Amelia's Story Read online

  Chapter Fifteen

  Daniel hurried along to Henry’s store to tell him what he had just heard. He was down at the loading docks where there were rumors of a regular merchant who had been caught with British funds and executed. The other merchants were spreading the word and Daniel was interested in hearing more information. He went up to one merchant and asked if the word was true. “What is this I hear about British funding?”

  The merchant looked around to see if anyone else could hear his answer. He had been selling items in villages up and down the Hudson for several years and knew that the man who asked him questions was a reputable man and saw no harm in answering him. “Someone on another craft,” he started, “Was caught red handed with an envelope addressed to the Brits’.”

  “I didn’t think that a merchant could afford to fund the enemy,” Daniel had said knowing that the merchant was just a man in the middle.

  The merchant snickered, “Nah, it wasn’t his. He was working for someone.”

  Henry Samuels, Daniel thought to himself. “Oh, so the plot thickens.”

  The merchant continued to make sure that nobody could hear him. It was obvious that this business man was looking for more answers. “They say that when he was caught, he refused to say who was responsible. I suppose we’ll never know.”

  Daniel knew though and headed straight to Henry to make sure the responsible one learned what his dealings had done. He looked forward to throwing it in Henry’s face. When he arrived at the store, he demanded that he see Henry right away and the employee waved his hand, given him the sign it would be all right. Daniel barged the door open and noticed Henry jumping up off of his seat. He shut the door behind him and said, “Have you heard the latest on your treason?”

  “I don’t know what you mean,” Henry answered. He was trying to get work done though he could concentrate.

  Daniel took a seat and watched his rival do the same. He then explained to him what he had heard on the docks. “So, are you responsible for this innocent man’s life?”

  Henry felt a sudden lump in his throat and pit in his stomach. The merchant was married and had two young children. His mistakes have now made them fatherless. “They executed him on the spot?” he asked instead of answering.

  “Apparently,” Daniel told him. “Did he work for you?” Henry leaned back in his chair and covered his face with his hands. The guilt was gaining control more every day. He dropped his hands to reveal a red frustrated face. “What is it you want from me, Van Martin? You already have my daughter marrying your son.”

  Daniel laughed. There wasn’t anything else that he wanted to take from Henry. “Henry, I’m not such a wicked man,” he said. He looked over at the other man who didn’t seem to believe him so he went on, “Come now, this changes nothing and I don’t want more from you. I’m not a fool. I can see that there is so much tension between you and your daughter. Your mistake has caused a wedge in your relationship and you may never get that back.” Then he laughed at his next thought and couldn’t help but let out his reasoning. “Maybe once she accepts her marriage, she’ll prefer me over you.”

  Henry was steaming, and it took all of his strength not to knock Daniel out. He stood and pointed towards the door and yelled, “Enough, you’ve made your point now get out.”

  Pleased with the outcome of his meeting, Daniel stood to leave. “I’m going,” he started, “I wanted to see if you understood all that happens when you mess with the government. That merchant’s blood is on your hands, Samuels.” Then as quick as he arrived he turned and left. He had set out to throw salt in Henry’s wound and as far as he was concerned, he was successful.

  Again, Henry leaned back in his chair and covered his face. He couldn’t help but think about all the lives he was ruining because of his decision to defy Madison’s war. An innocent family was parted from a loved one on account of him. Then there was his daughter. She was more defiant than her mother ever was and that made him wonder if she would ever forgive him. His chances were slim; he knew that unless he changed things for her. He slammed his fist onto his desk, caring not of the ink that spilled because of the impact. Perhaps it was time to turn himself in like Ruth had told him to do so long ago. No, he decided. Ruth. Ruth would make him feel better. He wiped up the ink and then locked the door to his office. Walking past his employee he told him he had errands to run and that he would be back before the work day ended to lock up the building. Then he left the employee and marched straight to her house. He needed her now more than ever.

  Ruth was in the spare room weaving a rug with her loom when Henry had barged in and asked where her boys were. She was surprised to see him but even more surprised to see the look upon his face. It was a look that scared her, something was wrong. “They’re in school, like your own sons,” she answered him. She wanted to ask him what the problem was but could tell that he wasn’t there to talk, at least not right away.

  Henry pulled her off of her stool and grabbed her waist to bring her closer to him. He pressed his lips hard against her mouth; harder than he usually done. There was no other way for him to take his frustrations out but to make fierce love to her. He took his foot and brought it to the back of her knees causing her to fall backwards. Still holding her tight, he fell down with her and continued to kiss her. He heard her ask, in between his kisses, what was wrong but he didn’t care to answer. Henry needed to release some of the pressure building up inside of him and knew that she wouldn’t object.

  He pulled her dress up around her waist and tugged on her bloomers until they exposed her womanhood he longed for. Ruth was still crying out his name, but he now considered it a cry for pleasure and nothing else. With one hand he unfastened his belt and let his own unmentionables fall to his ankles. Climbing on top of her and between her knees, he entered her with one long thrust. He could hear her cry out and for a brief second he wondered if he was being too rough with her. Their love making was usually slow and tender but his anger had forced him to take her quick and hard right there on the wooden floor.

