Of Wildflowers and Gunpowder

Chapter 10

     "Lafayette, wait! Please, I have to rest,"  I panted as I struggled to breathe, stopping my horse and coming to the side of the trail. He turned around and dismounted his horse without a second thought.
     "I'm sorry," I said as he helped me off the horse.
     "Louisa, do not apologize to me for being in pain. It has been almost an hour since we began riding, I am more than ready for a break as well." He tied up the horses and sat beside me against a tree, holding my arm and examining it closely.
"There is no bullet in your arm, which is good for you, but I am worried about the wide area in which the bullet grazed. It will be hard to stitch up later. But I'm sure you already know all this—since you're a doctor." I smiled a little.
     Lafayette dipped his handkerchief into a water canteen, which he found in the saddlebags, and gently cleaned the wound. I grimaced and gripped his forearm as the painful sensation sliced through my body.
     "Like you said, I'm a doctor," I said in exasperation, "I ought to have a higher pain tolerance. Forgive me."
     He laughed. "Please, my friend, it is alright."
     Using strips of cloth, he tied it unimaginably tight and assured me, "You will be fine, Louisa, I doubt an amputation will be necessary." I nodded silently, thinking about the pain of an amputation and how useless I would become. A one handed doctor? More importantly, I would be a one handed spy. There was no anonymity in that.
With a shaky breath, I tried to ignore the ringing in my ears and dizziness that threatened to overcome me. I dreaded the rest of the long ride to West Point.
Lafayette looked at me with concern and put a calloused hand to my face. "You look sick," he said in his thick accent, his brown eyes piercing into mine. I tried to answer but it seemed impossible to form the words.

     "Louisa," I heard, "come now...réveillez-vous, wake up!" My eyes fluttered open and Lafayette appeared above me, a terrified expression on his face. He was holding me tightly and he kept a hand under my head, taking perfect care to keep me comfortable. "You need a doctor," he said, "We have to get you some help."
     "How long was I unconscious?" I mumbled as I tried to sit up, my headache worse than ever. "Only a few minutes, Mademoiselle, but I fear for your health even more now. It seems you have some kind of illness more serious than simply fatigue...possibly smallpox?"
     I shook my head and replied, "I've been inoculated. It is not a disease. It must be a head injury; I'm sure of it. Captain John Simcoe hit me when I was escaping the British camp and he must have..." I trailed off. What could he have done?
     "Well, in either case Miss Louisa, you must get help and I am worried that you will not be able to make the long journey ahead of us. Perhaps I should-"
     "No, Lafayette, please. I can do it. We have already wasted so much time," I begged, struggling to my knees and holding my side in agony.
     He reluctantly agreed but insisted that I ride with him. He sat behind me in the saddle, holding onto the reins with one hand and keeping me balanced with the other.
     I kept both of my legs on the left side of the horse and leaned on him. He clicked his tongue and urged the horse forward, bringing it up to a breakneck gallop.
     I drifted in and out of consciousness but I kept silent, letting Lafayette concentrate on the long journey. His arm around my waist pressed against the bullet wound and I wanted to adjust his hand. I bit my lip and ignored the pain, grateful that he was taking such great care to keep me from falling off.
     We passed a few stray travelers here and there but nobody stopped us. "Almost there, Louisa," he whispered into my ear, "and soon you will see Monsieur Tallmadge once again."
I smiled at the thought and replied, "and you, my friend, will see Monsieur Washington once again." He laughed.
     Wind whipped through my hair and a few small animals raced across the trail in front of us but the horse seemed unfazed.
     Careful not to fall off, I reached back into the saddlebag and removed the small canteen of water, unscrewing the cap and helping Lafayette drink some without letting go of me or the reins.
     "Merci," he said, as we passed Fort Montgomery, "I am glad you are with me." Less than ten miles to go.
     My head throbbed and I still felt dizzy, but the time I spent unconscious on the horse had helped me regain some of my strength. A few silent minutes later, the trail narrowed and some branches hung over, hitting us in the face.
     Just then, I noticed a long brown snake coiled up in on the ground in front of us, right in the path of the horse. Before I could react or even tell Lafayette, the horse let out a screaming noise and began bucking wildly, throwing us high in the air.
     I cried out as I hit the ground, and the last thing I saw before blacking out was the horse's wild hooves flying over Lafayette before bolting away and out of sight.

