Part Four
by Paula B and CJ
Mid November 1776
Just outside Philadelphia
Chegwidden had marched them hard. It had taken nearly two months to make it from the western frontier. They were good men. Were there ever two men more different than Curtis Rivers and Samuel Ryan? But they worked well together and because of them Chegwidden’s band had avoided many costly delays. As they made their way down the Schuylkill River, they had done well in the few skirmishes they had engaged in. They had killed ten of King George’s men and countless of their Indian allies. They had lost only two men.
On the plus side, young Jason Tiner had done well. Rabb, while a bit over-enthusiastic at times was courageous and always willing to foray into dangerous situations. Mac was more levelheaded. Young and slight, Chegwidden figured the boy to be no more than 15 or 16 at the oldest. «So many of them were.» There was no doubt that Mac was brave though. He would follow Rabb anywhere and had saved the older man’s life on several occasions. Once when Rabb had managed to lose their way in the middle of the Pennsylvania forest, it was MacKenzie who had found the small band of Delaware Indians and convinced them to lead them back to camp. He hadn’t let ‘the son of the frontier’ forget that little escapade, but Rabb had taken the ribbing with good grace.
Now, just five short miles east of Valley Forge where he had stopped and picked up a few meager supplies, he and his men were breaking camp for the last and hopefully final leg of their journey. He would be picking up his much needed firearms at a farm outside of Philadelphia. The plan called for him to meet the agent at an inn with the sign of the Liberty Tree. The agent would have a ring with the identical sign and he would lead them to the guns. He expected it would be Braxton Wallace, but these days, one could never be sure. Rabb and Tiner were getting their gear in order. MacKenzie had been ready for nearly twenty minutes. Chegwidden shook his head. The boy was fastidious about his personal hygiene. Most of the men relieved themselves without thought to any of their comrades. MacKenzie always sought the privacy of a tree. However, the boy had proved his worth and few teased him any longer.
"Mr. Rivers." He called softly to the scout.
"Yes, Chegwidden?"
"Shouldn’t Ryan be back by now?"
As if he had heard, the former schoolteacher came out of the trees into the small clearing. He had a happy grin on his face. "Colonel, sir." He whispered.
"Ryan, I’ve told you…"
"Yes, sir. But I’ve got good news."
"Well, man."
"Swede’s Ford is just a stroll through the trees."
"We knew that last night."
"Aye. But we’ve got us some redcoats to kill before we cross it." The man was practically rubbing his hands. Chegwidden sighed. He had hoped to not meet up with anymore soldiers but it couldn’t be helped.
"Very well, prepare the men." Albert sighed as he mounted his stallion.
Rabb tossed MacKenzie ‘his’ pack. Mac caught it and grinned. She really liked being with the men on this trek. It had been hard, but she really thought she was doing SOMETHING to help in the fight for freedom. No one knew or even suspected that ‘Mac’ MacKenzie was anything but a man – or a boy anyway. She wondered what they would say if they knew she was a woman of 21.
She checked her musket, making sure her extra ball and shot pouches were easy to get to. Putting her pack over her shoulder she got into position. Chegwidden stopped next to her and Rabb. "All right men. Gather round." Quickly he told them what he wanted of each man. "Rabb, you and Mac go down that way." He pointed to the narrow bank along the river. "Rivers, you and Tiner head a little north through the woods." Chegwidden and Ryan led the others straight up the trail.
As they approached the ford to take their position, Rabb whispered. "I hope this goes well. If it does, we will be in Philadelphia tonight. I can’t wait to find a nice soft bed and a softer woman."
Mac didn’t bother to answer him. She wasn’t sure how she was going to manage Philadelphia. It had been fine out in the wilderness. She had slept on the ground huddled in her blanket. Even if they put up the small tent that Rabb had in his pack, it had been so cold that no one took their clothes off.
The few times she had washed up, she had made sure to do it late at night or very early in the morning. They had all started to smell a little rank, but the rest of the company, besides Chegwidden hadn’t seemed to mind. She felt a hot blush creep up her throat when she thought about the one time she had nearly been caught out. She had just finished retying the band around her breasts and buttoning up her shirt when she heard a twig snap behind her. Not knowing whom it could be, she had hidden behind a tree.
