Wrapped well in their winter cloaks, they rode out. Well kitted with extra blankets and food rations for the trip back to the Fort. Their departure that morning had been a tough one. Mr. Jenkins had their horses saddled and waiting at first light and his wife had risen early to cook them a hearty breakfast. As they said their goodbyes, Mrs. Jenkins surprised the Colonel with a warm hug.
"You take care of her." She said.
"I believe Beth can take care of herself very well." He answered, a chill in his tone.
"Oh I know that but I'm talking about her heart. She feels things for you that she's never felt for another, even that silly Alistair." She paused, "Be patient with her." Mary pleaded.
William was still stinging from Beth's remarks as they'd left the bedroom and he wasn't sure how his patience would hold up. He mounted his horse, reaching down to shake hands with Mr. Jenkins before taking hold of the reins. Beth walked out of the house and silently mounted her horse. She'd said her goodbyes inside and wanted to leave before her emotions took over. She spurred the animal on, trotting up beside the Colonel.
"Sir, ready to go?" She asked formally.
"Lead the way Lieutenant." He ordered.
They rode on in silence, leaving the house and it's worried caretakers behind. Very few words were exchanged all day, neither knowing just how to break the ice. Just before they lost the light they stopped for the night. An uncomfortable exchange of words accompanied their meal as they both stared in to the fire, avoiding each other's eyes. Eventually Beth could stand it no longer. She packed away her food and lay down beside the fire to try to sleep. Tavington lay down behind her, covering them both with a thick layer of blankets. Without thinking he wrapped his arm around her waist. Once he realized what he had done, he expected her to pull away but she didn't. Instead she snuggled back against him.
"I'm sorry William," She paused, "I have feared very little in my life but I am scared."
"Scared of what?" He asked, holding her tighter.
"Of losing you, of how much it would hurt and yet I can't help myself. I do….I do want to consider a future with you." She inhaled, her breath catching in her emotion. She turned to face him, neither of them knowing what to say. He pulled her to him, kissing her deeply as she threw her leg over his hip. His anger forgotten, her fear put aside, they slept, peacefully curled up together. If they had been found by anyone now, there would have been a lot of explaining to do.
The cold woke them the next morning and the frost made it difficult to find dry wood for a fire. With only a spartan breakfast inside them, they continued on to the Fort. The conversation was much easier although they realized they could come across a patrol at any moment, possibly one out searching for them, so they chose their words carefully, listening for the sounds of company on the road. The winter forest provided little in shelter from the wind as they traveled but did make it easier to spot friend of foe.
Mid afternoon Tavington spotted the red coats heading towards them. Their black cloaks flying out behind them as the troops galloped in the direction of the missing officers. The roads had dried enough and the weather warmed enough for Cornwallis to allow them to search for the Colonel. The three days rest in the warmth of the Fort had allowed Captains Borden, Hamilton, Wilkins and Davies to recover from their exposure to the frigid weather. They had ridden out to search for them and were visibly relieved to see the officers looking so well. Borden settled his horse in beside the Colonels.
"Sir it is good to see you," He paused, looking over at Beth, "both of you." He added reluctantly, secretly he'd harbored a wish to find her dead and frozen along the road. "We feared the worst, I assume you found shelter."
"A farm, two days ride from here." Tavington had stretched the truth a little but he felt a need to protect Beth's privacy and the security of the farm. "They took us in, whether they wanted to or not. What news of the war Captain?" He asked, changing the subject.
Borden let him know that all had been quiet, thanks to the weather, but that they had received information on the Ghost and his men. They now had his name, Benjamin Martin and the names of many of his men. They were tracking down the locations of the families and farms. Harsh punishments would bring the militia to their knees and the torture was about to begin.
There were short-lived celebrations at the Fort for the safe return of the officers. There was work to be done and the Colonel was looking forward to working towards an end to the war. He had a life to live. Staying busy also helped to keep his mind on professional matters in regards to Lt. Charleton. On a few occasions he'd almost called her Beth, stopping before her name left his lips. The nights had been the worst. They would sneak to each other's rooms but more time was now being spent away from the Fort. Sleeping on the cold ground surrounded by numerous other soldiers, they both felt the tension. They cherished the few stolen hours they'd been able to find.
