Savage Spring (9 page)

Alexandria gasped in horror. “I’m not insane, Johnny! They can’t do such a thing to me!”

“That’s why I’m here. In the morning, bright and early, some men will be coming to carry you away. If you are going to escape, it will have to be tonight.”

“What can I do?”

“I brung you some of my clothes, and my ma’s scissors. I ’spect the best thing will be for you to dress like a boy like we said earlier.”

“I couldn’t…that wouldn’t be proper.”

“I don’t think you can worry about what’s proper.” Johnny tossed some clothes in her lap, and Alexandria studied his face.

“I have nowhere to go,” she said in a small voice.

“Anywhere will be better than the asylum,” he told her. “Now get into these clothes while I turn my back. Time is against you.”

That was all the prodding Alexandria needed. She quickly stripped off her clothing and donned Johnny’s britches and shirt. Then she exchanged her leather slippers for his boots.

“You can turn around now, Johnny. How do I look?”

He set the candle down and walked around her, studying her critically. “You still look like a girl to me.” Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew his mother’s scissors. “I guess when I’ve cut your hair you’ll look more like a boy.”

Alexandria nodded her head in agreement, but she couldn’t help cringing when he began snipping off her long tresses. In no time at all, Johnny had snipped off all her curls. Standing back, studying her speculatively, he grinned.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you was a boy.”

“Now what shall I do?” Alexandria asked, looking to Johnny for guidance.

“I’m going to bury your gown along with the hair I cut off near the back of the basement. All I can tell you is to light out. I don’t know where you can go. Do you have any friends back in Valley Forge who’ll hide you out until this thing passes?”

“N…no.”

“Look, it’s gonna be light before long. You gotta get as far away from here as you can. I done all I can to help you.”

Alexandria put her hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Will you get into trouble for helping me?”

“I might get a licking from my ma, but that’s nothing compared to what you’ll get if my Aunt Barbara finds you here when it comes daylight.”

Alexandria picked up her discarded gown and reached into the pocket, pulling out the coins she had offered him earlier. “Here Johnny—I want you to have this money for helping me.”

He closed his hand over hers. “No, you’ll need it much more than I will. It will be my reward knowing that you escaped my aunt and cousin. Now hurry before the house begins to wake up. I’ll just bury these things,” he said, taking her gown from her.

Alexandria hastily kissed him on the cheek, then hurried up the basement stairs. The kitchen was dark, and she bumped noisily against a table. Fearing she might have awakened the whole household, she dashed into the hallway and out the front door. She ran down the streets, not daring to look back for fear she was being pursued. Darting around corners and across cobblestone streets, Alexandria ran until she was totally exhausted. Leaning against a tree, she waited to catch her breath. She was in a strange city, and she had no one to turn to for help, but at least she was free!

Philadelphia, March 1848

The Fox and Hound Inn was bustling with activity. It was long after the dinner hour, and yet the room was filled with customers since a ship had recently docked and its crew was taking advantage of their first night in port. A cold wind howled outside the tavern, and a light snowfall was drifting earthward. Inside the tavern a warm, cheery fire was crackling in the big open hearth. The sound of merriment and laughter was deafening as a small, insignificant figure huddled in one corner of the taproom, trying to appear as inconspicuous as possible.

Alexandria Bradford could feel the hard wooden floor beneath her, and she shifted her weight, removing a splinter that had been prickling her tender skin. She watched as a pretty tavern maid moved from table to table, serving food and ale with a warm smile. Alexandria could smell the mutton pies and leg of lamb, and her stomach growled in hungry protest.

Pulling the wool cap down lower over her head, she leaned back against the wall and studied the people in the room. The seamen weren’t hard to detect, with their knee-length trousers and colorful shirts. Their faces seemed to be permanently creased from the hours they spent on the decks of ships, exposed to the sun and salt water.

Alexandria observed the tawny-haired tavern wench laughing while side-stepping one of the sailor’s over-amorous overtures. Alexandria had never been exposed to the kind of people who frequented the Fox and Hound, and she felt fear deep inside. She hoped her disguise was good, and that no one would suspect that she was a female!

Alexandria shuddered, remembering all she had been told about sailors’ shanghaiing unsuspecting men and boys, forcing them to sail on their ships. She huddled closer to the wall, hoping no one would pay her any attention.

Alexandria was cold, wet, and hungry, but at least she was free. She didn’t know what she would do or where she would go, but for the moment she had escaped her stepmother. She remembered the sight of Rodney’s charred body and shivered. Surely he would be dead by now, and the authorities were probably searching for her—if they found her, she would more than likely hang for murder.

She had spent her last coin on food the day before, and her plan was to try and hide until the tavern closed, then sneak over to one of the tables to eat what someone had left on his plate. If she wasn’t discovered, she might even be able to sleep beside the hearth. The night before she had crept into a carriage house and slept in one of the carriages. She had intended to be gone before she could be discovered the next morning, but she had been so tired she hadn’t awakened until someone discovered her and tossed her none too gently into the street.