Chegwidden had stripped down in the moonlight and stepped into the freezing cold river. She had seen her father naked only once in her life, but that incident had confirmed that men were much like the farm animals, albeit smaller. Not Chegwidden.
Rabb’s firm touch on her shoulder brought her back to the battle at hand. Through the trees she could count the small company of redcoats, there were no more than 15. Wetting her lips she set her rifle to her shoulder and waited for the signal.
To the redcoats it sounded just like a bird. To the frontiersmen, who knew no such bird existed anywhere near where they were, it was the signal to commence firing. The battle was fast and furious. Mac reloaded three times but still the redcoats held their ground, though she could count six bodies lying in the clearing. The others had taken cover behind the small hut at the ford. Mac wasn’t worried. Curtis and Tiner would flank them, but she and Rabb had to keep them busy while Chegwidden and the rest bore down on them. Finally it was over and they stepped out to take the arms from fallen soldiers. Only two of the enemy had fled east.
"Good job, men." Chegwidden had just got down from his horse to search the body of the officer in charge when Mac saw the movement behind him. Without really thinking about it, she pushed Chegwidden over and out of the way, thus keeping him from being shot in the back. Unfortunately it put her right in the line of fire.
The musket ball ripping through her thigh felt like it was burning her alive. She had never felt such pain. As she sank to the ground, she heard Chegwidden’s roar of rage.
They had bandaged his leg as best they could. Chegwidden was furious at the boy for getting himself injured saving HIS life. Albert didn’t like being beholden to any man or boy. Rivers had found some muck and pressed it to the wound. "But, Chegwidden, the ball will have to come out. Should we do it here? He took out his hunting knife."
"No. No time. There’s a village not too far from here. I hear there’s a woman who has set up a small hospital. Washington takes some of his men there particularly if his own doctor has lost hope. Come on. I don’t want the boy to loose his leg." He had lifted Mac up onto his horse and walked the animal himself until they came to the road leading to Germantown. Handing the reins to Rabb he instructed him, "Take him down to the village. Ask for Tess Coulter. Don’t tarry and don’t tell anyone how he was shot. Many of the Mennonites there do not believe in our cause. There may or may not be any Tory sympathizers, but Tess is the only one to trust."
"Sir. Will these Mennonites hurt him?" Rabb gazed fearfully at his friend who was clutching at the horn of the saddle. Blood had already seeped through the bandage.
"No, Rabb, the Mennonites are peaceful. They just don’t want any part of the war; that’s all. I’m just not sure if there are new people there sent to spy on Washington since he is so close by. Get going."
Rabb walked the horse down the lane. Smoke curled up into the sky from the many chimneys. This settlement was far too crowded for Rabb. He was excited about seeing the big city of Philadelphia and sampling the wares of the women that he had overheard Ryan and several of the other men joking about. However, he really did just want to get back to the Ohio valley and work the land his father had claimed just 10 short years ago. His stepfather would need his help.
A boy, no more than six or seven ran up and took one look at Mac clutching the horse. "Tess! Tess! Tess!" He yelled and ran off down the lane.
Rabb looked around, but most of the people who had come to the door at the first shouts shut their doors quickly. The few people moving farm animals ignored him completely. He could see only one figure, all the way at the end of the lane, come running out toward him.
Tess Coulter was used to little Henry Yoder yelling for her. While her neighbors took no truck in the war for independence, they never tried to stop her from practicing the medicine that her father had taught her. He and her mother had been among the few English settlers to come to live in this tiny, but thriving community founded by Germans nearly one hundred years ago. She saw the two men immediately and wondered if Washington had sent them or if they were stragglers from another band of freedom fighters. She stopped short as the man leading the horse waved her away.
"Tell me where to take him."
"This way." She turned and pointed to her small house. "Behind there." She had, to the consternation of her neighbors, turned her perfectly good barn into a small hospital. While she treated the injuries the independent Mennonites couldn’t handle themselves in their own homes, she wanted a place that strangers would be comfortable. It was unusual, almost unheard of for women to be physicians, but out here in the frontier people made do with what they had and what the villagers of Germantown had was Tess Coulter. Only the dour Lutheran minister, Mr. Miller, spoke darkly of her work and forbade his congregation to avail themselves of her service. Many, in times of crisis, would call for her anyway.
