South Carolina
October 1784
"Jacob, guard the front door! If anyone, and I mean
anyone comes, warn them off and open fire if they don't obey." John Preston slowly straightened. Pain shot through his body, but for the moment he welcomed it. He knew pain. It was real. Not
this. Exeter? The wolf Indian? Tom!? If he stopped to think, he'd go mad.
"Even the Guard?" the slave asked, fear and determination warring across his mobile face.
"
Especially the Guard!" He couldn't count on having killed Moultrie, and if not he'd cry for help. He
did know Exeter would be after them. Hopefully Therrit could tell them he'd been attacked.
"Master, I...I don't think the mistress..." Martha began.
"Get the baby," John retorted. He peered past her. "I found him, Cassie. I met him before. His name's..."
"Jasen," she whispered. "You fool!" Tears pooled her eyes. "You great fool!"
He leaned forward and grabbed her shoulders. "Cass, I know how you're feeling. I know you don't believe me, but I do. Now we have to get..."
"YOU DON'T KNOW ANYTHING!!" she screamed. Cassandra Preston wrenched out of his grip, but her mind began to work again. If he knew who, then they'd fought. If he wanted to leave, he'd lost. Which meant this Jasen... "And the governor?"
John straightened. "Dead. I think."
Tears filled her eyes again. "They'll kill you, Johnny!"
"Not if we leave now! Get dressed!" Martha walked in with Christiana whimpering in her arms. "Good!" He regarded the huge woman. "Help her pack. Pack
light. I'll be back in a few minutes."
The two women watched him storm out. Martha's hands clenched and unclenched. "What's happening, mistress?" she asked.
Cassie breathed deeply and stood. "We're leaving."
*******
And so into the study. John first loaded his two pistols, then filled and belted his ammo pouches for good measure. His knife joined them. He moved to the family chest, a gold leafed, iron bound wooden piece of art once owned by his father. John pulled a hidden lever to disable the knife trap meant to injure or even kill intruders, then opened the lock with an iron key. Money: A surprising amount, no doubt the receipts from Cassie's selling off the others. Papers.
"Master!" Jacob's voice rose to a scream. "Riders on the road!"
Preston filled his purse with bills and ran for the women. Christiana lay on the bed, crying, but for once without succor as Cassie and Martha tore the room apart stuffing what they could into packs. "How are you coming along?"
"Almost." The flurry of activity helped clear Cassie's mind. "No, Martha." She took away a sapphire silk dress, gave it a troubled smile then let it fall to the bed. "No," she repeated softly. "I doubt we're going to a ball."
Christina grabbed an edge of the dress and sucked noisily. She decided she didn't care for silk and screamed louder.
John opened his bureau. Already cleaned out: "Cassie, do you have your...?" He'd almost said knife. "...your pins?"
"My...?" She shot him an incredulous look. "Of course!"
"Good. Now I want to...
will someone shut her mouth!?"
"That's your daughter," Cassie reminded him sharply.
"Nonetheless...!"
Martha picked up the baby. "Hush, child. Hush now."
Cassie glared at her husband, then both turned to the door at Jacob's voice. "Guardsmen, master! Armed! They're crossing to the house!"
"Time to go," John said. He scooped Christina in his arm and turned to Martha. "Once we're away, hide yourself. I don't think they'll care one way or the other, but it's safer that way. There's a little money left in the chest in my study. You and Jacob take it, and
go."
"Go where!?" she looked back and forth. "I thought...I mean...my place is with you and the..."
"Can you ride!?" Preston shook his head. "No. Hide and then away. Go north - or to Florida. It's not safe here anymore. Let's go, Cassie." He grabbed the packs, turned and walked briskly away, Christina still clawing at the air and crying.
"Martha, I..." Tears filled Cassie's eyes. "Thank you." She hugged the huge woman.
"CASSIE!"
"Good bye," she said, then followed him out.
*******
Sergeant Stephen Foxx glanced at the four men of his squad. "Remember, men. We must take Colonel Preston alive. Whatever he's done, it will be a court who decides his fate. The law must prevail." He drew his pistol.
It was hard to believe their leader, the commander of the Carolina Guard, would turn traitor but who would have thought General Allen would go insane only a few weeks before? He couldn't deny the shocked look on Governor Moultrie's face as he ran out calling for help, nor the blood on his shirt from what he said was a glancing knife wound. Preston
did kill Private Therrit, choking then stabbing him.
"At the double. Advance!" He nudged his horse into a trot and led them across half-harvested fields towards the house.
"Stop!" cried a voice from the porch. "Stop or I'll shoot!"
A negro. Foxx could barely see him as he crouched by the rail. "Throw the musket away, boy! No one's going to hurt you."
"Master says you have to leave!"
"Master is under arrest," Foxx retorted. "Go fetch him!"
The slave shook his head. Fool.
"Mind your betters, nigger!" cried one of the privates. He raised his pistol.
"Hold!" Foxx called.
Jacob didn't obey. He fired, knocking the Guardsman off his horse.
"HOLD!" In that instant discipline failed entirely. One of their own, shot by a slave? Foxx's men kicked their steeds and charged the house. Jacob started to reload, but seeing their approach ran through the front door.
"Open up, boy! Time to take your medicine!" Corporal Wainwright banged on the door with his sword. "Open up or it'll be worse when we get you!"
"He's getting away!" cried Foxx.
"I don't think so, sir!"
"Forget the slave!
Colonel Preston is getting away!" Foxx pointed at the stables where two horsemen galloped for the Charleston-Beaufort Road. One did appear to be wearing the red and black of the Carolina Guard. "You, help Jenkins. The rest: After him!"
****
John Preston fled down the road, his wife three paces behind him, his daughter bound to his chest and screaming her confusion and outrage. He cupped her head with his left hand as best he could, but focused the rest of his being on the horse under him. Trees hurtled past, some branches so low he almost needed to bury his face in the horse's mane. Behind him he heard Cassie's surprised cries mixed with growls, fear and determination making up for lack of skill.
Preston glanced back and saw three Guardsmen in pursuit. They seemed to be losing ground. Good, he really didn't want to fight with a crying baby strapped to him. He didn't want to fight
them at all.
"LOOK OUT!" Cassie screamed.
John spun around, then ducked under a low hanging branch - not quite enough. It struck his scalp with a dull crack and he reeled, leaving an inch of skin and hair behind. He reeled, the horse instinctively arcing to try and keep its rider, then Cassie grabbed his reins. "Off! In the thicket!"
Preston dismounted and stumbled into a mass of brambles that tore at clothes and skin alike, then under a fallen log. He fell to his knees. Why was the sky going dark? Maybe he could go to sleep for awhile. Yes, that seemed like a good idea. Who was crying? Why?
"Give her here," Cassie said. She took Christina away, stifling her cries against her chest and whispering in her ear. She looked up as shadows approached then ducked. Fear and determination continued to war on her face, but for now she seemed in control.
John's head began to clear, at least enough for him to scoot further under the log. He carefully moved a few twigs and branches to cover their hole. She nodded approval. He pressed close to her as a shadow stopped inches away.
"Where in bloody hell are they?" demanded the shadow. It began to sit on the log. John's eyes widened. No room nor time to even draw a knife.
"Corporal? Sergeant Foxx asks if you will come. The horses are a hundred yards away. He thinks they dismounted there!"
"Aye," the shadow said. It stood upright and walked away.
