The Boundary

[Chapters 1 though 25 take place throughout the year of 1780]

CHAPTER 1
Ambushed

Our story begins in January 1780 in South Carolina near the Santee River and Charlestown...

A tall, bedraggled figure in a torn and bloodied uniform stumbled to the grand porch and promptly collapsed. British soldiers loitering there picked up the injured man and helped him into the house.

"Ambushed...thieves..," the man uttered, fading in and out of consciousness.

At the same time, a young lady was downstairs in the wine cellar keeping the mistress of the estate company as she chose wines for the evening meal. A frantic voice pierced the cool calm of the cellar.

"Miss Stirhaley, come quickly!"

She looked at Mrs. McKinnon, the homeowner's wife, both sharing looks of wide-eyed question. In an instant, Karen Stirhaley lifted her skirts and bounded up the stairs, where a uniformed officer was waiting for her.

"What's the matter?" she inquired.

Major Mark Bordon gently grabbed her arm and put his other arm around her back in a protective manner, and led her through the dining room and to another stairway.

"It's Colonel Tavington," began the Major, "he's hurt badly."

They ascended the stairway in time to see Redcoats carrying the injured Colonel up the stairs. The couple followed them into the bedroom, where Tavington was laid on his bed. Colonel Tavington's chamber, as well as the hallway outside of it was a flurry of activity with soldiers and Dragoons hovering around the bed and in the room, and occupants of the house both in the chamber and spilling out into the hall, straining to see the injured man. One soldier ran out of the room and down the stairway frantically looking for a doctor.

Someone pulled a chair up next to the bed and seated Miss Stirhaley. The sight of her fiancé, laying on the bed slipping in and out of consciousness, uniform shredded and covered with blood, was too much for her to take. Her eyes filled with tears.

"William?" she said softly, leaning in over him. He said nothing back.

"William," Karen repeated, "William? It's me -- Karen." She took his hand. "Can you hear me, darling?"

Within a moment, the English army camp surgeon entered the room with a young field medic officer in tow behind him. The soldiers that had helped Tavington up the stairs had already begun to disrobe the Colonel, tossing the uniform scraps to the floor. His white, ruffled shirt was shredded at his left shoulder, while a large blood stain surrounded the shred as well as an area on the lower right front of the garment. The shirt was removed to reveal a deep sword gash to his shoulder and a bullet wound just above his hip. Both bled profusely. As the doctor began to probe and assess his wounds, Tavington regained his senses, thrashing and moaning in pain as the doctor touched him. A cloth covered bite stick was forced into the Colonel's mouth by the young medic, muffling the Colonel's cries as he clinched it between his teeth.

"Hold him down," the doctor requested. A couple of soldiers did this as the medic and another soldier fought Colonel Tavington to get him out of his breeches. The doctor administered a very minimal amount of Laudanum to ease his pain and calm him, though he still fought the restraint. The surgeon began to work on his patient immediately, wasting no time. The injured Colonel jerked violently as the doctor probed his hip wound to retrieve the lead bullet ball.

"Hold him still, please," said the doctor emphatically.

An audible and pained groan escaped Tavington's mouth despite the bite stick, as he clamped his eyes closed and threw his head back in severe hurt. Karen, in tears herself, reached out to touch his face to calm him, but couldn't quite reach it for the crowd of men around his bed.

"Take her out of here," the doctor ordered.

Major Bordon complied and gathered her up. As she was being herded out of the room, Miss Stirhaley looked back over her shoulder at her helpless fiancé.

"I want to stay here," she cried. "He needs me! He needs to know I'm here."

"He knows," assured Bordon. "But it will be better if we get out of their way and let them attend to him."

The Major had a gentle hand on her elbow still and helped her out into the hallway. The door was closed behind them. The young woman broke down and cried. Bordon held her as she sobbed onto his shoulder.

"He's tough," Bordon comforted, "he'll make it."

She said nothing as she continued to cry. The Major knew the sight of her badly hurt fiancé had shaken her up. He stayed with her and said nothing else, letting her sob.

* * * * * * *

Colonel William Tavington, now 35, leader of the British Green Dragoons cavalry unit, had come from England with his soldiers to fight for the Crown. This he loved to do.Tavington loved his men, and delighted in being a member of his Majesty's most elite cavalry unit. He loved the glory of victory and the spoils of a battle won. His duty to serve his King and Country always came first. Even though a fighting man sworn to the quest, his fiancée, Miss Karen Stirhaley, just 30, also from England, had captured his heart.

The couple had met in 1774 in England. They had courted for nearly a year and then became engaged. But, the young officer's cavalry regiment was quickly called into action at the beginning of 1775. His outfit was needed to fight alongside the "regular" English Redcoats army against the revolt in the American Colonies. He had to leave so quickly that the wedding plans were scrapped, not knowing when he would return to England.

After six months in America, Tavington, missing his fiancée badly and wanting her with him, had written to Karen asking her to join him in the colonies. It was decided that she could go unchaperoned, mainly because of her age, and because of the many others in residence at the mansions in Philadelphia and South Carolina.

She arrived soon after, first joining him in Philadelphia, thinking they may be married there. For the first three years, Tavington's Dragoons fought in the Northern colonies and were based out of Philadelphia.

In 1778, when the fighting began to shift to the southern colonies, his unit was moved to South Carolina. And when the English moved South, she went with William there also. Tavington, who had risen quickly to the top ranks of the Dragoons, was soon given his own unit to command, and was always busy with duties or gone for periods of time, just not affording the couple any extra time for the wedding nuptials. But, Karen never minded. She knew William was hers and would be her husband someday, and that was enough for her.

Once in South Carolina, the Dragoons were staying on a beautiful, huge plantation called Surrey Hills, by it's owner, Mr. McKinnon, after his home county in England. McKinnon was a Loyalist who had come to the colonies 30 years ago and amassed a fortune in plantation goods, shipping and trading. Since he was 'too old to fight physically', he generously opened his home, grounds, barns and outbuildings to the English army. It was decided that the Green Dragoons, some with wives and children in tow, would stay there for the duration of the rebellion. The many rooms of the huge, three-story English countryside manor house were home to Dragoon officers such as Tavington, and his right hand commander and close friend, Major Mark Bordon, a bachelor as well. Karen had her own room there, too, complete with an abundance of chaperones! The overflow of English army personnel and whatever other humanity wandered on to the estate were put up in tents on the grounds.

Another unit of Green Dragoons, lead by Colonel Banastre Tarleton, were also stationed in the South, though at another elaborate plantation not too far from Surrey Hills. Ban was good friends with both Tavington and Bordon. The three of them had gone through cavalry recruit academy together back in England.

The upper officers such as Brigadier General Charles O'Hara and General Lord Charles Cornwallis, were staying on the next plantation over, Middleton Place. Five miles of land and road separated it from Surrey Hills, but was an easy horseback or buggy ride to get from one place to the other, or to have messages couriered back and forth. Middleton Place not only boasted lands, barns and a spectacular mansion of it's own, but a fort for the British Army Headquarters was soon built there, as well.It was known at Fort Carolina.and would serve as the British nerve center for most of the war in the southern colonies.

The officers went back and forth between the two estates often for meetings, strategy discussions, briefings, supplies, etc. The road connecting the two plantations was heavily patrolled and the whole area was considered British, with the rebels choosing wisely to stay away, usually outnumbered by Redcoats. It was not unusual for soldiers or officers to sometimes ride the road alone to and from headquarters, feeling safe on the protected road. It was on one of these rides that Colonel Tavington, returning alone from headquarters, was ambushed on the road between.

* * * * * * *

"I will be honest with you," the doctor began, "your Colonel is bad now, and the next few days will be touch and go." He was addressing the small group of four now gathered outside Tavington's room. Major Bordon was still there with Miss Stirhaley, but Generals Cornwallis and O'Hara had arrived from Middleton Place, after having been summoned urgently with the news.

The surgeon continued. "He has lost a lot of blood and is running a high fever. I cleaned and sewed his wounds, but, there is always the threat of infection or gangrene, but I hope that will not develop. Keep him calm and quiet these next few days. He will need a lot of rest. He is in and out now, so I don't know how much he remembers of his ordeal, or how much he will remember in the future. Sponge him down with cool water and liniment and hopefully that will help break his fever. Whenever he is awake, try to get as much water down him as possible."

The doctor reached over to open the door to Tavington's darkened and now quiet room. "I've given him an elixir that will help with the pain and keep him sedated, so, hopefully he will sleep peacefully for awhile." He led the group into the Colonel's room, where the young medical officer had cleaned up and was pulling the covers up around Tavington's chest.

The doctor continued in a subdued voice. "I think he will pull through because of his good health and sheer strength. Why, the struggle he put up against us was incredible in itself!"

The group walked over to the foot of the bed and looked silently at a now tranquil Tavington. They thanked the doctor as he left, reminding them to call him when the Colonel was fully conscious for a re-examination.

"Shame. He is one of our best and bravest officers, despite his..." General O'Hara hesitated, trying to choose a word, "...'methods'. And the Crown needs him badly!"

"Yes," agreed Lord Cornwallis. "I want an investigation made. Where was the patrol at the time and how did those thugs get onto the property?"

"Yes, sir," O'Hara obeyed.

Karen was seated next to the bed. Cornwallis touched her shoulder and asked her to keep him updated on Tavington's condition and to call on him if anything was needed. She thanked him, then looked bereft on her fiancé.

"I'll see you out," Major Bordon said. He turned to Karen and bent down close to her ear. "I'll leave you alone with him, and I'll check in on the two of you later."

"Thank you, Major," she replied in a hushed tone. With that, the three officers left her alone in the room with her ailing William.

His long, dark auburn hair had been let out of the regulation fabric wrapped braid queue and fell around his head on the pillow. His breathing was shallow. Laying on his bare chest just above the sheets was the Saint Christopher medal that he always wore, given to him by Karen, to protect him in battle. She hoped it would now give some protection during his recovery.

"William," she murmured. She touched his hand and arm with her hand, then touched his face. His skin felt so hot. She bent over him to softly kiss his cheek and forehead. Then, she knelt on the floor next to his bed and prayed, asking for the intercession of the Virgin Mary, and the Angels and Saints.

She began with the simple prayer dedicated to the Madonna. "Hail Mary, full of Grace," she began, making the sign of the Cross upon herself, "the Lord is with Thee. Blessed are Thou amongst women, and Blessed is the fruit of Thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death. Amen." Then she paused and looked into her heart, wishing to ask for the right thing, wanting not to waste the Virgin's time. She continued.

"Oh, Mary, most kind and merciful," she prayed, "you are the Mother of us all indeed. You watch over us and take care of us. I humble myself before you to ask for the life of my fiancé William. Please heal him with your love. And, I ask you to stay by his side as he recovers. I ask you to intercede for him to your son, Jesus."

She paused again to dwell in silence, then continued. "Help us to have the strength to accept whatever fate comes of this. I sacrifice willingly anything you want of me for your intercession and help. This I pray, in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen."

She pulled her Rosary beads from the pocket of her skirt, and began the Rosary prayer, offering it up for the intended recovery of her William.

