The key would be to convince his superior that he had to strike while the iron was hot. To bring this up the chain to the commandant’s superiors would take a flock of letters and waste time. To just go ahead, then alert the various colonels and generals to the speedier transport route, would be a feather in the commandant’s cap. He would appear far more decisive than subordinate. Ewing Garth could be useful to all. Captain John Schuyler, born and raised in rural western Massachusetts, was not a political creature, but the war was teaching him a great deal about how the world really worked.
“Who did this sketch?”
“I did, Mr. Garth.” Charles smiled.
“H-m-m.” The wheels were turning, but Garth said nothing for a moment as he studied the road. “Captain, this is an excellent idea, and a benefit to commerce as well as military matters, as you noted. I will visit your commandant myself in a few days to fully discuss the matter. Of course, I am at his service in the prosecution of the war.”
He walked them to the front door, Roger hovering, in case of need. As the door opened, a tremendous uproar from the stable area caused them all to fly down the stairs.
Piglet, who had been left outside, rose from his curled-up position, alarmed, as a horse, a young woman on sidesaddle, bolted toward them. The out-of-control animal charged while its rider gamely stayed on, trying to check and release the reins. Running on foot behind were two grooms from the stable, as well as Captain Graves and Samuel MacLeish. Captain Schuyler dashed across the yard toward the enraged animal. Handing his case to Karl, Charles, too, ran forward.
A lovely young woman, perhaps fifteen or sixteen, ran from the barn on foot, with plainly no hope of catching up. Landowner Garth, clearly not built for speed, moved toward the horse, which now attempted a terrific buck. Still, the rider stayed on. Coming out of the buck, the big bay leapt up, straight for Captain Schuyler. Without flinching, the American soldier stood in front of the horse. Just as its front hooves reached forward, Schuyler nimbly stepped to the side, jumped up, and grabbed the bridle. With all his might and weight, he pulled the horse’s head downward and forced it to stop. As he did so, Charles grabbed the bit on the other side.
“I have him!” Charles yelled.
Releasing the bridle, Captain Schuyler put his large hands around the rider’s waist and lifted her off the horse. He held her tight for a moment, her arms circling his neck.
Catherine Garth had never been so close to any man other than her father. Even through the sleeves of his coat, she could feel huge, powerful muscles.
The fearless man set her down and found himself looking into the eyes of a goddess. John Schuyler had never beheld so beautiful a woman in his life. Thunderstruck, he said nothing.
As one of the grooms reached the horse, Charles came around the other side, saw the two, paralyzed by the sight of each other. With good humor, he swept off his tricorn in a flourish, bowed low. After rising, he removed Captain Schuyler’s hat from his head, handing it to the man. Finding his voice, Captain Schuyler rasped, “At your service, Madam. I hope you are unharmed.”
Face flushed, her father finally reached the scene. Grasping her hands, kissing her cheeks, Ewing Garth was nearly undone with terror. “Oh, my darling, my angel! Come into the house. You must rest,” he babbled.
“Father, it was my fault,” she coolly said. Turning, she called over her shoulder. “Jeddie, don’t punish him. It was my fault.”
“Yes, Miss,” the groom called back.
Rachel Garth, obviously Catherine’s younger sister by the strong resemblance, was now also by her side. The teenage girl smiled up at the captain. “I thank you, good Sir.”
The American officer was awestruck at Catherine’s equestrian skills. “You rode him like, like…” He struggled.
Charles said, “A Valkyrie.”
Captain Schuyler swallowed, grateful to the Englishman.
Catherine laughed. “You flatter me, Sir. I so hope none of us wind up in Valhalla soon.”
Ewing Garth patted her hand. “My dear, my dear, please come into the house!”
“Father, I am quite fine. I was a fool. Had I been hurt, I would have deserved it.”
Rachel, eyes wide, remained silent.
Regaining some possession of his emotions, Ewing Garth smiled. “Gentlemen, my elder daughter, Catherine, much like her late mother, and my younger daughter, Rachel, also a reflection of my wife.” He paused, looked at his elder child, high color in her face. “Headstrong, my dear, headstrong.”
With a tilt of her head and a mischievous grin, she said, “And, Father, the apple does not fall far from the tree.”
Charles quipped, “So many apples,” as he swept his hand toward the new orchards. At this, they all laughed.
“My angel, please, don’t get on that beast again.”
“Father, all the work and noise at the stable has unsettled him, and when I mounted, I was a bit lazy, and hit the poor dear hard in the ribs. It really was all my fault.”
“Yes, yes, yes,” Garth said, not at all convinced. “Well, gentlemen, I must return to my labors, and you to yours.”
Catherine cast her warm, luminous brown eyes up at the tall captain. “I do so hope I shall have the pleasure of repaying your courage and kindness.”
“I…”
Charles, half bowing, said, “What he means to say, Mistress Garth, what we all say, is that just to look upon you is repayment enough.”
At this, Rachel giggled. Catherine playfully swatted her sister. The two made their curtseys and walked toward the house.
As Schuyler, West, and Ix headed toward the stables where the other prisoners were working, Charles exclaimed, “A woman like that in England would be the mistress of a king.”
“Then I would kill the king!” blurted out Captain Schuyler.
“Well, you would anyway, would you not?” Charles could not help but tease.
Some of his emotion calmed, Schuyler replied, “Ah, Lieutenant, you are too quick for me.”
Karl Ix had been amused by the drama, and happy the gorgeous woman hadn’t been injured. “Smooth, our lieutenant. Ah, well, he is high born, you know.”
“I could not think of anything to say,” bemoaned Captain Schuyler. “I stood there like a dumb beast myself. She must think me a fool!”
A silence followed this outburst. Karl Ix left to join the barn crew. Jeddie could be seen nearby, hot-walking the horse, now untacked.
“Captain, if you help me, I will help you,” said Charles. As the love-struck man looked at him, he continued, “I can show you the small and varied courtesies you need properly to address Mistress Garth. In return, I ask for more straw to bolster our roof. The winter was hard. And I will need other small things from time to time. I must look out for my men, and”—he looked down at Piglet—“my best friend.”
“I’ll look out for you, too,” Piglet vowed.
John Schuyler stopped, looking straight into Charles West’s eyes. “You can make a gentleman out of a farmer’s son?”
“Yes.”
“You shall have whatever you and Private Piglet require.”
“Good.” Charles put out his hand, and the two clasped hands. “Here is your first lesson. You must be as gallant toward the father as the daughter. An admiring word here or there, constant deference to his wisdom. I will show you. And for God’s sake, Captain, learn how to sweep your hat off your head with a graceful arc, just”—he paused—“not when she is riding. Then a small tip will do.”
“I have never seen a woman ride like that!” Captain Schuyler inhaled, overwhelmed by Catherine’s skill and tremendous poise.