Rabb reached up and helped his friend down from the saddle. Mac weighed next to nothing and Rabb carried him in, following the very pretty woman into the barn. He was speechless when he saw how clean the place was. Candles lit the doom and against one wall, someone had erected a stone fireplace. A blazing fire warmed the small barn.
"Lay him here."
Rabb laid Mac on the bed where Coulter indicated. "Ma’am. You’ll take good care of him?" He quickly pulled off his hat, like his ma had taught him.
"Of course. What is his name?" Tess barely gave any notice to the frontiersman in front of her.
Rabb put a hand on Tess’s arm. "Ma’am this here is my friend, Mac. Mac MacKenzie. My name is Harmon Rabb. Uhm…a friend of mine told me you would take good care of Mac."
Tess cut into the leather britches covering the wound pulling off the moss that Rivers had staunched the wound with. She finally looked up at the man standing across the bed from her. "You do this?"
"Oh no ma’am that was, Mr…." He gulped and nodded. "Yes ma’am. I meant to say that Mr. ahm…a friend told me how to do it. Back home. You know?"
Tess sighed and leaned over the bed. "I know. Now get back to your friends. I’ve been takin’ care of General Washington’s men for longer than you’ve been in the Continental Army I expect."
"I joined up right after Concord ma’am." Rabb insisted indignantly.
"Is that a fact." She replied cool. "Well, I apologize. Now git." She returned to wound before her.
"I gotta get the col…I gotta get this horse back to his owner, ma’am." He stayed at the entrance for a moment watching the cool blond haired Coulter tenderly probe the wound.
As he closed the door, Tess stared down into the eyes of boy before her. "It will be fine, son."
"Yes, ma’am." Mac whispered.
"This is going to hurt some." Tess gently pulled some of the skin back.
"Oooooo." Mac gulped.
"That pellet is going to have to come out, boy." Tess went and found her long thin knife and heated it. She brought a leather strap over. "Bite down on this." She was as careful as she could be but in the end the scream that rent the air told the doctor that the ‘boy’ before her was no boy. Sighing she finished the job while ‘he’ was still unconscious from the pain.
"What evil is this, Tess Coulter?" Demanded a voice from behind her.
"Get out of my hospital, Reverend Miller." Tess didn’t even bother to turn around.
"This is the devil’s work!"
"No Reverend. It’s my work. Now get out!"
"We’ll see about this woman." The man turned and stomped out the door.
Tess carefully wrapped the leg and then called for Hannah Lapp who had been cowering in the corner, afraid to approach for fear of Miller. "Come here Hannah, help me with him." Tess knew that for all her fear, Hannah would not betray ‘Mac’s’ secret.
Rabb had waited just outside the outskirts of town, when he heard the scream of pain he closed his eyes in sympathy but resolutely turned to lead the horse down the narrow pathway toward the rendezvous point. As he walked he considered the woman he had left his friend with. She sure was pretty, no doubt about that. Reminded him a bit of his ma, but he could tell she was young. Very young to be doing such important work. He wondered idly what she would think of his stepfather’s farm in the Ohio River valley. He sighed. <<<Now what full nonsense is this? Miss Coulter looks happy right where she is.>>> Still it wouldn’t hurt to ask. He thought along these lines until Samuel Ryan appeared before him.
"Everything go all right?"
"Yes, sir. He’s in good hands. There were two other men in the barn too."
"She’s keeping them in the barn." A look of anger skirted across Ryan’s face.
"Oh don’t you worry none about that. Our house, out west, cain’t hold a candle to that there barn, Mr. Ryan, sir. Got it a fireplace and dang, if it ain’t the cleanest place I ever did see and my ma, she’s a stickler for wipin’ your feet and all."
Together the two men joined Chegwidden and the others. After Rabb had quickly filled his CO in on Mac, Chegwidden gathered them around. "You, you, you and you." He pointed to Rabb, Rivers, Ryan and Tiner. "You four come with me. The General’s man, Lafayette, told us there would be horses for us at the crossroads leading into Philadelphia."
"What do we need with horses, Chegwidden?" Rivers asked.