The next morning, a sleeping Karen was awakened by Colonel Tavington muttering incoherently. In his delirium he said something about his sword and pistol, his ammunition and his horse. He called many of the Dragoons' last names, as if calling roll. He whispered something about England and asked for his wife -- even though he and Karen were not yet married.

"I'm here, William," she answered. He didn't answer back or open his eyes. She dipped a cloth in cool, fresh water in a porcelain bowl brought in by a servant only recently as she slept. She wrung it out and began to sponge Tavington's arms, neck, and face. She put another cold compress on his forehead.

Karen sat back in her chair and dozed off, only to be awakened again a short time later by Tavington thrashing about on his bed, knocking the compress from his forehead... His jerking became so violent that she thought he would throw himself off the bed.

Alarmed, she ran to the door and called for Major Bordon. She threw the window open on the landing and shouted outside for him as well. He heard her cries from the stable and quickly ran to the house and up the stairs.

Once in the room he found Karen standing back against a wall with her hand clamped over her mouth and a look of horror in her eyes. She was about to cry. Tavington was flailing on the bed, expending what little energy he had left in his injured body.

"I think he's dying," she said to the Major in a subdued and breaking voice.

"No," he reassured, "it's convulsions." He walked over to the bed and put the bite stick into Tavington's mouth. He then spoke some calming words to the Colonel as he put his hand on his commander's forehead. In a moment, the thrashing lessened, and Bordon motioned for Karen to come over to the bed. He reassured Tavington that they were both there with him, and put Karen's hand upon his forehead to prove she was still there. This all seemed to have a calming effect on the injured man for the jerking stopped completely. Bordon found the wet compress on the bed beside the Colonel and replaced in upon his forehead. After a moment of quiet, his body began to shiver.

"But he's burning up," she said, feeling the heat from his skin.

"Yes," Bordon answered. "It's the fever causing him chills. I know he's hot, but let's cover him and let him sweat out the infection." He left her alone again with him. She stayed with Tavington most of the day, which proved to be a quiet one-more calm than that morning had been.

Sometime in the middle of the second night, William opened his eyes and could see, albeit blurry, his fiancée asleep in the chair by his bedside. He tried to lift his arm to reach out and touch her, but was too weak to do so.

Just before Dawn of the third day, Major Bordon shook Karen lightly, waking her up. She looked nearly as bad as the Colonel from worry and lack of sleep. Borden knelt in front of her. "Miss Stirhaley, why don't you go to your own room and get some sleep. I'll stay here with the Colonel and I promise to wake you if he revives." She agreed, and left the two men.

Once in her own room, exhaustion overtook her and she slept soundly in her bed for a good part of the day. By evening after supper, she was back at her fiancé's side.

The next morning, the fourth since the ambush, as the sun rose, she had fallen asleep slumped forward in her chair with her head upon her folded arms on the bed next to Tavington. She awoke to a hand running through her long brown hair. Karen looked up to see a weakened Tavington, awake and alert, touching her head. She clasped his hand and brushed a light kiss against his cheek. He smiled faintly, then grimaced as he tried to shift in bed.

"No," advised Karen, "Don't move. Just stay still and rest."

"I made it back," he whispered.

"Ssshhh," she quieted him, then kissed his lips gently.

"I was bound and determined to crawl back here," he murmured. "I wanted to die in your arms."

In the early afternoon of the fifth day after the accident, Major Bordon sat with Tavington that day for Miss Stirhaley. She was taking his generous offer to rest and to catch up on writing some letters.

Bordon had noticed that his friend was unusually still this day. He leaned foreward often just to check that he was still breathing. He thought that this was the most restful period of sleep the Colonel had so far. He hardly stirred at all. It's good for him, thought Bordon.

With William wounded, Mark was now provisional leader of the unit. This made the third officer of the company, Captain Gregory Spaulding, now the second in command to Bordon's temporary position.

Bordon had brought some Dragoon paperwork with him to do. He sat at Tavington's desk, where his commander would usually be doing this work. After he'd finished, he left the desk and went back to Tavington's side.

As he looked at his sleeping commander, his mind traveled back in time. He remembered how the two of them had met.

Bordon and Tavington were both young recruits into the English army, and, since both had enjoyed the pleasures of the squire when growing up, they were immediately put into the cavalry. Neither needed much training as they were both accomplished horsemen. They met while training in the cavalry and became friends instantly. Bordon had nicknamed his friend "Tav", and, Mark was one of the only people that William would ever let get away with calling him by this name.

They were both from similar backgrounds: medium sized families, fathers ran family owned businesses, both had comfortable lives.

The Tavington's had more money and a larger business, but a lot of the money and the family's honor had been lost by Tavington's father, an alcoholic. William had a lot of contempt for him. Though not overtly religious, the Tavington family had clung to the old religion, remaining Catholic instead of flowing into the Protestant movement. Bordon's family didn't have quite the amount of money and esteem the Tavington's had, but they lived comfortably and wanted for nothing. They earned a quiet respect from their community as they were a good, religious, and closeknit family. Bordon's mother was Irish, so the family was Catholic.

The two became best friends and confidants although their goals were different. Tavington was very ambitious and wanted badly to command his own cavalry unit. He also wanted to become a high ranking officer -- a General! He wanted all the glory and commendations that came with it, as well.

Bordon, on the other hand, just wanted to serve his country and King. He wanted just to be a soldier -- and a noble person. He did just that and earned the respect of so many around him, for his fairness, commonsense, patience, and compassion. There was always an unspoken respect for Bordon from his commander and friend, Tavington.

They worked together well -- most of the time. Bordon didn't always see eye to eye on some of Tav's decisions or his trademark harshness, but accepted it as the second in command, and as a friend. He genuinely loved his friend William Tavington, but could become very frustrated with him, and not always like him, his personality, conduct, or decisions. He lived with it as well as he could, accepting Tavington and their relationship as it came. Their friendship was often a love-hate situation.

Bordon sat foreward as he saw William stir and flutter his eyes open.

"Where's Karen," asked William in a very weak voice.

"I gave her the day off," joked Mark in a quiet tone. "She was going to write some letters, and hopefully, get some rest."

"Good. She needs it," Tavington replied.

The Colonel did not feel well enough to eat, but wanted a drink of water. Bordon helped him take a few small sips.

"Just rest, Tav," he said. "Don't drain your voice with conversation."

"I won't," began William, "I just need to say one thing."

"What's that," Bordon asked.

"Promise me you'll take care of Karen if I don't make it," he begged, "or that you'll see that she's taken care of."

"I will," Bordon replied, sincerely.

"But that doesn't mean you can marry her when I'm gone," Tavington retorted.

Bordon laughed. "You know I've always said that if I had met her first that day, that she'd be my girl, not yours."

"You're right," Tavington painfully agreed. He shifted in the bed and Bordon pulled the covers up around his neck.

"I should have married her before all of this," regretted Tavington. "I had plenty of chances."

"And you'll have plenty more when you recover,"Bordon remarked.

CHAPTER 2
Recovery

Within the next two weeks, Colonel Tavington astounded everyone by making quick progress toward full recovery -- considering his injuries. His fever had broken unexpectedly, as the doctors had thought it would linger for possibly weeks. Although weak, he could sit up in bed for short periods of time with help. He also had an appetite, another good sign, and could take liquids and even managed to nibble small bits of soft, solid food.

William was coherent during this time and spoke a little. He had total memory of his accident and was able to recount what happened to him in his fractions of speech.

He remembered that he was on the road between Fort Carolina and Surrey Hills, when he was ambushed by three colonial thieves. The three thugs had jumped him from a tree, knocking him from his horse. They stole his watch, money, weapons and ammunition, as well as his horse. And, because he was a wealthy officer, they beat the daylights out of him just for the Hell of it. In a sadistic manner, they drove his own sword through his left shoulder, pinning him to the ground like a displayed insect. He had been shot in the fight as well. Seeing the thieves run with everything, he pulled the sword out of his shoulder, slowly and painfully rose to his feet, and began to walk toward Surrey Hills, hoping to get there before he passed out. By the time he arrived, his vision had blurred, his head was pounding, and he was dizzy. He wasn't sure how many times he had stumbled, fallen, and got back up again to walk. He was muttering incoherently and had lost quite a bit of blood. Fainting momentarily at the foot of the steps of the mansion of Surrey Hill, he had been relieved to see his fellow Dragoons milling about there.

Everyone had been satisfied to hear from Tavington's own mouth exactly what happened. It answered a lot of questions and gave the officials information they needed to know. All were also equally satisfied that he was recovering rapidly, and hope abounded that he should have full use of his body again when he was finally well.

* * * * * * *

It had been three weeks since the Colonel's accident, and Major Mark Bordon was now in command of the Dragoons for the duration of Tavington's recovery. After a two day absence, Bordon and the men returned to the estate. They had been on patrol and reconnaissance when they were surprised by a large group of rebels. The cavalry fought them off and drove the Colonials back into the countryside. But the skirmish had left nearly all of them with wounds, so they hurried home knowing it would be harder to fight another group of militia whilst they were injured.

Once back at the estate, Bordon was surprised to see the hospital tents overflowing. They were usually busy, but never this full. He saw to it that the first free medical officer could look after the Dragoons, then left. He had refused treatment for himself for he wanted the men tended to first as he judged himself not hurt badly.

He trotted up to the main house and in to check on his leader. Once at Colonel Tavington's quarters, he found Miss Stirhaley curled up in bed with her fiancée in an innocent fashion. She was leaning with her right side against the headboard holding William's head upon her lap on his pillow. He thought she looked weary and depressed.

Mark stood quietly in the doorway for a moment, feeling as though he was disturbing an intimate moment.

He heard the Colonel groan.

"It's alright, William," whispered Karen as she stroked his hair.

The Colonel uttered audibly in pain again.

"I know, darling," she murmured. She caressed his cheek lightly, then kissed his forehead softly.

As she raised back up, she let out a tired sigh. She continued to look at William as she stroked his hair and face. A look of worry darkened her features.

The Major was always impressed by Karen's devotion to William. He had always considered his friend blessed to have a woman who loved him that much and took good care of him. Bordon always held out hope that he could find a lady like Karen to share his life with.

Mark wanted to know how William had fared while he was gone. He knocked politely on the doorframe and spoke.

"I'm back."

Karen spoke immediately. "Thank God!"

"I must apologize," she continued as Mark entered the room. "I am afraid this doesn't look acceptable and I am sure the whole household is gossiping, but I assure you it is innocent. And it seems to ease him, somewhat."

"I understand," Bordon replied, "and I'm sure everyone else does, as well. We know how sick he is. No need to explain anything."

His words relieved Karen's mind. She raised herself up slightly and carefully from the bed in concern, eyeing the blood stains on his uniform. "You're hurt."

He was bleeding from a sword slash on his left forearm and a superficial weapon puncture to his right thigh.

"Scratches," he quipped. He moved closer to the bed. "How's he doing?"

"He's worse now," she said, looking down at her fiancé. Her beautiful face was contorted into anguish.

"What happened?" asked Mark.

"His shoulder wound broke open and had to be re-stitched. The infection returned with a vengence. He has a fever."

Bordon removed his riding gloves and felt William's forehead. "Good Lord, he's burning up! Has the doctor been round?"

