Whether she slept with other servants, the family girls, or alone, a female servant would be housed upstairs. Jake began creeping up the rear stairwell, staying close to the banister.
He'd gone a little better than halfway when he heard the slight but distinct sound of someone walking above him.
Rose?
Jake went up another step and saw the faint yellow illumination of a candle shaded by a hand. He took another step — just in time to catch sight of two thick legs dressed in boots and ranger trousers, coming his way. Jake ducked and waited as the man walked awkwardly by on his tiptoes, then crept up to watch from the staircase as the man proceeded down the hall toward the rooms at the front of the house, his attention apparently focused on his planned assignation.
Jake was somewhat surprised when he realized from the plumpness of the shadow that it must be the sergeant; he could not imagine any woman finding the gruff old goat attractive. But his wonder turned to something considerably more depressing when, after the sergeant knocked on the door at the end of the hallway, Rose's face appeared, illuminated by the Tory's candle.
Chapter Twenty-two
Who are you looking for?" asked Rose.
"I came for Mary," answered the sergeant, to Jake's great but unspoken relief.
"She's gone south to New York with the family this afternoon."
The sergeant cast a furtive look down the hallway; had he not been so preoccupied, he might have caught Jake spying in the shadows near the banister.
"You'll do," he said, putting a hand on the door as Rose tried to push it closed. "Easy girl, my stomach has given me a load of trouble all day."
"Mary's not here! Out!" said Rose sharply.
"There's no one here to answer your screams," said the sergeant, pushing his way into the room. "I'll tell anyone who asks that you invited me in, wench." He kicked the door closed behind him.
Jake leapt up to the landing and went down the hall as quietly but as quickly as possible. He bent and eased the latch downwards, slipping his other hand to his boot for his knife. Then he swung the door open and sprang inside — just in time to see Rose's own solution to the dilemma: a fully loaded chamber pot, which crashed with great and instant effect on the sergeant's head.
"You drunken bastard," Rose was telling the unconscious interloper. "I would sooner go to bed with the devil than let a Tory kiss me." "I'm glad to hear you still feel that way," said Jake. "You!" "I thought you needed rescuing. Obviously I got here a little late."
" Don't get any ideas yourself," said Rose, clutching her hands in front of her nightgown.
There are few more beautiful sights than a patriotic woman whose breasts bulge the top of her white cotton gown and curls flow softly from her loosely-tied night cap. But Jake could not afford even a brief interlude tonight — besides, there might be another chamber pot lurking beneath the bed.
" I need your help," he said. " Are you still with us? "
" I'd give up my life to help our Cause."
" Get dressed and take anything you value with you. I'll wait in the hall. "
" What should I do with him? "
Jake leaned over and inspected the sergeant. " If the smell doesn't kill him, he'll sleep for a couple of hours. We'll both be long gone by then. "
The Mary whom the sergeant had sought was the farmer's wife, a fact Rose found great pleasure in relaying once she was dressed. Mary Stoneman had lectured the family's " girls " often on the need for virtue, and had especially hounded Rose when her attachment to the apprentice was hinted. The unmasking of her hypocrisy was therefore a victory on the order of Washington's at Trenton, and Rose found it difficult to control her enthusiasm as she led Jake down the stairs to the front hallway. She had dressed in a fine blue robe dress with white petticoats — obviously not her everyday dress, and one Jake suspected quite rightly had once belonged to the woman she was criticizing.
The outfit was mildly hooped, attractively showing off the sway of her hips. A knit shawl — prepared by her own hand — covered her shoulders, and a puffed mobcap sat atop her fixed curls. Jake now realized a second chamber pot would not have been discovered had he decided to dally, but Liberty rarely brooks delay.
Even as the crow flies, it was at least a dozen miles from Stoneman's to Cortlandville and Old Put's headquarters beyond. With time so critical, Rose needed some way of traveling other than her legs, as shapely as they might be.
"We need a carriage or a wagon," Jake told her, lighting a second candle off hers. " Where does your master keep them? "
" The family took all the wagons when they left for New York City," she told him. " They ran away and left me to tend to these Tory thieves."
" Can you ride a horse? "
" Sir," she said indignantly, " do I look like a city girl? I can ride a horse as well as any woman-and I would bet as well as you."
" You may get a chance to prove that bet," said Jake. " Come, let's steal a pair from our friends."
His plan was simple. There had been no guard posted in the barnyard, the Tories deciding to concentrate their resources on the perimeter. All one had to do was walk in very quietly, untie a pair of likely looking horses, and walk out.
Jake led Rose to the bush where he had stashed the musket. Her grip when he gave it to her made him think the young woman had taken militia training.
" You stand at the doorway — fire it only if they wake."
" We should kill them all while they sleep," said Rose.
" Trust me," said Jake, patting her shoulder before putting out her candle with his fingers.
The Tory troop had arranged itself in symmetrical fashion against the barn wall to the right, sleeping on field cots in apparent contentment. Undoubtedly they had been tired by the march back from Salem, during which they'd had to walk their bloated horses.
The effects of the herb had worn off by now, the horses' over-stimulated digestive tracts having worked all afternoon to evacuate the poison. They did not seem to bear any grudge toward their tormentor; indeed, the first animal he approached nuzzled against him, apparently remembering that Jake had given him sugar earlier in the day.
The stallion's reins were looped over an iron ring at the side of the stall. Jake placed the candle on a post next to three freshly oiled saddles and quietly prepared the animal to be ridden.
He had just rubbed the neck of a second horse in an attempt to persuade him to accept his role as a Revolutionary gracefully when a loud voice outside challenged Rose.
" The sergeant needs you in the house," he heard her say. "There are American thieves afoot."
Jake did not hear the reply to this, if there was one, for it was drowned out by the report of a musket. Cursing, he jumped up on the second horse's unsaddled back, grabbing at the reins of the first animal and kicking his mount toward the door.
As the horse leaped into action, Jake lost his grip on the other's rein. But his lunge brought his hand to the post where the candle was, and a sudden stroke of inspiration made him swat the candle to the ground. It fell against a pile of straw which had earlier sopped up some of the excess wax used on the saddles. Worn by the breeze, the candle's flame fluttered, unsure whether to exert itself. Then it remembered its patriotic duty, bucking itself up like a private enlisted for the duration — bold yellow tongues shot up to the rafters.
" Fire!" yelled Jake as he prodded his horse toward the door.