Captain Wilkins had given Tavington the location of a plantation owned by the sister of Benjamin Martin's dead wife. Deciding that a direct message to the leader of the militia was warranted, the Dragoons rode out along the Santee River towards the plantation. Tavington stopped the group, waiting until darkness had fallen before riding up the road to the main house. Wilkins had said this was where Martin had probably hidden his family, although there were no signs of anyone as the soldiers dismounted. They searched the house finding no one inside except the slaves. The Colonel ordered his men to search the grounds. The fire in the dining room had not long been extinguished so he knew they hadn't gone far. Beth could hear him questioning the slaves, shooting them when they gave him no information. As the men left the house, they set it alight, the orange glow lighting the night around them. They all stopped as a horse whinnied nearby. The Colonel looked down the road as a horse reared up, it's rider shooting into the night sky.
"To horse, to horse." He barked as the militia led them on a chase away from the plantation. None of them saw a woman and several children being led away into the nearby woods.
Six weeks had flown by, chasing down Martin and his rabble. Men who'd abandoned the militia were captured and tortured for any information. One afternoon Beth sat on guard, munching on apples from the raided cellar of the house they'd commandeered, as several men were tortured to death. She overheard the offer Tavington gave the last prisoner and had to jump out of the Colonel's way as he stormed through the doorway, wiping his face and bloodied hands on a cloth. She followed him to the well, steadying the bucket on the edge as he wet the cloth to clean his face.
"Sir?" She didn't get to finish her question before he spoke.
"Damned bastard, spit in my face." He washed his face in the chilly well water, drying himself with the last clean corner of the cloth he'd taken from the kitchen. "This torture is a waste of time, they're getting away while we slowly kill men who haven't heard any news for weeks. Wilkins has given us more information than these men." He stalked over to his horse, happy to leave the killing to lesser men.
The last man, Rawlins, took the longest to die. He'd been such a vile, lecherous man that Beth wasn't sorry to see his body strung up as a warning. After burning the small farmhouse they rode southeast along the river, burning the homes of militia as they went, killing wives and children as a message that none could ignore. Not every member of the patrol agreed with the killing of women and children but no one dared question the Colonel's orders.
They returned to the Fort to hear that the militia had disbanded, though no one knew if it was a permanent collapse or a temporary furlough. The good news was that the name of the town that had been supporting Martin and his men had now been revealed: Pembroke. At the end of the week a rested and replenished Dragoon patrol left the Fort, with one hundred Infantry following them. When they arrived in Pembroke they rounded up the townspeople, insisting they gather in the church so that Colonel Tavington could address them all. The Dragoons stayed mounted on their horses, the Infantry handling the crowd control.
Beth was lined up with the other Dragoons as Tavington rode right in to the church. They could hear him demanding information, promising forgiveness to those who gave him what he wanted. One man came forward but no one outside the church could hear what he said, even the raised voices of the others were too jumbled to clearly understand. The Colonel backed his horse out of the house of God, yelling something about that being between them and God and then he ordered that the doors be shut and chained. He rode over to Wilkins and as a test of the Captain, he ordered him to burn the church.
"There's no honour in this." Wilkins said, clearly shocked by his commander's orders.
"Didn't you say all those who stand against England deserve to die a traitors death?" Tavington asked as he brought his horse along side the stunned Captain. "Burn the church, Captain." He ordered, slowly.
Captain Wilkins hesitated and then snatched a torch off an infantryman. He rode over to the church and threw the flaming torch on to the roof. The remaining infantrymen, surrounding the building, followed his lead and covered the church with fire or set hay bales around the foundations alight. All windows and the door were chained, trapping the inhabitants of Pembroke inside, their cries and screams competing with the crackling of the massive fire.
Tavington issued orders to the commander of the Infantry and signaled the members of the Dragoons to join him. He ordered half of them to stay behind with the foot soldiers, returning to the new camp with them once they were assured that the church was fully consumed by fire. Beth joined him as the Colonel and Borden stopped along side the still stunned Wilkins.
"The honour is found in the ends, not the means." He said to Wilkins. "This will be forgotten." He added as they turned and rode away from the town. The Captain remained, staring at the fire, a man irretrievably lost.
