Riverbreeze: Part 2 (51 page)

Jamie nodded. “You can use him tomorrow. And I’ll help too, once I’ve exercised Apollo and Peasblossom.”

“Thanks. We’re going to need extra firewood this winter. The girls will no doubt want a warmer house and Nathan and Dolnick will need wood for their quarters.”

“Well, they can chop their own.” Jamie stated, sniffing.

“They will. We’ll give them time to do it after dinner each night.”

“That sounds fair to me.”

They moved deeper into the woods, out of the sun, and the air turned even chillier. They followed an old animal trail which had then been used by the natives. Robert clutched his short cape tighter around his shoulders and Jamie did the same after an involuntary shiver shook his body. “I daresay I’m going to want a warmer house this winter too.” He said.

“Now that we have Nathan and Dolnick, we won’t have to do all the chopping on our own…” Robert broke off, interrupted by a commotion to their left, snapping twigs and rustling through the undergrowth. Both brothers came alert, reined in their horses, pulled their pistols from their belts and scanned the woods.

“What was that?” Jamie asked in a hushed tone.

“Most likely we frightened several deer...or the pigs.” Robert said, peering through the widely-spaced oak and hickory trees. Hopefully he spoke the truth; this was not a convenient time to be facing a wild animal, not that any time was convenient.

These woods were not unfamiliar to either of the brothers. Robert had taken numerous walks through the acres and acres of forest in the three years since he had owned this land. Jamie had done the same in the past two years and most recently had explored the area on horseback. And every February he and Jamie would spend hours and hours tracking down several of their hogs that roamed free throughout the year to catch them for butchering. They both knew what kind of wild animals they might encounter; they had lost several hogs and goats to cougars and wolves over the years, but now they didn’t see anything menacing in the distance. Nevertheless they remained very still, listening and looking for several minutes.

It could have been a cougar on the hunt or a wolf, but they hadn’t heard any squeals or cries so they dismissed that thought. And neither one of them thought that it might be Indians that had fled so blindly from them. The Indians would never make as much noise as those animals. And they wouldn’t have run either. If they were hunting or stalking Englishmen, they would be as quiet and still as a stalking cat, waiting and hiding in the foliage, their breathing barely noticeable.

Pisador became impatient with this delay once he discovered there wasn’t any good grass to eat. He snuffled and shook his head, jangling his harness. Jamie chuckled softly. “Easy, boy.” He soothed him, leaning forward and patting his neck and stroking his mane. “You’re probably right about the deer.” He said to Robert. He shoved his pistol back in his belt. “Come on. Let’s go.”

“Lead the way.” Rob said and both men kicked their horses into a trot.

Jamie did indeed lead the way, turning slightly north to avoid running into the swamp. Soon they were out of the woods and trotting through a lovely meadow where beardgrasses and broomsedge grew dense and as high as the horses’ bellies. As they neared the creek they had to wade their way through thickly growing cattails, bulrushes and reedgrasses that stretched for miles and miles in both directions.

Herring Creek was almost ten feet wide, but not very deep. The horses easily splashed through the water and once on the other side, Jamie stopped.

“Let’s rest for a moment and let the horses get a drink.” He said, dismounting. He led Pisador to the water but held on to the reins while the animal drank.

“Good idea.” Robert readily agreed, not in any hurry. He dismounted also, careful to keep his sword from catching on anything, and stretched his back, looking up at the sun and guessing what time it was. Still early, about nine o’clock, he thought. They weren’t in any danger of being late.

Penny didn’t need any prompting to drink. She followed Pisador right to the edge of the creek.

Jamie also stretched, raising his arms high above his head. “Oh that feels good.” He groaned. “I love riding but I’m sorely out of shape.” He rubbed his backside and shook out his legs, proving his point.

Robert snorted. “If you’re out of shape, how do you think I feel?” He carefully flexed his hands and winced when pain shot through his palms.

“Better than your first ride on Pisador, I’m sure.” Jamie reminded his brother of that day when Robert had lost control of the big stallion and had gotten thrown.