"Only travelers from the south and the east travel by horses. If we are on horses, no one will think that we are from out west. Times are very tense in Philadelphia with Colonel Rall’s Hessians so close in Trenton."
"Uhm, sir?" Tiner quavered.
"Yes, son?"
"I ain’t never been on no horse before."
Ryan slapped his back. "Don’t worry son, after falling off a couple of times, you’ll get the hang of it." He walked away and muttered to Rivers, "Iffin’ he don’t break his neck."
Late November 1776
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
Outside the Liberty Tree Inn
The air was cold as Cordelia stood numbly outside the inn in the growing darkness. A sharp wind made the leafless trees branches tremble. Cordelia had already asked if Chewidden had arrived, but he had not. November was almost over, and Braxton had told her Chegwidden would arrive in November. She began to fear that her husband had died in vain. She would wait a while, then return home. «I can come back next week. Nothing requires that I wait a fortnight before returning. God knows, there is no one at home left to care.» She felt broken, empty, helpless. «I will not cry. Bad enough that I stand here on the streets of Philadelphia, outside a public house, no less. Like some strumpet. What must these people think of me? At least I am on the other side of the street.» She shivered in the cold, warmed only by her anger.
A group of men approached on horseback, their eyes somber. From the dust that covered them, Cordelia could tell that their journey had been long. There were two older men and three younger men. «They have a sixth horse; perhaps they have lost one of their companions.»
One of the men looked at the sign outside the stone inn and nodded to the others. "This is it," he said, turning toward the others. He was tall and wore a heavy coat and leather hat, like the others. It was his eyes that made Cordelia wonder. They dismounted and carried their travelling bags inside.
«Braxton said he had a penetrating look. Oh, but that damned hat. How am I to tell if he is bald?» Cordelia wanted to scream in exasperation when the man removed his hat just before he entered the door of the inn. «That is him!» She hurried across the street and inside the inn. The publican glanced at her reproachfully as she came in the door. She paid him no mind. She marched straight up to Albert Chegwidden «Colonel Albert Chegwidden -- at least, I certainly hope so!» and kissed him directly on the lips. "Why Albert Chegwidden, have you been gone to the frontier so long that you fail to recognize your own wife?" she chastised him, then laughed as she embraced him.
Albert was shocked. Angry. «Who in the hell is this woman? Is she daft? Or is she some scheming hussy?»
One of the men with him teased, "Albert, you never told us you were married. And she is quite pretty, too."
Cordelia knew had made the right contact. «Thank god!» Still embracing him, she whispered, "Braxton is dead, but the plan is still the same. I have what you need."
«My god! A woman in this dangerous business! What will the world come to next?» Albert smiled as the stranger stepped back. He put his hand to her face, running his fingers over her cheek and cupping her chin in his hand. "Let me look at you, Darlin'. I have been gone a long time, and so much has changed since I left." He gazed at her in the dim candlelight.
The publican watched their greeting, feeling ashamed for his earlier thoughts. «I will give them the best room in the house.»
Cordelia looked at the men who had arrived with her 'husband.' "Albert, are you not going to introduce me to your friends? Are you ashamed of me?" She flashed a grin at the man she called her husband, then turned to the others, "Since my husband seems at a loss for words, I will introduce myself. I am Cordelia Chegwidden." The name felt strange on her lips. For sixteen years, she had been Cordelia Morgan, then for ten more, Cordelia Wallace. «I am still Cordelia Wallace.» She felt the tears well up and swallowed to fight them. «It will not do to cry.»
"Pleased to meet you, ma'am," murmured Rabb, nodding. Tiner stared as if he'd never seen a woman before in his life. Rivers merely nodded, then all four men turned to Albert and grinned from ear to ear.
"If I had a wife such as you at home waiting for me," Ryan grinned, "I think I would find a different profession than surveying in the frontier. Something that would allow me to be at home more often."
Pouting, Cordelia turned to Albert, "You have not even thought about me all this time you have been gone?"
"I thought more of your absence than of you," Albert retorted. "Now that we are together, you seem to have completely taken over my mind." He nodded to the publican, "Good sir, we will need two rooms. My friends will share, if you have one large enough, but my wife and I would like to be alone."
"I'll bet your wife would prefer you had a bath first," Ryan laughed. The others joined in.