Alexandria felt herself nodding off, and she fought to stay awake. She warned herself that she must not make the same mistake that she had the night before—if she did, she would surely be thrown out into the cold to freeze.

She tried to think of happy thoughts to keep her awake, but all she could think of was how hungry she was. Looking across the room, she saw an empty table with the remains of someone’s uneaten food.

Standing up, she looked about carefully to see if anyone was watching her. The sailors seemed to be distracted by the pretty tavern maid. Now was her chance, she thought. Inching herself along the wall, she kept her eyes on the table nearest her destination where three men were laughing and talking loudly. Taking a cautious step and then another, she finally was in reach of the table. Grabbing a half-eaten leg of lamb, she started to run back to her darkened corner, but
before she could move, she was grabbed from behind and swung around to face a huge mountain of a man with a red beard. She squirmed as he lifted her up and dangled her in midair.

“Look what we got us here, men,” the sailor said in a loud, boisterous voice that seemed to draw everyone’s attention to Alexandria. “If this here lad was a fish, I’d sooner toss him back to sea. He ain’t big enough to keep.” The redheaded man’s laughter was joined by the others’, and Alexandria bit her lip in vexation.

“What think you, men—should we take the lad here back to ship and present him to the good captain as a cabin boy?”

“Aye,” came the reply. “The last lad we had died of the fever; this here scrawny lad will take his place.”

Alexandria began to feel real panic now. She kicked her legs and twisted in the man’s iron grip, but this only served to amuse him. “Ho, men, this lad has spirit!” he laughed loudly, dropping Alexandria to the floor, where she landed hard on her backside.

Standing up, Alexandria started to inch slowly away from him, only to back into another wall of human flesh. The giant redheaded man reached down for her and lifted her up into the air again. Alexandria realized she still held the leg of lamb in her hand, so she drew her arm back and hit him hard across the face with it. He howled out in pain and immediately dropped her, and she landed atop one of the tables, with her face buried in a plate of food.

“Damn you,” the man bellowed as he grabbed Alexandria again and raised his fist ready to smash it into her face. She closed her eyes, waiting for the blow to fall, when a quiet, clipped, accented voice called out from the doorway.

“Put the boy down…
now!”

Alexandria turned to look at her would-be savior and gasped in surprise. His appearance in no way resembled his cultured English accent. The stranger was a tall, golden-haired man, but she couldn’t see his face very clearly, since it
was cast in shadows. He stepped into the light when he walked toward the redheaded man, and Alexandria was surprised to see that he was not only extremely handsome, but young as well.

“I said put the boy down!” the newcomer said. He hadn’t even raised his voice, and yet there was something in the way he spoke that chilled the redheaded sailor to the bone.

“You think you be man enough to make me, stranger?” the redheaded man said, knowing he couldn’t back down in front of his companions. He shoved Alexandria off the table and sent her sprawling across the floor. “There, I put the boy down. Was it to your liking?”

Alexandria scrambled to her feet and was immediately pulled aside by the tavern wench, who handed her a cloth with which to wipe the food from her face. “Who is he, lad?” the tawny-haired woman asked with a gleam in her eye. “Be he your father or brother, mayhap?”

Alexandria wiped her face hurriedly before looking back to the golden-haired man in confusion. She couldn’t help but think how out of place he looked dressed in buckskin. He appeared lean and hard. His handsome face was deeply tanned, and Alexandria thought he might be the perfect male specimen. For just a moment, his eyes settled on hers, and Alexandria saw the coldness in their blue depths.

“No, I have never seen him before in my life,” she whispered, wondering why he had come to her rescue.

The tavern wench’s eyes rested on the stranger hungrily. “Now, there’s a man I could get fond of real quickly. I wonder who he is? It’s for sure he ain’t from around these parts, and he ain’t from the sea.”

“Be you ready to die, stranger?” the redheaded giant said, circling around the newcomer.

“I think not,” the golden-haired man replied, watching the man carefully. “You can leave now, and I will overlook your treatment of the boy. We’ll just say you consumed too much rum, and let it go at that.”

The sailor laughed contemptuously, knowing he had at
least forty pounds on his challenger. “Let’s not say that. Let’s say I was gonna take the lad back to the ship with me, and I still am, lessen you think you’re man enough to stop me.”

“No, you aren’t. The only way you will take that boy is if I’m dead.” The threat was spoken softly, but it carried all the impact of an ultimatum.

“I think one should know the name of the man who’s about to do him in. My name’s Bob Travers, and I’m mate aboard the
Lucky Maiden
that just made port from England tonight—you got a name?”

By now, several of the red-haired man’s friends had gathered around, and one of them reached for the knife he had tucked into his belt. Before he could withdraw it, however, an old man, also dressed in buckskin, placed the barrel of his rifle at the back of the man’s neck. “Ifen I was you, I’d kinda ease off, and that goes for the rest of you, too. This don’t concern none of you.”

No one wanted to dispute the old man’s argument. As far as they were concerned, Bob Travers was now on his own.

