Wild legacy (11 page)

When the sergeant brought her the shirts, Dominique rewarded him with another delighted smile. He was perhaps twenty-five, with sandy hair and close-set eyes of a pale, clear blue. His ears stuck out from his head at an unfortunate angle, but despite his earlier remark he had become so eager to be of service she could not help but be touched. "Thank you for your kindness, sergeant. May I ask your name?"

Flattered beyond all reasonable expectation, the sergeant stumbled over the pronunciation. "It's Thomas, Thomas Danby, miss." He whipped off* his hat and bowed from the waist.

Dominique clutched the clean shirts to her breast. "We've not introduced ourselves, have we?" She glanced at her sister and after briefly considering giving aliases, decided their

own names would do with the addition of their Loyalist neighbor's surname. Because Ian Scott had taken his family to England, she knew he could not dispute her claim.

"I'm Dominique Scott, and this is my sister, Belle. We're very pleased to meet you, Sergeant Danby."

Belle took Dominique's elbow to lead her away. "Scott?" she whispered anxiously. "What an imaginative choice."

Dominique turned back to wave at the sergeant. "It's as good as any Tory name. Now let's just hope we've enough soap left to wash everything clean."

Belle knew Dominique was doing what she felt she must to keep them safe, but she wished she had not gone about it in her usual flirtatious manner. "Why don't you ask your dear friend, Sergeant Danby, if he doesn't have some we can use?"

Dominique caught the faintly disapproving edge to her sister's question but felt no need to defend herself. "I will if we need more than we have."

They moved upriver to take advantage of a thick clump of foliage, which made an effective screen, and hastily removed their gowns. Belle peered around the bushes to make certain they hadn't been followed before she removed her petticoats. Next she untied the drawstring at the neckline of her chemise and let it fall. She quickly donned the borrowed shirt, then slipped off her stockings and drawers.

"I could have lived my whole life without having to spend the night camped with British troops," she mumbled under her breath.

"Do you honestly believe that I'm looking forward to it?" Dominique asked. "I keep telling myself that we can't turn away from wounded men, but with any luck, we'll be able to escape before we have to." She stripped as hurriedly as Belle, and wearing only the sergeant's shirt with the sleeves rolled above her elbows, knelt down at the water's edge and began scrubbing her gown. The blue stripes had

faded to the shade of robin's eggs and would soon disappear altogether.

The ruffled hems of her petticoats were badly tattered but she rubbed soap into them just as furiously. She did take more time with her lace trimmed cap, chemise, and drawers, and took care to rinse them thoroughly. She spread her clean garments out over the shrubbery to dry, but thinking her soiled stockings weren't worth the effort to wash, left them knotted in a ball at the shore.

"Will you watch while I bathe?" she asked Belle. "Then I'll stand guard for you."

"Just a minute. Let me finish my clothes." Belle's back was beginning to ache from bending over and she had to sit up a moment. "I don't even think I can sleep tonight," she confided softly. "Should we try to run away? After all, once we reach a field hospital, it might be even more difficult than it will be to escape from here."

"They've tethered Ladybug and Baby Dee with their horses," Dominique reminded her. "Surely they'll post a guard. After all, if there are militia in the area, they wouldn't want to risk being shot while they slept."

"I doubt the militia would shoot a sleeping man."

"Belle! That's not really the issue." Tired of waiting for her sister to complete her washing, Dominique bent down to get a glimpse of the camp through the leaves. The soldiers were still seated around the campfire, and laughing amongst themselves rather than looking their way. She moved upstream and cast off the shirt. She had already begun soaping her hair when she remembered a towel. The night was warm, and her curls would soon dry on their own so she decided against asking Belle to fetch one, but made a mental note not to forget one again.

In the course of their journey they had learned how to bathe with efficiency and haste, but she would never learn to love cold water and quickly returned to the river bank. She shook like a wet puppy, squeezed as much moisture as

she could from her hair, and then again donned the sergeant's shirt. "If there's no way to avoid reaching the field hospital, we can always say we need to gather more herbs. Then we just won't return."