"At least we need not worry about bathing," Rabb added. "There are some benefits to being without a wife."
Albert sighed. "Could you have a basin of warm water sent up to the room, as well?" he asked, handing the man what he hoped was enough money to cover their expenses.
The publican palmed the coins and smiled. He turned to a servant boy and said, "Bring the basin of water when it is heated. The room with the blue coverlet." The boy nodded eagerly and the innkeeper, carrying a taper, led them up the stairs and through a hall. He stopped at one of the doors and took a key from his pocket to open it. "Will this do, gentlemen?" The four men looked at the space before them, with but a double bed. Before they could ask a question, publican said, "There is a trundle. Two of you can sleep in it."
Rivers nodded to the man, "It will be fine." The publican took his candle and lit the small oil lamp on a shelf near the door before he turned away.
Albert and Cordelia followed the publican further down the hallway. He opened the door to a large room with a great double bed. There was a small table with two straight-backed chairs, a dresser with a mirror, a tall chest of drawers and a wardrobe. "The best room in the house," the publican offered. "I apologize ma'am, for sending you away so harshly earlier." Albert placed his bag on the floor next to the dresser. The publican lit the oil lamp on the dresser.
The boy arrived with a basin of water. He eyed Albert. «How can such a little bit of water make any dent in the dust that covers such a great man?»
"On the table, please," Albert said impatiently. "We are fine, I can start the fire." He waited as the boy and the publican left, watching them walk down the hall before he closed the door. Unsure what to expect next, Cordelia swallowed. "Have you eaten?" Albert asked. "I have some dried meat and hardtack in my bag. It isn't much, but it will stave off the hunger. I think it wise if we did not leave the room tonight."
"I am not hungry, thank you," Cordelia said quietly.
"Perhaps, then, dearest wife, you could tell me who you are," Albert crossed his arms and waited for her to speak.
Cordelia raised her shoulders before she spoke, "I am Cordelia Wallace, and Braxton Wallace was my husband."
«Good god! The man sent his wife?» Then it dawned on Albert. «Downstairs she said he was dead, and just now she said he 'was' her husband. Braxton is dead and there was no one else to send. How much did he tell her? Can she really hold up his end of the plan?» He stared at this woman, reassessing her. «She is brave enough, I'll give her that. She must be terrified to be alone like this with someone she has never met. But she sits there looking proud and dignified.»
"Well?" Cordelia said.
"Well what?" Albert repeated.
Cordelia scowled, "Are you going to wait until the water gets cold? Build the fire, man, or I will do it. But I thought perhaps the bathing might be more comfortable if the fire were already lit and warming the room." She paused, "You are going to bathe, aren't you?"
Albert stared at her. "For god's sake, man. I'll build the fire," she said as she stood, then dragged the chair over to the hearth. The wood was laid out in the fireplace, and she struck the flint against the brick. Sparks flew, catching several pieces of tinder. First came the smoke, then tiny tongues of flame, then the fire began to blaze. Cordelia sat in the chair facing the fireplace. "Let me know when you have finished bathing."
«Well, she's practical if nothing else.» Albert walked to the window to close the curtains. He returned to the table with the basin, stripped off his clothes and began to bathe. They shared the silence as Albert washed the grime from his body and Cordelia warmed herself by the fire. A knock at the door startled them both.
Cordelia stood, walking quickly to the door and carefully opened it a couple of inches. It was the publican. "The other gentlemen have asked me to wash their clothes. Would your husband like that as well?"
"He certainly would!" Albert called out. «I'm glad I have that nightshirt in my bag.» He pulled the nightshirt over his head and picked up the dirty clothes. "Here are my clothes, Darlin'. Would you come get them and give them to him?"
Averting her eyes, Cordelia walked to the table where the basin sat. Although she did not look up, she could see his bare feet and legs beside the pile of dirty clothes. She felt the heat of the blush rush over her as she knelt to pick them up. She opened the door once again and passed the clothes out to the innkeeper.
"I'll send up some wine, too, ma'am. And some roast chicken and bread. I'm sure you and your husband would prefer to eat here," the little man said before he turned and left.
