Of Wildflowers and Gunpowder

Chapter 9

Thankfully for me, Manhattan was only a few minutes ride from Brooklyn and I was able to leave the boat at an empty dock and crawl out, holding my arm as blood dripped onto my dress. Sitting on the dock, I examined the wound more closely in the moonlight.
     The bullet seemed to have grazed it, not making a hole through my arm but more like a wider path where it cut through all the way around the outside of my arm.
     I ripped a small strip of the gorgeous Dutch chintz fabric in my gown and wrapped it as tightly as I could with one hand, hoping to stop the bleeding until I could find help or make it to West Point.
With a deep breath, I pulled myself up and removed André's soaking wet cloak and examined the now equally useless gun, full of water.
I kept it in my dress, though, knowing that I could still use it for show if it came down to it. Keeping my head high, I began making my way into the city, unsure of what to do next and suspicious of everyone who was out so late into the night.
"Excuse me, Mademoiselle, but I believe we should talk in private," a familiar voice behind me said.
"The Marquis de Lafayette!" I exclaimed at a whisper, turning around and embracing him. He seemed unsure of what to do but gently hugged me back, pulling away after a few moments and bowing to kiss my hand.
Without saying any more words, we quickly made our way into a less crowded area so we could talk with semi-confidence.
"My dear Louisa!" he said, touching the makeshift bandage on my arm, "you look as though you have been through battle!"
"I'm fine, I promise. It's General Arnold. He's a traitor."
The Marquis went pale and I could see his brain working to comprehend what I had just said. I had spent years learning French as a child but when we first met at a party in Philadelphia, he begged me to only speak in English so he could learn it well.
"Traitre," I repeated in French to make sure he understood, "Général Arnold travaille avec
l'anglais! He is going to give them West Point! I need you to help me get the news to Washington in Morristown while I ride to West Point to warn Monsieur Tallmadge."
He took my hands in his and I could feel them shaking. With terrified eyes, he breathed, "General Washington is at West Point..."
I took a step back, stunned. If they captured Washington, this war would be over in a matter of days.
"Can you take me there right now?" I asked hurriedly, holding my injured arm as it began to sting once more.
"Mademoiselle, I have no horse with me. I came to visit another French officer, he sent for me in a carriage. We must find someone who could sell us-"
I interrupted with a sly grin, saying, "We don't need money, Lafayette. These British officers are drunk and cocky, we simply need to find some unattended horses. This is a dire emergency."
     He reluctantly followed me towards the coffeehouse on eighth street but pulled me back after a second.
     "Wait, you have blood on your face. We must act as if we belong." He pulled out a small lace handkerchief and wiped my face gently.
     Putting it back in the pocket of his coat, he took my injured arm in his to hide the blood and we calmly made our way into the bustling road. A few shopkeepers approached us trying to sell things, assuming we were a wealthy couple, but Lafayette politely declined each time.
     As we passed Rivington's, I debated whether or not we should involve Robert Townsend. No, I thought, I can't risk his life by letting him be seen with me once again, especially with the British looking for me. Instead, I made a beeline for the barn in the back of the coffeehouse.
     Just as I had hoped, the young slave boy who had been attending the horses when I was last there to visit Robert was curled up beneath a cloak on the ground of the barn.
     He jumped up when he heard us come in, and I put my hands up frantically.
     "Please, it's okay!" I said, "Do you remember me?"
     He narrowed his eyes at me. "The woman with no place to sleep."
I nodded. "Please, we need two horses. Do you know where we can find some?"
Making a point to show him my wounds, I leaned heavily against Lafayette.
The slave pursed his lips and looked around the stable, deep in thought. I didn't want him to suffer for helping us, but I knew the British would quickly pursue me.
"Here," he said, his face lighting up as though he received a revelation, "take my horse. I don't—I don't think I can offer you any of the others."
"What about Mr. Townsend's horse? We are good friends; I will leave you with a note to give to him if he asks. He will understand; I promise no harm will come to you."
Hesitating, he bridled his own horse and looked between the two of us. I pleaded with my eyes for him to show mercy.
"If you're certain he won't be mad," the boy said reluctantly, "I guess I can give him a letter."
Grinning widely at our success, I used his small quill and paper to sign our code names, along with a short explanation of why his horse had suddenly gone missing.
     "Thank you," I told him, taking both of his hands in mine, "You have saved the lives of thousands. What is your name?"
     "Ezra Taylor, Ma'am."
     "Well, then, Mr. Taylor, I shall bring your horse back someday, but do you think this will do for now?"
I pressed the small bag of British money I had taken from André's desk into his palm, and Lafayette began removing his neck cravat, the cockade on his hat, and pulled a strange array of ribbons from his pocket.
     I glanced at the Frenchman with amusement, and he told the Ezra, "These are from the courts of Versailles. Don't take less than 30 pounds for each of them. And these," he removed the buckles from his shoes, "are worth at least 149 pounds."
     My eyes widened and Ezra gasped as he took them into his hands. "I can't take these, sir."
     "Payment for your kindness. Thank you, young sir."
Lafayette helped me mount Robert Townsend's black horse and I grimaced in pain, holding my side and trying not to show my emotions as he mounted the lighter-colored stallion.
"Here, Louisa, you must take my cloak to hide the wound and keep you warm." I accepted it gratefully, draping it over my shoulders and swallowing the pain.
     "Adieu, Mr. Taylor!" I called to the young boy as we began trotting out of the barn.
     "God be with you!"
I felt like I was going to pass out from loss of blood but I kept silent, knowing that keeping the British from seizing Washington was more important than a headache.
     The Marquis led the way through a less populated part of town, his brown woolen coat dotted with small snowflakes as the cold wind began to pick up. His auburn ponytail was tied with a brown piece of ribbon that flapped as he rode, and his posture was absolutely impeccable.
"West Point is about sixty miles from here," he said to me, slowing down and coming up beside me so he could be heard, "If we go at a swift pace, we should be easily able to make it by nightfall. With your condition, however, I trust it will take longer. Once we are on the trail and out of the city, we can stop and I will re-bandage your arm...we must prevent an infection at all costs."
     He bit his lip and said in a softer tone, "General Washington is visiting Benedict Arnold at his new home and he is expected to be there until tomorrow night. That means we may walk straight into British capture by the time we get there. Are you prepared for that?"
I nodded solemnly and urged the horse forward. If this war was to end in anything but victory, I would fight until my very last breath.

Okay y'all I know the historical inaccuracies are RAMPANT at this point but just know that I'm aware of them and I'm not an idiot but I honestly would have a hard time trying to make a good story with all our beloved characters in them if everything was completely accurate. So sorry if you're a historical purist like me but we'll all just have to suck in a breath and pretend like Nathan Hale was executed in the same year as Benedict Arnold's betrayal and that Lafayette was with a fictional character right before André was captured and everything went south for Arnold's plan. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