Love’s Betrayal (18 page)

“Are you saying you could make it in less time without us?” Delight raised a challenging brow.

“Precisely.”

“Then we will make faster time with Charity and myself, for we both know how to drive a wagon.”

“And pray tell, lass, where do ye intend to sleep or even ride for that matter? Have ye forgotten the wagon bed is loaded with barrels?”

She touched a finger to her pretty wee chin, as he had seen her do so many times before. “We will all take turns driving, sharing a seat with the driver, and making do amongst the precious cargo.”

“Delight Butler, ye are a stubborn one.” How ever did Elijah get her to listen to reason?

“I'm not stubborn, but steadfast.”

“Steadfast?”

“Being stubborn is a sin. Steadfast is in the scripture as an admirable trait.”

He laughed despite his frustration.

“You give me no other choice.” Charity clenched her fists. “I shall leave James's care to our sisters and ride along as a chaperone.”

Henry thought he'd be ill.

Delight slept with Charity curled beside her, since her sister refused to leave James's side. The extra day had strengthened him and given Charity peace of mind about his condition. Remember offered to tend to him, and Faith and Patience also volunteered their aid.

Henry, too, rested for the journey ahead. Due to the serious nature of the wagon's contents, they would be spending their nights under the wagon. A threesome, Henry had called them yesterday. Delight wasn't sure how she felt about the many miles that lay ahead. In one breath, she looked forward to his company, and in the next she feared the topic of their conversation. Love didn't choose who became tangled in its web, and for now, knowing Henry cared would help her through the war. In truth, she neither was ready for discussions about the future nor wanted them.

Her thoughts drifted back to Henry's kiss and his growing affections. Odd, she had thought of little else except him declaring his feelings, and now that he had, she quaked in her shoes.

Delight couldn't depend upon Charity to lead many discussions. She tended to shyness, although she did speak out earlier about the journey to Philadelphia—considerable gumption from a sister who whined and carried on about the slightest variance in her life. Charity obviously had matured into adulthood with a few new observations and surprises of her own.

As she considered the matter, Delight concluded that delivering several barrels of gunpowder while pursued by an unknown agent sounded considerably less risky than having Henry realize her immense love.

Moments before the departure, the three checked on James. He opened his eyes.

“You have a wonderful knack of waking at the most opportune moments.” Charity bent to his side. “Henry, Delight, and I are leaving.”

“For … where?” he managed to say. “Not Philadelphia?”

She nodded and offered a shy smile. “Aye, James. Delight knows Mr. Sullivan, and I am going along to chaperone.”

James attempted to raise himself but could not lift his head. Charity gently eased him back onto the pillow. He blinked and cast his gaze around the room. “I see I'm in Henry's quarters.”

“Right you are,” Henry said. “But I shan't be needing them for a few days. How are you feeling?”

“Like somebody tried to kill me and nearly succeeded, but I survived their attempt.”

“From the looks of you, surviving is debatable,” Delight said. “You need to rest. By the time we return, you will be riding bareback.”

“Seriously,” Henry began, “do ye feel well enough to state what happened? I am thinking I need to be prepared.”

James nodded. “I suspected I was being followed about … ten miles out of Chesterfield.” He breathed in deeply, obviously fighting pain.

“Take your time,” Henry said.

“Once dusk set in, I … left the wagon in a thicket and backtracked. I came upon two men … on horseback—loyalists by the sound of 'em—who were bragging about what they were going to do to me.”

James closed his eyes and took several deep breaths before resuming. “I surprised them … took their weapons, and tied them to a tree, but I wasn't expecting a third. He came from behind. We … struggled, and he knifed me before I got the utmost of him.”

Delight cringed at what James implied. She knew better than to glance Charity's way, knowing her sister's weak stomach.

“I made it back to … to the wagon and set my sights on Chesterfield. Not sure how I got here … save by the grace of God.”

“That is also why you're still alive,” Charity said.

Little sister, you continue to amaze me,
Delight thought.

“I know ye are in pain, but is there anything you can tell me about the men before we venture toward Philadelphia?” Henry said.

James swallowed hard. “Two things you need to know. One … has been branded a thief. I saw a
T
burned into the flesh of his right hand … below his thumb. The other matter is the far barrel … on the left side of the wagon is filled with corn … just in case someone searches it.”

“Thank you, friend. I'll be heading outside while ye tell the women good-bye.”

Delight had no intention of lingering behind. Charity and James deserved a few moments alone. “Farewell, James. I will be praying for your good health.” She stood, then turned to her sister. “Charity, don't persist in tasking James's health. You will have ample time to visit when we return.” She tossed a smile over her shoulder and hurried to the doorway behind Henry.

Hours later, the wagon ambled on in a southwesterly direction. Plenty of food lay packed around the barrels, and true to Henry's assessment, both girls had a difficult time lying on the wagon bed. Sleeping would be done in an upright position. Thankfully, Mama had packed ample blankets for the cold nights and chilly days ahead. Delight refused to think of the explosion that could occur with a single musket blast in the right direction.