Cordelia looked at the floor and returned to the hearth. Albert took the basin to the window, pulled back the curtain and pushed the glass pane open. He scanned the street below before pouring out the water. "Not that it's done much good. I think I had enough dirt on me to plant a garden." There was a knock on the door and Albert answered it, opening the door wide. It was the publican again, this time with a tray of food and a bottle of wine. "Just put it there on the table, thank you," Albert said. She heard him move the oil lamp from the dresser to the table.
«What kind of man is he, that he feels so comfortable letting someone into his bedchamber while he stands there bare naked?» Cordelia thought, beginning to question anew the wisdom of being alone here with Albert Chegwidden. «Braxton said he was a good man, but perhaps he did not know him well enough.» She shuddered.
The smell of the roast chicken filled the air. Cordelia heard Albert sink into the chair beside the table. She felt her mouth watering. She had not eaten, even though she had no appetite for jerky and hardtack. But roast chicken was another matter. «I haven't tasted chicken since the redcoats were garrisoned in my home and ate every last bird, even my laying hens.»
"The food looks good, come eat with me," Albert said quietly.
"I am fine here," Cordelia murmured.
"Nonsense," Albert muttered. Cordelia could hear him stand, felt and heard him walking across the room. She shut her eyes as he approached. He picked up the chair with her still sitting in it cradling them both in his arms like a baby. Her cheek brushed against his chest. She drew away, expecting to touch bare skin. But she felt flannel.
«Flannel?» Cordelia opened her eyes. Albert Chegwidden grinned at her devilishly from underneath a red flannel nightshirt. "You could have told me!" she said, anger flashing from her eyes.
"But then I would have missed the look of surprise on your face." Albert laughed. "Besides, you had all the fun downstairs. Turnabout is fair play. Come now, eat." He placed her chair beside the table and pushed her up to it, then took his own seat and poured her a glass of wine. She took the drink gratefully and he began to cut off pieces of the chicken, filling both plates with them. Cordelia ate in silence and Albert began to speak. "I know this is awkward, but it would have seemed strange if I had not sent my clothes to be washed. And, incidentally, I like clean clothes. And apparently, I value baths more than my colleagues." Albert waited, but she did not speak. "I'm sorry if I frightened you. It was not my intent."
"I wasn't truly frightened. Braxton told me you were an honorable man," Cordelia looked him in the eye, "Although I must say, I was beginning to have my doubts."
Albert laughed. «At least she has a sense of humor.» "I hope you are not too uncomfortable with me in my nightshirt. It is a bit unconventional, but then, this situation is far more than a bit unconventional."
"Oddly enough, I am far more comfortable with you sitting there in your nightshirt than I was with the redcoats fully dressed and garrisoned in my home. Unless my husband is a poor judge of character, I have far less to fear from you," Cordelia said quietly.
"Braxton was a good man. If I may ask, what happened to him?" Albert's voice was low.
"He was shot in September. He had come to Philadelphia and was on his way home. Someone along the road," Cordelia's voice faltered. "It was dark, he did not see who killed him. He managed to ride home, to tell me what must be done. I pray that I have not forgotten anything. He told me that you and General Washington were the only two men I could fully trust. Well, the two of you, and one other, but he did not tell me the other's name, only that he would wear a ring like this." Cordelia lifted a chain from around her neck and held up Braxton's ring.
"I am sorry. This must be so difficult for you," Albert began.
Cordelia stared at him. "Difficult? No, it is easy. I have no other choice. If I did not carry out my husband's wishes, he will have died in vain. He gave his life for this cause."
"There is your life to think about," Albert whispered.
"My life? I married Braxton Wallace when I was sixteen years old. He was my life. My body remains, but my soul is already gone," Cordelia said dully, her voice barely audible.
"Perhaps you should tell me what is next?" Albert changed the subject.
"We are waiting for the final shipment of guns. I have most of them ready, and the wagon for you to carry them west is ready as well. I received word today that the final shipment will arrive next week. I have sent for word about safe passage, if that will be a good time for us to send the shipment west with you and your men, or if we should wait."
Albert interrupted her, "There is no need to ask, we should take them as soon as they arrive."
"No, we must get word. My contact will tell us if it is safe or if the Tories lie in wait. It will be better to follow these instructions. They have kept me safe these last few months," Cordelia said. "I suspect my source knows. He is most likely with the Tories pretending to be one of them in order to supply us with information. I am certain that this is why I do not know his name."
