Chapter 61: The Young One

During one of our stays in a regular camp, Lieutenant Foster had comely visitors, two of them. A pretty. blonde woman of twenty-five or so, that he rogered regularly during their stay, and her willowy younger cousin, carrot-haired and freckle-faced, barely nubile from the look of her, who resisted every subalterns' overtures but did dance and flirt with a few. We regular soldiers, of course, had no chance with either of them.

When the time came for us to move on, the lieutenant sent for George and me, gave him a small purse and me a dirty look, told us to see to it the ladies and their goods got on the right stage to their homes somewhere in eastern Pennsylvania and to be on our best behavior or he would skin us. George assured Foster that my help was not needed, but the lieutenant insisted, saying he did not trust either of us alone, and then, as luck would have it, my friend fell and wrenched his ankle and knee, hobbling himself good and on top of that he got the runs, the soldier's disease. I took the purse, fetched the wagon, loaded up the two small, humpbacked trunks, and was soon on the road with a pair of silly, well-dressed, chattering young women sitting beside me, the younger one right on my hip with a farm bonnet atop her unruly red curls.

By the time the sun had passed its zenith, I had deposited the older woman at an inn where she could get a stage that afternoon for her home territory. She assured me that we need not wait, so we ate quickly; the cousins hugged, and we got back on the road with only another ten or twelve miles to travel. I thought I might be able to do the job, get laid at one of the taverns and then back to camp before midnight. The redheaded girl moved as far away from me as she could on the driver's seat and conversed only in yesses and noes. I wondered what I had done to offend her. So I asked.

"George told me about you," she said, sniffing. "How awful you are with girls."

"Did he?" I said, choking back a smile since I had played the same jest on him when I had the opportunity, poisoning the well we called it.

"And Lt. Foster, he warned me, too, in the strongest terms." She nodded in agreement with herself. "So just leave me alone."

"That's fine," I said. "I enjoy peace and quiet."

"Besides," she said with a grin, "you smell pretty bad."

"Haw," I said, "now I am hurt. I washed last month I'm almost sure, shaved last week I know, cleaned my boots too." I sniffed at myself. "Guess my linen could be a bit fresher."

"You didn't shave. Oh, look" she said as a bunch of black-coated riders crested the hill in front of us, just a hundred yards away. I yelled at the horse, locked the brake, pushed the girl out into the ditch and leapt after her. I stumbled to my feet, grabbed my musket from under the seat, took the furious young woman by the wrist and ran into the woods, her feet barely touching the ground every few steps.

"What in the world?" she gasped at me when we paused to listen. "You've ruined my dress and I've shed a shoe."

"Germans," I said. She had lost her silly hat.

"We have papers" she reminded me, brushing at her skirt.

"They don't care," I answered, listening hard.

"But," she said and I shushed her as we both heard the cry of "Fraulein, fraulein, vere iss you?" Men were crashing through the brush on a wide front.

I pulled her to her feet and ran again, covering a couple of hundred yards and stopping by a mound of brambles, deep in the shady forest.

"Ofer hier," we heard a man yell, and he was not far away. I primed my musket and clamped on my big bayonet while the girl tried to hold my arm or my belt, looking left and right, shaking and making odd noises. I put my finger to my lips and found a good-sized rock. I tossed the stone to the other side of the thicket, heard it strike and then the sound of footsteps, coming closer.

The man almost stepped on us as he trotted by, and I took him from behind. He died quietly, clawing at a tree as he sank to his knees and then to his face in the leaves after I yanked out my long blade. Behind me the girl vomited and choked while I wondered how many were out in the woods looking for us.

I pulled her up, and we walked quickly away from the body. She spat and wiped her mouth with her hand after pulling herself out of my grip.

"Halt," someone cried almost in my ear, and from behind a large tree a black uniformed man stepped out right before us, smiling. I lunged at him, parried his quick thrust and smashed him between the legs with the butt of my musket. He screamed until I tore out his throat, spraying blood all over my boots. Then we ran again, down a hill and to a small stream, gasping and stumbling.

