Marna (34 page)

Leaning against the window, she looked closely at
the gambler, her eyes for the first time devoid of Matt's
image. For the first time in weeks, a genuine smile came to her lips. As she moved toward the bed, there was a
glimmering in her eyes that made Aaron watch her
warily. When she stopped a few feet away and asked,
"How did you know I was in a daydream, Aaron?"
something put him on his guard.

Watching her closely, he answered, "You're always
in a dreamworld, Marna."

She sat down on the edge of the bed and braced her
hands on either side of his waist. Smiling down at him,
she said softly, "Ah, but this time you don't know what
I was dreaming."

His lips curved wistfully. "I don't imagine you were
dreaming of me."

"Oh, but I was. I was thinking of Grandma and the
home place, and I got to wondering if you'd care to go
back there with me."

Surprise flickered in Aaron's eyes, and he leaned on
an elbow to gaze at her searchingly. "Do you mean it,
Marna? You're not teasing?"

"I mean it, Aaron. I think that we should try to
discover our real selves. It would be impossible to do so
in the life we live here. The hills have a way of clarifying things for a person. The country pushes aside unimportant things and emphasizes the values that are
necessary between a man and woman." Her face saddened. "Usually it works that way."

Aaron knew her last remark was in memory of her
dead husband. He held her away from him and
searched her face earnestly. "Are you sure, Marna? No
more memories between us?"

"I'm sure, Aaron. No more memories."

His laugh was a happy sound as he lay back on the
pillows, pulling her with him. His hands moved over
her body, and Marna closed her eyes, shutting out
Matt's face. Then the bedroom door banged open and
they pulled apart.

Egan's face and body shouted his anxiety as he stood over them. "Marna, get up and get dressed. You've got
to get out of Philadelphia and back to the hills. Washington and his men are just outside the city. All hell is
gonna break loose any minute."

Torn abruptly from the warm cocoon of Aaron's
arms, Marna could only sit and stare at her father.
Inanely, she complained, "But, Pa, it's going to rain
any minute."

His whole being bristling with his fear for her, Egan
snorted explosively, "Dammit, girl, what's wrong with
you? What's a little rain to a hill girl? Gettin' a little wet
is better than gettin' your head blown off. Now get
out of that bed and get dressed. I've sent orders to the
stable to have a mount waitin' for you. Take the alleys
until you come to the edge of town. Then find the
wagon road we came in on and follow it back to
Grandma's."

Scrambling out of the tumbled covers and wrapping
her robe around her, Marna exclaimed, "But what
about Betsy, and you and Aaron?"

"Betsy won't leave, and Aaron has to stay and help
me guard the house. There's a lot of money downstairs
in my safe, and I don't trust either army that might get
in here."

Aaron, hurrying into his clothes, gave her a reassuring smile. "Don't worry about anything, Marna. When
it's all over, I'll join you at your grandmother's. Nothing has changed, it's just pushed back a little."

Egan gave his arm an impatient tug. "Come on,
Aaron, let her get dressed and out of here." At the door
he called, "We'll be waiting in the parlor to tell you
good-bye."

The door snapped shut behind them, and Marna flew
to the wardrobe. Silken finery was tossed to the floor as
she searched for her buckskins. Something had told her
to hang on to them that day Egan had urged her to
throw them away. Her hands brushed the velvet soft ness of the leather, and she yanked them off the perfumed rod. She slid into them, quickly caught her hair
back with a ribbon, then hurried to Betsy's room.

As usual, Betsy's room was in total disorder. Gowns
of velvet and silk, in a confusion of color, lay all over
the room. Betsy sat on a sofa in a billow of lace and
chiffon, loading rifles and muskets. She looked up at
Marna's entrance and sprang to her feet, her arms
open.

"Oh, Betsy," Marna cried, rushing to her. They held
each other a moment, then pulled apart. Hooking her
arm in Marna's, Betsy steered their way back to the
door. "You mustn't linger, dear. Now I want you to be
careful on the trail, and don't worry about me and your
father. Just as soon as things calm down, we'll come
check on you. Bring you back to Philadelphia."

They clasped each other again, then Mama hurried
to the parlor.

She had just kissed Egan good-bye and turned to
Aaron when the first round of shots came from River
Street. Swearing under his breath, Aaron grabbed her
arm and hurried her down the stairs. Midway down, a
battering on the door brought them to a halt. They
stood frozen there a moment, then Aaron pulled her
swiftly down the remaining four stairs. He gazed wildly
around for a second, then jerked open a short door to a
small closet under the stairs. Pushing her inside, he
whispered, "Stay here until I come for you."

Her knees pulled up to her chin in the close quarters,
Marna waited, her breath fast and rasping. She heard
Aaron's feet flying back upstairs, then heard the door
burst open under the heavy ramming. As she crouched
in the darkness, barely breathing, a grating voice
shouted, "Halt!"

On the heels of the command, a rifle boomed.
Aaron's strangled cry came faintly, followed by the
sound of his body tumbling slowly, step by step. As
Marna stifled an agonized scream, another rifle thun dered at the top of the stairs. The acrid smell of gunpowder seeped into her hiding place, and she heard the
thump of a falling body close by.

She heard feet racing down the stairs, then Egan's
voice as he called her name frantically. She pushed
open the door and crawled out of the cubbyhole. Egan's
grasp was rough in his relief as he held her.

But he held her for only a moment. Then he was
pushing her toward the back door, urging, "Hurry,
Marna. Aaron is dead, and so is the Redcoat. You've
got to get out of here before someone comes investigating them shots."

Before she could catch her breath, he had wrenched
the door open, taken a fast look, then pushed her outside. She stood dazed a moment, not quite grasping the
speeding events. But the cool mist on her face had a
calming effect, and she hurried to the stables.