Nodding, Albert sighed. "We will wait until your source says to move, then."
"Is there anything else your men need? I have money; I can buy it. Even if we must pay the damn taxes to the British, I will do it to supply you. I know it is what Braxton would have done." Cordelia took out a small purse from deep inside the folds of her dress. She emptied it of all but a few coins. "Take this. I know you were expecting cheaper lodgings. This will cover the cost." Albert backed away. Cordelia hissed, "Take it, do not be a fool. We may have to stay here a week, and the money must go from you to the publican, not from me to him." She opened his palm and curled his fingers around the money. She sighed and took one last drink of wine before she pushed her chair away from the table. "I am tired. I am going to bed."
Cordelia stood, pursed her lips a moment, then dragged the chair she had been sitting in to the side of the bed. It was just out of Albert's line of sight. He heard her fussing with the buttons on her dress, and turned his head to the wall to give her some privacy. He listened to her muffled breathing as she lifted the skirts over her head, then heard the crush of the material as she draped it over the chair. Only when he heard the creak of the bed did he turn around. She was staring at him. "Thank you," she whispered before she closed her eyes.
Albert sighed as he removed his boots. «My men think I am enjoying my reunion with my wife. I would prefer to enjoy a reunion with a bed. Little do they know they have the better end of this deal.» He dragged the chair against the wall and leaned back, stretching his legs out across the floor. He was startled to hear her speak.
"Dear lord, surely you do not mean to sleep there, like that? I had hoped the room would have a sofa or a day bed and I would gladly have slept there. You are, if I am not mistaken, sorely in need of a bed. Braxton said you were an honorable man and the bed is more than big enough for two. I am not afraid of you if you are not afraid of me," Cordelia challenged him.
"It will be a welcome change to the cold ground and a blanket," Albert murmured.
"Then get in the bed. Besides, if the publican chanced in here for some reason, or someone else suspected, you sleeping in that chair would be a certain give-away to our masquerade," Cordelia whispered as AJ climbed into the bed beside her.
Afraid of him her not, he felt her crawl to the extreme side of the bed. He smiled. «Practical, but not quite happy with the situation.» The soft featherbed felt like heaven. He was happy for a moment. Then he was asleep.
Late November 1776
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
The Liberty Tree Inn
Albert Chegwidden woke as the first light of dawn filtered through the line between the curtains. The woman in his arms had startled him at first. Sometime in the night, in her sleep, she had rolled back toward the middle of the bed and curled into him like a spoon. He suspected that as the fire died, she sought the heat from his body for warmth. Right now, as he lay on his back, she pillowed her head on his chest, her hand under his nightshirt, between the buttons. She rested peacefully. «I suspect she would not be so peaceful were she to awake to find herself in the arms of a man she only met yesterday.» He felt her wiggle in his arms and swallowed as her leg brushed against his morning erection.
Suddenly, Cordelia jumped, backing away. "I'm sorry," she stammered, blushing furiously.
"You were sleeping soundly. I thought it best not to wake you," Albert whispered without moving.
"I cannot imagine what came over me," Cordelia began.
Albert laughed gently, "I believe it is simple to understand. For ten years you have shared a bed with a man. You aren't yet used to sleeping alone. In your sleep, you sought the warmth of the other body in your bed. Under normal circumstances, that would be your husband. It was instinct, you were asleep. It does not mean anything and I would not take advantage of it." His last statement seemed to calm her. "Were you frightened after he died?"
"I was frightened when the British took over my home. More frightened of them when I passed them in the halls while I was fully dressed and they wore uniforms than I am here in this bed with you in your nightshirt and me wearing only a petticoat." Cordelia shuddered.
"How long did they occupy your household?" Albert remembered how the British had taken over his property, destroying his farm. He had little reason to return home.
Cordelia took a deep breath. "They stayed for two weeks. I think they suspected that we were patriots. They killed and ate everything that moved, except the horses. They emptied the cellar; they razed the fields. They took over the house, they burned most of the furniture, even though it wasn't necessary to build a fire except to cook. I was afraid to walk about in my own house, the way they brushed up against me and touched me. They brought sickness into the house, a fever that turned out to be meningitis. Neither Braxton nor I took sick, but our son, Paul, died the day the British left. He was just over a year old. We waited until they left to bury him. I was afraid what they might do to the grave. I buried Braxton beside him, just a week later."
