“Well, well, who do we have here?” the shortest of the two drawled. “Looks like this woman wants to be a savior today and save this poor family. Who the hell are you?”
His barrel chest puffed out as if he were in charge. A mop of greasy, dirt-colored hair hung beneath his bicorn hat.
“Nobody you’d know,” I said, my hands in the air.
“Are you with them?” He swung his rifle at the man and the two women.
“No.”
“You are now.” He motioned to the other soldier who trained his rifle at me. “Rusty, tie her up with those two.”
Rusty, the taller soldier, shoved me toward the back of the wagon.
I considered taking these two out, but since eight more gun-toting men glared at me from a short distance, I thought better of it.
Rusty removed a rope from the back of the wagon and used it to tie my wrists behind me. Then, he cinched the middle of a sisal sash around my waist, the same as had been done to the two other women, and secured it to the wagon.
The two captives trained their gazes on me with wide, fearful eyes.
“What in the tarnation are you doing with an American soldier’s belongings?” Rusty said, indicating the haversack, the canteen, and the coat and pants. His face was covered with dark scruff, and he peered at me with beady gray eyes.
I faced him directly. “I took them off a dead man. Figured he had no use for them, so….”
I shrugged.
“Did you kill him, too?” He spat out a long stream of brown spittle, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
“No, sir, I did not. My family is all dead. Shot through the head by the British,” I lied. “I was wandering through the woods looking for shelter and came upon him.”
He narrowed his eyes as he considered my story. Then, with a grunt, he waved to one of the wagon drivers and said, “Head on out. We’ve got the situation under control.”
As he fell behind us with the other guy, I was jerked along by the creaking wagon.
I glanced at my companions and smiled.
One of them, the taller of the two women, was a striking beauty with long, golden hair the color of a wheat field. With bow-shaped ruby-colored lips, sapphire eyes, and a heart-shaped face, she’d be on the cover of a magazine in the 21stcentury. Only now, her hair hung unkempt and unruly around her dirty face.
The other, who looked much younger, bore a sullen face with pouty lips. Her unruly blond hair bounced around her head in ringlets. The lines between her forehead and her pinched expression hinted at her misery.
The taller woman glanced at me, positioning herself between the shorter woman and me. Then, she looked over her shoulder at Rusty and the other soldier.
I did, too.
The two men were chatting and laughing about something.
I didn’t see any reason to be in a good mood.
“My name’s Emily. This is my younger sister Charlotte,” she whisper-hissed out of the corner of her mouth.
“I’m Olivia,” I whispered.
“Why’d you try to help us? You only got yourself in worse trouble,” Emily said.
“Is there a problem up there?” Rusty called.
“No, sir,” Emily said.
“Then shut yer damn mouths,” he called.
