Milady at Arms/Chapter 13
BUT Zenas soon recovered from his surprise. Hastily gulping down the contents of one tankard of milk, he placed the other where it would not be spilled, and a loaf of bread still beneath his arm, ran after Sally. He caught up to the silently weeping girl before the jail.
"Now, Sally, for love o' heaven, tell me what ails ye?" he demanded in an amazed voice, planting himself squarely in front of her so that she had to come to a standstill.
Sally shook her head. "Ye—ye would not—not understand!"
Zenas made an impatient sound. "Stop weeping! How know ye I wouldn't understand unless ye do tell me!" he exclaimed. "Come—was one o' the red-coats a Tory friend o' thine!"
Sally nodded speechlessly.
"And ye be sorry ye did betray him—be that it?" went on the boy shrewdly.
Again Sally nodded. A little silence lay between them.
"Ye remember ye told me 'twas not Uzal Ball's lack o' graciousness, but mine own hunger and the heat was the matter wi' me yesterday noon?" said Zenas at last, his absent gaze fixed upon a point over Sally's head.
She looked at him quickly, then she began to blush. Zenas brought a keen gaze to bear upon her lowered eyelids and crimsoned cheeks and smiled to himself as Sally turned slowly away and commenced to retrace her steps toward the church.
"But that was diff-different," sniffed Sally, "for ye had no real trouble to bear while I—while I" Her voice faded as she paused again, overcome.
Zenas stood waiting patiently until the girl dried her tears again. "Was the red-coat one o' our neighbors?" he asked sympathetically.
"Nay—he was no Tory!" answered Sally faintly. "He was that British lad whom ye mind Squire Todd did shoot last May, the one who did escape from Uzal the day o' the enemy raid on Newark, when Jerry had recovered and Uzal was fetching him to Town to lodge him in the jail, here."
"Aye, I remember," Zenas nodded. "Well, feel not thus badly—'tis the fortunes o' war, and ye did not know 'twas him!" he added consolingly.
"He knows not that!" To Zenas's exasperation—for he was tired and hungry, too—a fresh burst of tears o'ertook Sally. "He doth think I betrayed him!"
"How can he?" Zenas really tried hard to be patient. "Nay, Sally, be not foolish—the lad will work out matters i' his own mind presently and acquit ye o' treachery to him! Now—sit ye down and drink this milk," he pushed her gently down upon the church step, which they had reached by this time. "And eat some o' this bread, and I wager ye will feel ten times better!" And he handed her a hunk of the bread which he had broken.
Presently, Sally set down the tankard she had emptied and shook her head at the second piece of bread Zenas was holding out to her. "Nay, I have had enow, thank ye, Zenas!" she said gratefully. She rose and made smooth her curls and shook out the little apron she wore. "I do feel much better," she added.
"I knew ye would," Zenas was commencing, when Sally caught hold of his arm.
"See, there be Master Alling now, wi' his men!" she exclaimed, pointing down the lane. The detachment of militia had emerged from the jail, obviously having deposited the prisoners within, and were marching toward the two young people. "Zenas," said Sally hurriedly, "I have but now thought—mayhap Master Alling hath horses!"
"Aye!" exclaimed Zenas eagerly. "Would ye," he hesitated, "would ye dare to ask him for 'em?"
"Why not?" responded Sally. She waited beside the road until the little band of militia had reached her, then she walked quickly out to the center of the lane, and Major Alling halted his men.
"Aye, young mistress?" he asked kindly. "Wouldst speak to me?"
Sally nodded. "Good sir," she said, in a low voice, "this lad and I be from the Newark Mountain. We brought some bullets to Town yesterday"
"Aye, Captain Camp did so inform me," interrupted John Alling. He regarded her with interest. "So ye were the brave lad and lass who did come wi' those much-needed bullets!" His kind look included Zenas, who had approached and who now flushed and shuffled his feet embarrassedly at such direct praise. "What can I do for ye?" The young man turned back to Sally.
"We have no horses with which to return to the Mountain—our horses, as ye know, mayhap, also—were stolen last night. Captain Camp sent us down to Master Wheeler's house this morn, there to borrow horses, and there were none left i' his stable—doubtless his family took them when they fled—and that reminds me"
Major Alling looked at Sally with curiosity. "Aye?" he prompted.
Sally turned and looked thoughtfully at Zenas instead of replying. "Shall I inform him about—you know?" she asked meaningly.
Zenas nodded. "Aye—for he will, no doubt, see Master Wheeler before we do!"
Sally turned back to John Alling. "There be a deserter from the British Army hidden i' Master Wheeler's barn, sir," she said, dropping her voice that the other militiamen might not hear. "Will ye so inform Master Wheeler an ye do see him? This man be a Frenchman, sir, who said he could not fight against the patriots when he found how noble was their cause. So he hid, that he might escape to France."
Major Alling's frank face, which had darkened at the words "deserter from the British Army," now cleared in approval.
"Aye," he said heartily, "I will so inform Master Wheeler o' his unexpected guest! And now," he looked at Sally questioningly, "ye do want to borrow some horses in order to reach the Mountain? Did I understand ye aright?"
