Language of the Bear Page 4

  The Colonel put his letter aside, found his pipe, and puffed at it until it flared and belched smoke it. He did not glance in Pyke’s direction as he took a long draw and blew out a nebulous chain of smoke that coiled to the ceiling.

  Finally, he glanced at Pyke. “At ease.”

  “Sir.” Pyke relaxed into a parade rest.

  “You’re a bloody nuisance, Mr. Pyke. Two duels in eight months is absurd.”

  Pyke was immediately caught off guard. How did the Colonel know about the other duel? It had occurred before Pyke was brought into the Colonel’s service at Jenkins Town and there had been no witnesses. “Sir, I was in the right in both, and if the Colonel would indulge me—”

  The Colonel held out a palm. “I don’t care to hear your Canterbury stories, Mr. Pyke. Do you know how much trouble you’re in? Do you know how much trouble I’ll be in if I don’t do something about this? You damned, bloody fool.”

  “Sir, I was defending your daughter’s honor. Mr. Thornwood said—”

  “I know what you thought he said, Mr. Pyke. Do you know who this man Thornwood is?”

  “He is a liar and a government dandy.”

  “He belongs to Thomas Penn.”

  Pyke’s stomach bottomed out like it had so many times during the long trans-Atlantic voyage when there were heavy storms. Thomas Penn, he thought, had returned to England, but still had his grip around the Pennsylvania colony. He was not a man to be trifled with.

  “Murder is a hanging offense, Mr. Pyke.”

  Murder? Thornwood had appeared clipped. There was no way the wound could have been mortal. “It was a duel. The code was followed, sir.”

  “Try telling that to one of Penn’s magistrates in Philadelphia.” The Colonel walked to a window and peered out of it into the dying afternoon light. “Bastard hypocrite calls himself a Quaker, but his father is no doubt rolling in his grave right now.”

  Pyke knew little of political affairs and found them rather distasteful. “Sir, would you not support me if this should come to a trial?”

  The Colonel said nothing.

  “I was only doing what you would have done.”

  The Colonel whirled. “You presumptuous twit, how dare you tell me what my duties are!”

  “The man was speaking ill of your daughter, sir.” Pyke’s anger was rising again. Why was the damned old fool not coming to his side? “It was a matter of Miss Bennett’s honor.”

  “I don’t care for words that may or may not have been spoken in a tavern. They mean nothing to me.”

  “But your daughter’s good name—”

  “Miss Bennett takes care of herself. You should learn how to do the same, Mr. Pyke. You’ll live much longer. It’s the way of the New World. You are no longer in England with the full support of your family and their title to back you.”

  Pyke spoke with a confidence he didn’t feel. “Nevertheless, sir, it was a matter of honor. I am in the right. I will stand before the magistrate and speak the truth.”

  The Colonel went to his desk and sat. “You will do no such thing. Do you think I would let you repeat the words Mr. Thornwood spoke of my daughter in a court of law, for all the world to hear? For shame, there would be a public spectacle!”

  “But there is no truth to Mr. Thornwood’s words, as would come out during a trial, so there is no shame in repeating them.”

  “Would you have me parade my daughter into court so she could testify about her private life? Did you ever think about her well-being for one fleeting moment before you allowed your delicate sense of honor to be offended?”

  In fact, Damaris Bennett was all Pyke had been thinking about recently. He had done this for her. He couldn’t brook the thought of anyone speaking ill of her. She was a strong young woman, but still she needed looking after. The world could be a cold, dangerous place, and it was a gentleman’s responsibility to serve those who needed help. Now the Colonel was twisting his well-intentioned actions and noble deed into something selfish and ill-advised?

  “Sir, I was only standing up for a good woman for whom I have a great deal of affection.”

  The Colonel laughed ruefully, then said, “Sit down and shut your bone box, Mr. Pyke.”

  Pyke did. The Colonel consulted some papers on his desk for a moment before looking back up. “I will have to trade all the political favors I have left to deal with your situation. You can avoid the magistrate, but in return you must do something for me.”