"Yes, that's a good plan." Finished with her laundry, Belle spread it out next to Dominique's, then laid the shirt on a dry rock. She also washed her hair first, then scrubbed herself clean with a brisk rhythm. She turned toward the shore as she left the river and caught a glimpse of the lieutenant standing not twenty feet away. He was shaded by the pines, but she saw him clearly before he darted out of sight.

She grabbed her shirt, jammed her arms into the sleeves, and buttoned it as she crossed the distance between them. She was too angry to think, but when she reached the tree where she knew she had seen him, he had already fled. "Bastard," she mouthed under her breath. She returned to Dominique's side.

"The lieutenant was watching us," she reported. "We were so worried about his men following us, but he was the only one who did."

Dominique searched the surrounding trees without sighting anyone. "You don't mean it!"

"I most certainly do. I saw him as I came out of the river, but he ran off before I could confront him. We're sure to defeat the British if their officers have no more honor than that."

Dominique clapped her hand over her sister's mouth. "We're on the same side," she scolded. "You mustn't forget that for a second. We're sweet little Tory girls who want nothing more than to see America again ruled by the king!" Certain she had made her point, she dropped her hands. "This may even work to our advantage. I know we've lost weight, but I doubt he's seen any women as pretty as we are for a good long time."

"Wonderful," Belle exclaimed. "Do you want to be his whore?"

Dominique straightened up proudly and managed to look surprisingly genteel for a young woman clad in a borrowed shirt. "No. I do not and it will not come to that, either. Now let's get what sleep we can and keep our wits about us tomorrow. Maybe the militia hasn't fled at all. If they attack this patrol tomorrow, we'll be rescued right away."

"If we aren't shot dead in the initial exchange of gunfire," Belle warned darkly. "Oh, I'm sorry. I'm just so tired and frightened I don't know how much more of this I can stand."

Dominique stared at her baby sister. "Think how much Falcon has stood, and it won't seem bad at all."

Thoroughly shamed, Belle followed Dominique to the spot where they had left their belongings. They were well apart from the soldiers, but she had seen a hunger in the lieutenant's eyes that marred her dreams. Spying on them as they bathed had been a thoroughly reprehensible act, and she had every intention of telling him so at her first opportunity.

shoulder blades and followed Belle to where the lieutenant stood drinking his morning cup of tea. Freshly shaven and neatly attired, he looked the part of an officer even if they now knew he lacked the character necessary for such a responsibility.

"We'd like to speak with you," Belle announced clearly.

Leland Beck had not really expected much in the way of improvement from the sisters, but as he swung around to face them, he nearly dribbled hot tea down the front of his uniform. They were regarding him with hostile stares, but it did not detract from the loveliness of their features. Once relieved of the accumulated grime of the trail, they were obviously ladies, and exceptionally beautiful ones. He had noted only the bright blue of their eyes the previous day, but now saw the thickness of their long, dark lashes. Their hair was a sun-streaked blond, and the lush fullness of their lips held a subtle rose tint. Unable to trust his voice not to break, he inclined his head slightly to encourage Belle to speak her piece.

"Alone," Belle insisted. She gestured toward a secluded spot several paces away from the soldiers, and when Leland nodded, she and Dominique led the way. When Belle turned to face him, she did not mince words.

"The British officers of our acquaintance have all been honorable men," she began, "so it pained us greatly to discover that you are not."

Reacting to the harshness of her tone, Leland discounted Belle's prettiness and raked her with an insolent glance. "Fve no idea what prompted your insult, but I'll advise you now not to repeat it."

"Oh, but I will repeat it," Belle countered, "and loudly if you invade our privacy a second time. I do hope you enjoyed what you saw last night, but don't spy on us ever again or I'll tell your troops just how unprincipled you truly are."

Leland stared down at the sisters, his disgust as plain as

theirs. "Frankly, neither of you is worth a second look," he replied in a caustic whisper. "Now have your breakfast and be ready to ride in ten minutes. We've a long way to travel today, and I'll make no allowances for the two of you."

