Faith grinned. “I’ll bet I know more about Owen than you know about Will.”
“Let me break this up before it becomes bloody,” Will said as he slipped on his pants while somehow still holding the blanket around him. “Owen is fine and sends his love. He will be back here when the British complete their march. Thus, in a perverse way, we are safer because he is not around. And why aren’t you both working with Dr. Franklin?”
Sarah answered. “We are no longer needed. Whatever devilish devices he’s making no longer require as many of our nimble fingers as before. We younger ones have been sent back to work on the fortifications. All we do now is dig moats and earthworks and weave tree limbs to impede the British when they do arrive.”
Will made a mental note to see how the defenses have progressed. Once again he wondered if British women would work like Sarah and Faith and hundreds of others were. He doubted it.
“Have you heard anything about Braxton?” Faith asked. “May I hope he’s dead and rotting in the ground?”
“Sadly, he is still alive and quite well. Our scouts say he commands a company under Simon Girty.”
Faith nodded. “Just as well. I’ll have Owen kill Braxton when he arrives. I know Winifred would approve as well.”
“Do you recall a woman named Hannah Van Doorn?” Sarah inquired. “She wishes to know if a Major Fitzroy is still with the British. He’s an aide to Burgoyne.”
Will shrugged. “Insofar as I have not gotten close to General Burgoyne or his staff and insofar I have no idea who or what this Fitzroy is or looks like, tell Hannah I’m sorry but I don’t know.”
Will stuffed his shirt into his pants. “Do you have to go back to work, Sarah?”
“Not immediately.”
“Then walk with me, Mistress Sarah. I need you beside me.”
If Sarah were a cat, she would have purred. “I’m honored, dear Will.”
* * *
Hundreds of miles south and away from either Cornwallis or Burgoyne, Jack Sevier spat into the log in the fireplace and grunted satisfactorily when it sizzled. They were sheltering in what had once been a tavern about twenty miles outside of Charleston, South Carolina. Now the tavern was a ruin. Its roof had collapsed and the walls were charred. It was as close to the British-held city as any of the rebels wished to go. From here their patrols could watch the British patrols and the British could watch them. A kind of truce had developed with neither side wishing to upset things. At least, not yet.
“So who the hell is John Stark and why should we do anything to help him and those people up north?” Sevier asked.
“To the point as usual,” said Francis Marion, the rebel also known as the Swamp Fox. Marion coughed and covered his mouth with a rag that he quickly checked for traces of blood. Sevier and the third man, Isaac Shelby, turned away and pretended not to see. The legendary Swamp Fox was a very sick man.
Shelby answered. “According to the messenger, he is now the general commanding our forces up north. With Greene dead, they had to choose someone, and I guess Stark was the best they had.”
“And he will never be half the man Greene was,” Marion said glumly. “And he isn’t any Morgan either. Dan Morgan is even sicker than I am so that leaves him out as Greene’s replacement.”
Sevier chuckled. “So this Stark is the best of what they had left? Jesus wept. At least they didn’t pick Schuyler. So what does this General Stark want?”
“He requests our presence at the coming battle up north,” Marion said. “In case you’ve forgotten, Burgoyne is advancing on him with at least ten thousand men, maybe more.”
“And what concern is that of ours?” Sevier said. “We took care of the British at King’s Mountain when we destroyed that column under Patrick Ferguson. They come this way again and we’ll do it again.”
Marion hadn’t been at that battle. Sevier and Shelby had. The British under Ferguson had chased Sevier, Shelby, and other rebels from their homes and then over the Blue Ridge Mountains where they were forced to stand and fight. The result had been a catastrophic British defeat at King’s Mountain. Ironically, current British weaknesses meant that the rebels were now back on the eastern side of the mountains. All the fighting had accomplished exactly nothing for the British.
“Then you recall that Ferguson basically threatened us all with death and destruction unless we kneeled down to him and worshiped his king,” Marion said. “And you also recall how that enraged all of us who lived out there. Well, it looks like Burgoyne is going to do the same thing up north. And, if he’s successful, don’t you think he’ll be down here looking for us in a very short while?”
Marion paused and took a deep breath. “Or had you forgotten the report that the British planned to turn all of the colonies into little kingdoms ruled by nobles brought in from England and where we would be little more than slaves?”
It was a very long speech for the sickly Marion, who commenced coughing violently.
“We remember,” Isaac Shelby admitted. “So, you want us to go north and help Stark, don’t you?”
“Yes. Daniel Boone’s already gone with his men.”
“But won’t that give the British in Charleston a chance to come out and take over down here?” asked Sevier.
Shelby shook his head. “Not if we leave a small force to keep an eye on them. The British stripped the garrison to reinforce Burgoyne, remember. And I don’t think the Loyalists in the area are all that enthused about any more fighting. They’re as confused as anyone about British intentions and, from what I hear, don’t trust them at all anymore.”
Shelby turned to Marion. “We had maybe a thousand men at King’s Mountain, although I don’t recall anyone actually counting. What say we send out a call for as many men as possible, with their guns and horses, and meet in two weeks? Say we raise even half of that, who will command?”
Sevier and Shelby looked at each other. The command structure at King’s Mountain had been by committee and both men knew it wouldn’t work this time around. They turned to Marion.
The Swamp Fox waved his hand in dismissal. “It won’t be me. I’d be coughing blood all the way north. No, I’ll stay here and keep an eye on Charleston for you.”
Sevier took a deep breath. Both he and Shelby were men of property and education. They were also ambitious. Someone would have to give.
Finally, Sevier took a deep breath. “I’ll serve under you, Isaac,” Sevier finally said. He held out his hand and Shelby took it.
* * *
Lord Charles Cornwallis took the paper on which the latest message had been written, wadded it up, and threw it across the room. The aide who’d delivered it scampered out of the office and closed the door behind him. William Cornwallis could not contain his laughter and positively cackled with glee.
“Another urgent and unrealistic message from their lordships in London, I see,” William chortled. “And here I thought I was the only one who got those ridiculous epistles.”
Charles Cornwallis calmed himself and sat down. “Yes. Lord North and his minions wish me to tell Burgoyne to please hurry. Just how am I supposed to do that when I haven’t heard from Johnny Burgoyne in weeks and have no idea where the devil he is? To the west of Detroit is likely, but precisely where and how would I reach him even if I did know? And how long would it take for a message from me to reach him? A couple of months, I dare say, and then, of course, another couple of months for the response to get here assuming that he writes me immediately in the first place. Lord North and the king have no idea of the size of this continent or the distances involved.”
William yawned and concurred. “North America is like a vast ocean with trees.”
“I also rather feel that Burgoyne is moving as fast as he can, or at least as fast as I can make him. Don’t they realize that Burgoyne is not in the room across the hall? Damn it, he’s halfway across a continent!”