  Pyke felt like he was being manipulated, but he couldn’t puzzle it out. He needed a few minutes to collect his thoughts and put everything together, but the Colonel had not afforded him that opportunity.

  “Of course I am yours to command, sir.”

  The Colonel puffed at his pipe and watched Pyke as if he were studying some new species of colonial mammal. “It is an unfortunate business and would require the utmost discretion and secrecy.”

  He was certain of it now: he was being manipulated. “What is the unfortunate business, sir?”

  “We have little military presence here in Jenkins Town, but I’m to oversee those in the area for the moment and properly settle this area. Not all the local savages are friendly. The French are causing problems in the Northwest. And now we have another, more local, more personal problem. One that must be dealt with immediately before it gets out of hand.”

  The Colonel’s jaw worked at the stem of his pipe. “Azariah.”

  Pyke had heard the rumors. After disappearing some six months ago into the wilderness, Azariah had taken up with a band of savages. He was supposedly now seducing other whites, Indians, and runaway slaves to join him in his pastoral utopia free of British rule. With promises of equality and prosperity and no war, he tried to lure more and more to him. The idea, and the rumors as well, seemed preposterous to Pyke, but there must have been some truth to them, for now the Colonel was involved.

  Pyke had only seen him a handful of times but remembered him well. Azariah was a tall, dashing man who craved and commanded attention. Whenever Pyke encountered him, he was always surrounded by followers and hangers-on, deep in a conversation that always threatened becoming a heated argument.

  Despite the fact that Azariah was the Colonel’s grand-nephew, the two looked nothing alike, in part because Azariah’s mother had been Indian.

  Pyke waited for the Colonel to continue, but he didn’t. Instead, he poured himself a brandy and offered one to Pyke, who accepted. “Thank you, sir. Would you like me to track the man down and bring him back?”

  “No, Mr. Pyke. I do not want him brought back.”

  “Then what, sir?” Pyke took a sip of the brandy. It burned his throat. He didn’t like the dark mood of this conversation.

  “He is to be relieved of his command.”

  Pyke nearly dropped his brandy but managed to control himself. “Sir—”

  The Colonel consulted his papers again. “We have conflicting reports, but our most suggest he was recently in Millers Town and also that he was trying to recruit some Delaware to his cause. You should begin there.”

  “But, sir.”

  “What?”

  “He is an Englishman.”

  “He’s gone mad.”

  “He’s of noble birth.”

  “He’s turned into a bloody savage.”

  Pyke knew he was going too far, but it needed to be said: “Sir, but he is your grand-nephew!”

  The Colonel’s fist slammed his desk. “He is an embarrassment!”

  Pyke stood and went to the unlit hearth. “This is no work for a British officer. Assassination.”

  “The man has plundered, murdered, and raped. He is hell-bent on acquiring power over the Province. He has stirred up trouble with tribes that were previously allied with the Crown. He has disrespected the Crown, he has disrespected me, and soon his actions will enrage the French. There are rules one must abide by in this world.”

  Pyke agreed that there was a social order to all things, but still, the thought of assassination was
unpalatable. “Sir, I cannot in good conscience do this. I will arrest him, bring him to trial, and let him hang. But not this. It’s murder.”

  “And what did you to Mr. Thornwood less than an hour ago?”

  “That was different.”

  The Colonel guffawed. “Your principles will one day damn you, Mr. Pyke. You are young, so it is somewhat pardonable. But one day you must learn how to work in the real world.”

  Pyke, disgusted, said nothing. The Colonel was a dissolute man, as far as he was concerned. Who was he to look down on Pyke? Yet another reason he wanted to be with Damaris: to protect her from this old man.

  The Colonel continued, “I do not want this mission to turn into a public spectacle. It must be kept clandestine. We cannot haul this man into a court of law. He must be dealt with, swiftly. I have my own position to consider. And Miss Bennett’s.”