“Thanks for reminding me.” Robert griped.

Jamie just chuckled. He took in several deep breaths of the fresh air. Finally he said, “We’re fairly close now. It won’t take that much longer to get there.”

Robert shrugged his shoulders. “There’s no hurry.” He said, starting to feel a little queasy again. His empty stomach growled with nervousness.

“Are you worried?” Jamie asked softly. He was worried.

Robert sighed. He debated whether to tell Jamie the truth, but in the end, he did. “Yes, I’m worried…and nervous…and sick to my stomach. I would never admit that to Elizabeth or to anyone else, so don’t go tattling on me.”

Jamie smiled sympathetically. “I won’t.” He promised. “I noticed you didn’t eat much at breakfast, but I knew you wouldn’t want me to say anything in front of Abby and the servants.”

Robert returned the smile, appreciating his brother’s silence. “Thanks.” He said simply.

“Are you worried about the trial or the duel?”

Robert let out a laugh. “What do you think? I’m worried about both, but I’m mostly worried about the trial… and the sentence.”

“What would be the worst for you? A whipping? A public apology like Clement or Jocelyn Trussell and Jacob Bailey?”

“A public apology would be nothing. No, the worst for me would be keelhauling…”

“Keelhauling! They’re not going to do that!” Jamie scoffed.

“You never know.” Robert looked at Jamie with doubt in his eyes. “Remember several years ago, that poor woman, what was her name? Joanne Butler? She was tried for defamation of character and found guilty. Her sentence was to be keelhauled in King’s Creek. She didn’t make it, Jamie. She couldn’t hold her breath long enough and she drowned! That could be me!”

“No!” Jamie disagreed. “You’re a good swimmer. I’ve seen you hold your breath for…for…” He thought for a few seconds. “Well, a long time.” He stated firmly.

Robert let out a snicker. “Thanks for the compliment, brother.”

“I mean it!”

“I know you do.” He said with a sigh. “So, what would be the worst for you?” Robert asked, even though he knew that Jamie, being a vestryman, was exempt from capitol punishment.

“Oh, well…” Jamie thought for a moment, scratching his hairline under his hat. He pulled it down over his forehead again, securing it on his head. “I would hate to have my ears nailed to the pillory and then have them cut off like Lawson, remember him?”

“That poor bugger screamed and begged like a girl.” Robert shook his head disdainfully. “I would never act so cowardly.”

“And afterwards he cried and blubbered like a baby. He was pitiful.”

“And bloody.” Robert commented dryly.

“And earless.” Jamie deadpanned.

Robert glanced at Jamie in shock, then suddenly both brothers burst out laughing. The horses stopped drinking for a moment, looking at them curiously. Robert laughed even more, releasing the tension in his shoulders. Jamie did too.

Finally Robert let out a sigh. “Right, I guess we should be on our way. I mustn’t be late to my own demise.”

“You’re not going to die.” Jamie rolled his eyes at him. “Elizabeth said you’re going to live at least another twenty years, probably more.”

Robert let out a laugh. “Sparshott doesn’t know that. And he’s going to try his damnedest to make today my last day on this earth.”

“You’ll beat him; I know it.” Jamie declared, looking fiercely at Robert.

Robert was able to smile back at Jamie. “Thank you for your confidence. I’m going to need every ounce of your support.”

“You have it; you know you do; you always will.” Jamie said affectionately.

“Thanks, little brother.” Robert said appreciating Jamie’s sentiments. He gave him an affectionate punch in the arm; a might too hard, he quickly learned. “Ow!” He exclaimed, holding his hand out, waiting for the pain to subside.

“Ha! That will teach you!” Jamie said, rubbing his upper arm. “How am I supposed to stand in for you when you hurt me like that?”

“I hardly touched you.” Robert sneered.

“You hurt your own hand!” Jamie exclaimed.

Robert just shrugged his shoulders.

“You’re an idiot.” Jamie muttered, turning his back on Robert and preparing to mount Pisador.

