Who are you looking for?" asked Rose.
"I came for Mary," answered the sergeant, to Jake's great but unspoken relief.
"She's gone south to New York with the family this afternoon."
The sergeant cast a furtive look down the hallway; had he not been so preoccupied, he might have caught Jake spying in the shadows near the banister.
"You'll do," he said, putting a hand on the door as Rose tried to push it closed. "Easy girl, my stomach has given me a load of trouble all day."
"Mary's not here! Out!" said Rose sharply.
"There's no one here to answer your screams," said the sergeant, pushing his way into the room. "I'll tell anyone who asks that you invited me in, wench." He kicked the door closed behind him.
Jake leapt up to the landing and went down the hall as quietly but as quickly as possible. He bent and eased the latch downwards, slipping his other hand to his boot for his knife. Then he swung the door open and sprang inside — just in time to see Rose's own solution to the dilemma: a fully loaded chamber pot, which crashed with great and instant effect on the sergeant's head.
"You drunken bastard," Rose was telling the unconscious interloper. "I would sooner go to bed with the devil than let a Tory kiss me." "I'm glad to hear you still feel that way," said Jake. "You!" "I thought you needed rescuing. Obviously I got here a little late."
" Don't get any ideas yourself," said Rose, clutching her hands in front of her nightgown.
There are few more beautiful sights than a patriotic woman whose breasts bulge the top of her white cotton gown and curls flow softly from her loosely-tied night cap. But Jake could not afford even a brief interlude tonight — besides, there might be another chamber pot lurking beneath the bed.
" I need your help," he said. " Are you still with us? "
" I'd give up my life to help our Cause."
" Get dressed and take anything you value with you. I'll wait in the hall. "
" What should I do with him? "
Jake leaned over and inspected the sergeant. " If the smell doesn't kill him, he'll sleep for a couple of hours. We'll both be long gone by then. "
The Mary whom the sergeant had sought was the farmer's wife, a fact Rose found great pleasure in relaying once she was dressed. Mary Stoneman had lectured the family's " girls " often on the need for virtue, and had especially hounded Rose when her attachment to the apprentice was hinted. The unmasking of her hypocrisy was therefore a victory on the order of Washington's at Trenton, and Rose found it difficult to control her enthusiasm as she led Jake down the stairs to the front hallway. She had dressed in a fine blue robe dress with white petticoats — obviously not her everyday dress, and one Jake suspected quite rightly had once belonged to the woman she was criticizing.
The outfit was mildly hooped, attractively showing off the sway of her hips. A knit shawl — prepared by her own hand — covered her shoulders, and a puffed mobcap sat atop her fixed curls. Jake now realized a second chamber pot would not have been discovered had he decided to dally, but Liberty rarely brooks delay.
Even as the crow flies, it was at least a dozen miles from Stoneman's to Cortlandville and Old Put's headquarters beyond. With time so critical, Rose needed some way of traveling other than her legs, as shapely as they might be.
"We need a carriage or a wagon," Jake told her, lighting a second candle off hers. " Where does your master keep them? "
" The family took all the wagons when they left for New York City," she told him. " They ran away and left me to tend to these Tory thieves."
" Can you ride a horse? "
" Sir," she said indignantly, " do I look like a city girl? I can ride a horse as well as any woman-and I would bet as well as you."
" You may get a chance to prove that bet," said Jake. " Come, let's steal a pair from our friends."
His plan was simple. There had been no guard posted in the barnyard, the Tories deciding to concentrate their resources on the perimeter. All one had to do was walk in very quietly, untie a pair of likely looking horses, and walk out.
Jake led Rose to the bush where he had stashed the musket. Her grip when he gave it to her made him think the young woman had taken militia training.
" You stand at the doorway — fire it only if they wake."
" We should kill them all while they sleep," said Rose.
" Trust me," said Jake, patting her shoulder before putting out her candle with his fingers.
The Tory troop had arranged itself in symmetrical fashion against the barn wall to the right, sleeping on field cots in apparent contentment. Undoubtedly they had been tired by the march back from Salem, during which they'd had to walk their bloated horses.
The effects of the herb had worn off by now, the horses' over-stimulated digestive tracts having worked all afternoon to evacuate the poison. They did not seem to bear any grudge toward their tormentor; indeed, the first animal he approached nuzzled against him, apparently remembering that Jake had given him sugar earlier in the day.
