Surrender the Night (43 page)

Rose galloped into Washington DC and headed down Maryland Street toward the Capitol. Reining Valor to a trot, she scanned the city. Unlike Baltimore, which boasted cobblestone streets through the main part of town, this road and all the ones that spanned from it were nothing but patches of mud and dust. Brick buildings rose on each side and a ditch filled with sewage and stagnant water lined the avenue. The stench curled Rose’s nose even as the sight shocked her.

This was the capital of their grand country?

Clucking drew Rose’s gaze to a group of chickens prancing off the side of the road. A massive pig snuffled through a pile of garbage to her left. The only signs of life in the otherwise vacant city. After the long ride, the familiar sight of animals loosened her tight nerves if only a bit before she turned right toward Delaware Street where
she knew her aunt’s orphanage was located. Up ahead a black man ducked in between two buildings. Rose called to him, but he did not reappear.

Despite the heat of the day, a cold chill slithered down her spine. Where was everyone? Then it occurred to her. She’d ridden unhindered into the capital. No one had stopped or questioned her. Not only that, but she’d not spotted a single soldier, American or British. Had Mr. Snyder been misinformed?

Rose scanned the buildings framing Delaware Street. Up ahead, a two-story, whitewashed home drew her gaze, and she slowed before it. The words S
UFFER THE
L
ITTLE
C
HILDREN TO
C
OME
U
NTO
M
E
stood out in black letters on a sign that hung on a post just inside a tattered fence. Taking a deep breath to calm her thundering heart, Rose dismounted, tied the reins to a hitching post, and grabbed the pistol from the sack. The front door stood ajar. No light or sound emerged from within. Creeping forward, she gripped the handle of the gun and nearly laughed at her own hypocrisy. She could never use the vile weapon even if her life depended on it. Never again.

She stopped before the door and listened. Only the mad rush of blood through her head pounded in her ears. She pushed the door open wider, sending an eerie creak chiming through the house.

“Aunt Muira! Uncle Forbes!” She stepped inside the shadowy foyer. Open books, toys, and children’s clothes littered the wooden floor as if the inhabitants had fled in a hurry. The sweet scent of children and innocence and aged wood drifted past her nose.

Footfalls sounded from the back of a long hall. Rose’s heart pinched. “Aunt Muira?”

“She’s not here.” The gentle voice of a man preceded his appearance around a corner. Smiling, he approached Rose. Short-cropped gray hair matched a cultured beard that ran the length of his jaw. Caring brown eyes assessed her. “You must be Rose.”

Rose lowered the weapon. “Reverend Hargrave?”

“Yes.” He examined the gun and his brows scrunched together. “Why have you come here? It’s not safe.”

“I heard the British intended to attack Washington, and I feared for my aunt’s and uncle’s safety.” Rose stuffed the pistol into her sash and clasped her hands together to keep them from trembling.

“Oh dear girl, how kind of you.” He released a sigh. “Indeed. We heard the same horrendous news. But they’ve all left. Your aunt and uncle and Miss Edna. They took the children in our wagon and fled the city not two hours ago.”

Rose glanced out the door, then back at the reverend, her mind and heart spinning. “Where did they go?”

“I have no idea, my dear. I’m so sorry.” He laid a hand on her arm. “But never fear, they are safe.”

Relief eased through Rose, and she sighed. Moving to the door, she gazed over the deserted street. “Where is the army, the militia? Why aren’t they defending the city?”

“They marched out hours ago.” The reverend’s footsteps rang hollow over the floor. “Although I do believe there are still some troops down at the naval yard.”

Rose swerved around. Though she’d rather hop on Valor and head straight home, certainly God had sent her here for a reason. Perhaps that reason lay at the naval yard. “Where is the yard?”

“Down Virginia Avenue beside the east branch of the Potomac, miss.” Concern tightened his features. “But you needn’t worry about them.” His tone turned urgent. “I beg you to return to Baltimore where you’ll be safe.”

Rose stepped toward him. “What if the British make it past our troops? What about you?”

He stooped to pick a book off the floor, then smiled. “One of the children is sick and couldn’t travel. Besides, they won’t trouble a man of the cloth.”

Rose did not share his confidence. Yet the peace that surrounded this man put her fears to shame. “God be with you, Reverend.”

“And with you.” He gave her a reassuring nod.

Turning, Rose fled out the door, dashed toward Valor, and swung onto the saddle. Shielding her eyes from the setting sun, she urged the horse into a trot and headed east.

Past the Capitol building that centered the town. Though not yet completed, its tall white columns stretched to the sky like unrelenting monuments of freedom. The Hall of Representatives stood on the right side—a massive oval surrounded by Corinthian pillars. A wide wooden boardwalk connected its two wings, where they no doubt
planned to build an enclosed walkway. Rose galloped past. No time to admire the majestic buildings.

“Oh Lord, please help me,” she whispered, but the wind slamming over her face tore her words away along with the pins from her hair.

Flinging strands from her face, Rose raced onward. She tightened her grip on the reins. Her fingers ached. Her heart crashed against her ribs. Fear beckoned to her, begging for release. But something had changed. Rose now knew that God loved her and would never leave her. She may feel fear, but it no longer enslaved her.

She galloped down the street toward the white brick wall that enclosed the navy yard and was surprised once again to find the outside gate abandoned. In fact, no one manned the guard house at all as she led Valor onto the sun-bleached yard. Tall brick buildings framed the inner courtyard. Beyond them loomed the massive arched buildings where the ships were made. Cannons, their muzzles pointed through the battlements of a long stone wall, guarded the yard from seafaring invaders. In the distance, bare ship masts stretched like spires into the sky, stark white against the black clouds lining the horizon.