  So there it was. The Colonel was looking out for his own interests. The Crown wouldn’t let him continue in his present capacity while his grand-nephew was wreaking havoc in the wilderness. If this mission were only for the Colonel’s sake, Pyke would have considered turning him down and facing the Philadelphia magistrate on the murder charge.

  But it was not just for the Colonel’s sake.

  What would Damaris do if her father were removed from this office, possibly out of his pension, and forcibly retired? That was what the Crown did to old soldiers who were no longer useful. Damaris would be humiliated and without prospects. There was no other family for them in the colonies that Pyke knew of, aside from Azariah. Her future would be in jeopardy.

  He could not allow that to happen.

  “For Miss Bennett’s sake then, sir, I will do this.”

  The Colonel let slip a grateful smile, and Pyke immediately regretted not driving a harder bargain. The Colonel was in as difficult a position as he was, he now realized.

  Suddenly, the idea struck him. He’d been intending to ask for the Colonel’s blessing anyway, but the time had never been right. It wasn’t exactly proper, what he was considering, but what the Colonel had asked of him wasn’t exactly proper either.

  The Colonel said, “I have arranged matters for you. You are to leave immediately. I have secured an Indian guide from the Susquehannock.”

  “Sir, I do not require the use of a savage to find this man.”

  “You will take this guide, and you will take him gladly. You are only eight months in the Province, so you do not know the geography, and you cannot speak any of their languages. Your antiquated Latin won’t do you any good out here. Not even your French will help you with some of the Indians here. Now then, you will have a week’s worth of supplies. If you require anything else, you will get it from the quartermaster before you leave. Smith will see you off at the grainery with the Indian. That is all.”

  “Who else will be going with me?”

  “Who else?”

  “Aside from the savage, sir.”

  “No one else, Mr. Pyke. I thought I had made it clear that this mission required the utmost discretion and secrecy. You are to speak of it to no one. Not even Smith knows the details. And the less the Indian knows, the better.”

  The Colonel pulled a piece of paper off his desk. “Now then, here is my seal. You may say you march under my orders, but you may not disclose what those orders are.”

  Pyke took the parchment and rolled it up.

  “Azariah wears a locket around the neck. It is a family heirloom and as such holds some sentimental value for me. I would most appreciate it if you brought that back.”

  Pyke understood the Colonel to mean the locket would be proof of the killing.

  “And that will be all, Mr. Pyke. Dismissed.” The Colonel went back to the maps on his desk.

  Pyke put the glass of brandy down on the Colonel’s desk and steeled himself. He hadn’t been expecting to do this right now, but the opportunity was there and he had to seize it.

  “Sir, there is something else I’d like to discuss with you. A private matter.”

  The Colonel turned an impatient eye on him. “This had better be quick, Mr. Pyke.”

  “Sir, it concerns Miss Bennett.”

  The Colonel sat there impassively.

  “I have only known her for a short while, since I’ve been in Jenkins Town, but I have gotten to know her quite well. She is a fine young woman, of whom I have grown very fond.”

  The Colonel pursed his lips and squinted one eye.

  “I would like to ask the lady for her hand in marriage, sir, with your permission of course. As you know, I come from a good family and, despite my excesses of late, I do have excellent prospects here and at home. After my service, I plan to sit for the bar or—”

  “Mr. Pyke, are you quite serious?”

  With the Colonel sounding incredulous, Pyke’s resolve began to melt. Quickly, he added, “Yes, sir, I am.”

  The Colonel stared at him, his expression unreadable. “Mr. Pyke, it is my understanding that your family estate is all but bankrupt. How would you be able to provide for Miss Bennett?”

  “There have been some nasty rumors spread about the estate that are distortions of the truth, sir. And, I have my pay and a yearly allowance from the estate. If we stay here, land in the Province is cheap. If we return to England, my family has some smaller properties, one of which I could manage.”

  “My daughter does not wish to live in England. She is happy here, though God knows why.” The Colonel leaned back in his chair and looked at the ceiling. “Forgive me, Mr. Pyke, but I would require some proof of your holdings before I consented.”