The stallion's reins were looped over an iron ring at the side of the stall. Jake placed the candle on a post next to three freshly oiled saddles and quietly prepared the animal to be ridden.
He had just rubbed the neck of a second horse in an attempt to persuade him to accept his role as a Revolutionary gracefully when a loud voice outside challenged Rose.
" The sergeant needs you in the house," he heard her say. "There are American thieves afoot."
Jake did not hear the reply to this, if there was one, for it was drowned out by the report of a musket. Cursing, he jumped up on the second horse's unsaddled back, grabbing at the reins of the first animal and kicking his mount toward the door.
As the horse leaped into action, Jake lost his grip on the other's rein. But his lunge brought his hand to the post where the candle was, and a sudden stroke of inspiration made him swat the candle to the ground. It fell against a pile of straw which had earlier sopped up some of the excess wax used on the saddles. Worn by the breeze, the candle's flame fluttered, unsure whether to exert itself. Then it remembered its patriotic duty, bucking itself up like a private enlisted for the duration — bold yellow tongues shot up to the rafters.
" Fire!" yelled Jake as he prodded his horse toward the door.
Confusion erupted with the flames. The horses screamed; men fell from their beds shouting. Jake held tight to the neck of his mount as he followed his instincts, plunging toward the barely opened door.
They had just crossed the threshold when a dark shadow leapt at his side. Jake turned to push it away — then realized it was Rose.
" You took your time," she told him curtly, pulling herself up behind him. " I thought I would have to hold off the entire troop."
" You'd have beaten them, I'm sure," yelled Jake as he hunkered down on the horse and headed for the road.
" The Tories may realize something's wrong if I don't make it back to jail quickly," Jake told her when they finally stopped two miles up the road. " We'll have to split up."
" Be off then. I know my way to Robinson's Bridge where the Continentals are camped."
" Old Put's house is in the village of Peekskill," said Jake, slipping off the horse. " It should be obvious from the guards. Remember everything I ' ve told you. And if anyone stops you — "
" I'm not a simpleton. A child could deliver your message successfully. "
" Putnam won't believe a child," said Jake. He reached into his shirt and drew out his Segallas. " Show him this pocket pistol as soon as you arrive. He'll know it's mine. There isn't another one like it in the colonies."
" The general knows you that well? "
" The old man and I have sung a few songs together at Fraunces Tavern. His ' Maggie Lauder ' is quite good." Jake looked down the road. The Tories had not mounted a pursuit, undoubtedly concentrating their efforts on saving the barn and their horses. They seemed to have been successful — the telltale glow such a great fire would produce was notably absent.
" A Dutchman named Claus van Clynne was to meet me on the road tonight and failed to turn up. It's likely he's still with Putnam. You'll know him if you see him — he's as fat as a pregnant sow and complains twice as much. He has a red beard that fills much of his chin and chest besides; he pulls it whenever he thinks over a knotty problem, which is often. He's a good man, though; you can trust him. "
" I doubt I would ever trust a Dutchman."
" Trust no one else," said Jake sternly. " If you do meet up with him, tell him to go to Albany immediately. He'll recognize the gun as well."
" You've sang with him, too? "
" That is an experience almost too terrible to imagine," said Jake. A dim twilight was starting to invade the darkness; he could see her face clearly.
Would she succeed? A great deal depended on her getting to Putnam. Jake would do his best to sabotage the Tory efforts from inside their camp, but the guard must be alerted in case he failed. Her information would aid them greatly, especially as it foretold when the assault would be launched, and warned Putnam to guard Busch's farm, where Jake thought the assault would be launched from.
Freedom often calls upon common folk to play a noble role in Her struggle. Had it not been for the war — had it not been for her fortuitous meeting with Jake — this young woman would have spent her life as a simple housewife, bearing life's commonplace dangers with her quiet courage.
Now she would have to prove herself the equal of Paul Revere's midnight army, the fifty or sixty anonymous men and women whom the silversmith had rallied to save Concord and Lexington. Jake reached up to give her a kiss of encouragement. While he meant to aim for her cheek, she turned her lips toward him; they met in a warm, lingering moment fired by the passion of a shared cause.
" Hurry now," he told her, patting the horse's bare back. " Don't fail me."
" I won't," she said, spurring the steed away.