  This wasn’t a time for sweetness or even love, there was nothing this time but lust and an overbearing amount of guilt. He felt her hips move to meet his as he continued to push his body in and out of her. Several minutes later he felt his climax coming, and he fought it off as long as he could. He had wanted to wait until she too reached her climax but he could no longer hold back. Without a thought his bodily fluids shot up inside of Ruth as he let out a moan of delight.

  Ruth held Henry as tight as she could. Henry remained in the same position when he finished and let out a soft cry. She reached up and kissed him and then pulled his head down onto her bosom. Both of them were breathing rather hard when she asked again, “Henry, please tell me what is wrong.”

  Realizing how he had just treated the woman he loved, Henry rolled over to his side. Shame on you, he thought. “I’m so sorry if I hurt you,” was his reply to her.

  “Something has upset you,” she told him. He might not have been saying much, but she knew him well. They cleaned up, and she told him she would prepare tea. They entered the kitchen and Henry sat at the table while she put a pot of water onto the fireplace. As she retrieved two cups from the cupboard and placed them on the table, she spoke again. “What happened?”

  Henry spoke. “The merchant that has been working for me was caught with my envelope and was executed straight away.”

  Ruth’s hands shook, rattling the container of sugar she held. It was no wonder why he had to take her with such force. He wasn’t in his right state of mind. If they killed the merchant, how long would it take for them to come for Henry? She couldn’t bear the thought of losing him again. “They know about you?” She asked in a very scared voice.

  “No,” he assured her. “Apparently he died without exposing me. Or at least that is what Daniel said.”

  Ruth gasped. “What, he knows? What else can he keep over your head?”

  “He claims he already has what he wanted, Ameli
a.” Henry slammed his fist down again for the second time that day and was feeling the pain it had caused. “How could I have been such a fool? I’ve ruined so much,” he continued to sob.

  She sat beside him and put his head down on her shoulder. If only he had listened to her in the first place, she thought. She told him that funding the British was wrong. “Promise me you won’t continue to give them money,” she begged him.

  Henry already knew that it would be too risky to continue. “I won’t,” he told her. “What about Amelia? What do I do about her?”

  “Well,” Ruth thought for a moment as she poured the hot tea into their cups. “You can’t call off the wedding now. Daniel will report you and you’ll be responsible for that merchant’s life.” Ruth watched him stir the hot beverage in front of him and knew that he wasn’t interested in drinking it. “She’ll come around. She’ll love you again.”

  It had been too long, as far as Amelia was concerned, since she had spent time with Emma. Though she knew the only reason her friend could be bothered with her was because Jacob had to report to work. Still, she cherished the time they had. Together they went to the trail behind Emma’s house and picked black raspberries like they have done so many times before her nightmare had started. The two were quiet, as if the weeks that had passed, had separated them. Amelia realized that Emma was the one person she could tell her deepest secrets too, and she wondered if that closeness was still there. “Emma,” she talked to her friend, “Can I still tell you how I feel inside or will you be reporting everything to my father?”

  Emma felt like crying when she heard Amelia’s question. She knew that her friend was upset with all that was going on but to take it out of her was painful. She loved Amelia very much and wanted nothing more than to rebuild the friendship that had taken a beating. “Why do you say such hurtful things? None of this is my fault yet you act as if you no longer trust me.”

  Amelia felt bad and knew what Emma spoke was true. These days though, Amelia would take her frustrations out on anyone. “I’m sorry,” she apologized. She hugged Emma and never wanted to let go.

  Emma hugged right back; she had missed her friend. After they separated from the hug, Emma threw a berry at Amelia to clarify they could still have fun times together. Both girls laughed. “So, tell me what you wanted to tell me.”

  Amelia thought for a moment. She didn’t want to hurt her friend anymore but still there was a part of her insides that said that she should not give her secrets away. She fought those thoughts and let her desire for someone to understand her win. “Remember the man we met the day I told you about my union with Thomas?” She looked at her friend who was nodding her head then continued, “I fell in love with him.”

  “The stranger,” Emma exclaimed.

  “No, his name is Patrick Buchanan, not a stranger,” Amelia assured Emma.

  Once again Emma felt fear for her friend. What was she doing falling in love with someone who she didn’t even know? She wondered. “Still, he is a stranger; you name one person other than yourself who knows him. What about Thomas?” She felt herself panicking as the questions just rolled off of her tongue.

  “You know I don’t want to marry him,” she answered without hesitation.

  Emma’s face turned scornful. “Amelia Samuels, you’re not carrying on your wild idea of finding someone else to prove a point to your father, are you?”

  Amelia laughed at what Emma was suggesting but it wasn’t the case. She told herself from the start she wouldn’t use Patrick in that manner. “No. Besides, I already asked my father what he would do if I fell in love with someone and he told me that even so I would have to marry Thomas.”

  “Then why would you allow yourself to fall in love?”

