The Promise Page 25

  “Indeed it is,” Caleb agreed.

  “I would have stopped running some time before, knowing just how far a musket can shoot, but not John. We were long out of range before the boy was satisfied. After we rested, we went back and took up positions to the south where all the heavy fighting was. We fought until they called the retreat. And I am proud to report, John fought harder than most.”

  “We found John's coat,” Caleb said.

  “His coat? Well, well, the boy sure could have used that coat.” Levi tipped his bottle and drank again. “He took it off to cool the sweat after we ran. We went back for it, but we did not have much time to look. Lee came along asking for men willing to ride after Cornwallis. He said the British were expecting to meet up with the Tories in the south. We were happy to be on horses instead of on foot. But it was a tedious search with great hardship and constant fear of being discovered. We even ...well, it is best you not hear all of it.”

  “Did you find Cornwallis?” Uriah asked.

  “Aye, at Cross Creek. Now that was a fine joke. With the heavy spring rain, Cross Creek had become a raging river. We might have followed still, but when they saw us coming, they cut the ropes holding the only bridge, so General Lee said we should return to Morgan's command.”

  “Morgan?” Uriah asked. “Was John not under the command of Von Steuben?”

  “It is a peculiar thing about this war. A man may be under the command of three in the course of one bloody battle. Morgan marched us south to Camden.”

  “Why Camden?” Caleb asked.

  “The British had a supply fort there and Greene aimed to relieve the British of it. We passed Charlotte, marched through Salisbury, and then on through Flatrock, where we were joined with the Delaware Blues. Fine boys, the Delaware Blues, very fine boys.

  We faced Lord Rawdon and fought him daily for eight or ten days. We crossed the Catawba, made little progress and crossed it back again.” Levi smiled, “Once John and I were bathing in the river and got caught naked when Lord Rawdon gave the command to fire at us.”

  When the handle of the door moved and Mary entered the room, all the men stood up except for Matthew. “How is he?” Uriah asked.

  “He has been bathed, fed, and is asleep. He rests peacefully.”

  “Mary, do you remember Mister Moore from our village in England?” Uriah asked.

  “I do.” Mary walked over to Levi and put her cheek against his, “Thank you, Mister Moore.”

  “The pleasure is mine,” Levi said, blushing slightly.

  Mary smiled, “Are you in the mood for a warm bath before dinner?”

  “I jumped in the river before we arrived,” Levi answered.

  “Bathed in the river? In November with ice along the banks?”

  “Mrs. Carson, bathing in the river comes second nature to a soldier.”

  “I suppose it does. Tell me, Mister Moore, have you never married?”

  “No, Mrs. Carson, I have not met the proper lady.”

  “I see,” she said, returning to Uriah. “Well, I must leave you. I am making preparations for a fine ball now that John has come home to us.” Mary hugged her husband, walked out of the room and closed the door.

  “Did you see that look?” Caleb asked his brother.

  Uriah laughed, “Mister Moore, you have just become the subject of my wife's next joke.”

  “Surely not,” Levi stammered, “I have heard much of her jokes.”

  “What's this?” asked Caleb. “A man who has bravely fought the war is in fear of a small, unassuming woman. I will ask my youngest daughters to defend you.”

  “From what I have heard, I will need defending,” Levi said, sitting back down.

  “I believe you left off telling about fighting the British naked, Mister Moore,” Uriah said.

  “Mister Carson, I implore you, do not divulge that information to your wife.”

  “Never, my good man. I enjoy my wife's jokes immensely, but I would never instigate them. You were telling of the war.”

  “We finally pulled back about six miles to French Tavern where we lay for four or five days more. The July heat was as unbearable as any I have seen and even the shade of the trees offered little com­fort. It was there that John fell ill.”

  “July? But that is seven months ago,” Uriah said.

  “I left him in the care of the attendants. I fought on until Cornwallis surrendered in October.”

  “Did you go back to get John then?”

