Chapter 32: Ambushed

Having a girl in some private was a real treat that winter. Usually there were eight or nine men and two or three women grunting and groaning in one of those square, log shelters in Morristown after somebody showed up with a jug and a whore or two. I had to be pretty drunk to get involved in those long evenings, but I did a few.

One of our patrols had disappeared, just vanished. Six men gone. Captain Foster was mad as hell and told the rest of us to get out there and find out what happened and to make sure it did not happen again. That was wonderful advice. George and I went to the tavern that we knew the missing men usually visited while the rest of our group started asking questions at neighboring farms that were still occupied.

At the tavern, a run-down place even for that outlying area, the owner pulled us out behind his woodpile. "I think it was that damn, skinny gal I hired," he said.

We stood and looked dumb at him.

"Oh," he said, "I though you'd seen her, pretty thing, big around as a broom stick. Jus' come along lookin' for work, but day or two after them boys disappeared, so she did."

We asked what she looked like and what name she used and then went looking for her. It was not much, but it was all we had.

And we found her working for Uncle Josh alongside Milly. Maggie was off somewhere with a new boy friend, so they said, and Pat, as they called her was just filing in until she got back. Patrice was her name, and she was a slim and pretty one with corn silk hair and bright blue eyes, dimples and good teeth, small bubbies and an enticing strut. Milly said she was all right, did her job and shared fairly with her.

"You mean men," I asked her.

"Naw," MiIlly said. "bet she ain't done five yet an' she's been here a week I'm sure."

Milly introduced her, said we were among her favorites, and George stood and gave her his chair while he fetched another.

"You boys look like soldiers," was the first thing she said.

I laughed, admitted I had been for a while but thought better of it. George put his hand on her arm and claimed to be a British general. He was acting a lot drunker than he had any right to be seeing as how we had only gotten two beers in us by then.

She laughed and left, seeing one of her customers wave for more. I flipped a shilling in the air and George said, "tails." I slapped it down and looked, told him it was "heads" and picked up the coin.

"S'all right," my friend said, "I'm used to Milly nohow. Like 'em with a bit more meat on the bones,, " and he left to shoo her up the stairs for a quick one. When he got back, smiling and hitching up his britches, I slid my hand across Patrice's smooth back and asked if she would like to do a little bed dancing. She smiled, grabbed my hand and hauled me up to the room Milly and George had just abandoned. The bed was a mess. Old George must have ruttted like a hog.

I closed the door, turned the girl's arm up behind her and held her in front of the dirty mirror. She squealed and looked frightened.

"Please," she whispered, gritting her teeth as I bent her arm higher, "No rough stuff. I don't like that sort a'thing."

"You know a fellow name of Jim Henry?" I asked, watching her face in the glass and not liking what I was doing. She shook her head. "How about Billy McLaw, or Nick, what was his name, Nick Roberts, you know them?

"No," she moaned as her fingers reached the back of her head. I held her other shoulder to keep her upright.

"I can break this here off," I said, sliding her dress down to reveal her small, round breast. I saw her eyes widen as I slid my free hand down to squeeze it. I pinched her dark nipple between two fingers, and she really squirmed in my grip.

"I'm in a hurry, girl. What happened to those men?"

"Who, what men? You're hurting me."

I twisted her arm a bit tighter and heard something pop. I let her go and pulled her down to the bed. "Patrice," I said, "tell me, damn it or I will hurt you."

"It was the colonel," she moaned, pulling up her dress and rubbing her shoulder. "He made me, said he'd kill my Ma if I didn'."

"What colonel?" I asked, bending to kiss her mouth gently. She turned her face away.

"Armstrong," she said. "I got Billy and the rest to come out to our place, promised them a good supper, and he ambushed them."

"Killed 'em?"

"Two died in the fight, and he captured four, including Billy. Then, then he, well, he killed them too but he did awful things to them. Made me watch. Tied 'em to a tree, and, um." She wept loudly, shaking.

I held her gently to my chest and patted her back. "Where is this Armstrong?" I asked.

"At our farm. His men ride out from there. He, well, he swives me regularly and makes me serve his men sometimes, once in a while, kind of as a reward."

"How many men?" I lifted her chin and kissed her again, very gently. She was a soft beauty, her blue eyes tear-filled. I was tempted.

"Varies," she said, lifting her chin and kissing me back. "Eight to maybe twelve or more."

Somebody knocked on the door. "You 'bout finished?" Milly asked. "Got a farmer that's raring to get laid."

Pat wiped her face on her sleeve, and we went back down to the tavern.

"Can you sit an' talk?" I asked.

The girl shook her head, bent over and whispered, "No. There's two a'us here. The boy's watching me right now, my half-brother, Alex."

We hustled the young kitchen man out the back door for a little talk. He was bravely a defender of King George and had awful sore cods and a slit in his nose before we convinced him we were serious.

"We want the colonel," I told him. "Your folks won't get hurt if we do this right."

"He'll kill me," the boy said, looking from George to me. "Then he'd kill them, Pat too."

"We'll do a lot worse than that," I said with a smile.

"What do you want me to do?"

I pulled out a heavy purse and clinked some shillings in my hand. "What do you get paid here?" I asked.

"A crown a week, sometimes the customers give me a ha'penny or two."

"Hold out your hands," I said. He did and I dropped twenty shillings in his cupped hands, one by one. "Now, you do this just right, and I'll give you twenty more and ask Milly to take you to bed. How's that?"

He smiled. "What do I do?"

"Nothing," I said, "except agree with Pat's story, back it up, whatever she says. Don't add, just agree. Ain't that easy."

He nodded, and I went to fetch Pat. Then we planned the next steps, hoping to ambush the ambushers.

Sunday, right on schedule, George and I came easing along the road from town, heading for Patrice's farm house and a supposed supper. Coming the other way, at the same time, were the other four men in our company. None of us had a watch, so we planned it out that they were to attack when the chimney shadow covered a certain stone.

I must admit that I was a little worried, riding into what I knew was a bunch of muskets and depending on people I could not see. We came over a rise, saw that the sun had a bit father to go and slowed our pace, maybe a half mile off. I could see where Patrice had told us the British soldiers would wait behind a stone wall with a gate. At maybe five hundred yards, the shadow touched the big stone, and George and I whipped out our pistols and kicked our horses. At two hundred yards, the Redcoats stood up and leveled their muskets. I thought we were both dead men.