  Amelia thought about the question. She didn’t have an answer. “It happened on its own,” she informed her friend.

  Emma was quiet for a while as she thought about what was going on. She wished that she knew more about the stranger but as far as she knew; nobody knew anything about him. “You should stay away from him. Nobody knows anything about him,” she told her friend. Her imagination painted horrifying pictures in her head. “What if he’s an Indian and wants to kill you?”

  Amelia giggled, “That is absurd, Emma.”

  “No it isn’t,” Emma insisted, “Haven’t you heard of the Battle of Frenchtown and haven’t you heard about the Raisin River Massacre? How could you say that Indians don’t kill?”

  Amelia tried to calm Emma down. She had heard of those events but it had nothing to do with Patrick. “Patrick isn’t an Indian,” she pleaded, “He’s not going to kill me or anyone else.”

  Emma had nothing but concern on her face. Emma pondered even if he weren’t an Indian, how could Amelia be in love with him when she would be marrying someone else in less than a week? “What are you going to do,” Emma questioned but feared that she wouldn’t receive any answers. Her overreaction had seemed to have scared Amelia off of the subject.

  “I don’t know,” Amelia answered her. She knew that whatever she decided, she could no longer confide in Emma.

  After the girls were done picking berries, Amelia excused herself from her friend’s company and said that she would go home. She no longer found a need to be social. She said goodbye to Emma and then walked in the opposite direction to head back to her father’s house. As she walked, she looked down to her basket now full with black raspberries and couldn’t help but think they were small compared to the ones she had picked with Patrick. She thought of him and missed him while he was away on his day trip to New Baltimore. She didn’t understand why but he took many business trips and wondered what that was all about.

  Patrick paced back and forth while he waited to talk with the Major General he was told to report to. Over and over again he repeated the traitor’s description in his mind so not to forget and he repeated the name he heard too. His trip to New Baltimore wasn’t as bad as going to Albany. He had left his house before sunrise and had reached his destination by noon. Now he was waiting, as patient as he could, for the man named Major General Downy.

  What seemed like an eternity later, Patrick noticed a distinguished looking man heading in his direction. He knew that he had to be the military man he would speak to. Downy, appearing to be in either his late forties or early fifties stood tall and looked Patrick in the eyes as he walked closer to introduce himself. He was wearing buff pantaloons, a white vest that covered his shirt, and a pair of high military boots that had gilt spurs attached to the side. This dress wasn’t what Patrick had imagined when he heard word of the military changing the uniform for the war. However, he dared not question why the Major General looked so informal. As they stood face to face, Patrick noted the militia man’s size. He stood a head taller than himself and though he wasn’t considered overweight, Downy had wide shoulders, a solid torso, and strong arms. Patrick felt honored to speak to this man who was a highly respected officer in the war.

  “Mr. Buchanan, I’m to presume?” Downy drilled as he shook Patrick’s hand.

  “Yes Sir,” he answered. He almost wished that he didn’t have to have this discussion with the Major General because he felt intimidated. He tried not to look too nervous.

  Downy led Patrick towards his quarters where they could talk in private. After offering him a seat, Downy started, “I was informed of a man funding the Red Coats and hear that you have information that can lead me to him.” Patrick nodded his head to let him know that he was correct and the Major General questioned, “What can you tell me about this fellow?” Patrick swallowed hard; he didn’t want to mess this up. He explained what he had overheard on the loading docks, the same way he had reported it up in Albany. Downy scorned, “No, I already know about that. Don’t waste my time here. Can you give me a description?”

  Patrick spoke the right thing and explained that even though it was dark, he got a good look at the culprit. He gave the Major General as many details as possible and when he heard Downy ask if the
re was more, Patrick cheered, “Oh yes, I was also able to catch a first name. Henry.”

  “You only caught a first name?”

  If Patrick didn’t fear the government, he would have given the Major General a piece of his mind. He thought he had more than what was asked of him. No wonder this man was a Major General; he thought to himself, he was a definite hard ass. “I’m sorry Sir, but no I didn’t have time to hear the last name.”

  Downy thought about what Buchanan said. He wanted to know more but knew that he had to get information in other places; he had to do his research. “You’ve been more than helpful, Buchanan. Thank you for your time.”

  “What will become of this man? This Henry that we speak of,” Patrick asked. He didn’t know why he even cared. The traitor had what was coming to him but yet something inside him felt there was more than met the eye.

  “That is none of your concern now,” Downy scowled. He knew what he would do; he would execute the man himself. The Major General felt as if Buchanan would continue to ask questions so he hurried him out of his quarters and again thanked him for coming.

  There was nothing that Buchanan could do. “You’re welcome,” Patrick said to deaf ears as he walked away from the Major General’s camp quarters. He was concerned about the devious look on the officer’s face but didn’t know him well enough to read him. He discarded the topic, wiped his hands, and put his mind back to where it should have been. Amelia. He decided that he wouldn’t wait to head back home. He made sure he had all of his belongings and then jumped onto his horse and headed south.