     A few seconds later, I regained consciousness and tried to catch my breath. I had landed on my injured arm but thankfully, it didn't do anything besides cause me a lot of pain. I rolled onto my back, gulping in air and feeling around to make sure I hadn't broken any bones.
I was thrown a few feet from the path, out of harms way from the horse, but I noticed Lafayette lying limp right in the middle of the dirt trail. I scrambled over on my hands and knees and grabbed his face anxiously, looking for any sign of movement. I could feel a heartbeat and every now and then a small, anxious breath escaped his mouth.
     With shaking hands, I talked endlessly to him, begging him to wake up. He didn't seem to be bleeding, but I could tell he was in agony.
     For a moment, his eyes fluttered open and he groaned, mumbling in French.
     "Lafayette, wake up, please! Tell me where you are hurt."
     He moved his hand to his chest and breathed, "I am fine, Mademoiselle. I just need to catch my breath." He pulled himself into a sitting position and grimaced, holding his ribs.
"You are injured, Lafayette. You need to rest." Just then, I noticed a small patch of blood on his chest, growing slowly. He seemed to notice it too.
"Take off your shirt," I ordered, beginning to unbutton his waistcoat with trembling hands. We were so close to safety, but it seemed as if we would never get there.
     I prayed that someone would ride by and offer to help but I was fairly certain that we would have to walk the rest of the way to the Fort.
I helped him slide the bloodstained linen shirt over his head to reveal an ugly gash that sliced across his chest. It looked like it had come from the horse's shoe or simply too much pressure on the skin and it had just torn apart.
     "Well, it's a pretty nasty cut but I think your biggest problem is your broken rib. It will hurt a lot but both wounds should heal fairly easily. If I had my supplies back at camp, I could set your rib with no trouble."
     He nodded and readjusted his ponytail which had come undone in the fall. Even in immense pain, he was still perfectly pristine. "I will be alright, Louise," he said breathily, using my French nickname, "just a few miles. I apologize for my...ah," he looked down sheepishly at his bare chest and I smiled as I hurriedly wrapped the cut with a strip from the bottom of my petticoat.
     "I am a doctor, Lafayette. You are more clothed than most of the patients I treat. Do not worry about me."
I struggled to my feet and helped the Marquis up as well, letting him lean heavily on me. He held his clothes tightly in his fist that wasn't around me as we began to walk. It quickly became too cold for him to leave his coat off so we stopped so he could put his clothes back over the wound.
I was still wearing his long black cloak and I was so grateful as flurries of snow began to collect all around us.
     Terrifying thoughts of Benedict Arnold's betrayal becoming a reality haunted me, and I realized that Lafayette and I were General Washington's only chance at keeping West Point.
     How could Arnold do this to us, I thought. I had danced with him! Was he planning on giving me up to the British then? When he spoke so highly of Washington, was it all just for show? Every look, every word, every action ran through my mind as I searched for a reason. What if we were too late?

Okay guys I was researching the name Louisa and um...Louisa Adams is the name of John Quincy Adams' wife THE STINKING FIRST LADY OF THE UNITED STATES so yeah I had no idea about that and for the record, this story is NOT going to end with her marrying John Quincy Adams and becoming First Lady I'll just tell y'all that right now...
sorry if any of y'all thought that this story was about her ?? because ? it's ? not ??

ALSO THIS NEXT CHAPTER IS GONNA BE SO GOOD I LITERALLY CANT WAIT TO WRITE IT SO I GUESS THSTS WHAT IM GONNA DO RIGHT NOW