Karen sighed, then answered him. "Not for two days. A lot of wounded have come in from a battle and skirmishes and the hospital tents are full." She looked sorrowfully again at William. "Not enough surgeons to go around."

Bordon had heard the Colonel groan from the door. But, from the sound, he could only judge that he was restless or hurting, not the degree of pain or for how long. "Is he in pain?"

"Yes. Badly," she replied. "This is the most settled he's been. He moaned pitifully all day. I've tried to comfort him." Her voice started to crackle, as if she was near tears. Momentarily, though, she steadied herself.

Karen maneuvered her arm and body slightly above William's to reach the rag in the bowl of water and liniment on the nightstand. She caught the floating linen and squeezed it out with one hand. As she dabbed the cool thing across the ailing Colonel's forehead, he raised his right hand and weakly fought her action. Mark gently pushed the commander's arm down to the bed and held it down there by the wrist so that she could continue.

"Did he get some Laudanum," the Major asked, still restraining William's arms and watching her sponge him.

"No. Not enough to go around," answered Karen. "There are wounded in the tents deemed worse than him." She finished dabbing William's skin and dropped the rag back in the water bowl.

Bordon let out an exasperated sigh and rolled his eyes. He, as many other officers just trying to fulfill their duties to King and country, were continually frustrated at the shortage of all things during this war. But, he quickly brushed away the irritation knowing there was nothing he could do about it.

"Did you try Brandy," he asked.

"Yes, but he couldn't keep it down. He's nauseated and lost his appetite completely. He hasn't eaten anything in two days."

William groaned another time. Bordon thought he was incoherent again.

"It's okay, darling. The pain will pass soon," she comforted. She carefully tightened her arms around him, wanting him to feel secure.

"Anything for the fever," Mark inquired.

"No,"answered Karen. "I've tried to wipe him down and keep him cool, but his fever is stubborn."

Bordon paced the room for a moment thinking. He knew William's initial speedy recovery was too good to be true. But, if he didn't want his friend to be incapacitated or plagued by this injury the rest of his life -- or worse, that they'd have to do something for him. Start some kind of treatment to help William until they could get a medical officer to treat him.

"Let's get him into some cold water and see if we can't bring his temperature down," offered Bordon. He got no argument from Karen.

The Major summoned the servants and a tub was brought to the room and filled with cold water. The two of them gently lifted the sick Colonel from bed, Bordon holding him carefully around his upper body and Karen supporting his legs. William winced aloud as they moved him, despite their gingerly movements.

"He's not going to like this," warned Bordon.

Major Bordon and Miss Stirhaley lowered Tavington slowly and gently into the water, leaving his underwear on him. The instant his hot skin met with the cold water he feebly attempted to fight them.

"Oh God," she gasped, "He's going to drain all the strength he has!"

She leaned down to his ear. "No, William darling, don't fight. You need your strength to fight the fever." She stroked his wet cheek. "I know you don't like it, but it will help."

"Ah, let him fight," said Bordon. "Maybe he'll wear himself down and sleep better. That might be the only merciful respite he'll have from the pain."

After a moment, William settled down and quietly lay in the tub. Bordon took the opportunity to have the servants change the bedsheets while William was out of his bed and to bring in an extra blanket and towels to dry the Colonel. He also had hot tea brought up to the room. Karen fetched clean underwear for him from his bureau. She draped the blanket over a chair and set it by the fireplace to warm.

After a few moments, they gently lifted Tavington out of the tub. They sat him in a wooden chair and Bordon held him up there while they both quickly dried him for he was shivering...After drying him, they draped the warmed blanket around his shoulders and stood him up. Karen stood behind him, holding his weakened body up as Bordon removed the Colonel's wet undergarments and slipped his legs into warm, dry underwear.

The thick woolen blanket blocked Karen's view, creating a makeshift privacy screen. William was shaking harder now with chill as Karen bore his weight as Bordon quickly laced up and tied the drawstring of his knee length britches.

The two of them then sat him on the edge of the bed. Karen was behind him, again, supporting his body upright as the Major removed the old, wet and soiled wound dressings. He cleaned his shoulder wound and bandaged it with clean dressings. Then, he pulled the waistband of Tavington's drawers down slightly, enough to clean and re-dress his hip wound.

Karen crawled back toward the headboard and positioned herself there again as Bordon gently laid her shaking fiancé back into her arms. She held him up slightly as Bordon tried first to give the commander some liquor in a small glass. He would not take it. Mark then saturated a corner of a clean rag in the alcohol and put it to the Colonel's mouth, hoping he could suck on the rag and get the pain reliever that way. Tavington would not do that, either.

"Let me try one more thing," Bordon requested. He then poured a small bit of tea into his cup and mixed a wee bit of Brandy in with it. Mark put the cup to William's lips, and to the surprise and happiness of Tavington's two 'nurses', the commander took three swallows of the spirit-spiked tea.

Bordon and Karen said nothing as they smiled at each other, pleased that Tavington drank the tea. The Major handed Miss Stirhaley's cup to her so she could take some tea as they waited. They wanted to watch the commander for a moment before giving him another dose of the makeshift pain reliever.

Karen passed her teacup back to Bordon. He, then put another swig of alcohol into some tea in the cup and put the stuff to the Colonel's mouth again. He took two more swallows. Again, Mark and Karen grinned quietly at each other in satisfaction.

Miss Stirhaley drank some more of her tea as Bordon mixed up a little more of the spirit mixture. For a third time, he placed the cup at Tavington's lips. The Colonel sipped it another time. But instantly, he spit up a small amount of it.

"Alright, alright. Too much of a good thing," said Bordon as he pulled the cup back from Tavington's lips.

"We won't force more of it," Bordon continued as Karen wiped the Colonel's mouth with her napkin.

"Well," Major Bordon began as he stood, "I am headed back to the hospital tent to check on the Dragoons and get myself fixed up." He picked his jacket up from the back of the reading chair he'd laid it over.

"If I can get Captain Spaulding to relieve me tomorrow during the day," he said as he put on his coat, "I'll come back and sit with him so that you can get some rest."

"Thank you," Karen answered in a tired voice.

Bordon sighed. "When I get to the hospital tent, I'll beg for some Laudanum and a doctor to come and see him."

"Thanks," replied Karen in a faraway voice. Her thoughts and gaze were back upon her ailing fiancé. She looked forlorn at him, displaying her disappointment at his suffering. She was very worn down.

Bordon reached over and placed a finger under her chin and raised her face up to look at him. "He's strong," said Mark in a low voice, trying to reassure her. "You're the best painkiller for him right now." He smiled at her as she nodded her head.

"Right, then," he said. He leaned over and kissed her on her cheek, supportively as a friend would. "Be brave." He padded quietly out of the room leaving Karen alone again with William.

For a few moments after Bordon's departure, William continued to tremble with chill, even under a heavy woolen blanket and a thick quilt. Karen held him close and secure for a few moments, until he was still. Only then did she drift off to sleep, relieved that William was resting now.

Shortly after 1:00am, the house was quiet and the fire in William's room had burned down some. Karen opened her eyes and moved slightly. William stirred a little as well.

"Am I dead," he asked in a weak, barely coherent voice.

"No William, you're alive," she assured him.

"I must have dreamed that you were an angel," William muttered weakly, looking back and up at her.

Karen looked into his beautiful blue eyes, glazed over in illness. She stroked his hair and his cheek. "I've tried to be your Guardian angel for two days,"she said lovingly as she kissed his forehead.

"Stay with me," he asked her.

"I will," assured Karen.

"I love you," he murmured in a weakened voice.

She put her lips to his ear and repeated the same words back to him. Then she kissed his mouth softly.

* * * * * * *

In the weeks following Colonel Tavington's relapse, he continued to progress quickly again, though he didn't push himself, afraid of putting himself on his back again. His appetite and diet slowly returned to normal, although he had lost some weight. He was frustrated with his weakness, having always been strong and never having an injury that plagued him as much as these did.

His rehabilitation progressed from being fed, to feeding himself. From sitting up for short periods of time to standing. He gradually increased his walking distance and found his stamina coming back.

During his recovery, before he was walking, or on days after he could walk distance on his own but was tired, he would rest on the couch in the McKinnon's parlor covered by a blanket. As he did this, Karen and Bordon would 'entertain' him, usually with Karen on the piano and both of them singing.

They sang and played everything from traditionals to hymns, but, they loved singing Irish music the best. Both Major Bordon and Miss Stirhaley were half Irish. Their favorite was an Irish ditty that they thought fun to sing:

Sweet Mary me Darling, the war clouds are looming, and traitors are plotting to fetter the land; I go on the morrow when cannons are booming, To join in the battle with liberty's band Fare the well, sweet Mary Mavourneen, It grieves me to leave thee dear, bride of my soul The Emerald island away in the ocean, With white breakers kissing it's murmuring shores With tear-moistened eyelids, I look through the gloaming, And think of the pleasures that blessed us of old. Fare Thee well, Sweet Mary Mavourneen It grieves me to leave thee dear, bride of my soul.

One day, as William rested on the couch, Karen and Mark launched into this tune.

"Really, now," Tavington protested, "Do the two of you have to sing this? I really don't like it when you do this one."

Captain Spaulding, provisional second in command, was with them in the parlor. He was near the piano and asked Karen why the Colonel didn't like this song.

"Oh, he says it's a 'pub' song," answered Karen. "He thinks it's not proper for us to sing."

"Well, I think it sounds right nice!" exclaimed Spaulding.

"You can tell he's getting better," said Karen, still playing, but interrupting their singing. "He's getting back to himself." She looked William's direction and smiled fondly at him.

"Yeah! He's cranky!" Bordon jeered. "He's in Dragoon commander mode now, right he is!"

Tavington sighed, exasperated at them both, then rolled his eyes.

The affable Spaulding made his way over to the couch. He leaned down to his commanding officer to make a comment.

"You know, Colonel," he began, gesturing his head over the direction of Bordon and Karen, "those two have way too much fun together. You'd better hurry up and get well so that he doesn't steal your girl!"

"I assure you, Captain, that the Devil himself will be throwing snowballs in Hell before that happens," Tavington replied, absolutely deadpan.

Captain Spaulding laughed and moved out of the room and back out to the Dragoons.

When the two of them were through laughing and singing their ditty, Major Bordon excused himself to attend to administrative duties for the Dragoons. This left Karen and William alone.

She looked at him and smiled. He looked like he was wearing down.

"Are you alright, William?" she asked with concern. "Do you want me to help you upstairs so that you can rest?"

He sighed and closed his eyes. "Um...in a moment," he said. "First, I want to hear you sing something for me."

Karen smiled shyly at him, then turned back to the piano. She knew exactly what he wanted to hear. She began to play 'Be Thou My Vision', and sang in her sweet, mezzo soprano voice to her own accompaniment.

William closed his eyes and sank back into the couch as she did. This always reminded him of the day they met. His mind drifted back to a time when they were both younger.

* * * * * * *

He remembered when he first saw her -- and heard her. He was Major Tavington at that time, and second in command of a Dragoon unit. He and his good friend Captain Bordon had volunteered go on an errand to General Brewster's house. The wealthy, retired General hosted a New Year's Eve party every year at his country estate. Brewster had been a Green Dragoon before he had moved to the ranks of General and moved out of the cavalry outfit. He was still friendly with many of the older Green Dragoons and always invited the Dragoons young and old to his party every year.

