“And if you don’t?” Her quiet question hung between them, begging for a reassuring reply.
“Think nothing of it. Sometimes I’m waylaid.”
She reached for her stays. “Is this foray today especially dangerous?”
“All of New York is dangerous, Mae.” He expelled a breath. “The latest intelligence says much of New York is on fire. Fort Ticonderoga fell first, then Fort Edward, and now Fort Ann. Fort Stanwix to the west is under siege as we speak. Burgoyne seems to be delayed, mayhap at Fort Edward or some unknown point upriver, so we’re waiting, gathering more intelligence, all the while suspecting a strike from the British below us.”
He’d confided in her at last, but it made him all the more knotted.
“Might the British leave us alone? Take the fight elsewhere?”
“Not when they want complete control of the Hudson River. Their aim is to cut off rebellious New England from the rest of the states and thereby stamp out all treason.”
England, once the mother country, wanted to crush the American spirit that had birthed Bunker Hill and the ferocious battles of Lexington and Concord. Other battles, too many to name—including White Plains and Lake Champlain and Trenton and Fort Lee—had brought a frightful loss of life and further irreversible division.
He knew Mae had read about past engagements in newspapers, every last detail. But here, newspapers and broadsides new and old were kept at headquarters and not as widely circulated. Not all soldiers could read. Drill books and military manuals ruled the day instead.
Once dressed, they sat down together as was their custom before beginning the day and breaking their fast. He opened their Bible, the family Bible she’d brought from Chatham, and read aloud from the Song of Solomon. He hoped his low, steady voice assuaged her despite the present turmoil. “Set me as a seal upon thine heart, as a seal upon thine arm: for love is strong as death.”
While the afternoon wore away, Lucy worked her intricate stitches on General George Clinton’s coat. As Fort Clinton’s commander across Popolopen Creek, he’d admired his brother’s new garment and wanted one for himself. The highest compliment, Mae thought. She stopped her own stitching to marvel at the decorative work Lucy had wrought on the cuffs and lapels in silver thread.
“He promised to keep us in pewter buttons henceforth. I do prefer pewter to brass against all that indigo blue.” Lucy never seemed more content than when her needle was in hand. “We’re about out of cloth, though. A sorry thought.”
“Perhaps another supply train is coming.”
“The last was ambushed by the King’s Men.”
“Oh?” Lucy was a fount of information, but whether it was fiction or fact Mae didn’t know. Rumors were thick as flies in a fort.
Lucy stopped sewing long enough to heave a sigh. “And Petey’s been mighty restless.”
Petey? Mae bit her lip lest she laugh. The faithful cur lay in the half-open door as if guarding his mistress, giving a throaty growl on occasion.
“You might have heard of General Howe’s fox terrier?” Lucy said. “Follows him everywhere, Lila does. Word is she delivers messages between enemy outposts. Even has a collar marked with Howe’s name.”
Mae stared at her in disbelief.
“General Washington has his own hounds at home if not in the field. Sweet Lips, True Love, and Venus are said to be his favorites.”
Mae burst into unladylike laughter. “You jest!”
“God’s truth,” Lucy said reverently, looking heavenward. “What’s more, General Lee has his Spado. He even ordered the hound onto a chair to present his paw to Mrs. Abigail Adams last spring.”
Clutching her sides, Mae grew sore and slightly nauseous from amusement. “Petey is in good company, then.”
“I pay attention when he gets tetchy.”
“I don’t blame you,” Mae said, suddenly serious.
“Dogs don’t lie. Even the horses on Sutler’s Row are acting a bit fey and off their feed.” Lucy returned to her stitching with a frown. “Mark my word, the enemy will soon be at our door, and they will show no mercy.”
forty-two
The British are coming.
Paul Revere
The day began like any other. Hot as the inside of an iron skillet and just as sticky. Rhys had returned, only to go out on another foray after a few hours’ sleep, a meal, and a long meeting inside headquarters. Mae noted the activity, Lucy’s words earlier in the week an unwelcome refrain.
