Chapter Twenty-Seven: The Curse
Running to the horse, I grabbed his reins, and looked into the gelding’s eyes, as if I could find where Mathew was from those dark brown, tormented orbs. Cherry had a fingerbreadth gash on his right shoulder, but otherwise appeared to be fine. I thought for a moment that I should race Cherry out to safety, but my need to find Mathew was too great. I wrapped the reins around Cherry’s neck and smacked him on his rump. He burst into a fast gait. Then, as if worried, he halted, turned just his head to look at me, but decided against being my hero, and ran for the hills. Something I had promised I would do, but knew even at the time I couldn’t fulfill.
I swallowed and quickly perused the Provincial men that lay on the green grass of the Common. Mathew had been wearing white breeches, the same breeches he wore loosely when we’d heard the bell chime too early this morning. He’d made love to me against the counter afterward, his breeches pushed down past his hips.
I searched for white breeches with black riding boots, and a fine blue overcoat—wait! He’d taken off his overcoat in the warmth of the afternoon. He was just wearing his linen white shirt and a royal blue waistcoat. He hadn’t had time for stiff collars or any such affair. He’d worn mostly white save for the vest and overcoat.
No one on the ground matched his description, which for a breath, I let relief consume me.
Then a man wearing scarlet bumped me into. He turned toward me, distracted, I think, by my female face and for a moment we almost smiled at each other. It was Captain Parsons, of all people. He took in my appearance, my clothing, and finally my rifle.
He cocked his head to the side and frowned. “But you were so funny.”
“And I’m not now?”
He actually snorted a chuckle. He looked utterly frazzled and spent, but then he bowed to me. I curtsied, as we both began to laugh. He took my hand in his, and kissed it. “It truly has been a pleasure, but I must bid you adieu.”
I curtsied again, and smiled. “Adieu, Captain.”
“Ah, there’s my horse.” And with that he found a gray mare and launched himself on the horse’s saddle. “I hope to see you again, brave little colonist. Perhaps without such a big gun though.”
“I, too, hope you never have to see me with my rifle again,” I said and arched my brow.
Captain Parsons touched the brim of his hat, that was intact, and galloped his horse to the east. Other redcoats joined him, running for the highway too. And I searched for a pair of white breeches and wide shoulders with blond hair. I looked mainly to the ground, but didn’t rule out that Mathew could be standing. Please, please, let him still be standing.
Small fights occurred around me, but most of the Regulars were trying to make for the highway. There were so many men laying, crawling, crying on the ground. Some just stood as they looked ‘round completely shocked.
I saw William, one of the boys in Mr. Whitely’s brick, crying. He stood over a young boy, not much older than him, it appeared, wearing the dreaded red uniform. William was mouthing over and over the words, “I’m sorry.” The boy on the ground did not have half his face.
I caught sight of Sam who smiled and waved, then shooed me away with one of his hands as Mr. Whitely looked upon me too. Mr. Whitely did not look too friendly, so I avoided eye contact with him.
Then, I saw him, my beautiful husband. He stood, shaking hands with another Concord man. They smiled at each other like boys who had just managed to break a beaver’s dam—so proud of themselves. Then three Regulars came running past Mathew. One extended his arm in the direction of my husband. He had a pistol in his hand.
I dropped to one knee, while I placed my rifle sternly against my shoulder, took aim and held my breath. Just before I fired, another gun blasted. I shot too, and the redcoat with the pistol spun with the impact of the first bullet, then my leaden ball made him levitate for a moment. The pistol took wings and soared far from the man. His two comrades ran even faster away. Then gravity once again commenced and shoved the recoat dead to the ground.
Mathew looked at the redcoat then back at George, the man whom he had been shaking hands with. Mathew concernedly bent to make sure the Regular soldier was dead. My husband held his hand above the man’s nose, but after a few beats, straightened and nodded to George. Next they both looked in my direction.
“I told you to get away from the battle if it turned into hand-to-hand combat,” were the first words out Mathew’s mouth. I didn’t care that he was reprimanding me. I began to smile and cry, releasing my rifle. Standing on shaking legs, I ran to my Mathew. But when finally embracing him, my legs gave way.
He lifted me, so my feet swayed under me. I held him about his neck as tight as I could without suffocating him.
“You were supposed to run for the hills. You promised me,” he whispered in my ear.
“I cannot lose you,” was my only defense, which made him hold me that much more.
There was still occasional gunfire as the redcoats made their retreat. They were running, and some of the militia were already making their way back into the woods to further escort the Regulars all the way back to Boston. The face-to-face fighting had ceased in Menotomy, and the lawn of the Common was littered with dead and alive but wounded bodies, both Regulars and militia.
Mathew lowered me back to my feet. He held onto my waist as he looked down at me with a huge smile.
“What am I going to do with you?”
I shrugged and grinned back. “I think you’ll have to love me for the rest of your life.”
He rolled his eyes. “Ah, what a sentence. What cruel justice.”
I giggled. “‘Tis fair. After all, I’m going to love you for the rest of my life.”
His smile diminished slightly, and he cocked his head to the side. “You really do love me, don’t you?”
“Of course I do—”
And then Mathew convulsed, as if he’d been hit far too hard in the back, and grimaced.
Clutching at my waist to stay up, he fell on me nonetheless. Trying to hold onto him, I wondered what had happened. I leaned against his body, keeping him on his legs, abruptly aware of his weight, all his weight on me.
“Mathew,” I whispered in deep fright, finally realizing he’d been shot.
I heard a primal scream from behind me and many shots fired. The yell sounded again, and a few more discharges followed. But then I only heard Mathew, struggling for breath. Intensely I listened to his heart. But the beating was too rushed, too erratic, and I hoped to God that I was just hearing men’s hurried feet, racing to us for assistance.
I braced my legs more into the ground, and looked up into my surprised husband’s face. He coughed and spurted blood in a red cloud around me.
“No, no, no, no.” I shook my head and in one last effort, grabbed him about his waist, to hold him up, but he crumpled down, and I went with him. We both landed on our knees, me holding him upright by my failing legs.
Mathew made choking noises and gurgled blood, as I forced him upright.
“Please, no . . .” I begged. I begged of God. I begged of my husband. I begged of this universe to please, please take the bullet back. Please.
Mathew’s head fell on my shoulder, and I reached for his cheek, turning him to look at me. His beautiful sky blue eyes glistened.
“Wife . . .” He croaked.
“Mathew . . . my husband . . . my husband. Don’t leave me. Please.”
Blood lined his lips, and he tried to smile for me.
I maneuvered my body and sat with Mathew sprawled on my lap, his fading face gazing ever more peacefully at me. I hiccupped for breath and sobbed as he reached for my cheek.
“I love you so much. You cannot do this to me. Don’t leave me. I have nothing without you.”
It was slight but he shook his head. I saw then the crimson blood gushing from his chest, his beautiful chest that I knew intimately. I had touched that chest so often in the last four days, kissing him the
re, making him lean his head back and growl such a happy sound.
I forced his palm against my cheek when I felt him weaken. “No . . . no. You have to stay with me. I cannot live without you, my love. I love you. I love you. I love you.”
He choked and choked and choked. Blood spewed from his mouth. I cradled him to me with my one arm, the other still holding his hand to my cheek. With my forehead against his I heard him whisper, “Love you . . . all my life.”
I held him closer as I heard his heartbeat become even more irregular. With a burst I heard three more beats, and then I heard no more.
No more.
Epilogue