"You buried Braxton yourself? Was there no one to help?" Albert asked.
"Our farm is isolated. And so many people in the area are gone, now. Tory sympathizers have headed for New York. The troops are moving through the area, frightening everyone. He would not let me take him upstairs to the bed, he died in our kitchen. I brought the linens down to wrap him. I used some boards from our barn to build a casket," Cordelia's voice was as dead as her husband and child.
Albert interrupted, "You made the casket?"
Cordelia nodded. "I have learned a great many things on the farm. I am quite handy with wood."
"How did you get him to the grave? How did you bury him? How could you manage that alone?" The shock in Albert's voice was clear.
"I took the casket to the graveside, then I dragged his body, using the sheets that I had wrapped about him to pull him along. I tied rope to two trees on one side of the grave and stretched them across it, then put the casket on the ropes. I put Braxton in the casket and used the horse to lower the casket into the grave. The rope balanced the casket, the horse carried the weight. When the casket reached the bottom, I cut the ropes. Then I buried him. I did what needed to be done, and I will continue to do so until the British leave this land or I am buried myself," Cordelia turned to stare at Albert. "Is there anything else you wish to know?"
«She has lost so much, yet she is so brave. One minute she blushed because she is afraid to look upon me naked, the next she is so practical as to invite me to sleep beside her in this bed. I have never met anyone like her.» Albert held her gaze. "I am sorry to stir such memories. The British destroyed my farm, but my loss pales to what they have taken from you. And yet, you go on. You are an extraordinary woman."
"I assure you, Colonel Chegwidden, that I am an ordinary woman. Women have minds and bodies too, and are just as capable of using them as men are." Cordelia glared at him defiantly. "It is only in times like these, when good men have begun to fall like flies, that women are allowed to use their god-given abilities to their full extent."
Albert looked carefully at Cordelia. «What will she do or say next?» "It is better not to use military titles. Tories and their spies are everywhere."
Cordelia nodded and continued, "Braxton was an unusual man. He did not hinder me. I can shoot as well as any man. I am far better with his carpentry tools than he ever dreamed of being. I can ride well and fast, too. I am not afraid of hard work."
Albert reached for her hands, turning them over to look at her palms. Cordelia's hands were large. She had square palms and long elegant fingers. Unlike most ladies, her hands were rough and callused. He turned them over once more. Her nails were short. She wore only her wedding band. He looked at her face, its expression resolute. «As diplomatic as he was, I suspect even Braxton was used to losing arguments with this woman. She was better with carpentry tools, I wonder if she shoots better as well? I am glad to hear that she can shoot, that is better if she must be involved in this rough business.» "Do you have a gun?" he asked.
"Of course. I would not travel without one. I have three, in fact. They are with my horse, at the blacksmith's. Two small arms and a musket. Why do you ask?" Cordelia sounded puzzled.
"This is dangerous business. You should carry one of the small arms with you," Albert warned.
Cordelia drew back, shocked, "On the streets of Philadelphia? This is a civilized place, I have no need of a gun here."
"Under ordinary circumstances, no. But you are working with spies and quite possibly counter spies, you must be safe. Promise that you will pick up your gun later today," Albert said gravely. Cordelia nodded.
Before either of them could speak again, they were interrupted by a knock on the door. Albert smiled. "I'll get it," he whispered as he climbed out of the bed. He crossed the cold floor without flinching, even though his feet were bare. He opened the door carefully. It was the innkeeper with hot coffee and breakfast rolls.
"Your clothes will be ready soon, sir. I'll bring them right up," the publican mumbled.
Albert took the tray of food of food to the bed. It was simple fare, but Cordelia could feel her mouth watering. She reached for the coffee and drank it black. Albert watched her gulp half the cup.
"He'll be back in a few minutes with my clothes. I'll dress and check in with my men. That should give you a little privacy. Then we'll decide what to do for the next few days while we wait for the arms to arrive," Albert said. Cordelia nodded and finished her coffee as she wondered about this man she called her husband.