“Sick enough that he doesn’t ken if I’m afoot or horseback. The surgeon’s been treating him with yarrow and willow bark. General Harlow’s been by a time or two.”
Had he? Fifers and drummers were no mere musicians but the heartbeat of the army, some said. Drummers communicated orders from superior officers through different beats and rhythms, even amid the chaos of battle. Mae had become accustomed to hearing their music in Chatham and Lowantica Valley. Often they were mere boys, though drum majors were men.
“Are you safe here on Sutler’s Row, Lucy?”
“Safe?” Lucy whistled and Petey emerged from the tent. “I’vea mighty fine guard. He’ll take a piece out of anyone who means me harm.”
As if sensing her praise, Petey wagged his mottled tail and hurried to his mistress’s side.
Looking past them, Mae noted the sinking sun, wishing she had a watch. “’Twill soon be suppertime. Please send word if your Isham worsens or if you need anything, Lucy. Anything at all.”
thirty
My Dear Son ... remember that you are accountable to your Maker for all your words and actions.
Abigail Adams
The officers’ mess, or dining room, was just large enough for a dozen around the trestle table. Rhys always sat at one end opposite General Clinton while the officers’ wives sat interspersed with their husbands. Here there was an air of gravity that bespoke the precariousness of their mission, though the men seemed careful to not talk solely about the war. Mostly listening, Mae missed the easy talk and laughter at Jon and Joanna’s table, especially their children’s.
To her surprise, Catherine Kersey invited her for tea in future, though tonight she looked unwell and pushed the chicken pie around her plate, even declining the watermelon served for dessert. Was she ill or suffering the effects of hotter weather?
“I’m a bit queasy,” she murmured, setting down her fork.
“I’ve a small tin of mint tea in my quarters, if you’d like,” Mae told her quietly as the men withdrew to the room’s opposite end to smoke near open windows.
“Thank you kindly, but nothing I’ve tried helps ... and I maynot feel relief for several more months.” Catherine turned rosy. “My husband is determined to find the best midwife along the Hudson when it’s time.”
What?Mae’s warm congratulations held concern. To birth a baby in such rustic conditions in the middle of the wilderness...
“I hope to be on hand should you need me.” Alice finished her watermelon and brought a napkin to her lips. “Though Colonel Wentz has said he’s taking me elsewhere should the danger be high.”
Catherine sighed. “Major Kersey has said the same, though the nearest settlement resembling a town is Albany, some distance from here. I’m not keen on my firstborn making his or her entrance anywhere near a prison for Loyalists and the like.”
“Perhaps you could stay at the Van Schaick mansion near there, owned by a Continental officer and far safer, given it’s on a small island between the Mohawk and Hudson Rivers.”
Mae listened, pondering all the possibilities. Her ongoing prayer was that Fort Montgomery would endure and remain the Hudson River’s first line of defense—along with Fort Clinton opposite Popolopen Creek, a quarter of a mile away.
“And you, Mrs. Harlow?” Alice asked. “Where will you go if the British reach us?”
“Likely to my brother’s farm in the valley, if that can be safely done.”
“Is that where your sister is now?” Catherine asked. At Mae’s nod, she exchanged a look with Alice. “She seems of a rather ... temperamental disposition.”
“Coralie is rather high-strung,” Mae admitted, her longtime wish of an easier, more agreeable sister resurfacing.
How could she explain the rivalry that had existed between them since childhood, at least on Coralie’s part? Wanting to be more like Mae and feeling as the eldest sister she got the best—even marriage—while Coralie herself got seconds in everything.
“Perhaps she’ll find New York to her liking.” Catherine dabbedat her brow with a handkerchief. “As for me, I’ve had quite enough of this terribly close room.”
“So, ladies,” General Clinton asked as they rose from the table, “what are your impressions of Fort Montgomery now that you’ve bettered it by being here?”
“The view is unsurpassed,” Mae answered with a smile.
“My compliments to the cook and baker,” Alice replied. “The fare is quite good, far better than we had on the journey coming here.”
Catherine said nothing, just put a hand to her waist as if debating whether the delicious fare would soon reappear in the nearest chamber pot.
Rhys watched Mae rise from the table, outwardly serene though she’d been unusually quiet during the meal. If he’d had any qualms about her adjustment to fort life, he set them aside, though it was still early. She glanced at him as the ladies moved toward the door, her pale green gown trailing behind her on the plank floor. Did she sense he was wanting to finish matters and join her?