Robert went to catch Penny’s reins and pulled her towards him. “I heard that.” He said.

“Good!” Jamie shouted, quickly mounting Pisador. Then with a devilish grin, added, “Race ya!” And he didn’t even wait for Robert; he kicked Pisador and took off in a gallop.

“Hey!” Robert yelled after him, jumping into the saddle and kicking Penny. He also urged her into a gallop, but he knew this horse would never be able to catch Pisador. The big stallion was naturally a faster horse. Still, he coaxed every bit of speed out of her, following Jamie as best as he could. Now that he thought about it, he should have ridden Apollo, but he didn’t know Jamie would challenge him. Next time…

* * *

They arrived at the churchyard, windblown and out of breath. The race hadn’t lasted long. Jamie had eased up after only a quarter of a mile, allowing Robert to catch up. Jamie knew the abilities of his horses and he knew that Penny would never have been able to gain on Pisador, let alone win. For the remainder of the ride, they had galloped through the wild country, side by side, enjoying every second in the saddle.

For that time, Robert had been able to forget all his troubles, or at least, push them to the back of his mind. But upon seeing the scores of men, young and old, gathered together in the churchyard for the meeting of the monthly court the reality of his situation came back to him like a slap in the face.

There were perhaps sixty or so men and several older boys scattered around the yard and more were still arriving. The older boys were enjoying the freedom to engage in rough horseplay or to play a game of cards without their mothers scolding them. The men were divided into groups, friends with friends, discussing all kinds of subjects: county news, the merits of candidates for the House of Burgesses and making bargains for the sale of tobacco and livestock. At least for now, Robert didn’t see either Dr. Harris or Sparshott. That was a relief because he wasn’t in the mood yet to face either one of them.

Eight handsome horses were already tied up at the fence, their owners standing in a circle. They were all dressed to impress in their finest wool or velvet doublets and breeches, linen shirts with deep ruffles of lace at the sleeves and broad-brimmed hats with ostrich feathers or ribbon bands. The only one not dressed as fancy as the others was Nicholas Bannister, the blacksmith and gunsmith. He still wore his best clothes, but they were worn with age. Clothes did not matter to him but fine weapons and fine horses did. He had ridden in on his beautiful Cleveland Bay and sported a well-kept pistol in his belt and a splendid rapier at his side. All the others were similarly armed with pistols and swords but none were as fine as Nick’s.

These men were some of the wealthier citizens of Charles City County, even Nicholas with his timeworn clothes. Huett was there, of course, Roger Davis, a deputy and a planter, was next to him. William Barber, a prosperous merchant and ship captain was in the circle, Thomas Paulette, who owned this tract of land known as Westover and the oldest at sixty-five, Joseph and John Bolton, brothers and carpenters, Osbourne Wells, a planter and tithe-taker, and Nick.

Now they were already sharing a bottle of spirits and laughing uproariously at something one of them was reading from a publication of some sort. Robert couldn’t see what they were reading, but he could guess that it was one of the weekly periodicals that were published in London and that were so popular with men and women alike. They loved to read the scurrilous gossip, the bawdy stories, the political and religious news of the times which may or may not be true and political commentary and opinion. Of course this issue was months old, but new to the men.

When the boys rode up, Thomas Paulette called out to them. “Oy, Robert! Jamie! Come join us!”

Robert was reluctant. He would have rather have searched out Adam Cooke, Charles Crockett or George Turner or Roger Wentworth although Roger was probably already in the church setting up his desk, but he couldn’t snub Thom Paulette or Sheriff Huett. That would not help his case, he didn’t believe. Jamie was more than eager; he wasn’t so pious that he couldn’t enjoy a few bawdy jokes now and then, and he also wanted to talk with Nick about making arrangements to shoe the horses since he hadn’t had the chance last Sunday at church.

So after dismounting and tying up their horses, the brothers joined them.

They exchanged hearty greetings, but instead of immediately showing the brothers the paper, Roger Davis gave Robert a congenial slap on his back and offered him a drink. “Would you like a sip, Rob? How about you, Jamie?”