An alert had gone up, and a moment later, two dozen regimented officers and their aides exited the house, General Washington among them.
“This man tried to kill me, General,” Lee said simply, his eyes on Washington. He leaned down and released Dornan from his bind. The man’s eyes darted left and right, as if considering a run for it. “He put a musket ball through my hat,” Lee added, brandishing the injured article.
“It was an accident,” Dornan wailed. “You startled me.”
Lee continued without inflection. “Looks like he’s been living in an abandoned caretaker’s cottage at the edge of the property around the back of Sugarloaf. I was just out for a little ride. It’s taken me an hour to walk him back here.”
“He shot me!” Dornan moaned, clutching at his buttocks. He was walking just fine, so it must have only grazed him, but the left side of his breeches was soaked through in a merry red bloom.
“Had to,” Lee said, unapologetic.
“Are you Davis Dornan?” General Paterson asked.
The man frowned and looked from the general to me and then down at his worn shoes. Three of his stockingless toes peeked out above the soles.
“Private Dornan deserted last May,” General Paterson explained to the others. “He’s in Captain Webb’s company, Colonel Jackson’s regiment. He was thought to be one of the ringleaders of the planned mutiny following the dauphin’s celebration.”
“I wasn’t planning anything, General Paterson, sir.” Dornan shook his head, adamant. “I ran because I was afraid of getting blamed for it. I knew Shurtliff was talking.”
He swung his attention to me, and his fear immediately turned to derision.
“You’re a liar, Shurtliff. I know it was you who told. Can’t trust the pretty ones. You think we don’t all know how you got promoted?”
“Are you a deserter, Private Dornan?” General Washington asked, interrupting Dornan’s accusations. Washington’s voice never rose above the quiet rumble that caused the men around him to lean in.
“I didn’t go far,” Dornan whined. His eyes were doing the shifty thing again.
“Did you shoot at Mr. Lee?”
“I did. But I didn’t know he was your man.”
General Washington motioned for the soldiers in his guard to take Mr. Dornan into custody.
Dornan panicked and swung at me, clearly thinking I would be the easiest to get past. His fist glanced off the side of my face as I shifted and lunged—the way I’d done in a thousand maneuvers—and brought the butt of my musket against his head with a firm crack.
He crumpled like I’d paid him to perform, his knees buckling inward, his head at my feet, and I was back in Tarrytown, sick and dizzy, looking down at the first man I’d killed.
The men around me were only silent for a moment.
“I say, Shurtliff. Well done,” von Steuben chortled, but General Washington had already moved on.
“Paterson,” he said. “We have just been made aware of a problem in Philadelphia. If we are done here, we have a few more deserters to attend to.”
“I’ll see that Mr. Dornan is escorted back to the Point,” Colonel Jackson offered. Dornan was hoisted up by his armpits and hauled toward the hospital on the other side of the house, his head lolling, his feet dragging all the way.
General Paterson wore two spots of vivid red high on his cheekbones, and his pale eyes glittered as he looked at me. “Your nose is bleeding, Samson,” he said, impassive. “Get that salve from Maggie, and ask Dr. Thatcher if he can spare some ice for your cheek. You’re going to need it.”
He and the other officers immediately dispersed, following General Washington back in the house, and I was left, still gripping my musket in a two-handed carry, my knuckles white on the barrel and the stock.
“You’re going to have a black eye,” the general commented as we left Robinson’s house an hour later.
“Yes, sir.” My cheekbone throbbed slightly, and the skin was starting to bruise, but it was not something that would bother me much or for very long.
He started to respond and seemed to think better of it. A small detachment traveled with us, including Colonel Jackson, who’d informed us that Davis Dornan needed a night in the hospital, but would be brought back to the Point, under guard, as soon as he was fit to be tried. The circumstances were not ideal for conversation, especially of a private nature, and the general did not address me again.
General Washington was sending us to Philadelphia, and General Paterson was agitated and impatient as we waited for the ferry to take us to the other side of the river. A detachment of the Pennsylvania line, all newly levied soldiers, had barricaded themselves inside the state house in Philadelphia and threatened to destroy it and harm the members of Congress if their demands were not met. To make matters worse, the city had been gripped by an outbreak of yellow fever over the summer, and the city could ill afford the chaos. General Paterson, General Howe, and fifteen hundred men were being sent to quell the uprising and restore order.