The two young Dragoons had found the estate in chaos trying to get ready for the party that evening. Tavington and Bordon split up, searching for General Brewster to deliver a message to him from their commander. Walking down one of the lofty hallways, Tavington heard the General's voice echoing from the grand ballroom. He could hear him ranting about the piano tuner failing to show up and asking someone, as a favor, to play and see what that person thought about the sound of the instrument.

William had caught the man as he exited the ballroom and delivered his message. As he turned to find Bordon, he heard the piano and what he thought was an absolutely angelic voice. He was entranced by it, so he entered the ballroom to see who was playing.

At the piano was a young lady playing "O Jesus Joy of Loving Hearts" and singing. It was his first time to see Karen and he was captivated! Not only was he taken with her voice, but he thought she was the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen. He was so smitten that he froze at the doorway and was speechless. William just stood and listened and watched her, his heart skipping beats and his breath taken away.

After playing yet another song, "Be Thou My Vision", he boldly approached her at the piano and began a conversation with her. The two of them talked easily with each other and were instantly attracted to one another. He asked if she was going to the ball that evening. She said yes and they agreed to spend more time together there.

At the ball, they could not take their eyes off of one another and hardly left the other's side. That night, the two of them fell head over heels in love with each other and courted. William soon knew this was the girl for him and wanted no other. Within a year, they were engaged.

* * * * * * *

A gentle kiss on his cheek brought him out of his reverie. William opened his eyes to see the beautiful face of his fiancée close to his.

"You were smiling," she said, softly, a smile on her lips as well.

"I was thinking wonderful thoughts," he replied.

"About?" she asked.

"When we met," answered Tavington.

"Six years ago," Karen added.

"When you play those two hymns, it always reminds me of when I first saw you. I was captivated."

"The same," she agreed. "When I looked up from the piano as I heard your boots and spurs, I was speechless as I saw this tall, handsome and dashing man approaching. That was it for me! After that, it was hopeless. I was smitten!"

Both of them laughed and smiled. They'd said these things and talked of these feeling to one another time and again since they'd met, but never tired of hearing them.

"We were head over heels, weren't we?" Tavington commented.

"We still are, aren't we?" she asked.

"Yes," he answered. He was still smiling at her. She was lost to his azure blue eyes.

He found her hand and took a hold of it. "Karen, you have waited so patiently for me and have put up with my bad habits," he said. He raised his uninjured arm and softly touched her cheek. "I promise you, we will get married as soon as this mess of a war settles down."

"I know, William."

They kissed deeply for a moment, then stopped, not wanting to be caught in a passionate or "inappropriate" kiss on the McKinnon's couch.

Karen helped William to his feet and supported him as she walked with him up the stairway. She helped him gently into his bed, for his wounds and body still hurt him, so that he could rest.

CHAPTER 3
Nothing Without You

I once had a true love and I loved him so well I loved him far better that my tongue can tell My true love he spoke and to me he did say It won't be long, now, love, 'til our wedding day             -- from "Our Wedding Day" an Irish Ballad             Songs of the People, Sam Henry

Two months later, Colonel Tavington was up and around, walking the estate and riding little by little each day to increase his stamina.His arm was recently taken out of it's sling and his shoulder was healing nicely. The bullet wound to his hip was slower to mend, nagging him, but he knew it would be a matter of time. This day, he was walking and feeling exhausted, thinking he had overdone his self imposed rehabilitation in the preceding days.

He walked slowly and stiffly with Miss Stirhaley at his side. She noticed that he didn't seem as mobile today as he had been and this caused her small worry that his healing was digressing instead progressing. He mentioned that his shoulder was still sore.

The Colonel was dressed in his red and green Dragoon uniform, with regulation black riding breeches and boots. But, he wore it very casually today, which was unlike him, but better to suit his injuries. His jacket and vest were both hanging unbuttoned. He wore no cravat around his neck and the ruffled collar of his shirt peaked out around the edge of his green coat lapels.He had insisted on putting the uniform on everyday that he was up and out of bed.

Karen wore a simple, light grey dress, with scoop circular collar plunging low to show ample cleavage. Her hair was down, pulled back from her face with ringlets of brown curls cascading down her back. William loved her hair down and loose.

They were now far from the other plantation dwellers and guests, sauntering in their favorite place. They strolled hand in hand by a rushing, crystal clear brook with water cold as ice. Some moments found them talking of their world, while other minutes they were both silent, listening to the relaxing sound of the water.

Karen turned serious for a moment, forsaking the sound of soothing water.

"Will, I don't think we should wait any longer to get married."

"I know," answered Tavington, "and you've been so good to wait for me these years and have not once complained. We'll do it as soon as we can, but with the war--"

"What if something happens to you," she interrupted.

"Nothing will happen," William assured her. "It hasn't yet. I'm a good fighter and leader."

She nodded in agreement with him and said nothing. She would change the subject -- no use trying to fight the importance of his involvement in this war.

Karen let go of the Colonel's hand and walked to the edge of the water. The brook, which originated from an underground spring, with it's constantly chilled water, kept the immediate area around the banks of it cool, as if walking into an icehouse. She shivered noticeably and crossed her arms in front of herself to warm up. Tavington came up behind her and slipped his arms around her torso as she still faced away from him, looking out over the water. With her in his arms, he moved his hands up and down her folded arms, trying to warm her up.

She laid her head back on his chest and said, "It's always so cold here." She'd made that comment many times before.

"Yes. It's the spring," he replied.

"Isn't there a better reason than that," she sighed dreamily, conveying the all too human trait of wanting to hear something more poetic.

Tavington laughed quietly. "Alright. The real reason it's always cold here is because this place is for lovers. The icy temperature is so that a man will have a good excuse to put his arms around his woman." His lips brushed against her cheek as he tightened his arms about her, which brought a smile to her beautiful face. He held her there for a moment.

Karen adored his ability to let his guard down and be so freely and unabashedly romantic with her. Yet, she admired his utmost professionalism with his commanders and his men. The line between the two was never blurred, and she loved him deeply for both of these traits.

"Yes," she agreed, "quite gallant of a gentleman to keep his lady warm." The Colonel was nuzzling her ear, which both tickled and delighted her. "Quite," he agreed, his voice airy and muffled by her neck and hair. After a moment of shared reverie, Tavington's words brought them momentarily back to the present.

"Tomorrow I resume duty with the Dragoons, though not regular," he began. "I've given myself an abbreviated patrol assignment--"

"So soon," exclaimed Karen as she stepped out of his arms and turned to face him. "You're not completely healed."

"I know. But I can't stay away for ever. I'm their leader. Besides, the doctor says that I've come along very well."

With that, he drew his sword, ready to attack an imaginary foe, as if to prove a point. Then, he winced in pain as he extended his body and weapon.

"You'd better not let your opponent see that," said Miss Stirhaley, as she helped him over to sit down on a huge oak tree, lying on the ground, toppled by some weather calamity.

He sheathed his sword, then looked up at his silent fiancée, who was looking at him with concern. After a quiet moment, he smiled at her then looked back over his shoulder, as if wondering if they were still alone.

Karen sighed and took a couple of steps away from him. "I'll miss you," she simply began. She turned to face him. "It's been nice having you here for so long, despite your incapacitation."

"Yes, but, I am anxious to get back to duty. I yearn for it so. It will make me feel...regular...again."

"And whole," she added, walking back toward him.

"No," answered William. He declared in the sweetest and most sincere voice, "I'm already whole. You do that for me." He stretched his arm out and she took his hand, letting him pull her in close to him with him still sitting, placing her in front of him between his parted legs.

He continued, his icy-blue eyes full of profound love for her and looking into her eyes. "You are the part that completes me -- makes me whole. Without you, I'm just some unfinished lump of clay. I'm nothing without you."

"William," she said lovingly with no restraint. "William," she murmured softly as she put her arms around his neck and embraced him. With him sitting and her standing, they were nearly eye to eye, her now the taller or the two, instead of him towering over her. Her lips brushed against his ear, followed his jawline softly, then found his lips. They kissed each other softly, at first, then more deeply after a moment, each accepting the other's warm tongue. Then she moved to his other cheek and ear. Soon, he felt her moist breath on his bare neck. A low moan escaped his throat as he closed his eyes. He felt her soft hand on the back of his neck, below his neatly wrapped queue, as she moved her mouth back to meet his again. His mouth slipped to her neck, which caused her to smile and feel warmth. He slipped his arms about her waist letting one hand drop to her rear, which he kneaded, then put his hand firmly on it and pulled her in against him. They were kissing a little more furiously now.

Karen slipped her hands inside his jacket and lingered there for a moment. Her lips touched his cheek, then moved back to tease his neck. He sighed as she did. After a moment, she slid her hands up under his loose shirt, touching his skin as if her fingers were feathers.

Her hands moved up his abdomen and chest to his shoulders, being extra careful and only touching lightly his hurt shoulder. Karen's hungry mouth once again sought his. William's hands were touching her breasts lightly, then cupping them, wishing the material of her dress didn't stand as a barrier between his hands and her bare skin. They continued their kissing, alternating between frenzied one moment, and soft, gentle wisps of kisses the next. Then his mouth moved down her neck, then down the top of her chest until the dress stopped him. He lingered there, letting her feel the warmth of his mouth and lips on the very top and beginning of her breasts and her cleavage. His hands dropped down to rub her butt and the out sides of her thighs. William's lips found hers again, to kiss her urgently. His hands trailed up both sides of her body from her thighs and found the front buttons of her gray frock. He began to unbutton her dress, wanting to free her from the binding material as he kissed her wetly. In a moment, a few of the buttons were undone, so he put his hands just under the shoulder seams on each side of her dress and pushed the material off her shoulders slightly. Then his mouth kissed her neck and shoulders, causing her to coo and sigh. He hadn't undone enough buttons to release sufficient tension on her dress to make it slip readily off her shoulders. He kissed her mouth again and resumed undoing more buttons lower down on her bodice, eagerly wanting to free her breasts from the confines of her dress and put his hands and mouth on her nakedness. He fumbled with the buttons now, his excitement in thinking of how close he was to touching her causing this. He tried to calm himself enough by slowing down and feeling each button on her dress. She sighed and panted, her head back and eyes closed, eager to feel his wet mouth and his hands on her bare skin. The reverie of all this made her body tingle and relax.

But then, something made her remember herself and brought from her dreamy euphoria.

"William," Karen said breathily, gently clasping his hands to stop them from their task. She reluctantly and softly guided them away from her open dress. She turned and stepped away from him, still holding one of his hands. He held onto her hand until she stepped past his arm's reach, her hand slipping lightly out of his. Will's empty hand dropped into his lap. He looked down at the ground for an instant, then back up at her.

"I know," he sighed with a mixture of frustrated disappointment and understanding that he must stop.

Karen still stood at the bank of the creek and closed up her bodice, becoming 'proper' again. She was quiet for a moment, trying to think of a 'safe' way without consequence to escape her virginity before marrying him. The couple had come close to sex a few times before, but had exercised restraint. This was becoming harder the longer they were engaged. She wanted this man, yet wanted to remain pure for him. Surely they could give in to the urge just once without any repercussions, she thought.