  Pyke fought to keep a smile off his face. The Colonel was not opposed to the union!

  “You would have it.”

  The Colonel stood and tapped some ash from his pipe. “Then, on your words, I would allow it.”

  Pyke couldn’t believe it. He hadn’t expected the Colonel to capitulate so easily, but he had! He could marry Damaris Bennett, the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen!

  “Sir, you honor me.” He smiled but had to fight to keep from yelling in excitement.

  “This is all provided you are successful in your mission, Mr. Pyke.”

  “Of course, sir.”

  “As you said, you would be doing it for her as much as for me.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The Colonel came around the desk and patted Pyke’s shoulder paternally. Pyke could still not believe this was happening, and the thought he was being manipulated flitted through his mind again. But he pushed it away and allowed himself to be happy.

  ***

  Davies handed him his musket and patted Pyke’s horse. “Where are you off to then, sir?”

  “None of your business, Sergeant, but I thank you for your assistance this afternoon.” Pyke pulled his gloves on, hoping to warm the nine fingers he had. The pinky of his left hand he’d lost to frostbite on patrol, along with two toes. He hated the damp coldness of the Province.

  Evening had come on, and an icy wind blasted down the street. Someone was petitioning to call it “York Road,” and the name was beginning to stick.

  “Quite right, sir. Quite right. Then good luck and Godspeed.” Davies patted the horse’s nose, while Pyke packed his things.

  “Is there something else, Sergeant?”

  “Yes, sir. Forgive me for speaking out of turn here—”

  “You seem to be good at that, Sergeant.”

  “A man’s got to be good at something, sir.”

  Pyke couldn’t help but laugh. Davies scratched his beard and continued. “I was wondering that, since I did you the favor, you could do me one as well.”

  “Sergeant, I am most grateful for your assistance today. You comported yourself with real class. Though I can’t say this is related in any way, it just so happens that your name has disappeared from my black book. I can’t remember why I had written it down in the first place.”

  “Oh, uh, I can’t remember either, sir.”

  “Well then. Maybe I had writ
ten down in error. Whatever the reason, it is no longer in there.”

  “Thank you, sir. Thank you.”

  “Good man, Davies. You keep an eye on Smith, will you?”

  “Always do, sir.”

  “I’ll see you in a week or so.”

  Pyke rode away from his lodgings, and Davies waved once. The man had gotten into a drunken brawl a week ago and had been insubordinate while inebriated, but Pyke was willing to overlook that. No one else had offered to be his second in the duel with Thornwood.

  He was halfway down York Road on his way to the grainery when he saw her. Damaris was outside of the makeshift schoolhouse with the headmaster, and she waved at him. She had never shown this kind of excitement toward him, and he wondered if her father had already given her the news. His heart leapt at the prospect.

  He met her as she was saying goodbye to the headmaster. She was wearing one of those London society hats, a long dress, and carried a tiny umbrella in one hand.

  “Lieutenant Pyke, I was desperately trying to find you earlier today. I pray you are well?”

  “I have never been better, Miss Bennett.” A look of relief washed over her face. “I trust you yourself are well?”

  “I wanted to speak with you privately, Lieutenant.”

  He dismounted. In the distance, the rowdy din of the tavern carried.

  “Miss Bennett, let me just say—”

  Hastily, she cut him off. “I didn’t want you to risk yourself for me. You didn’t have to do that. I would never have forgiven myself if you were hurt.”

  He was shocked by how forward she was and couldn’t fathom how she had heard of the duel. Women were not supposed to know of such things. “Miss Bennett … I was only doing what any gentleman would do.”

  “Any gentleman except my father.”

  Her harsh tongue surprised him. He didn’t particularly like the Colonel, but that didn’t mean the man’s daughter should be speaking about him like that. Before he left England for the Province, his father had had a long talk with him about a good many things. Regarding women, his father had told him that the best way to measure a woman was by how she talked to, and about, her father. So would she act toward her husband later in life.