She found a clean-limbed mare saddled and waiting.
A filled grub sack was fastened to the saddle. Leading
the animal to a narrow back door, she peeked outside.
Nothing stirred. Pulling the mare outside, she swung
onto its back. Ready to head out, she sat a moment,
recalling Egan's instructions. Over the roar of the battle
two blocks down, there came dimly the sound of hurrying, trampling feet. Was it British soldiers? She slipped
from the mare and raced toward the end of the alley.
She peered down at River Street. It was alive with the
shoddy inhabitants who usually were born and died in
that section of town. Leading the pack who struggled to
get away from the fighting were the thin, worn-out prostitutes. Marna turned and raced back to her mount.
That horde would be heading down the alley any
minute. She would have to forget Pa's instructions.
That frenzied mob would kill her for the horse.

She sprang into the saddle and turned the mare to
her right She would be going in the wrong direction,
but it was the course that would lead her most quickly
into the shelter of the forest

With a quick jab of her heel she urged the horse
toward the woods. Gaining the cover of the trees, she
thanked God for the mist that rolled on the ground like
a cloud. Without its protection, she would have surely
been spotted.

As she circled the town, making her way to the road
that would take her back to the hills, the battle raged
on. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she worried about
the ones left behind

When Washington and his men marched into Philadelphia, the General found Howe and his soldiers waiting for them. They had barely reached the main street
when they were opened upon. Fire blazed out at them
from every building. A paralyzing fear for Marna
gripped Matt's breast. He grabbed Caleb's mount by
the bit and jerked it into an alley.

"What's wrong with you, Matt?" Caleb barked
angrily. "I was damn near thrown from the saddle."

"Caleb, Marna is just a couple of blocks from here.
I've got to get to her."

Caleb's face blanched under the black gunpowder
covering his face. "You got any plans?"

"I thought maybe I could slip down the alleys and go
in the back way. Would you stay here and cover this
entrance?"

Caleb nodded and moved the horse into the shadows
of the buildings. Both hands gripped his rifle as he
peered intently at the short piece of street open to his
view. Matt edged the stallion down the paved alley,
cursing the noise the shod hoofs made on the pavement.
With tall houses on either side, the sound bounced from
wall to wall. He'd be damned lucky if he wasn't discovered. He frowned uneasily. The misty gloom
shrouding the alley was a perfect place for a British
soldier to hide with his rifle.

The end of the first alley was only feet away when he
heard the thundering feet of the townspeople fleeing the
city. He lifted the reins, ready to make a dash across
the street and enter the alley where Marna lived. As he leaned forward to speak in Sam's ear, a volley of shots
exploded behind him. He swiveled in the saddle in time
to see Caleb tumble slowly to the ground.

"Dear God," he whispered hoarsely, jerking his
mount around. Racing toward the inert man, he was
out of the saddle before the animal came to a rearing
halt. Kneeling on one knee, he lifted Caleb partway in
his arms. The long hunter opened his eyes, bringing
them to focus on Matt with difficulty. "Sorry, Matt," he
whispered. "I don't know where they came from."

Matt eased him back down and spread open the
bullet-torn jacket. With his knife he slit open the buckskin shirt and laid bare the bleeding wound in the chest.
He choked back a groan. His friend was mortally
wounded. If he were to live, he had to get him to a
doctor fast.

Several precious minutes were wasted trying to
mount with Caleb in his arms. The stallion was
spooked at the smell of blood and sidled away each
time Matt attempted to put a foot in the stirrup. He
ended by first propping Caleb in the saddle, then hurriedly jumping on behind him. Supporting Caleb between his arms, he gathered up the reins. He moved out
into the street, hoping that friends were nearby.

Six soldiers from cabin four were crouched beneath a
high porch midway down the block. Recognizing the
big stallion, they immediately formed an escort. The
heavy fighting had moved to River Street, and they arrived shortly at where the doctor had set up his tent.
They carried Caleb inside, and the harried doctor, his
white coat stained red, bent over their friend. With
gentle fingers he prodded around the wound, then
shook his head at the anxiously waiting men. As he
dressed the jagged hole, he explained that the bullet
was too close to the lungs for him to go after it. He
apologized that he had no laudanum for the soldier's
pain. "I ran out half an hour ago. I'm afraid all we can
do is try to keep him as comfortable as possible."

Together they wrapped Caleb in two blankets and
laid him dangerously close to the fire. Still his teeth
chattered. While the men squatted helplessly around
him, the city grew quiet. After two hours of pitched
battle, Howe had been routed. Strewn about the streets
were many slain, from both sides. A weary soldier approached the handful of men around the fire. "Washington has set up headquarters in that fancy hotel down
on the corner. He wants everyone to report to him
there."

"The General can go wet a tree," one of the men
growled at the retreating back of the soldier.

Torn between staying with his dying friend and
searching for his wife, Matt stared down at his dangling
hands. Then Caleb stirred. Matt knelt over him. "How
are you, old hoss?" he questioned gently.

Through pain-filled eyes, Caleb gazed up at him.
"I'm about played out, Matt."

"Naw, don't talk that way, Caleb. We're gonna move
you to our new headquarters, and the Doc will take
care of you."

Caleb's hand came up to fasten on Matt's wrist.
There was still a surprising amount of strength in the
slim fingers. Feverish eyes staring out of his white face,
Caleb whispered, "No, Matt. You gotta promise me
you'll take me back to the hills to die. Right now. We'll
start back right now."

A long minute passed before Matt reluctantly nodded
his head. It was a useless promise, he knew. Caleb
would never make the trip. But if it eased his mind, it
was the least they could do for him. In the meantime he
could only pray that South had taken care of Marna.