"William," began Karen, as she turned and walked back to him, "we do love each other. We could give ourselves to one another just once before we marry." She looked down shyly at the ground, nearly ashamed for suggesting such a thing.

"No," he said as he raised her chin with his hand. He wanted her eyes to witness his sincerity. "No. We'll keep that for our wedding night."

For some unexplainable reason within himself, it was important to him to keep her pristine for that evening. He loved Karen so much that he felt that he, and only he, would be the man to deflower her. Too him, she represented a prize won in a battle well fought -- a goal obtained. She was like the one very special woman in every man's life that he loves deeply and desperately wants to make love to, yet puts the lady on a pedestal as not to dirty or break her. He wanted to understand why he wanted to keep her virtue intact for that night because he fought constantly his desire to take her at any given time.

She stepped back toward him. As she came closer, his hand caught her waist and pulled her back close to him.

"We might be disturbed out here," he continued. "I'd rather our first time be in our marital bed. Then, we won't be disturbed and the act will be rapturous!" Will smiled at her, and kissed her lips softly. She smiled back and looked down, blushed, then turned her head away. He kissed her cheek as she did.

"Will," she began, her voice laced with concern as she looked back at him. She slipped her hands into his again, still close to him and looked down. "Carolyne says it hurts the first time." She raised her eyes, looking deeply and innocently into his for the truth.

Tavington sighed in astonishment that she'd said that, unable to answer her.

"Well, I had to asked someone," she explained, "so that I would know what to do and expect our first time."

William's face contorted with disapproval in jest, with a sly smile as if to scold her for being naughty.

"Well," she cried, "she's married and I trust her! I didn't know who else to ask.." She turned away from him, embarrassed.

Carolyne was a longtime friend of hers back in England who had been married happily a few years. She had thoroughly explained the sex act to Karen upon her request.

She had urged Karen to accept everything gracefully that her husband gave her during sex, and to return the same actions back to him. Carolyne also explained that a woman could receive pleasure from a man as well, that it wasn't just an obligatory act. She told her that the physical pleasure received from one's husband could scarcely be explained or believed, only that it was 'wonderful'. She advised Karen never to disguise her pleasure for the sake of 'being proper', for men enjoy knowing they have given a woman pleasure. They are understanding of this. She advised her not to 'fake' pleasure in any way or for any reason, that this would only cause misery and dread of the act. Carolyne urged that honesty and understanding were of key importance, and that sex was not only a physical act, but a mental and emotional one as well, which deepened it and made it sacred. She stated to Karen that it was a 'meeting of the minds', as well as bodies. She suggested that she submit to William's urges, but not to be afraid to initiate the act as well when she had urges, and that this would surprise him and keep him interested. Karen committed Carolyne's words to memory and replayed them in her head from time to time, hoping and waiting patiently for her wedding day.

Colonel Tavington chuckled at Karen's innocence, which he found charming and endearing. Then, he turned serious.

"Yes," he answered her, "it does hurt the lady the first time. But, the discomfort wanes the more it happens."

Her eyes widened and mouth dropped open.

"Don't worry, darling," reassured William, "I'll be gentle with you, like fine porcelain that I wouldn't want to break. You'll be fine." He slipped his arm about her waist, pulled her to him, and kissed her mouth gently. "I'd never hurt you. Trust me."

She was lost and enamoured hopelessly to this man, drowning in his loving words. "I do," she simply replied to his request of trust.

She sighed dreamily and asked "When will we be married?"

"Not soon enough," he remarked with an air of eagerness and sarcasm.

"Now who's being naughty," she admonished him.

"Naughty?! It's natural to want to lay with your wife."

"Your wife," she repeated his words whimsically and sweetly.

"My wife," he confirmed. "Karen Tavington."

"Mrs. William Tavington," she countered and smiled at him.

"The Colonel's Lady," he smirked.

"They call me that now," she protested.

"Alright, then. My Woman!" he said in a brutish voice.

"Oh, Will," she laughed and rolled her eyes.

They were both silent for a moment, then looked at each other seriously.

"I can't wait," said Karen, in a subdued tone. "I hope you'll be happy with me."

"Of course I will. I love you," he assured her."I'm happy now."

Tavington stood up and embraced her, holding her close to him for a quiet moment. He pulled back from her to look into her eyes. "I hope that you'll be content with me," he expressed sincerely. He touched her cheek with his fingers, trailing his thumb along her lips. He continued to speak in a tone that conveyed worry that he would never be able to fulfill joy in her life. "I want to make you happy, Karen."

His blue eyes were so full of desire, vulnerability, and true love that she thought she might melt right there and then. She took the hand that still brushed her cheek and laid his palm securely against her face, her hand over his, holding it there.

"You will," she affirmed positively. "We'll be very happy." She smiled an angelic smile at him. They kissed again, lingering long enough to taste one another's mouths.

Then, Colonel Tavington offered Miss Stirhaley his arm, which she took, and he escorted her back to the main house.

CHAPTER 4
Rules and Ghosts

[The Green Dragoons looked awesome and foreboding as they rode up the lane of the Martin plantation on the Santee River. Colonel Tavington, riding at the front, could see the English infantry regiment they were to rendezvous with was already there.

As the riders neared the large house, they could see wounded from both armies all over the place, and the civilians -- probably the family -- tending to the wounded. Just before the house, William Tavington raised his arm to call a halt to the unit.

The dragoons were met by the family, huddled together on the porch. A young British lieutenant stepped down from the veranda and marched straight to Tavington, who was still on his horse. The Lieutenant bowed in respect to the commanding officer.

"Lieutenant, have the attachment take our wounded to our surgeons at Winnsboro," Tavington ordered. "Fire the house and barns! Let it be known that if you harbor the enemy, you will lose your home!"

The family stood still and silent on the porch, watching the Colonel's moves with cautious eyes. Colonel Tavington turned to some of the male slaves who had gathered near the house. "By standing order of His Majesty King George, all slaves of the American Colonies who fight for the Crown will be granted their freedom with our victory."

One brave man spoke up. "Sir, we are not slaves. We work this land as freedmen."

"Well, then, you are freedmen who will have the opportunity and the privilege of fighting in the King's army, aren't you!" Tavington shot back smartly. His irritation for rebels was showing itself.

The lieutenant handed him a bundle of papers. "Rebel dispatches, Sir."

The Colonel glanced at them, then spoke. "Who carried these?" His voice was firm, the tone demanding an answer immediately. Tavington looked around at the mute people. Damn they defy me, he thought. I'll get an answer NOW if I have to beat it out of someone myself!

"WHO CARRIED THIS?!" Tavington shouted angrily. His temper was now wearing thin.

"I did, Sir," an American male voice said. Sounded like the voice of a young man to William.

Indeed, instantly, a young man who looked about twenty left the porch of the house and approached the Colonel. "I was wounded," he continued as he pulled on his blue Colonial Regular coat. "These people gave me care. They have nothing to do with the dispatches." He pulled his blonde pony tail out of his coat collar and straightened his vest and jacket.

"Take this one to camp," commanded Tavington calmly, back in control. "He is a spy. Hang him and put his body on display."

"He's a dispatch rider and that's a marked case," someone protested. It was Benjamin Martin, owner of the plantation. He was now off the porch. His dark brown hair was hanging loosely and falling out of it's ponytail, and his clothes were stained with the blood of both armies' wounded.

Tavington paid no heed and went on. "Destroy the livestock. Save the horses for the Dragoons."

Benjamin Martin was now at the foot of Tavington's saddle. "Colonel, this is a uniformed dispatch rider carrying a marked case. He can not be held as a spy," he pleaded.

Colonel Tavington arched an eyebrow and smiled fiendishly. "Well, we're not going to hold him -- we're going to hang him."

"Colonel," began Benjamin, but was quickly shushed by a muffled voice.

"Father," the blonde headed young soldier whispered.

Martin looked as if the air had just been let out of his sails. He did not want these Redcoats to know the blonde dispatch rider, Gabriel, was his oldest son. Ben wanted nothing more than to protect him.

Tavington was delighted that the cat had been let out of the bad. He raised his eyebrows in surprise and his mouth curved into a sinister grin. "Oh, I see. He is your son. Well perhaps you should have taught him something of loyalty."

Benjamin spoke again. "Colonel, I beg you to reconsider. By the rules of war -- '

That was it for Tavington. He lost his temper. It was morning and he was already sick to death of rebels trying to make deals with him. With Tavington and Colonists, there were no deals. It was going to be done Tavington's way and his commands were to be followed. In his eyes, all actions carried out by him or his men were for the Crown. He was, after all, his King's soldier. And, he took his duty very seriously.

"Rules of war," yelled Tavington with disdain. These dealings were wasting his time. He'd already made his orders known. He pulled his pistol from it's holster and pointed it down at Martin, and glared at him. "Would you like a lesson, sir, in the rules of war?"

Martin said nothing and did not flinch. He stood his ground and bravely held the deadly stare of the commander.

When there was no response from Martin, Tavington then shifted his weapon and aimed it at the Martin family and their slave Abigail, still huddling together on the veranda. They gasped and cowered instantly.

"Or perhaps your children would?" Tavington continued. This action brought immediate response from Benjamin. He ran and posed himself protectively in front of them.

"No lesson is necessary," he replied.

Satisfied, Tavington holstered his gun. The Lieutenant spoke up again. "Sir, what of the rebel wounded?" The lieutenant bit his lip for he knew of Tavington's reputation and anticipated what the answer would be. This he dreaded.

"Kill them," William answered.

Two of the infantry soldiers held Gabriel Martin while a third tied his wrists. Tavington slipped the dispatch papers into his saddlebag and didn't pay much attention to the voices of Martin and his family eminating from the porch.

Suddenly, a thin, brunette, teenage boy bolted from the porch past Tavington. He rushed the soldiers holding his older brother and readying to haul him away. He hurled his small body into them with such force that it knocked both of them away.

"Gabriel, RUN!" The boy screamed.

Just as quickly, a pistol shot rang out and silenced everyone around the area. After an instant of confusion, all had seen Tavington shoot the teenage boy, Thomas Martin, in the back. His family ran to him, and he died within seconds in his father's arms.

"Stupid boy!" Tavington remarked, looking down at Benjamin Martin.

Tavington meant all of his actions and was never afraid to make an example out of someone of something. He thought one of the best ways to control the rebels was keeping them fearful.

Colonel Tavington had no second thoughts or regrets about shooting this boy. All he could see was a bold young teenager. If the boy was so unafraid as to rush those soldiers, then Tavington reasoned that this young man would grow up to be a fearless rebel.In his mind, he had just rid the Colonies of one less future soldier or militiamen.

The dragoons rode away as the houses and barns began to burn down. Will did not look back from his horse as His Majesty's infantry shot the rebel and Colonial wounded soldiers.]

[After the Dragoons had left Martin's plantation, leaving the man alone with his family and his dead teenage son in his arms, another event transpired. The small platoon of Redcoats, including the Lieutenant that had reported to Colonel Tavington as Martin's farm, had been slaughtered. They had Gabriel Martin as their prisoner and he had been freed and was no where to be found. They could only surmise that Militia had been responsible for the carnage.]

