Chapter 74: Silent

The last ambush we staged in that area got a little out of hand. It was just George and me although I do not remember why. We saw this bunch at a farmhouse late one afternoon, found a good spot, loaded both rifles and muskets, fixed up a hiding place and waited. In an hour or so, here they came, and we counted in the long shadows.

"Seven," George said.

"Thought it was eight," I said. "You sure?"

He nodded. ""You ready?"

I nodded. Our horses were in the hiding spot, and we had plenty of practice. It looked like one officer and a half-dozen men, a pretty ordinary patrol. I wondered why they had visited the farm back there. We had seen no signs of violence or fire.

At about 250 yards, I brought down the first man and handed George my rifle while he gave me his. At about the same distance I got the second, who had dismounted to help the first. The others were coming at us hard, at where they had seen the smoke. At a hundred yards, I blew the leading rider out of his saddle, and his horse dragged him off into the woods. I wondered if I had hit the horse somehow.

We ran for our hole, moving in the woods toward the Redcoats rather than away from them. After they thundered by, I stepped out and shot the trailing rider. He waved his arms, dropped his musket and tumbled off the back of his horse. Three left, the officer and two men. We split up. George took the other side of the road. We both had big trees for cover. After a bit, here they came, back toward us. They stopped where the man lay spread-eagled in the road, and we stepped from behind our trees and shot down the dragoons, leaving only the officer. I pulled my pistol and walked toward him. He sat looking at the dead men, trembling and then he spurred his horse right at me.

"Shit," I said, and shot his horse in the chest as I ducked aside. The poor animal tumbled and rolled over the man. A thousand pounds of horse seldom does you any good. He was not dead when we got to him, but he was in bad shape, probably with internal injuries as well as a broken leg and fractured wrist.

"Why'n't you jus' shoot him," George asked, loading his rifle. "He ain't gonna make it."

I went back to strip the dead while George shot the injured horse and looked through the moaning officer's saddle bags. I did not find anything worth keeping, but George found a fat folder of papers we were sure Captain Foster was going to like, lists and lists of the names of cooperative Tories.

The damaged officer, a fair-haired lieutenant roused himself and cursed a bit. He sat up and coughed out some blood and mucous.

"Let's jus' shoot him." George said.

I made a sling for his arm and tied his leg around some sticks after popping the broken bone back together as best I could. He yelped but did not faint. We got him on a horse and headed back for the house they had come from, stopping twice to check bodies and finding little worth taking.

At the farm house a white haired man and aproned woman helped us get the Redcoat down, into the house and onto a cot. They cleaned him up and the man praised my splinting of his leg.

"What were they doing here?" I asked the man while the woman fixed us some victuals.

"Well," he said, "we're loyal, what I guess you call Tories," he say quietly.

"Where are the others?" the woman asked.

"Gone," I said. "Dead."

"All of them?" she asked.

I nodded and she sniffed.

A girl came in from the back, probably from the barn since she had a pail of milk in her hand. She was full grown and well-fed, almost busting out of her shirt in fact.

"My granddaughter, Jean," said the woman. "She's staying with us for a while."

"You a Tory too?" I asked her.

She smiled and nodded.

"She don' talk," the woman said. "Ain't since she were ten or so. Somethin' happened."

"We want to take that man back to camp with us; he's our prisoner," I said.

"Don' think so," said the man. "He's all broke up inside, ribs busted at least, maybe cut into a lung."

"George," I said, "how 'bout going back and fetching us a wagon, doctor if one's free."

George looked at the silent girl and then at me. He nodded and left.

I went in and sat by the lieutenant near the fireplace. The girl came and sat on he floor nearby.

"How you feeling?" I asked.

"Go to hell," he said.

"There's ladies here."

"Don' give a damn. Look what you done to me. Hurts to draw a breath."

"I sent for a doctor," I said.

"Ballocks," he said. "Why didn't you shoot me like your friend said?"

"Not my job. We're scouts. Them papers in your saddle bag are going to get us a few days off, I'm thinking."

"Oh my God," he said, looking really frightened, trying to sit up. I held him down. "You got any liquor?" I asked the girl. She nodded and brought back a jug. I poured the man a cupful and handed it to him. It drank it down like it was water and shuddered. I poured cup for myself and took that down in a gulp or two. It was good stuff, felt it flow all the way down to my cods.

"You grandpa make this?" I asked the girl by the fire.

She nodded and smiled. I wondered how old she was, fifteen, twenty, hard to say with her freckled face and skinned back hair. She was mature, that was certain, and robust enough to get my blood churning.

I talked with the white-haired man and his wife, explained that George would not be back at the earliest in a full day and more likely two if he had to find a doctor that was free and if our captain thought it worth doing.

They allowed as how the wounded man could stay where he was, and I could sleep in the barn loft. I told the man how much I liked his corn, and he smiled and thanked me. I asked the girl if she would take care of the lieutenant, and she looked at her grandparents and then nodded at me. I could not think of what else to do so I took care of my horse, used the privy, climbed the ladder and rolled up in my blanket.