White Gate Heart

•Chapter Nine•

Slipping into my chambers, I shut the door slowly. Leaning back against the cold wood, I blew out in deep relief. It amazed me at how I just was able to make my way without being heard, but it was all luck. Surely, it would never happen again. 

My relief was soon met with great heartache at the thought of Jamie. I had yet to find any hope of her presence, and my eyes welled with tears. It had only been her first full day on this farm and she had escaped. What was Father to do? Surely, I could be in large sums of trouble. Father was not a man to trifle with. 

Soon after settling into the satin covers of my bed sheets, my door opened and I shot upwards. A knot balled inside my stomach, and I felt a wave of both nausea and adrenaline course through me. 

"It's me, Lydia." 

Her voice and presence were so welcomed at that moment. The overwhelming emotions from the long day waved over me and tears stung my eyes; it was more than a relief to have my beloved sister be there in my chamber. 

She rushed towards my bedside and placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. I wiped my eyes and glanced up at her, blinking to clear her blurred figure a few times. 

"Does he know?" I asked hesitantly, biting my thumb fingernail out of nervous habit. Before her reply, she pushed my thumb out of my mouth, giving me a disturbed look. Most of my habits were looked down upon by many other women, Lydia was just one of many.

"When he realized your disappearance, of course he questioned me," she paused to gulp. I felt my face burn with a hot temperature and my palms began to moisten.

"but I simply told him you had fallen asleep after completing the assigned chores."

"He believed your answer?!" I asked suspiciously, unknowingly raising my voice.

Lydia quickly hushed me with a widening of eyes and continued with a curt nod.

"Surprisingly, yes. I daresay he did. I believe he was close to investigating your 'sleeping quarters' himself, but William intruded to hand him a letter of importance."

It was glorious news and I felt the heat wave off of my body. My heart's consistent drum slowed and my mouth began to cease its desert of a state.

The problem that was still remaining was in the case of Jamie's escape. Father would surely sell her on the market if he were to discover the situation. It was a troubling thought to hold during the time. I felt my brows furrow in deep thought.

The tears stung at the back of my eyes, begging to be released. Biting my lip to keep them at bay,  Lydia embraced me gently and stroked my back with a firm hand. At that moment, the tears cascaded upon my face and silent sobs made my body spasm. I couldn't lose Jamie, even if she felt like she didn't belong to me.
After what seemed like hours of silent sobbing, Lydia sighed deeply and pulled away.
"Don't worry so much about her, it'll all be fine in the end," she commented before leaving. In the end? Whatever did she mean? I ignored the ending of her sentence, for she must've meant metaphorically something else.
I didn't make any eye contact with my caring sister. It was too much of a struggle to speak any farther, for a sob threatened to erupt at the back of my throat. I nodded and kept my eyes cast towards the stained wooden floors, fumbling my callused fingers.
When I heard the door click shut, I arose from the bed slowly and made my way to the window. Pulling aside the beige curtains, I glanced outside. It was mostly dark, but I could just make out the shape of the barn and white paddock fence using the moon's light. I'm not sure as to why, but I stood watching for a long time. It could've been because I was exhausted on the inside, I wanted to escape my own home, or maybe because I desperately was grasping onto any hope I had of Jamie's return. Knowing she wouldn't come galloping into the moonlight, I finally whipped around to face my bed. Blowing out the faint flame from the bedside lamp, I fluffed my pillow and clambered into bed. The black curtains closed over my eyes and I fell into a comfortable sleep, despite the actions of the day.