"Aye, sir, an it please ye!"
Major Alling pondered for a moment. "I think I can accommodate ye," he announced, then. "I have, hidden, some horses that my aged grandfather might escape, an he chose, i' case o' enemy attack this day. But the old gentleman staunchly refused to leave and worried about the horses being left i' danger here. So 'twould help us both an ye were to ride them away to the Mountain and there keep them until I come for them." He smiled at the look of frank relief upon the young faces before him and turned to one of his men. "Ezra," he ordered, "do ye go wi' this lad and show him where our horses be hid, then report to me at the Rising Sun Tavern. Company, attention! Forward, march!"
The young man whom Major Alling had detailed to help them led Zenas and Sally toward the Alling homestead as the company of militia marched on up the Broad Lane. His eyes, which were twinkling blue ones, twinkled still more as he glanced down at Zenas, for the boy was stalking solemnly along, carrying the tankards stiffly before him.
"What ha' ye there?" asked the militiaman good-naturedly.
Zenas flushed and glanced apoealingly at Sally, who came to his rescue.
"They be tankards—don't drop 'em, Zenas—they be tankards, sir, belonging to Master Alling," she explained gravely. "Zenas—we—er—borrowed them wi' some milk and some bread, which he—we—found i' Master Alling's kitchen!"
To their surprise and embarrassment, the young man Ezra burst into laughter. "Ecod," he cried, when he could speak, "this be a rare joke on the old grandsire, who doth pride himself upon both his keen hearing and his caution in barring the house during enemy raid! So ye did walk straightway in through unbarred door, eh! The old gentleman was doubtless upstairs at some window on eager watch! Beshrew me, won't he be chagrined when I tell him, for he hath ever declared he be as alert as any!"
"Nay, do not tell him!" begged Sally. "'Twill only hurt his pride and do no good! Mayhap he did leave the door ope for Master Alling—which only shows his love for his grandson and needs no rebuking! Besides," she blushed, "it did—did help us out mightily, for—for we were nigh to starvation, it did seem to us!"
So the young man promised, and an old gentleman was saved from hurt.
As Sally waited before the house, while Zenas and Ezra went to secure the horses, she could plainly hear sounds of battle coming from the riverfront and from the ravines north of the village. There was a queer contrast in this distant din and noise of strife and the peace which brooded over this part of the little hamlet, for the Broad Lane at this point was deserted, as were sundry cross lanes, while those still forms, at which Sally had previously shuddered, had been carried away. The air of peace was further enhanced by the sight of Major Alling's aged grandfather sitting at his upper window, dreaming in the afternoon sunshine. And yet the devastation wrought by the British belied this false calm and security, and Sally, hearing the distant boom of cannon, knew that the brave New Jersey militia were swarming down from the hills and marching in from the backwoods, still fighting desperately to preserve the integrity of their homes.
But now there were voices approaching, and Sally saw Zenas and Ezra coming toward her, leading two handsome horses.
"'Tis indeed a happy thought—your taking the horses," said the latter, helping Sally to mount, "for there be no knowing an the enemy will return or not! Though 'tis extremely doubtful—for they are making for the ford near Master Schuyler's house on the opposite bank o' the Passaic," he added.
"Didst see the cattle the British were driving?" asked Sally eagerly.
"The British took not only about four hundred head o' cattle, including milch cows, but upward o' four hundred head o' sheep, as well as some horses," the young man told her ruefully. "They must have raided well the countryside as they came from Elizabeth Town!"
"Is't true, indeed!" exclaimed Sally, in a distressed tone. "Oh, the poor patriot farmers. I fear there be a most dreadful winter ahead o' them!"
"Aye!" Ezra shook his head mournfully. "Well, fare ye well! A safe journey home to ye!" And doffing his tri-cornered hat in good-humored valedictory, the young militiaman started off up the Broad Lane after his company.
All along the highway, as Zenas and Sally proceeded toward the Mountain settlement, they were constantly stopped by folk who ran out into their path, pathetically eager for news of the battle at Newark. Sally saw many of the refugees they had noticed the previous night among them and came at last upon the old gentleman who had fled with his daughter and her little children.
"What news? What news?" he inquired, feebly hastening out to them from the roadside, his grandchild having run to report to him of their approach.
"Little can we give ye, sir," answered Sally pitifully. "Only that the enemy did march through the Town by the River, having arrived there about noon, driving four hundred head o' cattle and four hundred head o' sheep, wi' some horses which they gathered as they came from Elizabeth Town!"
"The varlets!" A bright blaze of anger flung a red banner in the old man's parchment cheeks. "Robbing us that they may live i' luxury! Thankee, miss," he added, as Sally touched her horse and trotted on after Zenas.
Again and again were the young riders detained—almost every farmhouse having its quota of eager watchers out to stop travelers from Newark—and when they came at last to Samuel Munn's Tavern, they were both tired and hungry. It was just as Sally drew rein before the tavern that the same thought struck her that flashed into Zenas's mind. With a simultaneous movement, they slid down from their horses and fled toward the stable-yard.
"Think ye—James will be dead o' starvation?" gasped out Sally, flying along beside Zenas, her eyes wide with horror and remorse.