  “I assumed he had gone home. I was on my way here to pay my respects when I found him walking along the side of the road. That was four days ago.”

  “He walked, do you think, all the way from Camden?” Uriah asked.

  “Aye, he did. He talks about it in his sickness,” Levi answered. “He ate berries when he could get them and shot rabbits when the fever did not take him.”

  “But it must be nearly three hundred miles to Camden,” noted Caleb.

  “All these months, he has been out there in the heat of summer and the cold of win­ter with nothing but the food he could forage. I would have died a thousand times had I known it,” Uriah said.

  “MISTER DUNLOP IS ONE of the few men who can still afford to buy our jewels, albeit with a little encouragement,” Caleb said, closing the gate to the corral behind the two horses he and his brother had just unsaddled. “How long have you known?”

  Uriah brushed the dirt off his pants. “For years. I happened upon his secret quite by accident and he spent nearly an hour begging me not to tell Mary. I rather enjoyed it.”

  “Will he give the diamonds to his mistress?”

  “I doubt we will see them around the neck of Mrs. Dunlop.”

  Caleb started up the back steps behind his brother, “It is a very fine day for Mary's ball. It is pleasant for March and John has recovered well.”

  “Times have changed. We will not see the liveliness we once did. Even our musicians are short members.”

  When the guests arrived the differences were profound. Candles were lit on the walls, fresh flowers were in abundance and servants still tended the needs of the guests. But the guests arrived in smaller numbers. The clothing was not so elegant, men were scarce and the food was not so grand. Yet Mahala was once more filled with the sounds of music, dancing and laughter. Mary was pleased.

  Most of the Carsons and Hendersons were seated along the west wall of the assembly room. The younger ones mingled with the guests and danced to the music.

  “Matthew still taps his toe to the music,” remarked Caleb.

  Uriah leaned forward, waited until Matthew turned his eyes toward him and lifted his glass. Matthew glanced down wearily at his tea, sighed, lifted the cup, and smiled.

  “Oh, Caroline,” Etta frowned sitting next to Matthew and glaring at her. “Where have you been?”

  “Mama...” Caroline started.

  “Oh, never mind all that now.”

  Caroline rolled her eyes.

  Once again, Caleb tried to keep track of all four of his blooming older daughters. He saw Seth take a big breath, put his head down and head straight for Roselee and Maralee, even though neither preferred him still. Suzanne and Rachel had each taken the hand of an ill-prepared boy and pulled him on to the dance floor, and the “babies” were once more pestering Abraham Cook. At least they were still too young to be interested in the opposite sex.

  Caleb sighed and headed for Effie and Heather. Uriah and Elizabeth watched as the girls looked up at their father with sad eyes. Abra­ham Cook leaned down so each twin could kiss him good night, released their hands, watched them scoot up the stairs, and then gladly turned his attention to a woman near by.

  Elizabeth scooted over in to Caleb’s empty chair and carefully studied Uriah’s face. “We must speak of Mary. We are her caretakers and we must not avoid the responsibility. Do you see how your son holds her so she will not fall?”

  “Is it time?” Uriah asked, looking across the room at his wife.

  “Aye,” El
izabeth answered, “it is.”

  Uriah wrinkled his brow and brought his hand up to rub his forehead. “How long has she been suffering?”

  “I cannot be sure. I did not discover it until just after John was drafted.”

  “That long? I did not notice until a month ago. Perhaps I could have done something had I known.”

  “I asked Matthew and he said he knew of no cure.”

  Uriah’s shoulders slumped, “When did I stop watching her?”

  “When John needed you more.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me, Elizabeth?”

  “Because it was far kinder to Mary. She could not bear to let you see her suffer.”

  Uriah watched Mary attempt to keep up a conversation with Mrs. Dunlop and saw John tighten his grip as she wavered.

  Elizabeth took hold of Uriah’s hand. “It is time and you are the only one who can release her. She suffers, Uriah, and I can no longer watch it. Take her to her rest. She will go if you take her.”