Tag’s eyes narrowed, and Bob saw more than he wanted to in the blue depths. The coldness he read there sent a chill down his spine. He might be bigger than this man, but he knew he would have to prove his strength. He could see his mates watching with interest to see what the outcome would be. The first law of the sea was that a man had to prove himself in a fight. Bob knew he couldn’t back down now, no matter how much he wanted to.

“My name isn’t important. I give you one more chance to reconsider, Bob Travers,” Tag said, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms over his chest. He stared at Travers with his piercing blue eyes, and the sailor knew he wouldn’t have an easy conquest in this man.

In that moment, Bob leaped forward, but Tag smoothly sidestepped him and brought his elbow down against his back, knocking him to the floor. Before the luckless Bob could gain his feet, Tag leaped on top of him and pinned him beneath him. The hapless sailor knew he had been bested. He
hadn’t even been allowed to deliver one punch to the young man. He struggled, thinking he could throw the man off, but he was astounded at the strength of the golden-haired man.

“I know when I’m beat, stranger. Let me up, and we’ll call it your fight.”

Tag nodded, and with quick agility he stood up and offered the redheaded sailor his hand. “I think I’ll just ask you to leave now,” Tag said, nodding toward the door.

Bob’s laughter roared out as he took the offered hand and allowed Tag to help him stand. “No hard feelings. When a man betters me, I’ll admit it. I always like to know the name of the man who bested me, though.”

Tag wasn’t in a forgiving mood. He looked at Farley, who had lowered his rifle. “My friends call me Falcon…you can call me Mr. Knight.”

Again Bob’s laughter boomed out, and he slapped Tag on the shoulder. “It’s pleased I am to meet you, Mr. Knight. If ever you be needing a friend, you can always call on Big Bob Travers.”

The big man gathered up his coat and motioned for his friends to follow him. Soon the tavern was empty but for the serving maid, Alexandria, and the two strangers.

Alexandria watched as the two men sat down at a table and the serving wench hurried over to them. Alexandria noticed that the pretty maid sidled up to the man who called himself Falcon Knight. She wanted to let him know how grateful she was that he had come to her rescue, but she didn’t know if he would welcome her thanks. She waited until the serving maid took the two men’s orders and left the tap room before she approached him.

“M…Mr. Knight, I want to thank you for saving me tonight. I don’t know why you bothered, since I’m nothing to you, but I thank you all the same.”

When his blue eyes settled on her, Alexandria drew in her breath. Never had she seen eyes that held so much coldness in their depths. For a moment she read many things in
his eyes that she couldn’t define: compassion, sadness, understanding, suffering. All those emotions were there in those expressive eyes, only to disappear when his eyes narrowed with a look of indifference.

“What’s your name, boy?” the man asked, studying Alexandria with little interest.

“I am called Al…Alex.”

“Well, Alex, it isn’t really my practice to interfere in other people’s problems, but I myself was almost sent to sea as a cabin boy when I was about your age. Just consider the matter ended and run along home.”

Tag felt pity for the ragged little boy who had been treated so roughly. He was a dirty little beggar, and he couldn’t tell much about his looks because his face was so smudged. He watched in irritation as the lad removed his tattered cap and twirled it around nervously.

“You see, sir, I don’t have a home to go to. My mother and father are both dead, and I don’t have nowhere to go. That was why I came in here. I wanted to get out of the cold and hoped I might pick up a crumb of bread.” Alex didn’t feel the least bit guilty that she was playing on the man’s sympathies by acting the poor waif—after all, everything she had told him was the truth. She couldn’t be blamed for omitting some of her story or for pretending to be a boy. Mr. Knight had been kind to her tonight; perhaps, he would give her a bite to eat.

“Climb up at the table, boy. From the looks of you, it would ’pear you could do with a good meal,” the other man said. For the first time, Alexandria looked at the old man who was Mr. Knight’s companion. His eyes were kind, and she could tell he had been moved by her woeful tale. Alexandria hurriedly sat down beside him before Mr. Knight decided to voice any objections.

“You sure are a scrawny little thing,” the old man said. He reached across the table and offered Alex his hand. “My names Farley, Alex. You got a last name?”

She took the old man’s hand and shook it. “Just Alex, nothing more. What’s your last name?”

“Just Farley, nothing more.”

By now, the serving wench had returned with a tray of delicious-smelling food that made Alex’s mouth water.

The golden man, which was how Alex thought of the man who had saved her, motioned for her to dig in to the food. He smiled slightly as she grabbed a bowl of stew, picked up a spoon, and started shoveling it hungrily into her mouth. Alex had only finished a portion of the stew when she pushed the bowl aside. She had been hungry, but it had taken very little food to fill her.

The two men ate quietly as Alexandria pushed her plate aside and laid her head down on the table. Suddenly, she began to feel tired, so she closed her eyes and felt herself drifting off to sleep.

“Poor little mite,” Farley observed. “Do you reckon he was telling the truth ’bout being motherless?”

Tag lifted a cup of coffee to his lips and looked down at the curly, mink-colored hair. “Who can say? I suppose the least we can do is allow him to sleep in our room tonight, but I want him gone first thing in the morning. I don’t need to adopt anyone else’s troubles. I have plenty of my own.”