"Nay—not so—soon!" stammered Zenas. Then, suddenly, he chuckled. "But oh, won't he be mad!"
James may have been angry; but not at that moment, for when they drew the bar and flung open the door to the saddle room, it was empty!
Sally and Zenas stared at each other. "Why, James be gone!" said Sally stupidly. "At least—at least—we know he hath not starved to death! Come," she turned wearily away, "let us back to the horses, Zenas!"
"Why not stop here for supper?" suggested Zenas wistfully.
Sally shook her head. "Nay," she answered firmly, turning with decided steps toward the stable-yard entrance, "your mother would not like it an she knew we had tarried thus near home!"
Zenas, who had been lingering, and casting hungry glances toward the kitchen door of the inn, now straightened his tired shoulders at mention of his mother, as Sally knew he would. "Ye be right," he said hurriedly. "Let us go on! I"
Sally, glancing up in surprise as Zenas's voice, stopped, followed his gaze to the kitchen door. There stood James Williams, grinning complacently at them, an appetizing chicken bone, temptingly browned and carrying much meat, prominently displayed in either hand! As they stared, he slowly raised one of the bones to his mouth and, sneering at them over it, took off a great bite. Behind him showed the smiling face of the kitchen wench belonging to the inn.
"Ha!" mumbled James, taking another great bite. "Don't ye wish ye were me!"
"How came ye free?" asked Zenas bluntly, trying not to eye too longingly the chicken bones. Despite himself, however, his gaze sought and envied each great bite James took.
James smiled maddeningly. "Don't ye wish ye did know?" he taunted.
"Where be Mistress Munn?" demanded Sally.
James's glance darkened. "What business o' yours?" he returned rudely.
"She be away—that be certain," observed Sally, looking significantly at the tavern maid, who flushed and disappeared. "Come"—Sally turned indifferently away—"let us go, Zenas! Naught is gained save discord by remaining here!"
But Zenas shook his head. "I mean to have some o' that chicken!" he answered determinedly. "James need not think he can taunt us thus!" And as he moved toward the tavern door, Sally stopped to watch, her own mouth watering, for their fare of bread and milk had been slim, indeed, for the two healthy young folk.
It was hopeless, however. The teasing James maliciously allowed his younger brother almost to reach the kitchen door, when suddenly he slammed it shut in Zenas's very face. And then, from within, Sally and Zenas could hear howls of laughter at the boy's discomfiture, the tavern maid joining in loudly.
Hot tears of anger came into Sally's eyes; but she raised her chin and turned haughtily away once more. "Come ye, Zenas!" she said disdainfully. "Ye will get naught from that fine pair!" And she swept on toward the horses, disregarding the grinning faces which now peered out of the tavern windows.
The rest of the journey back to the Williams's farm was a silent one, for Sally's remorseful thought ever returned to that friend whom she had unconsciously betrayed. As she rode along, anxious wondering furrowed her brow. What would happen to Jerry Lawrence now? Would the patriots, incensed over the invasion of their homes, the stealing of their cattle and sheep, hurry to the jail in the Town by the River and there wreak their vengeance upon the red-coats confined there? Or would those red-coats be treated as military prisoners, granted a military trial, and so escape the wrath of the mob?
The two young travelers were stopped three or four times more and begged to tell of the battle, before they reached home. Sally, looking down into the harrowed, anxious eyes of the women as they demanded news of loved ones, sighed when, at her headshake, they turned and went silently back, children clinging to their skirts, to their doorsteps, resuming their bitter watch, waiting—waiting for the footsteps which might never sound again upon those thresholds. This was the fate of many of those brave Colonial women—the loss of husband or father or brother—for each time the enemy descended upon war-worn New Jersey some patriot paid toll with his life.
At last the girl and boy came within sight of the Williams's farmhouse. Gaunt and forbidding, like the grim old Tory who had built it, its stone front seemed to glower at them suspiciously as they trotted up the road on their horses toward it. Dusk had already descended the slope of the Mountain, beneath the gloom of which the old house stood stark and drear. And somehow the dreariness of that old house seemed to enter into Sally's heart, making her feel outcast, lonely. Somehow, it seemed to say to her, "Why do ye return here? This be not your home—these people not your people!"
Slipping from her horse, as she and Zenas drew rein before the kitchen door, she stood with bright head a-droop. Even the appearance of Mistress Williams, her face fairly aglow with happiness, in response to a lusty call from Zenas, did not comfort Sally. For Mistress Mary brushed past her unheedingly as she ran to kiss and hug her boy! Sally watched with trembling lips the greeting between the two. The old ache, forgotten in the excitement of the past few days, came back to her. Oh, to have a mother put her arms around one like that, to kiss one so tenderly, so lovingly! Would she, Sally, bond maid to the Todds, never know that happiness?
The next instant the girl felt a warm, soft embrace around her. "Welcome back, Sally!" said Mistress Williams, smiling down at her. "Welcome back, my dear!"
But though the dear lady's kiss upon Sally's brow was sincere and affectionate, the girl realized—and tried not to envy him!—that Zenas had received the real welcome home!