Tavington's Dragoons rode off to join Cornwallis and the rest of the British troops as they prepared to battle at Cowpens. They rode through the night, stopping after sunrise to clean up and eat. They may have been close to the camp but Tavington preferred to be neat and presentable when they arrived instead of looking like the dusty and ruffled soldiers just back from battle.
Beth sat beside a small fire as Tavington shaved in the creek below. Borden approached and stood over her, glaring down at her. She tried to ignore his presence until he pulled rank on her.
"Lieutenant, is that tea ready?" He snarled.
"Yes, sir." She replied, keeping an even tone.
"Well, pour it then." He ordered. She picked up the teapot and rose to pour the beverage into his cup. She filled the tin cup and dropped to sit on the log again, putting the pot back over the fire.
"Still no respect for a senior officer, Lieutenant?" He asked. She looked up, thoughtfully.
"Mmm….. no Sir, no respect, you don't deserve it." She answered, increasingly angered at his intrusion.
"How dare you, you little," He snapped.
"Aren't you supposed to be on lookout Captain Borden?" She asked, cutting him off, raising her voice enough to attract attention and emphasizing his rank. He looked around nervously.
"You haven't heard the last of this." He spat as he stalked away with his cup.
"I don't doubt that I have." She said in exasperation after him.
Borden returned to the tree on the edge of the clearing where they'd stopped. He sipped his tea and stewed over Charleton's insubordination, his mind not fully on his duty. He should have seen the approaching riders long before he heard the horses thundering towards them. Not long after the British had left Pembroke the Militia, rested from their furlough, had discovered the burnt remains of the church and quickly realized the tragedy that had taken place. They had chased them down through the night, hell bent on revenge.
"To arms, to arms." Borden yelled as the riders raced toward them. He dropped his cup and ran to join his comrades. Beth jumped up and grabbed her pistol from its holster. Tavington dropped his razor and rose, running to his horse for his weapons.
"Get to the camp, let them know what's happening." He yelled at Beth as she joined him.
"What? I am not leaving you here." She said, not believing he would send her away now.
"Lieutenant!" He yelled, leaving no uncertainty that he expected his orders to be followed. "Go! Now!" He ran to join the skirmish. Beth mounted her horse, rode down the bank, across the creek and up the other side. She paused, turning back only to see William drawing his sabre. She turned and spurred her horse on, her fear of losing William taking over as tears welled up in her eyes.
Beth pushed her horse to its limits as she raced for the camp. Fortunately they weren't too far away, less than an hour and she covered the distance in half that. A patrol was mustered and within fifteen minutes of her arrival they were riding back to the creek. When they were halfway there they saw a single horse and rider approaching. It was Tavington, riding in some discomfort, a red stain at his side. Four men escorted Tavington back to the camp for medical treatment. The ten remaining Dragoons, including Beth, continued on to the creek.
Once the creek was in sight they slowed their pace. There was little sound coming from the other side. A few moans from men and whinnies from spooked horses, still tied to the trees, were the only sounds they heard so they crossed the creek, quickly gathering their dead and injured. Beth approached the last red-coated body. He was still breathing and moaned in pain as she turned him over, coming face to face with Borden. He was bleeding profusely from his belly and was deathly pale. He tried to speak but coughed a spray of blood instead.
"We'll get you back to the camp, Captain Borden." Beth tried to assure him.
"Don't touch me bitch." He managed to hiss at her. "I wish it were you instead." He said no more, his eyes fixed, staring straight ahead. Beth gently closed his eyelids and yelled for help to throw him over the rump of her horse. She thought it a fitting place for him considering the ass he'd made of himself. They rode back as fast as possible, knowing more Militia could be close behind.
At the camp, Beth put on a good show as she respectfully lowered Borden's body from her horse. She'd rather have pulled the knots and let him crash to the ground in a dusty heap but there were people around. The camp surgeon confirmed the deaths and went off to include their names in the records. The ten bodies were lifted onto carts for the trip to the graveyard started outside the camp. All of a sudden Beth realized she hadn't seen Tavington and ran after the surgeon.
"Excuse me Sir?" She called, "Was Colonel Tavington brought in? Injured on his left side?"
"Yes Lieutenant, he was. Shot, he was, but he shall recover. I doubt he will even miss tomorrows battle." He walked away towards the hospital tents.