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The rotting stench of blood and death flooded my nostrils and overwhelmed me greatly. I  turned my head to observe my surroundings and the source of the horrid scents. Expecting to find dead bodies, it was a peaceful meadow. There were lyrical performances of birds and the pattering feet of rabbits and squirrels. Everything seemed perfect, except for the odor that retained. It caused my stomach to grumble with bile and I gagged. Turning my body to find any signs of help or human life, I found Jamie standing amongst the tall grasses. She snorted and bobbed her head. I watched as my hand reached towards her face. I tried to stop it from touching Jamie, as I knew her fears. Instead of shying from my uncontrollable hand, she stood still and unmoving. Her eyes blinked softly with deep trust and care; she wasn't afraid.
The scene changed as Jamie seemed to lead me towards a tavern. It was now dark, and it was far past 11 o'clock. The wind swept past me and I shivered in the cold wintry night. My breath fogged with each exhale and I found it hard to feel my fingers in the cold weather. Jamie stopped at a standstill near the hitching post, urging me to go in with a gesture of the head. Against my mind's own wishes, my body opened the door and I entered into a place a lady should never venture.
The scent of death was soon forgotten as a new smell wafted into my nostrils; beer, whiskey, and filthy drunkards.
Oh, but it was both great relief and surprise when I discovered Mark Adams sitting on a stool. Approaching him, I thought deeply of how to address him. I could ask him where I am and how I'd gotten to this place, but he'd be as clueless as I.
I tapped his shoulder firmly, but his conversation with a peer continued. My brows furrowed in anger as both men continued to ignore my addresses. Furiously, I tapped his shoulder again, being sure to push firmly into his shoulder blade. No reply showed; not even a cringe of his face. It appeared to be that I was unknown or invisible to them. At a last attempt, I screamed Mark's name. The only reply I received was a sore throat, andn nothing from Mark Adams. Instead of leaving the tavern, I continued to watch Mark interact with the other man.
"The odds are against us, Mark. I'll continue to fight, even if it means death. I'm just not sure everyone else feels the same," the other brown haired man spoke. Mark nodded in agreement, folding his hands together.
"We can't make people feel a certain way. If we do, we're simply as foul-headed as the Red coats and their party. However, there are instances that can inspire inside them something great," Mark replied calmly.
"What can it inspire; the want for freedom?"  the man questioned.
"Yes, that as well. I believe that the fight and desire for freedom is formed from hope. Those two objects are nothing but the same. It's hope these people need."
The man widened his eyes at such a wise statement. I did as well, for I never thought such a well said sentence could be delivered by such a boy as Mark.
"I'm just not sure what could start that," he replied.
"Certainly not just your riots, Sam. Something that could inspire men, women, and children. We have lots of men to form an army, but not near enough to finish what we started," Mark spoke, awaiting Sam's other question.
"Well, tell me. Do you have an idea?"

I awoke suddenly without hearing the last of the conversation. Their subject was obviously about the riots and possible war against our King. I just never thought it would unleash an actual war. Surely, it could not. Yes, the King taxed us too much, but why would that lead to a war? These thoughts raced through my mind as I groggily rose out of the comforting bed. Rubbing my eyes to adjust to the still darkness, I approached the window. Dawn would soon arrive, and I would have to enter the day soon after. Unable to return to my sleep, I slipped into my moccasins. Running my hand over the soft and smooth deer hide, I smiled gently at the keepsake of my uncle. He had gifted the Native shoes to me four years ago. It was when he had begun to fall deeply in love with a woman of the tribe, but it was scolded upon in our family society. This is why Father had resented him, claiming he had stained the family's "pureblood line". Ever since the horrid fight between the two brothers, Uncle Peter has been unseen and unheard of.
Shaking my head to rid the memory of horror, I slithered through the house yet again.
The servants were awake and preparing the morning breakfast. Abeline sighted me before I could exit the house.
"Bekah?"
Turning to face my good friend, I smiled. I nodded to assure her that it was I.
"Why are you awake at this early hour?"
I heaved my shoulders upward and yawned before replying.
"I was going to take a walk. I couldn't sleep, so I figured that it would be best to begin my day with just the sound of birds and my walking feet." She eyed me suspiciously, then gave a curt nod before returning to making the morning's dough.
Sighing, I made my way to the barn hastily. I contemplated telling Mark of my dream, but it could make our predicament awkward, as we haven't been close aqcauntices since youth.
I heaved open the barn door and was more than shocked to find Jamie standing wide eyed in the stall.