Rose slid off Valor and headed toward what appeared to be the main headquarters when a thin, bald-headed man with tufts of hair sprouting like brown thickets above his ears emerged and nearly ran her down.

“Miss! What are you doing here?” He placed his cocked hat atop his head, his blue eyes flashing.

Rose threw a hand to her chest. “Sir, are the British marching on Washington?”

He gave her a skeptical look and chuckled. “Where have you been? Why haven’t you left town?” He glanced over his shoulder. “You need to leave immediately, miss.”

A dozen men emerged from the same building and flooded the yard, some giving her a cursory glance as they passed. Their arms were laden with weapons and cans of some kind of powder.

Rose frowned and gave the man a venomous look. “Who are you, sir, and what are you doing to defend this city?”

He snorted and narrowed his eyes. “I am Commodore Thomas Tingey, miss. And who, pray tell, are you?”

“Rose McGuire from Baltimore.” The smell of tar and gunpowder stung her nose. “Where is the militia? Where are the troops defending Washington?”

He gave a sardonic chuckle. “Troops defending Washington?” His bitter tone sent a chill through Rose. “What troops we had marched off to cut off the British advance yesterday.” He swallowed and gazed into the distance, sorrow claiming his dusty features. “I have just received word that they have been defeated at Bladensburg.”

“Defeated?” Rose’s knees wobbled.

“I’m afraid so, miss.” He touched her elbow to steady her. “The British could be here any minute.”

Valor neighed, and Rose sent a harried gaze over the barren yard where evening shadows began to creep out from hiding. “Aren’t you going to do something?”

“Miss, I have but a handful of sailors. I’ve been ordered to fire the yard at the first sign of the enemy.”

“Fire the yard?” Rose glanced to the grassy fields that extended to the Potomac River.

“Aye, we’ve already set up explosives. Our last task is to lay trails of gunpowder, so we can ignite the blast when the time comes.”

Rose glanced at the bare masts of several ships at dock and a few being built on land. “What of the ships?”

Tingey scratched the stubble on his chin. “A shame indeed, miss.” His gaze shifted to the docks. “I won’t mourn the old frigates,
Boston
and
General Greene
, but the sloop
Argus
and the new frigate
Columbia
. Now, those will be hard losses.” He eyed her. “But would you prefer they end up in British hands, along with our naval stores and ammunition?” He brushed past her, shouting orders to the men, then flung a glance back her way. “Now, miss, I urge you to leave the city immediately.” His stern tone and the commanding look in his eyes brooked no argument.

Rose nodded, defeat settling like an anchor in her gut. “I will, sir. Is there anyone else in town I can assist in evacuating?”

Commodore Tingey pursed his lips. “I understand the first lady stubbornly resists leaving. I have orders to gather her up on our way out of town.”

“Mrs. Madison?” Rose heard the excitement in her own voice. “Can you direct me toward her house?”

Commodore Tingey gestured with his hand. “Past the Capitol, on Pennsylvania Avenue. You can’t miss it. Good luck. She’s a stubborn one.” He tipped his hat at her and marched off shouting “Godspeed to you, Miss McGuire” over his shoulder.

“God help us all.” Rose swallowed, then mounted Valor and rode out of the yard, feeling suddenly small and useless. “Why have You sent me here, Lord?” The wind whipped over her, swirling taunting voices in her ears.
You have no destiny. Foolish girl. There is nothing important for you to do here
.

Fear, her old familiar friend, surged through her like a prisoner suddenly released, giddy with delight. Pulling Valor to a halt, she stared at the deserted streets of her nation’s capital. The setting sun cast a rainbow of orange and gold over the homes and government buildings. She blinked and rubbed her eyes as if she’d just awoken from a dream. What was she doing here? So far from home. With no one to protect her.

“Oh Lord,” she sobbed. “What can I do against an entire British army?” She nudged Valor into a slow walk. Hope spilled from her with each tear that slid down her cheek. The British would take Washington.

And there was nothing she could do about it.

Boom
. A distant cannon sounded. Rose clutched the reins. The leather bit through her gloves into her skin.

Their glorious country would fall, and its people would once more be subject to the tyranny of a king who lived across the sea. How could that happen?

“Trust me.”

That voice again. So sure and strong, resounding from within her. Created out of her own desperate need to be valued, loved, and cared for? Or truly the voice of God?

She turned down Pennsylvania Avenue, fear threatening to rise and choke the breath from her lungs, her throat. The sun dipped below the horizon, stealing more of the daylight. She should go home. Now, before the troops arrived. Before the soldiers found her—a woman all alone, vulnerable.

And she suffered the same hideous fate all over again.

She would rather die.

A beautiful white mansion rose among the smaller homes along
the street, its front door wide open. No doubt the president’s home. A carriage with two horses and a footman waited out by the street. It appeared Mrs. Madison was in no need of assistance. Rose kicked Valor to pass the house and head out of town when a woman’s scream blared from one of the windows.

CHAPTER 26

A
lex knelt beside the lifeless body of Mr. Kennedy, a seaman under his charge. Blood oozing from several bullet holes in his chest marched like a maroon death squad over his brown shirt. Though not a bruise or cut marred his young face, his vacant eyes stared at the blue sky above—serene, yet empty. Alex brushed his fingers over them, closing them forever. Somewhere back in England, a mother had lost a son. And she was not even aware of the tragedy. Nor would she be aware of it for months.