Part 8 (1/2)
”I was with Maxwell at Germantown,” the remembrance of the scene coming vividly to mind, ”when you came up with your ragged fellows. You have certainly taught them how to fight.”
”There was no teaching necessary; all the trouble I ever have is in holding them back,” his face darkening. ”Every man who rides with me knows what war means here in the Jerseys; they have seen their homes in flames, their women and children driven out by Hessian hirelings. We fight for life as well as liberty, and when we strike we strike hard. But enough of that. We have sufficient confidence in each other by now to talk freely. What did you discover in Philadelphia? No more than I could tell you myself, I'll warrant.”
I told the story, while he listened silently, his eyes alone expressing interest. As I ended, he slowly lit his pipe, and sat there smoking, apparently thinking over what I had said.
”Have I learned anything of importance?” I asked finally.
”For Was.h.i.+ngton, yes; but very little unknown to me. So you met Mistress Claire, eh? The little minx! 'Tis a month since I heard of her.”
CHAPTER IX
TANGLING THREADS
My surprise at this unexpected reference to the Lady of the Blended Rose, almost prevented utterance. What could this partisan ranger know of the girl? How could he even have identified her from my vague reference?
”Why do you say that?” I asked eagerly. ”I did not mention the lady's name.”
”There was no cause for you to do so,” and the grim mouth smiled. ”No one else in Philadelphia would have turned the trick so neatly; besides the fact that your opponent was Grant would have revealed the ident.i.ty of the girl.”
”You know them both then?”
”Fairly well; he was a boy in these parts, an' I have shod his riding horse many a time. A headstrong, domineering, spoiled lad he was, and quarrelsome. Once I gave him a sound thras.h.i.+ng in this very shop, an'
when his father called me to task for it the next day he went home with a broken collar-bone. That was ten years before the war, an' we have not spoken pleasantly since. A hard man was Frederick Grant, an' none of his blood ever forgave an injury. Once the boy's company of Queen's Rangers raided this shop, but fortunately I was not here.”
”But Mistress Mortimer,” I interrupted, ”is her family also from this neighborhood?”
”To the northeast of here, near Locust Grove; the properties of the two families adjoin each other, an' I have heard there is distant kins.h.i.+p between them, although if that be true all that was good in the strain must have descended to the one branch, an' all the evil to the other. Day and night could be no different. Colonel Mortimer is a genial, pleasant gentleman, an' a loyal friend, although we are in arms against each other. To tell the truth I half believe his heart is with the Colonies, although he cast his fortunes with the King. He even has a son in the Continental Army.”
”On Lee's staff,” I interrupted. ”The daughter told me he was a twin brother.”
”Yes, an' as great a rogue as the girl, with the same laughing blue eyes.”
”And Mistress Claire,” I questioned, ”on which side is she?”
”Can you ask that after having met her as a Lady of the Blended Rose?
Pshaw, man, I could almost give you a list of the loyalist dames who make sport for the British garrison, an' Mistress Claire is not least in rank or beauty among them. What else could you expect of a young girl when her father wears the green an' white, while her lover has made a reputation hereabout with his hireling raiders?”
”You mean Grant?”
”Certainly; they have been engaged from childhood, though G.o.d pity the poor girl if they ever marry. His work in the Jerseys has been almost as merciless as that of 'Red' f.a.gin, an' 't is even whispered about they ride together at times. I doubt if she knows the whole truth about him, though she can scarcely deem him an angel even at that. Surely you never supposed her on our side?”
”She helped me,” I insisted, ”knowing who I was, and even said she wished my cause well.”
”The inconsistency of a woman; perhaps the two had had some misunderstanding, an' she was glad enough to outwit the fellow.”
”No, 't was not that, I am sure; I could read truth in her eyes.”
”In Claire's eyes!” he laughed outright. ”Oh, I know the innocent blue of them, and warn you not to trust such blindly. Other men have thought the same, an' found out they read wrongly when the end came--ay! many of them. When she was but a slip of a la.s.s I found out her eyes played merry tricks, an' yet I love her as though she were my own daughter. An' she's a good girl in spite of all the mischief in her.”