information and still more information. “Any chance of our actually getting into Detroit?”
Now it was Owen’s turn to smile. “He and I have been talking about it. He does cross the river on occasion and likes the thought of insolently parading American soldiers inside a British fort.”
Will yawned. The rigors of the journey were catching up to him. “I like the idea, too. However, I think we should get some sleep if we’re going to have to pretend we’re farmers.”
* * *
“The girl takes nourishment, but doesn’t speak,” Sarah said and Franklin nodded thoughtfully. She ran her hand through the wispy hair on the Winifred’s bandaged head. Sarah and Abigail had cut it extremely short to make it easier to treat her cuts and burns, and it made her look even more skeletal then she was.
Sarah continued. “She takes broth and even mushy solids and seems to be gaining strength. Her bruises are going away and the cut on her head is healing. Sometimes her eyes open and she seems to be looking at me, but then she closes them and goes back to sleep. I worry that we may be losing her.”
Franklin reached down and took Winifred Haskill’s small hand in his. He marveled at the fact that it was colder and frailer than his. “When you are sick, doesn’t it feel better when you awaken after a good, long sleep?”
“Of course. Are you saying that this deep sleep is a natural way for the body to heal itself?”
“Not the body, Sarah. More likely it is the mind that is trying to heal itself, perhaps even the soul, if there is such a thing. We know so little about healing the body, as you’ve learned from Doctor Young, and we know so much less of the problems of the mind and the soul. We are total illiterates in those areas.”
“I didn’t know you believed in a soul, Doctor Franklin.”
“Some days, my dear Sarah, I don’t know what I believe. While I certainly believe in a supreme being, I have no idea what shape or form it takes, or what interest it might have in our activities. For instance, does a god really care if young Mistress Haskill lives or dies?”
Sarah nodded. “Perhaps he doesn’t care if anyone lives or dies. Perhaps god just permits things to happen, which would explain such things as war and plague.”
Franklin smiled. She was so very smart. “Perhaps someday you will have the honor of talking to Thomas Jefferson. He is a very complex man with equally complex beliefs.”
He sighed and continued. “In the meantime we shall concern ourselves with Mistress Haskill. I’ve spoken to some of the men who found her and they say that the place where she lived was a place of absolute and bloody devastation.”
“I know. I spoke to some of them as well.”
“Our soldiers think she escaped from the bodies of her family while the fire was just beginning and crawled her way into a cellar before she either suffocated or burned to death. Perhaps the pain of the flames even awakened her. They found a tunnel leading from the cellar to the woods. It must have been put there to provide just such a need to escape, either from fire, or storm, or the depraved animals that call themselves men, and that is how she made her way to the forest where she was found. It’s no wonder to me that she stopped speaking after giving her name. Perhaps she gave it so that we would have something to put on her gravestone.”
Sarah shuddered at the thought. “But will she get better?”
“Only she knows,” Franklin replied softly. “And right now she isn’t telling. Some people say I’m a great and intelligent man, but situations like this make me realize just how ignorant I am.”
“Does she even know that we won’t harm her?”
“Have you told her that, Sarah?”
Sarah nodded. “I hold her hand and whisper to her. I say her name and keep saying that she’s safe. Sometimes she seems to moan. Mistress Adams does it as well, and sometimes Mistress Greene takes a turn even though it means leaving her ill husband. We try not to leave her alone too much in case she should awaken and be frightened at being in such a strange place, but we do have other things to do.”
“Then keep doing it as much as you can. No possible harm can come to her. And if she should awaken and be frightened, then we shall have to deal with it.”
Franklin left the room. Sarah sat on a stool beside Winifred, took her hand, and talked to her. She told her that she was safe and free. She told her how beautiful the outside world looked, even though the new-fallen snow had done little more than cover the mud. Sarah told her a little gossip, such as how Faith was moping for a soldier who had gone away. She thought it was good to include mentions of family and the gossip of Fort Washington as a dose of the new reality.
At length, Sarah tired. She went to leave Winifred and catch up on her neglected clerical duties. On impulse, she turned and saw Winifred Haskill’s eyes wide open and watching her. Sarah moved to the stool and sat down. The two looked at each other. Sarah felt like she was being measured, assessed.
“Will you remain with us, Winifred Haskill? Or will you go back to the dark place where you’ve been?”
The corners of the girl’s mouth flickered in what might have been the beginnings of a smile. “Yes,” she whispered. “I think I’ll stay for a bit.”
* * *
Leduc was amenable to the idea of taking them across the river, even though there was ice drifting downstream. “Mostly mush,” he said disparagingly. “Try not to fall in, though. The cold’ll grab your nuts in an icy grip and you’ll die in just a few minutes.”
“We’ll keep it in mind,” Will said, unable to stop his hand from moving to his groin.
Still, Leduc wanted them to wait a couple of days before crossing. He said he wanted their presence to be noted as normal around the farm. Will also suspected that the old bastard wanted some work done before the two men gathered their information and departed.