"Did he pass along any orders, Sir?" Beth asked, relieved to hear he wasn't seriously hurt.
"None Lieutenant." He answered without even turning around. "Get some rest, you'll need your strength in the morning."
As Beth walked back to the camp entrance she saw a groom leading her horse away to the stables. He was gently patting the neck of the exhausted animal. She thanked him and asked if he knew the layout of the camp, specifically the location of the Dragoon tents. He pointed off to his right, telling her that her own tent had been set up opposite Tavington's command tent.
"I guess the Colonel will be short a few officers tomorrow." The young man commented "That's a pity, from what I'm hearing Sir," He leaned in closer, "it's going to be a tough battle." He looked up at the horses face and sadly added, "I'll probably lose a few of these beauties too. I'd better get him to the stables, Sir." He nodded and slowly led the horse away.
Beth watched them go for a few minutes before walking off in the direction of the Dragoon tents. As she walked down the row, the riders who'd been left behind at the church arrived back via the longer route chosen to hopefully mislead the Militia. The sight of the bodies of their fellow Dragoons being hauled away was a terrible reminder that the plan had not worked. Captain Hamilton was whisked away by an aide to General Cornwallis, for a meeting of utmost urgency, he was told. In the event of Tavington's injury being worse than originally thought and now with the death of Captain Borden, Beth assumed that Hamilton would be in charge. Beth said some silent thanks for recent events. Borden would have been her last choice for a new commander. His death made her life a little easier.
As Beth reached her tent she saw Tavington come around the end of the row. She was relieved to see him though he was walking slower than usual and lightly holding his left side. He spotted her and nodded in the direction of his tent. She followed his lead and reached the tent first, holding the flap open for him. She entered behind him and before the flap had even closed he grabbed her and held her close, his breath escaping in a pained gasp. She tried to pull away but he wouldn't let her go.
"Is it bad William?" She whispered.
"It won't keep me out of tomorrows battle. It's just a small flesh wound." He reassured her. "The surgeon wanted to keep me there as a precaution."
"You walked out." She said with a smile on her face. "You're a stubborn man, William. Sit down, you don't want to make it worse." He released her and taking her hand, led her to the table.
"Cornwallis came to see me. I guess he wanted to see if I would live to fight another day. I take it he had Hamilton lined up as my successor? The poor man is probably sweating it out in the General's office right now." He started to laugh and quickly stopped as he felt a stabbing pain in his side. "Cornwallis is convinced that tomorrow will see the beginning of a British victory."
"Do you agree with him?" Beth asked, as Tavington slowly lowered himself to the chair at the head of the table. As his coat shifted Beth saw the blood on his shirt. Once settled, he reached for her hand.
"Possibly. We'll be facing the Continental army and the Militia if our reconnaissance reports are right. It will be a great opportunity to destroy their moral and effectively reduce their ability to fight." He stroked his thumb across the back of her hand, leaving his more personal thoughts unsaid. He stared at her hand for a few, silent minutes, before snapping back to the subject at hand.
"Hamilton will take Borden's place." Beth's jaw tightened as he mentioned the despised Captain. "I take it you approve of the change?" He asked, smiling slightly. "I know Borden made your life difficult but tomorrow will be even more trying." He lowered his voice to a near whisper. "Stay here tonight." It was a request she couldn't refuse.
The rest of the day was spent preparing for battle. Weapons were cleaned and readied for a quick response the next morning. Everyone dealt with the stress of the upcoming events differently. Most were serious, quiet, some even prayed. Others used humour to diffuse their stress. By late evening the camp was quiet. A few men were scribbling letters to their loved ones by candlelight. In the Dragoon commander's tent all was dark. Beth lay, snuggled up against William's uninjured side, gently stroking her fingers across his bare chest, his arm around her back. Neither of them had said anything for ages, just being together was more than enough. To talk might remind them of the possible outcomes for tomorrow. William inhaled deeply, ready to speak, feeling Beth tense up beside him.
"What ever happens tomorrow, know this. I love you, always will." He turned his head to kiss her and heard her sniff, feeling her body shake as a sob overtook her. He inhaled and let his breath out in a big sigh. "Oh love, don't do that. We'll be alright." He wasn't sure who he was trying to convince more, her or himself.