That evening, after the news of this and the loss of a prisoner he'd sentenced to execution, Tavington was in a particularly foul mood. He had berated himself and had thought over and over again that if the dragoons would have taken the prisoner, none of the attack would have occurred. He would not have allowed it. They were always very cautious.

William sat at the makeshift desk in his tent trying to write an official report of what transpired earlier that day at Benjamin Martin's plantation. But he was tired and was fighting hard to keep his mind on what he was doing. His concentration was waning. The dragoons had ridden hard the last three days and covered more miles than expected. They had destroyed three bridges on main roads, making supply convoys unable to cross.

They had confiscated one whole supply train and taken the civilians in it prisoners. They had burned Martin's plantation, and comandeered an elaborate country manor near the Santee for the British to live in while here. The bonus to the mayhem and exhaustion was that they took nearly twenty horses, all in good condition, which was unusual. They had been running short of horses ever since they got to South Carolina.

Tavington rubbed his eyes. He put down his pen and stood up to stretch. "Bordon?" He called from his tent. No answer.

"Bordon?" Tavington repeated. "Damn! Where did go now?" An aggravated William got up and left his tent with his tin cup in hand. If he was to continue writing, he needed some tea or coffee -- something warm!

He made his way over to the fire. On his way he asked of anyone listening, "Anyone seen Major Bordon lately?"

"Yes, sir," answered one of the Dragoons pointing to the outer perimeter of the encampment. "At the edge of the camp talking to those Indians."

"Thank you," he acknowledged as another Dragoon poured hot tea into his cup. William decided to stay out of his tent for a moment and relished drinking the warm tea in the cool air. After a few moments, Major Bordon reappeared at the Dragoons campfire.

"I've been looking for you," Tavington said to his second in command.

"Oh," said Bordon, raising his eyebrows. "Would you mind coming with me. I've got something to show you." Tavington swallowed the rest of his tea and followed Bordon, who led him to one of the hospital tents.

[As Major Bordon led Colonel Tavington into the small medical tent, he said, "Sir, we have the Private the Cherokee scouts brought in."

Lying on a bed in front of them was the only survivor of the massacre of the platoon that had taken Gabriel Martin prisoner. He was not in good shape. Blood ran fresh, as well as had dried on his face. The surgeon was finishing up with him.

"Private? Private," William said, trying to get the injured man's attention. The wounded soldier turned his head toward the officer. William could see that he was very young.

He introduced himself. "Colonel William Tavington, Green Dragoons. What happened? Who did this?"

"It was mad," the young soldier answered in a thick Scottish accent. "I couldn't really tell you who it was." The young man tried to prop himself up on his elbows.

The Colonel stepped forward and leaned down to the man. "Calm down, calm down," he said, stepping close to the bed and motioning the wounded man to rest easy. In an emphatic, yet calm voice, the officer continued. "Now, twenty of his Majesty's soldiers are dead and I need to know how."

To Major Bordon, who had stayed near Tavington as he talked with the man, he feared they were starting to lose the soldier to incoherency. When the Cherokees had found the soldier and brought him to the camp, the well-educated Bordon, who had picked up many of the local Indian languages from his dealings with them, heard the details of the carnage at the scene from the Indians. He had then interrogated the Private as the surgeon started to work on him. He thought that the man had been clearer with his answers at that time.

Bordon felt for the young man and wanted him to rest. He thought he may lapse into unconsciousness before Tav could even finish, so he stepped forward and spoke up. "He said it was--"

"Were you there?!" Tavington snapped and cut him off directly.

Bordon held his tongue and stepped back.

"Then let him speak!" Tavington snarled.

Bordon said nothing back. It would have been futile for he knew that his commander had been in a bad mood most of the evening. He let the Colonel's temper roll off his shoulders, as he did most of the time.

Tavington continued his investigation. "Take your time and tell me how many were there? Were they Militia? Were they Regulars?"

The Private answered. "I don't really remember how many Maybe one?"

Colonel Tavington stood back upright and knitted his eyebrows at the wounded soldier's answer. "One man? Really?"

The commander listened intently as the injured young man spoke. "He was in the flank. All around us. Amongst us. I could barely see him. He was there...and then he was gone."

The Colonel was puzzled. He was wondering if the soldier really believed that it was just one man, of if this had become an incoherent rambling. "He just...vanished? Sounds more like a ghost than a man."

"Yes," the soldier answered straight away. "A ghost. He was like a ghost."

"Enough," Tavington said, stopping the interview. He'd heard all he needed to hear and felt no necessity to put the hurt man through more questioning. Tavington paused a moment, thinking about what the man had said.

"Bordon. Take a patrol. See if we can't capture this 'ghost'," he commented as he turned to face the tent door, "before word of his exploits spread. Who's this?"

A very tall, young man dressed in a Dragoon uniform had joined Bordon at the tent door. Tavington did not recognize him. He thought that maybe he was someone from Banastre Tarleton's dragoon unit.

"Sir, this is Captain Wilkins. He was with the loyalist Colonial Militia. I thought he might be of some use to us," replied Bordon.

Captain James Wilkins was in his mid thirties, near the ages of Bordon and Tavington. He towered over both of the officers, who were right at six feet tall, with his six foot five inch frame. He was a handsome man, his hair sandy brown, wavy, and pulled back into the regulation tightly wrapped queue, same as Tavington's and Bordon's hair was.

At the mere mention that the man was a colonist, even though he claimed to be loyal to the Crown, Colonel Tavington was suspicious.

"Another Colonial," Tavington scoffed with apparent disdain.

"Tell me, Captain Wilkins," he sniffed, "Where do your loyalties lie?" He was testing him, as he did most of his new dragoons.

"To King and Country, Sir," Wilkins answered.

"Why should I trust a man who would betray his neighbours?"

"Those neighbours of mine who stand against England deserve to die a traitor's death."

"We'll see," Tavington remarked in a sing song manner. It was clear that he didn't believe or trust a word Wilkins said.

Tavington then exited the tent thinking about his most current and pressing problem: the Ghost.]

CHAPTER 5
Cruel Words

[On a small hill overlooking the battlefield at Camden, Lord General Cornwallis and Brigadier General O'Hara watched the English Army battle the Colonial Regular Army. They were winning, and Cornwallis was delighted.

O'Hara surveyed the action through a long glass. He could see Colonel Tavington charging in before they had made the call for him to, with his Dragoons not far behind him. It never ceased to amaze O'Hara how Tavington chased glory.

During the cavalry charge, William led his men bravely. He did not fear death on the battlefield and felt his place was always to lead the charge and set an example of bravery and valor for his men to follow. Tavington was a natural born leader.

He was also a fearless warrior. Swinging his heavy sabre as he rode, he hacked at the limbs and bodies of the Colonial regulars with no mercy. He knew this was the way of battle, and had it have been him on the ground, kindness would not have been shown to him. William was there only for one thing: Victory.

Atop the hill, O'Hara closed his long glass and put it away. "Well my Lord, it apears that the field is yours."

General Cornwallis spoke honestly and blatently to him, as was his usual manner. "These rustics are so inept," he commented with aplomb. "Nearly takes the honour out of victory Nearly."

General O'Hara smiled broadly and laughed heartily at his commander's blunt comment.]

Hours later, after the English victory at Camden, Major Bordon and Colonel Tavington took their leave of their unit to ride to Cornwallis' camp and join the Generals there. He thought for sure that they'd be delighted to see him, his cavalry unit having helped in taking the field in the battle. They could all celebrate together.

[As William and Mark rode into the Generals' camp, a small unit of Redcoats was moving out to the strains of "The British Grenadiers" played on the brigade's fife and drum. The officers saluted the departing unit as they continued their ride into the camp.

The two men dismounted outside the door of the tent and entered. Bordon followed his superior in, helmet in hand. Once inside, they were met with disdainful and silent stares from the Regular Army Generals.

The Generals looked down on Tavington and his Green Dragoons. Although he was a good and fearless soldier, they did not think he was made of the same mettle as them. They thought he was inferior and an officer from low character and low breeding. They thought his military tactics as crude, brutal, and not gentlemanly, and directed part of the blame at their 'stained' reputation at him. Also, it was no secret that the Tavington family had fallen from grace and fortune in British society with William's father squandering the family name and money away with drinking,questionable morals and exploits, not to mention losing the family's business. This was a prejudice that William fought against most of his life, being an officer.

Tavington and Bordon were dirty and blood stained from the battle. They were also famished, having gone since breakfast without a meal, and the meal was a meager one at that. Spread out before them on a table in the tent was a sumptuous banquet. All the leaders were drinking wine. William saw Cornwallis in a back part of the tent having his uniform straightened as he stood before a mirror.

Colonel Tavington greeted the group proudly. "My Lord General. Gentlemen. Glorious day for his Majesty and England!"

The leaders just stared at Tavington and his second in command, and let Cornwallis speak as he entered the main room. "Colonel Tavington. Always too early. Always too eager for glory."

"For victory, my Lord," Tavington gently corrected, trying to stand up for himself in a subtle manner. "I believe we took the field." Tavington watched as Cornwallis took a piece of meat from the platter and fed it to his two Great Dane dogs, Jupiter and Mars.

"Next time," admonished Cornwallis, "you'll wait for my command." He was always upset by Tavington when he could not sit still on his horse long enough to wait for a command to charge, and he seemed to be doing this more and more. Cornwallis' patience with his dragoon commander was dwindling.

"It appears that Colonel Tavington prefers to follow his own commands," General O'Hara remarked.

This made William's blood boil silently within. He thought that apparently, it had been so long since O'Hara had commanded his own regiment, that he had forgotten that commanding officers should use their initiative at all times. Afterall, William would watch the progress of the battle and enter when he felt the cavalry was needed, whether ordered to or not. All by his initiative, and all to help gain victory for England.

"Colonel," continued Cornwallis, "it is not bad enough that Banastre Tarleton has been called 'Bloody Ban', and now, O'Hara tells me you've earned the nickname 'The Butcher' among the populace."

William began to speak up in his defense but was waved off by Lord Cornwallis. "We'll discuss it tomorrow," dismissed Cornwallis. He then turned to the Generals that surrounded him and toasted them with his glass. "Gentleman, my compliments!"

General O'Hara raised his glass in return to lead another toast. "To victory!"

Tavington turned to leave. He and Bordon just looked at each other, dumbfounded. Even Bordon, who had listened to Tavington complain about the constant reprimands of his leadership, had thought that Cornwallis would at least be happy that they had another victory under their belt. Instead, he belittled one of his best Colonels in front of the Generals. Bordon thought it disgraceful. William heaved a sigh in frustration.]

Once outside, they mounted their horses in silence, and looked at each other, both rolling their eyes and shaking their heads. After they had ridden a few feet from the command tent, Bordon turned to Tavington and tried to lighten the mood.

"Hey," he said. "Fuck this! Let's go raid a chicken coop. I prefer chicken to the shit they were eating on that table anyway!" Bordon smiled and laughed, reaching over to punch his friend and commander on the arm.

Tavington knew his friend was just trying to lighten the mood. Bordon's humerous quips almost always harkened back to when they were young dragoon recruits, and would often remind him that they sometimes were hooligans in their younger days. Everything was so serious now that they were older and at war.

Bordon put spurs into his horse's ribs and cried "Hiyah!" as he rode ahead. Tavington did the same and followed, quickly leaving the camp behind.