We stopped, bent over and panting, I tried to spit and failed.

"Hier, schnell!" someone yelled, and I looked up to see two Hessians coming down the hill at us, bayonets raised to catch the scattered sunlight. I steadied my musket on the rock outcropping and fired at extreme range, hitting one man in the leg at perhaps seventy yards. The other came on another twenty or so paces and then knelt to take aim as I hurriedly reloaded. "Down," I yelled at the terrified girl just as he fired.

His shot glanced off the rock well above my head, and I stepped out to take him on with my blade, after pulling my ramrod from the muzzle. The man turned and fled leaving his wounded comrade behind. I ignored him, finished reloading and priming and dragged the girl to her feet. Her freckles looked much brighter on her blanched face.

We clambered up the hill and at length found a road. I looked at the sun and guessed we had made a rough circle and were back almost where we had started. After we got our breath, I led the young woman down the verge of the dusty road until we saw a knot of horses held and guarded by a black-uniformed man. The horses were being fractious so I had no trouble coming in behind the jaeger before he knew I was in the county. I skewered him in the back of his thick neck, kicked his body into the ditch, scattered the horses and got us back on our wagon. I had released the brake and was about to tell the horse to get going, when a young German officer came running out of the woods, waving a short sword and yelling.

"Damn," I said as he ran at us, cursing and drawing his pistol. My shot blew a large hole in his chest and he tumbled into the weeds waving his arms and gushing blood, his feet still kicking. I clucked at the horse, handed the girl the reins and got to reloading. She flapped the leathers and avoided my look, chin thrust out.

Another man in black stepped out into the road, knelt and fired, hitting the poor horse in the chest. He made an awful noise, stumbled and fell forward as I jumped down and ran at the man, my weapon still unloaded. The soldier stood and met me in good form, musket in both hands, but when we closed, I kicked his feet from under him and ended the fight quickly with two thrusts that spilled his guts into the road and probably carved his heart in two.

"Now what?" the girl asked when I returned to the wagon, wiping my blade on my britches and then sheathing it. I was breathing hard, my blood up and my brain churning.

"Seen any of those horses I shooed away?"

She shook her head, her face tear stained.

"Why are you crying?" I asked, calming myself, ignoring my turgid condition.

"I'm scared," she sobbed, climbing down awkwardly and coming into my arms. I patted her back and kept my eyes on the tree line, turning sideways to her lean body so she would not feel my condition.

"You got anything valuable in your trunk?" I asked her, trying to get her mind on something.

"Some earbobs," she said. "A bracelet."

"Get them," I told her. While I reloaded my weapon, she clambered into the back of the wagon and fetched her jewelry.

"It's not far," I assured her. "Maybe five miles." I was sure it was at least ten to the next tavern-stage station and maybe a bit more.

So we walked, and now she talked. I learned that she was Lisa and that she was almost seventeen and that her father was a master shoemaker, a good one who had learned his trade in the old country and come here as an indentured apprentice twenty years before. She had five brothers and two sisters and, she told me, she had a beau in the Pennsylvania militia who was going to marry her next spring, a boy named David something. She actually glowed when she talked about him and skipped along the road.

Then she stopped smiling and said, "How many men did you kill back there?"

"I don't know," I told her honestly. I shifted my musket to the other shoulder and tried to count, flicking out fingers on my right hand.

"Five," she said, kicking a stone, "maybe six."

I nodded having reached the same conclusion.

"Why, why'd you do it?"

"To keep from being killed," I said, glad she had not asked how I could do such an awful thing. That I could not answer.

"But we had safe-conduct papers," she said sternly, swinging her arms and keeping pace with me as best she could. One of her shoes kept trying to come off.

"Wouldn't have done you any good," I said, hitting the word "you" extra hard.

She was silent for a while, looking very serious.

"Explain," she said rather quietly, hopping gracefully over a deep, water-filled hole. Her movements reminded me of a young colt, a long-legged one.