“What's in the barrels that is so important to the soldiers?” Mama had said.

Delight decided to say nothing rather than lie to her mother.

“I took the lid off one and saw corn.” Henry skirted around the real topic.

Mama placed her hands on her hips. “Henry O'Neill, must I question you like Mercy and Hope—or Elijah?”

“Indeed, ye might, Mistress Butler.” He leaned against the wagon, tugging at this and pulling at that.

“What is below the corn?”

“Ma'am, if there is anything beneath it, the Continental army has need of it.”

Mama said nothing, only stared into Henry's face as the color rose up his neck in sharp contrast to his coppery red hair. “Perhaps I don't want to know what's in those barrels.”

“A wise decision, Mistress Butler.”

She wagged a finger at him. “You learned too many of Elijah's tricks while you two were together. Now you take good care of my girls, or I will skin you alive!”

“Of course. I would prefer a firing squad to facing you if something happened to one of them.”

“Precisely. You'd best be leaving before I change my mind about allowing them on this mission. I already feel I've lost my good senses by going along with this … trickery.”

A few moments later, Henry took the first turn at driving, and Charity volunteered to sit among the barrels. Despite the uncomfortable position, she eventually slept, which in Delight's mind was impossible in the excitement.

She glanced up at the sky with its graying clouds. Although it could snow, she prayed it would wait until they returned. On the other hand, rain had a way of chilling one to the bone. “Do you think those two men will follow us?”

“Lass, they'd have to find us first.”

She shivered. “My thoughts are they'd be very angry.”

“And out for blood. Again, I say this venture is not for the fainthearted. I could still make arrangements to send ye and Charity back to Chesterfield.”

She straightened on the seat despite the fact her back ached and walking looked more agreeable. “You are afraid of Papa?”

“And rightfully so. He once threatened to cut off my good leg if anything happened to one of his family.”

“But my company is worth any risk.”

He laughed heartily. “Are ye asking me to choose between my good leg and you?”

Teasing eased her heavy heart. “'Tis a small price to pay for a lady's company, don't you agree?”

“Are ye worth the trouble?”

“Papa thinks so.”
Do you, dear Henry?

He nodded and pressed his lips together. “Me Delight thinks highly of herself. Pride cometh before destruction, lass.”

“A woman that feareth the Lord shall be praised.”

Henry shifted his healing leg, and she sensed it stiffened. “I would like very much to drive now,” Delight said. “Your leg needs a rest.”

“I think not. It is fine,” he said. “Although we could quote scripture all the way to Philadelphia to pass the hours.”

“I am sure that would make Charity and Mama very happy. Remember is most likely praying for that very ideal.”

“Why don't we recite the Song of Solomon?” His voice rang with laughter.

“Henry, what a shameful suggestion.”
Those thoughts traverse through my mind enough without reminders.
She crossed her arms across her chest in feigned annoyance. “Perhaps I shan't speak to you at all until we return home.”

“Then ye can listen, for I have much to discuss about us.”

H
enry couldn't believe his daring, but he had experienced God's prompting to talk with Delight about their relationship. He sincerely doubted if she would jump from the wagon and walk home. She was far too committed to the patriot cause. And if she refused to listen, then obviously he'd misunderstood God's leading regarding their future together. His heart might be broken at the end of the journey and the rendezvous with Cavin Sullivan, but the Father had promised His abiding grace in times of adversity.

Delight perplexed Henry. She appeared to enjoy his conversation and they shared teasing readily, but her physical response to him fluctuated like the changing tides. She seemed to enjoy his embraces, then would pull away as if suddenly assaulted by guilt or remorse … or something. She might still have feelings for James, or perhaps she bore no strong feelings toward Henry other than friendship. In any event, he needed to have the answers.

“Delight, if not for this journey, I would be enlisting. I have no doubt that God placed me in your home for the purpose of understanding true liberty in Him and true freedom for men to govern themselves.” He glanced at her pale face. Did his topic disturb her this greatly?

“I am pleased we were used for this noble purpose.”

With only the sound of nature around them and the steady plop of the horses' hooves on the road, he continued. “Until I joined your family, I believed God intended the aristocrats to rule and the poorer classes to adhere to their mandates. I was convinced of this, even with the suffering of my own family in Ireland and the testimony of my friend Adam about his meager life in the slums of London.”

“I'm sorry for all you have experienced.” The earnestness in her voice showed her compassion. “Previously the war felt like an adventure or a diversion, a topic to debate. I saw soldiers in British-occupied Boston, with all of their pomp and circumstance, arrest men and escort them away. I heard men and women shout of the unfairness and ministers speak against the British from the pulpit, but the situation angered rather than frightened me. Even when I carried messages in Boston—”

“Ye what?” Henry must have heard incorrectly.

She massaged her arms. “Papa did not tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

Delight moistened her lips. “I passed messages for the patriots while we lived in Boston.”