Read Online The Courier of Caswell Hall by Melanie Dobson - Free Book Online
Authors: Melanie Dobson
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warning the militia of what was to come, but his body had refused to cooperate. His foot was healing, but his left calf still throbbed from where he’d sprained it, and his legs were shaky.
His uncle would be disappointed at his failure.
The British had surely landed by now, and the questions of what was happening outside these walls plagued him at night. Were the people of Richmond fighting? Or had they succumbed? He hoped to God that they kept fighting. Without every American—man and woman—willing to participate, they would never win this war.
He wished he could give Lydia his message to deliver, but even though she treated him with kindness, she was still a stranger. He could never trust her with this message.
Fire burned up his leg as he tried to take another step. Even if he couldn’t walk far, at least he could get out of bed.
He’d been ill before embarking on the British vessel, but he had refused to let his fever stop him from doing his work. Once he was onboard, he heard the men questioning his loyalties. Even with his feigned accent and disguise, the officers suspected—and rightly so—that he was insincere.
Once the ships were underway and the British began talking about putting him in chains, he knew he had no choice. He would either die on the ship or he would die delivering his message. He preferred the second option.
With the bumpy waves, it hadn’t been difficult to convince the guard that he was seasick. No one had suspected that he would jump into the icy river.
He’d jumped as close to the Hammond plantation as he could. Unfortunately, he washed up at the wrong place.
He didn’t know what the sealed message in his leather pouch contained, but his uncle was relying on him to deliver it. Since he’d been appointed to work as a scout and courier, he’d never once failed to deliver a message, and he didn’t intend to fail now.
It was late, probably midnight by now, and Elisha hadn’t returned to the room. Most nights Elisha slept on a blanket on the floor beside Nathan, but sometimes he didn’t come back. Nathan didn’t ask where the man slept those nights. He suspected an empty stall or the back of one of the coaches.
Prudence had been faithful to bring him food in the mornings, and Elisha brought him wood for the fire each evening, but Nathan enjoyed Lydia’s visits most of all. Even though he was a Patriot, she cared well for him, and each time she came, he wished she could linger a bit longer. Yet he well understood how much she risked even with the briefest of visits.
He lay down on his bed and slept. He didn’t know how much time passed, but when he awakened, Lydia was there, sitting on the chair beside his bed. She had a cloth napkin with bread in her lap, and he could see the compassion in her eyes. For a moment, he wished he saw something else there. Like admiration. Instead of a man, it seemed she saw him as a wounded animal, a puppy.
“I thought you might like some food.” She held out a piece of bread and he thanked her. “Prudence says you are not eating enough.”
“I am eating as much as I can.”
“’Tis not enough to build your strength.”
“I promise you, I am more anxious to leave here than you are to be rid of me.”
“That is not what I mean—”
He took a bite of the bread. “You have been a most gracious host, but I must leave soon.”
She nodded. “The British have taken Richmond.”
He groaned. It was as he feared. “Did the Patriots fight?”
“Not well.” She swallowed. “But they moved most of their supplies before the British could confiscate them.”
He pushed himself up with his elbows and slid his legs over the side of the bed. “I must go.” He stood and tried to walk to the door, but his foot failed him. When he stumbled, she caught him and helped him back to the bed. He stared at the window, humiliated. He couldn’t think of anything much worse than a lovely young woman catching him before he fell.
A shadow crossed
His uncle would be disappointed at his failure.
The British had surely landed by now, and the questions of what was happening outside these walls plagued him at night. Were the people of Richmond fighting? Or had they succumbed? He hoped to God that they kept fighting. Without every American—man and woman—willing to participate, they would never win this war.
He wished he could give Lydia his message to deliver, but even though she treated him with kindness, she was still a stranger. He could never trust her with this message.
Fire burned up his leg as he tried to take another step. Even if he couldn’t walk far, at least he could get out of bed.
He’d been ill before embarking on the British vessel, but he had refused to let his fever stop him from doing his work. Once he was onboard, he heard the men questioning his loyalties. Even with his feigned accent and disguise, the officers suspected—and rightly so—that he was insincere.
Once the ships were underway and the British began talking about putting him in chains, he knew he had no choice. He would either die on the ship or he would die delivering his message. He preferred the second option.
With the bumpy waves, it hadn’t been difficult to convince the guard that he was seasick. No one had suspected that he would jump into the icy river.
He’d jumped as close to the Hammond plantation as he could. Unfortunately, he washed up at the wrong place.
He didn’t know what the sealed message in his leather pouch contained, but his uncle was relying on him to deliver it. Since he’d been appointed to work as a scout and courier, he’d never once failed to deliver a message, and he didn’t intend to fail now.
It was late, probably midnight by now, and Elisha hadn’t returned to the room. Most nights Elisha slept on a blanket on the floor beside Nathan, but sometimes he didn’t come back. Nathan didn’t ask where the man slept those nights. He suspected an empty stall or the back of one of the coaches.
Prudence had been faithful to bring him food in the mornings, and Elisha brought him wood for the fire each evening, but Nathan enjoyed Lydia’s visits most of all. Even though he was a Patriot, she cared well for him, and each time she came, he wished she could linger a bit longer. Yet he well understood how much she risked even with the briefest of visits.
He lay down on his bed and slept. He didn’t know how much time passed, but when he awakened, Lydia was there, sitting on the chair beside his bed. She had a cloth napkin with bread in her lap, and he could see the compassion in her eyes. For a moment, he wished he saw something else there. Like admiration. Instead of a man, it seemed she saw him as a wounded animal, a puppy.
“I thought you might like some food.” She held out a piece of bread and he thanked her. “Prudence says you are not eating enough.”
“I am eating as much as I can.”
“’Tis not enough to build your strength.”
“I promise you, I am more anxious to leave here than you are to be rid of me.”
“That is not what I mean—”
He took a bite of the bread. “You have been a most gracious host, but I must leave soon.”
She nodded. “The British have taken Richmond.”
He groaned. It was as he feared. “Did the Patriots fight?”
“Not well.” She swallowed. “But they moved most of their supplies before the British could confiscate them.”
He pushed himself up with his elbows and slid his legs over the side of the bed. “I must go.” He stood and tried to walk to the door, but his foot failed him. When he stumbled, she caught him and helped him back to the bed. He stared at the window, humiliated. He couldn’t think of anything much worse than a lovely young woman catching him before he fell.
A shadow crossed
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