* * * * * * *

"Good Morning Miss Stirhaley!"

"Hello General O'Hara," she replied, as she let him politely take her hand and bow to her.

Karen Stirhaley had gone with a wagon and driver to Middleton Place and Fort Carolina Headquarters to pick up some badly needed supplies for the Green Dragoons that had gone missing from a recent shipment. Since there were no extra soldiers at the time to spare, she had volunteered to collect the supplies. And while inside the mansion, she had run into General O'Hara, immediate aide to General Lord Cornwallis in the hallway. There, they exchanged pleasantries briefly.

Karen, knowing that Cornwallis and O'Hara sometimes went to the battlefields with the men, wondered if William had come back with them. He hadn't arrived back at the estate that morning. "Are the Dragoons back here yet?"

"No," answered O'Hara. "Lord Cornwallis and myself are only back because we excused ourselves early from a victory celebration. We didn't get in until very late last night. You may not see Colonel Tavington's bunch for two or three days. They are probably searching and raiding while out that way."

Karen nodded her head and bid him good bye. She walked to nearly the end of the hallway to Lord Cornwallis' massive office. She wanted to greet him and congratulate him on the victory at Camden. At that moment, he was indisposed. His office door was open and she could hear him dictating some letters to his secretary. She decided to wait a few moments to let him finish, then she would peak her head into his office.

The hallway was deserted. Most of the soldiers had not arrived back from battle yet. It was quiet except for the faint sounds coming from Cornwallis' office, and the more audible sound of a group of women close by. They were seated in a sitting room near the General's office and the door was open

Karen thought she recognized the voices as those of some of the officer's wives. Tea was being served. Karen did not want to disturb them as she guessed the General would be done soon, anyway.

A couple of moments passed with Karen still waiting in the hallway. The women enjoying the tea continued conversing in subdued tones, unaware of anyone but their immediate group. Their conversation, however, carried into the hallway where Miss Stirhaley stood.

"Well, I must confess that I've always thought him very handsome," said a voice.

"Yes, Colonel Tavington is a dashing officer."

Karen smiled to herself, momentarily flattered that the officer's wives thought her William to be good looking.

"A bit rough, though, wouldn't you say?" asked another voice.

"Yes. He is a rogue."

"You know his superiors don't have much respect for him or the Green Dragoons."

"Teddy says they call him 'The Butcher'."

"Really? Why?"

"His practice is to kill the surrendering or wounded enemy."

"No!"

"Oh, Yes! I assure you, it's quite true."

"I've also heard that he has killed women and children."

"No!"

"How disgraceful!"

"He does not fight like a gentleman and doesn't follow the rules of war."

"He also doesn't follow orders."

Karen could no longer concentrate on the activity in Cornwallis' office upon hearing the conversation coming out of the sitting room. A look of disbelief and shock clouded her face. Are they really talking about my William, she thought. My William?

"He is constantly insubordinate, but they keep him around because he is a fearless warrior."

"And what do you think of his fiancée staying here in the same house with him unchaperoned?"

"Scandalous!"

"They probably sneak in and out of each others' rooms at night." There was a hushed and naughty laughter.

"Yes -- while the whole house is asleep." More laughter.

"And making her wait so long to get married!"

"Well, I have my doubts about that. Maybe she's really his personal whore that he keeps, only masquerading her as his fiancée." There was a loud cackle of laughter that came from the room.

Karen's eyes rounded and her mouth dropped open. She could hardly believe what she was hearing. She felt her heart break there outside that door and became sick. She swallowed hard and walked quickly down the hallway toward the door, not stopping to greet Cornwallis.

When she stepped outside and arrived at her loaded wagon, she said nothing and managed to keep her composure as the wagon traveled home.

* * * * * * *

[Mid afternoon of the same day, a couple of days after the English victory at Camden, Colonel Tavington and Major Bordon stopped at Fort Carolina as the rest of the brigade rode on home to the plantation behind Captain Spaulding. The officers needed to check in quickly at the Headquarters to let them know they were back, and pick up new assignments for the men. Once inside the hall, William and Mark split up, hoping to take care of things twice as fast so they could get home. Both were exhausted and dirty.

Colonel Tavington entered Lord General Cornwallis' office. Cornwallis was showing something on a map to General O'Hara. Tavington bowed his head to his two superior officers and stood quietly as they finished up. William listened to the two men as he slid his riding gloves off his hands.

"It skirts the mountain then extends down toward the headwater here," said Cornwallis, trailing an imaginary line across the map with his index finger, "and right across to the far bank of the Ohio River. It's one hundred thousand acres."

General O'Hara was impressed looking at the tract of land on the map. "It's an imposing land grant, my Lord. You will be a country unto yourself." He smiled at Cornwallis and Tavington, then left the office.

Tavington grinned and spoke up. "His Majesty is most generous, my Lord. Though, of course, your service in this war more than warrants such a gift."

Cornwallis wondered what Tavington was getting at. He spoke up, cautiously. "Yes. This is how his Majesty rewards those who fight for him as gentlemen."

"I dare to presume my own meager contribution will be rewarded one day?" William smiled eagerly, hoping for that long lost word of praise from his commanding officer.

"You may presume too much," Cornwallis answered immediately.

This was not the answer William wanted to hear, and it made the anxious smile fade from his mouth. Cornwallis moved from the map table across the massive office back to his desk.

"His Majesty," the Lord General continued, "like history, judges us not only by the outcome of the war, but the manner in which it was fought."

William was a bit lost. "My Lord?"

Cornwallis went on. "We serve the Crown and must conduct ourselves accordingly." Then, he cut right to the point he needed to make. "Surrendering troops will be given quarter. These brutal tactics must stop!" Cornwallis' words were very firm and his tone of voice served to emphasize his serious stand on that issue.

"Is it not enough, my Lord, that I have never lost a battle?" Tavington pointed out in argument.

"You serve me, and the manner in which you serve me reflects upon me!" Cornwallis explained in an irritated voice. The General paused for a moment, realizing he was about to lose control. Wanting to maintain discretion, he spoke with a calm and composed voice as he continued on. "I would have thought that a gentleman from a family as esteemed as yours would understand that."

"My late father squandered any esteem in which we were held along with my inheritance!" Tavington shot back. He then remembered himself, that he was addressing his superior officer. He regained his own composure then spoke in a quiet voice, one that pleaded with the General to understand his position. "I advance myself only through victory."

"You advance yourself only through my good graces," disputed the General, correcting William.

Tavington sighed. There was just no dealing with Cornwallis.

The General continued. "These colonists are our brethren and when this conflict is over, we will re-establish commerce with them. Do you understand, Colonel?"

"Perfectly, my Lord," William replied with forced humility and hurt embarrassment.]

* * * * * * *

The Dragoons, lead by Captain Spaulding, roared into Surrey Hills Estate later that day. The men were starving so they ate first thing. Colonel Tavington, accompanied by Major Bordon were the last in, nearly two hours later, after having stopped at Fort Carolina Headquarters. The two of them took dinner together at the recently vacated dining room table. A map of the area they had covered in the battle and their subsequent raid and patrol was spread out before them. Though both were weary, they alternately ate and discussed the outcome of their patrol, verifying points on the map of where they had been in order to aid with the Dragoon's report to Cornwallis. After a glass of wine, Bordon excused himself as Tavington bundled up the materials and took them to his room. William was in a sour mood from being reprimanded, to add to his fatigue. And, although tired and melancholy, he wanted to greet his fiancée, if only for a few moments, before retiring for some much needed rest. Earlier when he had first arrived, he noted that she hadn't come out to embrace him immediately when he returned, but deduced that she had been busy and hadn't seen him come in.

He went up to her room and knocked on the door. After doing this twice, he called through the door and waited for her voice. Nothing. He decided he would take just a few moments to look for her before turning in.

It was nearing sunset and the house was being prepared for evening. Colonel Tavington headed downstairs and ran into the estate's mistress in the foyer. "Good Evening, Mrs. McKinnon," he called.

"Good Evening, Colonel," she replied.

"Have you seen Miss Stirhaley," he queried.

She thought for an instant. "No, not lately. As a matter of fact, I haven't seen her since she returned with the wagon this morning."

The Colonel sighed and looked mildly concerned.

Mrs. McKinnon called to her servants in the dining room, who were busy clearing the officers' dinner dishes and lighting candles. "Have any of you seen Miss Stirhaley recently?"

"No, Ma'am," a pretty young servant answered in a cockney accent. "She didn't take lunch or dinner."

Tavington thanked Mrs. McKinnon for her help and headed outside. Entering the stable, he saw that Karen's horse was gone. He questioned the stable hands and none of them knew where she went or saw her leave, but only that her steed had been gone for quite awhile.

The Colonel, worn-out and in a bad mood, sighed heavily in frustration and concern. He stood quietly in the stable for a moment, trying to decide what to do. His head ached and he just wanted to close the door of his room and lay down.

He decided to make a quick sweep of the estate on horseback to look for her. He knew he'd feel better just seeing her for a few moments. And, although exhausted, he knew that he would sleep better knowing she was safe at the house. After all, there was a war going on, and it was sundown and he didn't want to take any chances.

On his horse, he headed straight to the brook near the edge of the estate by the woods, thinking she might be there. When he didn't see her there, he skirted the wooden timber fence at the perimeter of the estate. He became concerned when he saw her horse tied to a tree outside the estate, but she was no where to be seen. He tied his horse to the same tree and took off on foot looking for her. Still in a bad mood and tired, his frustration at her turned to anger the farther he walked from the horses.

This is not wise, he thought. She knows better than this. There is a war on, for God's sake! How could she be so remiss as to be off the estate at this late hour? She didn't tell anyone where she was going or when she'd return. She's alone. It's near sunset. She's smarter than that! What was she thinking?!

Finally, in the glow of the sunset, he saw a figure sitting on a boulder beneath a large tree. As he got closer, he knew it was her even though her back was to him and her head was down. She seemed unaware that anyone was approaching. William, near her now and mad at her carelessness, opened his mouth to scold her, then stopped cold. His anger dissipated and turned to compassion when he realized she was crying.

He padded quietly around and knelt down in front of her. Her face was hidden in her hands, still weeping, never acknowledging his presence.

"Karen," he began putting his hand on her knee, "What's wrong?"

"Oh, William...William," she sobbed.

"What's troubling you?"

She looked up at him and shook her head. The sight of her tears was a heavy burden for him to bear. He wanted to take her in his arms, but she got up and walked a few steps from him. He stayed kneeling on the ground for a moment and sighed.

"I don't even know how to say it," answered Karen.

"Say what?" Tavington stood up, but stayed back from her. "Just say it."

She began to cry again. "You're a butcher...and...I'm...I'm... a whore!" Her voice stammered and broke. She buried her face in her hands again.

His blood began to boil at the thought of someone saying anything that hurtful and derogatory to his lady. Caught up in his own anger, it was a moment before he realized that she was weeping again. He regained his composure and went over to where she stood. Colonel Tavington took her in his arms and held her, letting her cry for a moment.

He questioned her. "Now, why do you say that," he asked her, his deep rich voice filled with tenderness.

"It's been said," she sobbed, hiding her face in his chest.

