Tail Gait

September 3, 1781

The sun, up for an hour, bathed the corn, the apple orchards, the wheat in gold.

Captain Schuyler jumped out of the wagon. He’d had to pay the driver a bit extra for the stop. Fortunately, he had not far to travel, although he couldn’t tell Charles West that. He was to connect with a few troops on the east side of Charlottesville. With them, he would be moving to the coast. In Virginia, intent on rampage, Cornwallis was getting his wish. He would also get battle. His commander-in-chief, Sir Henry Clinton, was unable to restrain Cornwallis. The two British generals barely communicated, their mutual disregard having arrived at an unhealthy distaste.

Knocking on the door, hat under his left arm, as he had learned from Charles, John awaited the Garths’ butler.

Opening the door, Roger, beautifully dressed, smiled slightly. “Captain.”

“Might I have a word with the master?”

“I shall see if he is available. Please, come in.”

Within moments, Ewing, an early riser, told the butler to invite Captain Schuyler into the breakfast room for, of course, breakfast.

The room, flooded with light, seemed to create a halo around Catherine as the good captain walked in. It lent Rachel a glow as well, but John’s focus was on Catherine.

Bowing to the father, with a chair pulled out for him by Weymouth, John sat down.

Wonderful though the food was, he was so tense he had to force himself to eat it, or to make conversation. When the dishes were cleared at last, fine bone china at that, he dabbed his lips with a napkin and began, “Sir, you have been so hospitable to me. I can never repay your kindness.”

“Oh, my dear captain, after four bridges and two roads, I fear it is the opposite,” Ewing nearly gushed.

“I have come to inform you I have been assigned to General Lafayette,” John continued, but all he heard was Catherine’s gasp. “As you know, the enemy is here in some force.”

“Indeed, I had heard that. Destroying everything, stealing horses, and I even heard they slit the throats of mares so we could not continue to breed.”

“I would slit theirs,” Catherine burst out, her emotion focusing on the horror but really provoked by John’s news.

Ewing registered his distaste. “And they call us barbarians.”

“I believe, Sir, events will prove otherwise, but I do hope if word should come to you that they are advancing west, hide your horses, your silver, and possibly yourselves. They have not been uncivil to women, but should they experience a…a laxity in command, I cannot say.”

“Do you think they are loosely disciplined, Captain?”

“Some troops are. Some not. They do seem to lack cooperation with one another and they seem mindless of the French. We have a powerful ally. You would think, of all people, the English would be sensible of naval guns, as well as troops.” He paused. “Forgive me.” He looked to Catherine and Rachel. “I do not mean to bore you.”

“You couldn’t possibly bore me,” Catherine baldly said, to her father’s shock and her sister’s and Weymouth’s delight.

John registered this then replied, “We do have Washington. The greatest man of the age.”

Ewing smiled back. “Indeed.” He stood up, and all stood with him as he offered his hand to the captain. “God protect you, Captain.” He walked the tall man to the front door, which Roger opened.

Stepping through it, John faced Ewing. “I will write you when I can, and, Sir, might I have permission to write your eldest daughter?”

Struck into silence for a moment, Ewing felt his daughter’s hand on his elbow. He thought Catherine had stayed behind, but she had followed at a slight distance.

“Father, please.”

“My dear.” He looked into her eyes, beseeching him, then turned to John. “You have my permission.” After all, Ewing Garth remembered those feelings.

“Oh, Father, I love you so.” She hugged him, then followed Captain Schuyler out the door, and Ewing turned back into the house.

John stood by the wagon, ready to swing himself up.

“Return to me, Captain. Be safe.”

“John.” He smiled. “And I will return to you.”

She stood on her tiptoes, wrapped her right hand around his neck, and kissed him, taking both their breaths away.

Releasing him, Catherine looked intently into John’s brown eyes, smiled, then turned heel and walked back up the stairs. Opening the hall door for her was Roger. He had seen it all, but would not betray his beloved Catherine.

“Where is my father?” she asked.

Roger tilted his head toward the back of the house, his voice low. “With your mother, Miss Catherine.”

She hurried down the hall and swung open the back door. She ran to her father, as he stood in the lovely graveyard, before her mother’s monument, a recumbent lamb holding the cross.

Catherine reached him, tears running down his cheeks.

“Oh, Father.” Tears now ran down hers.

“I fear I have not been a good father and—”

“You are the best father in the world.”

“Ah, you are young and clearly in love with the handsome and brave captain. But I, as your father, should see that you marry well, that you will want for nothing.”

“Father, if I don’t have love, I have nothing.”

Ewing stood silently, then reached for her hand. “Your mother might have said that. When I courted her, she was pursued by so many men, some with wealth, many far more handsome than I. I am not a strapping fellow, but she loved me. We could talk about anything, my dear. That may not sound romantic, but we grew as one, one heart. I may be a fool to allow this friendship, courtship to continue. I don’t think the captain has a sou, but if you love him and it is clear he loves you, then I think your mother would be happy.” The tears flowed again. “My child, I miss your mother so.”

“I do, too, Father, and—” Catherine paused, kissed him on his wet cheek. “I love you.”