  Uriah nodded and looked at Mary's face again. He stood up, opened the study door, went to the desk and poured rum in a glass. Then he took it to Mary, returned her weak smile, lifted her hand and wrapped her fingers around the glass.

  Mary raised her eyebrows and passed the glass under her nose. When she grimaced in pain, she quickly lifted the glass and drank. “But I have no sleeve with which to wipe my mouth,” she said, grinning up at her husband.

  “Here, Mama,” John said, handing her a handkerchief and taking the glass. He quickly set it on a tray held by a nearby server.

  Mary dabbed at her lips and tilted her head to one side, “It is not the first you know.”

  “It is not?” Uriah asked.

  “I am a fortunate woman. My husband does not often exam­ine the contents of his closet.”

  “Mary, I would never have guessed. But my dear, we must not let our guests suspect. What will they think of us?” He leaned down and carefully scooped her frail body into his arms. The company parted and allowed him to pass. Then they watched him carry her up the stairs. John followed with Caleb and Elizabeth right behind him.

  The two older sets of twins and Caroline also went up the stairs and waited on the balcony while the music changed to the beautiful, newly written hymn that was sweeping the country.

  Uriah walked to the bed and gently laid her down. Then he covered her with a quilt and sat down beside her.

  “John needs a good wife,” she said.

  “I will see to it.”

  “I am so happy for Caroline. Now that Alfred’s name has been posted, she can marry her Frenchman.”

  He gently brushed a curl off her forehead. “I will see to that as well.” He watched John go to the closet, find the bottle of rum and pour some in a glass.

  Her eyes widened when she heard a man with a Scottish accent softly singing the hymn.

  “It is Abraham Cook, Mama,” John whispered, gently lifting her head so she could drink. When she finished, he kissed her on the cheek.

  When Elizabeth and Caleb moved close on the other side of the bed, Mary reached out to take her sister’s hand. “You will remember?”

  “I will remember,” Elizabeth promised. She leaned over and kissed Mary’s forehead.

  Mary tried to giggle, “I fear I will go to God as drunk as a sailor.”

  John smiled, “I doubt He will mind this once, Mama.”

  She turned then to Uriah, “You will go with John to see the land beyond the Appalachian Mountains?”

  “Yes, my love. I‘ll not let him out of my sight.”

  Mary tried to take a deep breath but only part of her lungs filled. “Then it is all settled,” she whispered.

  “It is settled, my love,” Uriah whispered. “It is all right to leave us, Mary. We will be fine.” He took hold of her limp hand, brought it to his lips and kissed her fingers.

  “Thank you for finding me.” She smiled. And then she slowly dismissed her last breath.

  He watched as the pain left her face, then wrapped his arms around her and brought her to him. “Sleep in peace, Sweetheart,” he whispered. “You have loved us all very well.”

  CHAPTER 12

  Uriah was only forty-five years old when Mary left him.

  People came from miles around and all walks of life to pay their respects to the Mrs. Carson who delighted so many with her love and her jokes. She was laid to rest not far from the house, on a hill so the flood waters would never touch her grave. A large carved stone was placed at the head. It displayed the Rodes crest prominently above her name. For two months, people came to lay flowers on her resting place.

  Finally, it was time for John and Uriah to see the other side of the Appalachian Mountains.

  Uriah stood alone on the front veranda of the house, looking out across the river. Landholders were ending their day's work, horses grazed, and cows moved toward barns to be milked. The fullness of spring was all around Mahala. The trees were green, the sky was blue, and the flowers bloomed in shades of red, pink, and yellow. A soft breeze swayed the long grass and the river again bustled with activity.

  Elizabeth opened one of the huge double doors, slipped out and closed the door be­hind her. Smiling up at him, she slid her hand around his arm and lightly hugged him. “You will need this for your journey,” she said, handing him Mary's Bible.

  Uriah stared at the book for a time before he took it. “I confess I had forgotten it. I would not have been pleased to find I had left it behind.”

