Love’s Betrayal (2 page)

Elijah Butler pounded his fist onto the table, his round face and bald head flushed crimson. “How dare those lobsterbacks seize our friends and frighten my daughters! I wish I had the likes of King George for five minutes. I'd tell him to keep his soldiers out of our country!”

He plopped down onto his chair while Delight and her sisters set wooden bowls on the table for the evening meal. The tantalizing aroma of an oyster stew and hot bread with freshly churned butter filled the air. Once he had calmed and the family had taken their places on the benches, he thanked God for His bountiful blessings and asked Him to take care of William Taylor.

Delight lifted her gaze and glanced around the table at her mother and six sisters: Charity, Remember, Faith, Patience, Mercy, and Hope.
I am the oldest and expected to be a Christian example to my younger sisters. How would Mama and Papa feel about my assisting the patriot cause?

The precious document in her pocket plagued her mind. She would have to leave in the dark of night in order to deliver it, and she hadn't the opportunity to read the contents or know where it should be delivered.

“I have made up my mind,” Papa lifted his chin.

Stirred from her musings, Delight gave him her full attention. Papa never made rash decisions.

“We shall leave Boston. It is no longer safe for my family.” He nodded at Mama with a slight smile. “We shall go to Chesterfield, where my brother tells me there is need for a cooper.” He leaned in closer, peered from side to side. “And if the British soldiers continue to disturb our lives, then I shall join the patriot army,” he whispered.

Mama drew in a sharp breath. “Praise God,” she said, then moistened her lips. “Not that you might consider such foolishness as enlisting at your age, but that you have seen fit to rescue us from the yoke of the British soldiers.”

Delight's heart pounded harder than Mr. Taylor's hammer against his anvil.
Chesterfield. How can I help the cause there? Who will be the courier here?
She looked at her father, searching his face for answers. “How will we be able to leave?”

Papa nodded his understanding. “We cannot leave together, and it must be done in secrecy to avoid the soldiers.”

Charity gasped at Papa's words. Because she was given to fainting, everyone looked expectantly at her pale face. “I'm fine, Papa.”

He glanced at Mama. “You, Mercy, and Hope will leave tomorrow. I will give you detailed instructions later.”

Delight picked at her stew. She was foolish to have her thoughts linger on her own importance. Of course the patriots would find someone else to deliver messages. Boston was full of those committed to the cause, those who longed to see liberty in the colonies. Indeed she thought too highly of herself. Perhaps she had fulfilled the destiny God intended, but she'd found meaning in her life by combining her faith in God with the efforts of the colonies to unite for freedom. Disappointment raged through her.

“Delight, have the happenings today stolen your appetite?” her mother said. “Perhaps the soldiers frightened you more than you revealed to us.”

“No, Mama. I am merely thinking.” She wanted to voice her concern over the move but dare not sound disrespectful. “Papa, are you sure leaving our home is necessary? Can't we stay and be wary of the British?”

He shook his head. “I think not. When I look around the table, I see seven beautiful, brown-eyed daughters and their lovely mother. Our home is to be peaceful, not surrounded by strife and oppression. We will pack our belongings and sojourn to Chesterfield.”

“When will all of us be together for the journey, Papa?” Mercy, the eight year old, said. Tears filled her eyes.

“Four days hence,” Papa said and downed his buttermilk.

“We know you have friends here.” Mama's gentle tone seemed to appease Mercy. Even after seven children, her face bore few lines, and tenderness prevailed in her spirit. “But you will find new ones in Chesterfield.”

Papa cleared his throat, an indication of the importance of his words. “Let us all be in constant prayer for a safe journey and a prosperous life in a new home.”

“May we bring Bear?” Little Hope reached down to stroke the dog's sleek coat.

“Of course,” Papa said. “We shall try to take all we can. I have made arrangements with your uncle Matthew to secure us a good house and means for me to continue in building buckets and barrels once we arrive.”

Delight's sisters chatted on. Some were excited and relieved, and others were not. Luckily Papa was not of the mind that children should always be seen and not heard.

“One question at a time,” he said. “What you have to say is important to me.”

But the discussion of the move only firmed Delight's resolve that at the first possible opportunity, she needed to read the document in her pocket and learn its destination. Only then could she consider what God intended by uprooting her world.

Long after the small house quieted and the only sounds were the even breathing of her family, Delight rose, dressed, and tiptoed to the fire, where the embers had not yet died. She carefully opened the document and squinted to read only enough to determine that it should be delivered to the owner of one of the taverns near the wharf. The British had closed Boston's port. Even so, it was not safe for a young woman to be out alone after dark. Papa would be terribly angry if he discovered she was venturing toward such a rowdy place. But she must.

Oh heavenly Father. Protect me this night from the perils lurking where I must walk. Guide my feet, and shelter me in the shadow of Thy grace.

Somehow Delight found the courage to step out into the dark with a lantern turned down low and hooded. She must not be seen—either by the town crier or by soldiers. She shivered in the frigid temperatures and stole toward the tavern, slipping on the ice and praying she didn't fall. Although she silenced her feet against the street, every sound alerted her to possible danger and reminded her of the vital information concealed in her right shoe.

She glanced at the starless night hosted by only a quarter moon. How wonderful if God had blessed her with light. Her deliberations told her He had done so. She simply had to believe He honored her cause.

The time was long after midnight, and the tavern would be closed. Still, the area alarmed her. Every sound alerted her: the bark of a dog, the distant laughter, and the rowdy talk of soldiers. An eerie sensation trickled through her, as if someone trailed her steps. She had perceived this before and ignored it, but tonight the sensation felt so true. Nonsense, fear would not rule over her responsibilities.