"By whom?"

"By everyone. It is how we are known."

He demanded the details from her and she told him about the incident at the Middleton Place Mansion earlier that day. He continued to hold her, listening quietly and withholding all his comments.

When she was finished, he took her by the hand and led her back over to the boulder. He sat down, and since there was room for only one on the rock, he sat her gently on his lap.

"Karen, you know it's just gossip," he comforted. "Those women, being the elitists that they are, have nothing better to do than to talk idly of others. They could better be using their time by helping our surgeons with the wounded and taking care of the sick soldiers."

He continued. "I do not care what they say for I know the truth. And you know the truth, as well," he assured, looking in to her eyes. "You are not a whore and I haven't made you one by bringing you over here. I wanted us to be together and did not want for you to have to wait for me to come back to England -- I had no idea how long I'd be posted over here. And, as for chaperones, my God, the house is full of them! There are plenty of proper people to keep us innocent! Jesus Mary Joseph! I'd be kicked out the house by Mr. McKinnon himself if I was found in your bed!"

William paused for a moment to let her talk if she needed to, but she said nothing. Instead, she laid her head down on his shoulder. He stroked her hair softly and tussled her curls with his fingers. His arm went protectively around her. With her head resting on his shoulder and her face very close to his neck, he turned his head to look down at her and craned his head backwards slightly to see her face. It hurt him that she looked so sad.

He was quiet for another moment, listening to the wind rustle through the trees. Then he kissed the top of her head lingering to breathe in the scent of her brown hair. "I think they're very jealous of you," he pointed out.

"Me? Why?" asked Karen.

"Because you are so beautiful and innocent."

"William," she blushed, looking away from him.

"You are!"

"You think I am!"

"And so do all of the Dragoons and many of the officers at Fort Carolina, and the women know this. If we weren't engaged, all those men would walk over each other to be your chosen one. But, I'm the one lucky enough to have you."

She smiled a little and placed her head back on his shoulder. But, she worried because he hadn't refuted the "Butcher" name. "William, they said the Generals don't respect you."

"They don't sometimes," he laughed.

"Doesn't that hurt you?"

"No, but it is frustrating. I do my duty and sometimes I feel it isn't appreciated or that the respect for me and my men isn't there, but, we are at war, and the Generals are very distracted and sometimes don't realize all the details," he stated. He paused for a moment, then continued. "I keep a stiff upper lip and just go on because I am doing the best I can do. I am confident that respect will prevail in the end with our ultimate victory."

Karen still couldn't get the 'Butcher' comment out of her mind. "They called you 'The Butcher'. They said you kill wounded enemy soldiers and don't fight like a gentleman."

"Don't fight like a gentleman," he retorted. "You should know that's not true. Have you ever seen me act, to you or anyone, any less than a gentleman?"

"No," replied Karen. "But what about the wounded--"

"Sometimes I have no choice but to have to kill those who I perceive as a possible threat to our efforts," William interupted. "And, sometimes, examples have to be made. It is my duty and I have to carry it out. I may not necessarily like to, but duty is duty. Besides, you know how conscientious and righteous Bordon is. You know that he'd never do anything that was questionable as far as duty is concerned nor would he let me carry out such," he prevaricated, trying to ease her mind. Bordon was his subordinate and had no choice but to abide by Tavington's orders, no matter what they were.

"Are you insubordinate," she asked.

"No, at least I try not to be," lied William once again. "But, as a commanding officer, I have to use initiative sometimes. And, the choices I make may not necessarily be those that another officer would make. I do what I feel is best and most fitting for the situation." He hated talking about his duty to Karen. He felt that, although he loved her, that she nor any other woman was qualified to judge a man and how he carried out his military duties. And, out of love for her, felt that she shouldn't have to be told the details of his dangerous job. He knew that she, like all other military wives and women, already knew of the basic dangers and worried that he would be seriously injured or killed. He didn't want her to worry about the pressure of some of his actions and decisions. And, on a deeper level, he refused to justify his decisions and actions to a woman -- he already had to do that enough with his superiors! He only answered her questions this time because the cruel words those women had said, although some true, had upset her so.

Karen was quiet for a moment. She had her face nuzzled into his neck, but lifted her head and laid it on his shoulder, looking outward over the land. She put her arms around him and sighed. She wanted to ask him about the darkest rumor of all, but didn't know if she could. But she tried to summon the strength. She needed to know that the man she loved was not a cold blooded murderer.

With one arm still around her waist, he gave her a reassuring squeeze. His other hand went up to the back of her head and stroked her soft hair. He loved how she needed him to protect her -- and he wanted to. He'd go to war with the world to make sure she was safe. He would lay down his life for hers, if need be, in a heartbeat.

"Something's still bothering you," he observed.

"William," stammered Karen, "you don't kill women and children, do you?"

She hid her eyes in the hollow of his shoulder, sorry that she had to ask him that, and fearful of what his answer might be.

He was silent for a moment as he thought. He remembered that farm from not long ago, before Camden. He recalled how the farmer and his family were treating the wounded of both sides from a battle in a field on his land.

He justified the decisions he had made that day in his mind. He stood by his decision to have the dispatch rider hanged and the family's home burned and property seized. He had to set an example that England would not put up with rebels or their sympathizers. He had no choice but to kill the wounded Colony soldiers, for, when mended, they would fight again. He defended killing the younger teenage brother of the dispatch rider and son of the pacifist farmer, for any young man with that much fire and emotion to fly at British soldiers to free his brother, would make yet another fierce soldier or militiaman. He had to prevent one more man from fighting against the British. He felt no wrong or shame in his decisions that day. He did his duty for the glory of his King.

"No, Karen, of course not," he assured. "Only rebels." But, he did not declare his personal opinion to her that 'rebel' to him meant wife, son, daughter, father, mother, family -- anyone, related to a rebel. Also to him, anyone aiding and abetting a rebel was just the same as one. They were all rebels to him and none of them could be trusted. For, anything that the rebel or his family member did, not matter how small, even if it was as insignificant as a woman giving a cold drink of water to a rebel fighter, was an act of rebellion, which was intolerable.

No. Colonel William Tavington kept this opinion to himself knowing that some things were better left unsaid.

"Oh, William, I knew you didn't," she exclaimed with relief.

"Look, darling, don't listen to anything that is said, for we know what the truth is," Tavington stated. Karen looked into his beautiful, ice blue eyes as he said that and was captivated. She was always his prisoner when she gazed into them. Likewise, she had captured his heart long ago and he never wanted to be freed from her. They kissed deeply for a moment, forgetting themselves. He pulled back from her for an instant and studied her pretty face, softly illuminated by the muted hues of sunset. He smiled.

"We'd better get back to the house now, before dark, or there will be a new set of rumours to contend with," he joked. They both laughed and set off for their horses.

CHAPTER 6
The Butcher and the Whore

Colonel Tavington slept well in his bed his first night home after the Camden victory. The well-deserved rest was even more rewarding knowing that his fiancée was safe.

After having given a day's furlough to the Dragoons, Tavington gave up some of his own time off to attend to his commanding duties. He spent part of the morning at Fort Carolina Headquarters meeting with the Generals. He turned in his maps for updates along with some captured documents and dispatches from a raid. He finished up the morning dictating his report for the Green Dragoons, detailing their part at Camden and a subsequent raid.

"You should get a copy of your report within the next two days," said Cornwallis' secretary.

"That is fine," the Colonel replied. "Thank you." With that, he gathered his helmet and gloves and walked out of the office into the hallway. He heard women's laughter echo through the hall. He stood for a moment and listened to it. He decided to follow the voices to see where they came from. He soon found himself outside of a sitting room and recognized the officer's wives as he looked in.

He seethed instantly when he looked in at them. He assumed that this was exactly where his fiancée had been standing when she'd accidentally overheard their comments. He also figured that this was probably the same group that had made those awful remarks. It would have been so easy for him to march into their midst and give them the what for, but, wanting to remain a gentleman as far as women were concerned, he decided to leave.

As he turned to go, a female voice called after him.

"Colonel," one said, "Did you think you could leave without saying hello?"

He turned and smiled cordially as he entered the room. "I didn't want to intrude."

"Oh, no intrusion at all," replied the older lady.

"Thank you, that's very kind. Good morning, ladies." He bowed slightly to the group as he entered the room. He greeted each lady by name, kissing their hand as he did.

He politely declined a cup of tea and stayed standing the whole time. He spent a few moments with them, charming them and flattering them with compliments.

"Colonel Tavington," began another of the ladies, "May I introduce you to my niece, Miss Helena Darlington, who is here visiting us for awhile."

He took the hand of the young beauty and kissed it. "Yes, and what a very pretty niece she is," he flirted. "Why, I fear that she is going to break all the hearts of the men while she is here. Someone should warn Lord Cornwallis ahead of time that he may lose a great many of his men to duels."

The group of women raised their eyebrows at the flattering comment as Miss Darlington blushed. There was polite laughter.

He stayed a few more moments, making light conversation with Miss Darlington, as well as flirting innocently with her. Then he turned to the other ladies, charming them with his nice manners and dashing looks. He was mesmerizing the same group of women that had talked so ill of him the previous day.

"Might I be allowed to compliment all of you on your lovely dresses," commented William. "Did they come from England, or here in the colonies? No matter which, but I would like to know the name of the shop. You see, I'd like to buy a lovely new dress for Miss Stirhaley. Why, my fiancée has been so good to put up with me and my duties to the Dragoons that she deserves it!"

"Oh, well..." stammered one of the ladies. It came across to Tavington that they weren't so willing to part with this information, maybe not wanting his Karen to have the nice things that they have or to shop at the same dressmaker they use.

He fought back a devilish grin when he realized he'd just succeeded in making them uncomfortable.

"But, I think that my Karen would put a dress, even one as lovely as yours, to shame with her beauty,"said William. "Don't you think?"

The ladies stammered. "Well...yes, Colonel Tavington." There was nervous laughter among them as they were all taken aback with his candor.

"Well, please forgive me, ladies, but I must take my leave," he said.

"Must you leave so soon, Colonel?" asked one of the women.

"Yes. I must return to my butcher shop...and my whore," he said bluntly, yet keeping his polite and gentlemanly candor.

The women were astonished and speechless at his comment. How could he have known what they had said?

"Isn't that what you called Miss Stirhaley and myself?"

The ladies were too embarrassed to answer.

"I believe that is how we are known?" He acted whimsically, as if none of this bothered him. His supposed amusement with the names he and his fiancée had been called made them all peevish.

There was light, nervous laughter.

"Well, whore or fiancée, however she is called or known, she is quite a fetching beauty," Tavington began, slow and calculating. "I have heard many of our soldiers and officers compliment on her ravishing looks. They agree that she is the most beautiful lady in the Colonies...Colonist...or English. As well as sincere, warm, and kind." He emphasized the word 'lady' in his speech. He took great delight in besting these ladies at their game. It was a noble way for him to get revenge upon them, in a polite manner, for hurting the woman he loved so deeply.

"It's been a pleasure ladies," he said. "Good day."

He left them to wonder how he knew, and to talk about how roguish he was.

Colonel Tavington sauntered down the hall with a devilish smile of satisfaction on his face. He thought that revenge, in some cases, was truly sweet.

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