“I have nothing more to give,” the man said, lifting his chin and folding his arms over his big belly. “I have been aiding the army for seven long years. I have done enough.”
I leveled the general’s pistol at his face. I was not afraid of him. I was afraid General Paterson would be dead before I got back. “What is your name, sir?”
“You will leave here at once,” he demanded, his face growing as florid as his coat. “I will not be bullied by every scoundrel that passes through.”
“Your name is Van Tassel. Is that correct?”
The man frowned, the sides of his mouth poking at his heavy jowls.
“This is neutral territory. You cannot refuse aid to an officer. If you do not do so willingly, I will confiscate your property.”
“All by yourself?” he sneered.
“It will take but one bullet to make you more agreeable. And if that officer dies, you will have an army on your doorstep. I swear it.”
He stared at me a moment longer, testing my resolve. My injury was evident, I was desperate, and he knew it. But desperation makes people dangerous.
“Morris,” he bellowed toward the African servant who’d emerged from around the side of the house when the daughter had started squawking. The man’s clothes were worn and his face was shining with perspiration, as if I’d interrupted his work.
Van Tassel pointed at me. “Morris, assist this man. Use the barn. And do it quickly. I’m expecting guests.”
The man nodded once and disappeared back in the direction he’d come, and Van Tassel pushed his daughter back toward the house and slammed the door behind them, making his displeasure and his reservations clear.
I collapsed onto the horse’s neck, shaking so violently I was unable to reholster the pistol in the saddle. I gathered myself for a moment, breathing through my teeth and ignoring the blood that had turned the left leg of my breeches black and oozed from the hole in my boot. I would deal with it when I was able.
Morris reemerged around the side of the house minutes later with a horse and cart. A boy of maybe nine or ten was perched on the horse’s back, a felt hat on his head and rags wrapped around his feet to protect them from the cold. His garb wasn’t so different from half of the soldiers at the Point.
“Amos can ride your horse when we get your man,” Morris said, indicating the boy. “The cart can hold two, and you look ready to fall out of that saddle.”
I ignored that, and Morris swung up behind Amos, letting me lead the way.
The general lay where I’d left him, his eyes closed and his limbs flung wide. I slid from Lenox, gritting my teeth, and crawled to his side. He was breathing and his heart was steady, but he was no more responsive.
“Is that General Washington?” Amos squeaked.
“No. But he is a general,” Morris muttered, eyeing the uniform. He looked at me, gaze frank. “You sure you want to stay with Van Tassel, soldier? He’s not a friend.”
“I have no choice. Help me get him into the cart. Please.”
I tried to assist, but Morris swatted me away, squatting beside the general. He sat him up and then hoisted him over his back like a sack of grain. The general was a big man, but Morris was even bigger.
I scrambled into the cart, and Morris unfolded the general into my arms, easing his battered head against my chest. The general’s legs were too long for the cart, and Morris draped them over the side so they wouldn’t drag. I wrapped one hand around Paterson’s belt and one around his chest to keep him from bouncing right back out again, and Morris helped Amos onto Lenox.
The half mile back to Van Tassel’s barn was the longest and most painful I have ever spent. I was fading, my battle fever leaching into a cold sweat. Morris proceeded slowly, carefully, and I tried to muster what was left of my strength for what came next.
Morris hoisted the general across his back when we arrived, and I staggered behind him, focused on simply staying upright.
“It’s not warm, but it’s dry,” Morris said, easing the general down into the straw. “I’ll bring you water and bandages and some of Maggie’s ointment for your wounds.”
I didn’t know who Maggie was, but I nodded, grateful.
“I’ll look after the horse, and I’ll ask the miss to bring you what I can’t. She has a softer heart than her father.”
He removed Lenox’s saddle and the packs on his flanks and left me to dig through the general’s things in search of something to aid us. I located his mess kit, a small bottle of brandy, and some communications that I returned to the leather pouch where I found them.