When the establishment came in sight and the pronounced smell of fish met her nostrils, she didn't know whether to let out a sigh of relief or pray harder. To reach the back door of the tavern, she would have to risk attracting the attention of anyone who might be hiding in wait for a victim or wallowing in drunkenness. Worse yet, she might be detected by a redcoat. Chills raced up her arms, and she longed to turn and hurry home. Only her sense of mission enabled her to keep one foot in front of the other.

Delight realized she had held her breath until she felt faint. For the first time in her life, she wished she'd held the thoughts and desires of other young women her age—a home and family. Not that she didn't want those admirable blessings, but she felt duty-bound not to seek such a future until the war for independence had been won. Perhaps God had made a mistake, and she should have been born a man.

Clenching her fists, she rapped on the tavern's door. The deafening sound caused her to hastily glance into the darkness. Along with the smells of the wharf, she inhaled the odor of sour ale. When no one appeared at the door, she knocked again a little louder.

“Who goes there?” a gruff voice called.

Delight took a deep breath. “One bearing scripture fitting for the times to Cavin Sullivan.”

The latch lifted with a squeak, and she stood before a man who in the shadows resembled a huge beast. “For all that is just and right,” he whispered. In the next moment he grabbed her arm and flung her inside. “Lass, do you not know how dangerous it is to be out and about?” His stern voice, laced with a thick Irish accent, frightened her. In the darkness, this man could do anything.

“Are you not expecting something?” she said.
Oh dear, I sound like an unscrupulous woman.

He said nothing for several moments, but oh how conscious she was of this giant of a man. “Did you tell me you brought scripture?”

“Yes sir.” Her voice sounded shaky, not at all courageous. “‘Delight thyself also in the Lord—' ”

“Aye, you've said enough,” he whispered. “What bring ye?”

“Mr. Taylor was seized by the soldiers today.”

“Indeed.”

“I could not deliver my message, and I saw it goes to you.”

She heard him expel a heavy breath.

“You are brave to risk the night for our cause,” he said. “I expected a man.”

She stiffened. “I am able to go undetected in most places.” Delight reached down to unlace her shoe and to retrieve the document for Mr. Sullivan.

“Thank you, lass,” he whispered and took the folded paper. “Now, let me escort you home. It is not safe for you to be unescorted.”

“I would be most obliged.”

Suddenly his hand clamped over her mouth.

T
error reigned through Delight's body along with a measure of foolishness. She knew stealing out into the night to the wharf area without an escort invited peril.

Someone pounded on the door. “Open up. We are in need of spirits.”

Mr. Sullivan moved not a muscle.

“Open up, or we will beat down the door. Our captain requests a bottle.”

Redcoats! I've been followed. Caught!

Mr. Sullivan released her mouth and led her backwards. Surely all of Boston could hear her heart pound. “Just a minute. Can't a man sleep?” Mr. Sullivan called. He pushed her behind what she thought was a barrel.

“You can go back to bed once you have given us what we need.”

The door creaked open. “And what would you like?” Mr. Sullivan said.

“Rum!”

“And do you have payment?” Mr. Sullivan demanded.

A laugh rose from what must have been two, possibly three soldiers. “Talk to our captain in the morning. We were told to get a bottle of rum, that's all.”

“Not without payment.”

Silence invaded the room.
Please, give them what they want.

“Either give it to us or we will take two bottles.”

Loathsome redcoats.

“I'll get your rum,” Mr. Sullivan shouted. Shortly thereafter the door closed. “Are you all right, lass?” He bent to help her to her feet—this man whose face she had not yet viewed.

“I am well,” she whispered.

“Come, this has been a hard night, and no doubt you seek the comforts of your home.” A candlelight's flicker opened the darkness, and she saw his face.

Once they silently disappeared into the streets, Delight gave thanks for her escort, and she prayed Papa had not detected her absence. Enough excitement had transpired for one day.

“I daresay this is the last time I can help,” she said. Without waiting for him to question, she continued, “Papa is moving us to Chesterfield in three days. I fear I am of no service there.”

“You have done more than your duty for the cause,” he said. “We are greatly indebted.”

“I would like to continue, sir. Please let those know who might need assistance in Chesterfield.”

“I understand, and I will extend your concern.”

When she saw the outline of her two-story home, she stopped. “I am quite safe now. Thank you for the escort.”

“Good evening, and may your father's decision to leave Boston be a prosperous one.”

Delight straightened her shoulders and moved toward the back of her home, for now she faced the ardent task of slipping inside without detection. In three days, all of this would be memories. But tonight, vivid sights and sounds raced across her heart. She longed to do so much more, but God obviously saw fit for her to cease in her work.

She held her breath and lifted the latch. Setting foot on the plank floor of her home somehow relieved the burden of the night's dangers. Only the stillness of sleeping inhabitants greeted her.
I thank Thee, Lord.

Stealing up the stairs, Delight realized she would never forget the night's happenings. Weariness threatened to overtake her. Alas, it would take a long time before her heart slowed its incessant pounding.

For more than sixteen months, Delight tried to appreciate the small town of Chesterfield, but it lacked the excitement of Boston. She'd hoped Papa would want to move back to their home city once the British deserted Boston in March of '76, but he elected to remain in the quieter town. News of the war trickled in, although the patriots of Chesterfield eagerly strove to fight for their beliefs. Tories disgusted her, for she felt their loyalty to Britain was out of fear. She refused to listen to their viewpoint and wished all of them would board the next ship back to England.