"They would have killed me, raped you, taken what they wanted including the horse, and hauled you back to poke some more until they got tired of you." I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye. She was taking that in so I did not add what the end might have been like. I had seen too many women the Hessians had butchered; one would have been too many.

"I've heard some stories, nasty stories," she said, nodding and moving a bit closer to me. It took her three strides to match my two, and she was puffing a bit so I slowed down some.

"No matter what you've heard," I said, "they're worse."

We walked on quietly for a while, and then she said, "Thank you." Her hand brushed mine, on purpose I think.

I said, "You're welcome," we were both quiet, saving our energy as the shadows got longer and we climbed a long hill.

We stopped to rest every time I figured we had walked about a mile. It was not easy walking on that old, deeply rutted road and the short breaks were welcomed by both of us. I guess we made three miles each hour, something like that. My canteen was dry and both of us were leg tired and foot sore by the time dusk crept up the sky and the tavern finally appeared.

We drank our fill at the well, used the necessary, found that there would not be another stage north for three days and got ourselves a meal.

"You can go on back," Lisa said between bites, looking at me out of the top of her eyes. "You don't have to wait." Her eyelashes were dark, but her eyebrows contained a mix of colors including fox fur and gold wire.

"I'd rather," I said, smiling at her freckled face. Earnest was likely the best word for her not that she did not have a fine body and a quick mind.

"We didn't stay with Jeannie back there," the girl said.

"She's ten years older than you and that stage was due in an hour or so."

"Nine," the girl said, spooning up stew and looking at me out of the top of her eyes. "Nine years older."

She finished her food, wiped her mouth on the long tablecloth and squinted at me. "How's it feel to kill a man?" she asked, pushing her unruly hair back behind her ears.

"First time might be hard," I said, "though I don't remember that it was; it's been a while, up near Boston. Now I just see it as a nasty job, like killing vermin. But the first time, that's something like making love the first time. I was scared now that I think on it."

She shook her head, and I admired her light-reddish curls, her hazel eyes and occasional dimples. I repressed most of my usual, randy thoughts.

"Mostly I'm scared when I'm fighting. Usually it's me or them, and I've got no choice." I did not tell her that I had killed unarmed men, men that had quit fighting, mostly Germans.

She sipped her cider, and I got another beer.

"Where you going to sleep?" she asked, not looking directly at me.

"I'll find a place. Plenty of room out in the stable. I already got you a room by yourself, only cost two shillings including breakfast. Man said the bed was clean, too."

"Want to see for yourself?" she said with a small smile.

"Fine thing for a young lady to be saying?"

"Who says I'm a lady?" she said with a grin, looking pleased with herself.

"You're just teasing, aren't you?" I said, not knowing exactly which way to go. Knowing the way I wanted to go, right between her young legs.

"Try me," she said, sticking out her stubborn chin. "Just try me."

"I'm tempted, girl," I told her honestly, waving at the serving wench and getting her to fetch me a pipe. She brought it lit and smiled an old invitation at me after she puffed out some smoke and licked the stem.

"Later," I silently mouthed at her. She rubbed her thigh on my shoulder and smiled.

"I saw that," Lisa said.

The door slammed open and four blackclad Germans stomped in. Bile rose in my throat. One soldier stayed by the front door while another marched to the back and stood, feet spread wide and musket held across his body, eyes stony cold. The officer in charge talked to the inn-keeper while a younger officer with a fancy hat walked through the small crowd. I had seen his uniform before; blown a hole in one recently. He stopped at our corner table.

"Standt," he said to me sharply, jerking his thumb upward. "Raus."

"Why?" I asked, wondering if the man I had shot in the leg was the cause of this and cursing myself for not finishing him. I made sure my big blade was loose in the scabbard. Sometimes it got stuck when there had been blood on it.

"Hoch!" he yelled at me, glancing at the girl and reaching for my shirtfront at the same time, his face reddening.