"And we shall make none for you, sir," Belle responded proudly. She walked away, and Dominique went with her, but Dominique could not resist sending a parting glance over her shoulder. The lieutenant was watching them with what she considered a malevolent stare, but believing that was an improvement over the leer Belle had described, she regarded the conversation a success.

Hunter had picked up the girls' trail shortly before they had been overtaken by the British patrol. At first he had hoped the cluster of hoof prints obliterating their mares' tracks might have belonged to a unit of the Colonial militia traveling in the area, but when they had made camp, he had crept close enough to identify the troops by their uniforms. After they had ridden out the next morning, he found Dominique's shredded stockings by the river and wondered whether she had simply forgotten them or left them behind as a clue to their whereabouts.

He scooped up a drink from the river and let the cool water trickle slowly down his throat. He had promised Byron that he would bring his daughters home, but he had not anticipated their falling into British hands. He would follow and keep an eye on them, and with luck, he might lure them away, but as he mounted his stallion, he had very little hope of success.

Already accustomed to riding the whole day, Belle and Dominique did not utter a single word of complaint when the lieutenant pressed his men to travel further than he had in the past. Camden lay approximately fifty miles west of

the Great Pee Dee River, and they made more than half that distance the first day. In the evening, the sisters again sat apart, but shared the troops' rations.

Sergeant Danby sent them frequent smiles, as did the other soldiers, but apparently under orders, none approached them wanting to chat. Knowing they would have to tell nothing but lies if anyone did, they weren't a bit sorry to have no one but themselves for company. "I came to find Falcon," Belle whispered, "but I might as well have stayed home if we're trapped in Camden."

"The plan to gather herbs is a good one," Dominique offered reassuringly. "We'll be gone perhaps an hour the first time, maybe three the next. Then we'll simply disappear as easily as we did from home. We have experience fending for ourselves now, Belle, and we can put it to good use. Falcon will be proud of you. You'll see."

Belle glanced up to find Leland Beck watching them. At least they were fully clothed this time, but she did not like having their privacy violated a second time under any circumstances. "I hope they're not more men like Lieutenant Beck in Camden," she revealed softly, "as it would make our stay even more difficult."

"There will be good men there, too," Dominique reminded her. "Maybe all the wounded will have recovered by the time we arrive and we'll be able to travel to a camp closer to Charleston. Let's hope that's the case."

Belle had yet to have an opportunity to dispose of her map and finally confided her worry in Dominique. "I can't walk up to their fire and burn it, and while I could bury it, I don't want to be without it if we do get away."

"When we get away," Dominique stressed. "Why would they search our gear a second time? Just leave the map where it is and we'll have a use for it. I didn't sleep well last night. Did you?"

"I haven't slept well since we left home. I heard something moving through the underbrush. Perhaps it was a rac-

coon or opossum, but I couldn't be certain it wasn't Lieutenant Beck sneaking up on us in the darkness."

"He wouldn't dare," Dominique argued.

"If he would watch us bathe, I'd not put it past him." She hated the man and all he stood for. Fatigued from the tension of having British companions as much as the length of the day, she was filled with a painful longing for the love she had tasted too briefly. "Do you suppose Falcon could be near here? He's probably no more than a day or two ahead of us, and he might have reached Camden in time to fight."

"Is Camden on your map?"

"Yes. But it's much farther west than I intended for us to go."

"Then Falcon would probably not have gone there, either. Keep your wits about you, Belle. This isn't the time to be daydreaming about Falcon when a single slip might reveal who we are. We ought to embroider our tale a bit should anyone ask more questions than Beck. Let's say we're from Norfolk, and that our father was a captain who was lost at sea. Then our poor mother died of a broken heart. That's believable, don't you think?"

"I don't think we ought to say they're dead. That's like wishing that they were."

"It is not, and besides I've already done it. James is a good name for a father. What do you want to name Mother?"

Not eager to comply with Dominique's request, Belle was about to argue, then decided the damage had already been done when the lie had first been told to Beck. "Our names are French, so shouldn't she have a French name as well? Perhaps Marie?"