  “Mary did not forget.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She asked me to see that you got it, and to give you a message when your grieving had ended.”

  “Indeed?” he asked.

  “I remember her words precisely. She said, ‘If you wish to find her in the next life, you will find the way in the pages of her book.’ She waits for you, you know. You will see, she has marked the way.” Elizabeth quickly went on, “I cannot remember a time when Mary did not keep this Bible with her. It was your mother's book.”

  Uriah wrinkled his brow and turned to look at her. “You know?”

  “Mary told me all of it.”

  “When?”

  “Do you recall the day I re­fused to leave Mahala in the face of Cornwallis because I did not fear the British? She took me into the music room, played the song I had heard her play so very often and told me. She wanted me to understand the evil some men do in the name of the King. I assure you, when she finished, I was pre­pared to leave Mahala immediately. Thankfully, Cornwallis turned east.”

  “She did not tell me you knew.”

  “There was much Mary did not tell you.”

  “There is more?”

  Elizabeth‘s eyes sparkled with delight, “She knew about the jewels.”

  “What?”

  “Mary was listening at the door of your father’s study after the strangers left the house.”

  “Then she knew...all these years?”

  “Yes,” Elizabeth said. “On the ship, she noticed your cloak was heavier than it had been. She broke the sewing, counted them and sewed them back in the hem. Then she told me. In the begin­ning, I wanted to tell you we knew, but Mary delighted in waiting to see what the two of you would do. She was right, we have enjoyed ourselves greatly.”

  At last, Uriah smiled, “Then you knew about Aunt Charlotte.”

  “Aye and that Matthew helped you murder her. Shall I show you how to remove the foot of the statue?”

  Uriah's jaw dropped, “Even that?”

  Elizabeth curtsied slowly, grinned at him and went back inside the house.

  “Even that,” he mumbled, turning to look out across the land again. “Can it be possible? All these years you knew, Mary?”

  Uriah began to remember how hard he worked to keep her from suspecting. How she never really questioned where the money was coming from and how she had nearly guessed he had supplied the jewels that impugned the Redcoat with the scare on his face. At last, Uriah laughed. “My
dear, I do believe you have outdone yourself. You have truly out-witted me.”

  Elizabeth and Caleb watched Uriah through the window of the assembly room. “Even now, she puts a smile back on our faces,” said she.

  “I have not heard his laughter since Mary left us.”

  “Now, he will always smile when he remembers her.”

  Caleb rubbed the back of his neck, “We should not have indulged her, you know. She has left us with six daughters, each with the propensity to play jokes. However are we to manage with six Marys?”

  THROUGH A BREAK IN the trees on the crest of the Blue Ridge Mountains, John pulled on the reins and stopped his horse to look out over the valley.

  “We will come back to Mahala often,” Uriah announced, stopping his horse beside his son.

  “That we will, but not if we have to walk.”

  Uriah smiled and touched the lump in his pocket. “We will not need to walk­, I assure you.”

  “It is beautiful.”

  “It is even more beautiful than my be­loved England, I think. Nevertheless, we will go to England some day.”

  “And why is that?”

  “There is much I have not told you, but you will have to see England to understand. And, I would like to see the head­stones of my parents once more.”

  “We will see England then,” John said. “Papa. Do you still love England?”

  “Aye, I love her still and Scotland. Scotland gave me Mary. We will see Scotland as well, agreed?”

  “Agreed. What is it you have not yet told me, precisely?”

  “Son, we will have many a night with little to do but answer all your questions.” Uriah looked thoughtfully up at the tops of the trees. “My given name is Jonathan Samuel Rodes. I have not said it in so long, I have forgotten how it sounds.”

  “And my name?” John asked, turning to watch his father's face.

  “We named you Jonathan Samuel Rodes as well.”

  “And John Carson?”

  “Indeed. And if you should have a son – should any woman be thoughtless enough to have you, that is.”

  “I will name him Jonathan Samuel Rodes, or Sam Carson – if any woman will have me.”