Elizabeth Meyette

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Emily, sneering.
    “We shall see just how foolish a man in love with his wife can be,” he said. Turning his horse, he shouted a command and the troops rode off.
    “Joanna, we must get word to Jonathon to move immediately,” Emily cried.
    “They will have scouts watching our every move, Emily. If anyone in the household should leave, he most certainly will be followed. We would lead the British right to him,” Joanna answered.
    “Oh, good heavens, what are we to do? I feel trapped like an animal, and Jonathon will surely be captured,” Emily said, pacing along the drive. “What if we send one of the grooms?
    “They will be watching for any activity now. We must bide our time and hope they do not stumble across his hiding place before we can warn him,” Joanna answered.
    Deidre appeared at the front door of the manor and rushed down the steps to join the women.
    “What were British troops doing here? Have they captured Jonathon?” she asked, a note of panic in her voice.
    Emily looked at Joanna, then at Deidre trying to determine what to tell her. Dissembling was not natural for Emily, but something within urged caution, and she tried to remain as ambiguous as possible.
    “They have been searching for Jonathon along the southeastern coast based on a tip Captain Dennings had received. Not finding any trace of him there, they have returned to search Brentwood land thoroughly,” Emily said, watching Deidre’s face go ashen.
    “My God,” Deidre whispered, tears in her eyes.
    Both women noticed the intensity of her reaction, each drawing a different conclusion.
    “Deidre, I told Captain Dennings that Jonathon had probably fled the colony by now; he could be in Boston or Philadelphia, or — do not fear, Deidre, I am sure Jonathon is far away by now,” Emily said, trying to console the obviously upset woman while trying to stem her own panic within. In a way, she was touched by Deidre’s concern for Jonathon.
    Joanna narrowed her eyes as she observed Deidre’s reaction and suspicion grew within her. She had no doubt that there was more to the force of the woman’s emotions.
    The women climbed the steps and entered the manor. The marble floor and shuttered windows of the foyer provided a cool respite from the growing warmth outside. Before them the marble staircase gracefully curved arcing up to the second floor. A breeze blew from the opened door at the end of the hall moving the air across the entrance. Suddenly drained of energy and needing quiet to think, Emily headed for the staircase. Deidre watched her slow ascent, an eerie glint in her eyes.
    • • •
    The carriage rumbled along the road jostling Randy, who drove, and Gates and Jonathon, who rode in the back. Jonathon gritted his teeth against the pain caused by the movement, and tried shifting positions to accommodate the bouncing of the wagon. The half-moon rose above the treetops signaling midnight, and the surrounding woods were alive with nocturnal sounds. All three men were tense with eyes and ears alert for any sound that was unusual for a forest at night. Constantly scanning the woods along the side of the rutted road, they held pistols and muskets at the ready.
    When Gates had arrived at the cabin the night before, Jonathon was sick with shame as the man examined his chest. Never one to judge, Gates listened sympathetically as Jonathon related the encounter with Deidre. Gates applied a balm to the scratches she had left and wound a bandage around Jonathon’s chest, not because it was needed, but to allow him a reprieve from the reminder of her vengeance and his self-imposed shame.
    It had taken both Gates and Randy to assist Jonathon to the wagon. They put as many blankets as possible in the back to ease his journey, and loaded all the supplies and guns that had been stored in the cabin. Randy scouted the area surrounding the cabin as a double check that it was safe to transport Jonathon. Satisfied that all was clear, they started a slow

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