PLUS
CHAPTER ELEVEN
DIANA STOOD OVER Abigail's great trunk, her mouth dry, her heart leaping. The trunk stood in what was once Gramer Fahey's room, now put into service for paying guests. The young Irish lieutenant's few belongings were dumped in one corner. Downstairs, Diana could hear the boasting voices of New Kent's aristocracy entertaining Lieutenant Shannon.
In Shannon's absence, there was nothing unusual about Diana's presence. She could say she was cleaning. Just as innocent was her going through the trunk; all she wanted was a portion of her sewing kit. Her sewing things were nothing anyone in this house coveted. But to Diana the kit was symbolic—a final act of defiance. For weeks she'd been hiding things in her own room—clothing, food for several days—and now all that was left were the tools to win a living after she'd escaped New Kent.
She forced calmness and opened the trunk. On top was the comforter. Diana fingered it, remembering each stitch and the praise she had won from Abigail. Although it was small and made for a child, it would be foolish to carry—it was still too bulky. If all went well, this would be the last time she saw it. Diana rummaged about, forcing herself to ignore the memories that leapt up as she encountered each item. Finally, she came to her kit; she sorted it, discarding all but the most necessary items. These she put into a silken scarf she could hide in her bodice.
Diana's plan was simple: she would run tomorrow after everyone left for Market Day. In the excitement, she'd not be missed for hours. If the Hatch men drank to habit, she might have as long as the following day. Much thought had gone into what she would do next. She'd discarded the romantic notion of disguising herself as a boy. Under the circumstances, a helpless female would be a better ploy. She'd travel swiftly for a few days, then post herself on the main road. There she'd await an appropriate wagon bearing goods from the New Kent market; a merchant traveling to Easton with his family.
She'd say she was from a nearby farm—with a sick mother and father. Their situation was so desperate, she'd explain, her family was forced to trust their innocent daughter to seek help from the farm's absentee owner—a man of noted distinction and compassion who lived near Easton. No one would suspect her, or refuse her tearful pleas. Once in Easton, she intended to vanish into the swollen population of refugees, where she was certain a young, pretty thing with a talent for needlecraft could easily earn her keep. Eventually, she'd make her way to Philadelphia—the city of her unfortunate birth. But Philadelphia would have to wait until the British were driven out.
Her heart fluttered as she heard boot heels thumping up the stairs. Quickly she tucked her booty into her dress and then, ostentatiously, began pawing through her sewing kit. "Please forgive the intrusion, Lieutenant," she said over her shoulder, "but I had to fetch a few things. I'll only be a moment."
Shannon entered the room as she turned, and she saw from the big, gleaming smile on his face that her presence was no intrusion at all. "You're far sweeter company than I've been keeping of late," he said.
She sensed his eyes flickering over her, but this barely raised a blush; his look was merely admiring, nothing threatening or expectant. But there was no sense testing him by lingering. She started past. "They're all probably in a dither downstairs," she said, "wondering where I've gotten myself off to."
"No, lass," Emmett said, "I doubt that very much. When I left, everyone was pretty well taken by drink. I don't think you'll be missed at all. In fact, if I were you, I'd take myself off for a little bit of a lie-down until supper." He politely stepped out of her way.
Emmett watched her go by, wishing there was some way he could delay her . . . call her back. It had nothing to do with lust. He despised men who played the rogue's game with indentured women. But she looked and smelled so nice, and her voice was so gentle after months of barked orders from harsh sergeants' throats. And he'd sensed something strong pass between them during the encounter with the poor branded woman. Isn't it a fine world, Emmett Shannon, when two human beings cannot even speak?
Then he found himself goggling in amazement when Diana paused in the hallway.
Diana's thinking was along the same line: Shannon was handsome, in a raggedy, underfed sort of way. But she'd seen handsome men in her short life, just as she'd seen many a rogue with a smooth tongue ply his trade in the Black Lamb. Some were caught out; many weren't. Considering the nature of New Kent—especially the Hatches—she didn't care. But in that moment when the two had exchanged looks across the shambling figure of Runaway Mary, her shame burned on her cheek, Diana thought she saw someone like herself. Unlike Emmett, Diana always spoke her mind. Although now as she found herself looking into his wide, blue eyes, which seemed almost out of place in his weathered face, she hesitated ... as if on the edge of something exciting—unexpected.
"Who are you?" she finally blurted out. She caught herself in the act of covering her mouth as if she were trying to catch the blunt question, but was a little too late.
Emmett stared a moment, then flushed under his leathery skin. Then he broke into a laugh that warmed the distance between them. At that moment Diana lost her heart.
"Don't," she said. Unconsciously she held up a small hand that Emmett thought looked like a fine, white dove.
Emmett stopped laughing and stepped back into the room. He moved to Abigail's trunk and sat on the lid. Diana followed, perching on the bed. She sat quietly as Shannon gathered his thoughts or courage—she wasn't sure which.
Finally, he shook his head and smiled that smile of his. "I'm not a lieutenant, miss," he said.
"Diana."
"Ah . . . Diana. I like that. But I'm no lieutenant, Diana."
"I guessed that."
"But there's no lie to my name. It's Emmett Shannon. And I'm a private in General Washington's army—or at least I was. Now I'm . . . aw, to hell with it. 1 don't know why I'm telling you this. I'm not drunk. To make a short tale of it, I'm a deserter." He looked at her and saw no surprise or disdain. "Does it matter?" he asked.
"Why should it? It's not my war. I belong to my master, and no one seeks my opinion of this or that or any fine thing."
"Still, I wouldn't want you to think poorly of me," Shannon said. "I have my reasons for what I've done."
Without thinking, he reached into his hunting shirt and pulled out the letter from his sister. He passed it to her. It was an odd act for Shannon, who had been raised to reveal nothing of his or his family's business. Why he gave her the letter, he couldn't say, but he watched anxiously as she read.
Finally she finished, folded the letter back up and returned it to him. "I would desert as well," she said, and her voice was so fierce in his defense that it startled him.
Diana was equally surprised at her intensity; also at her conflicting emotions. She pitied Shannon and his family. She guessed what they were going through if Emmett's town was anything like New Kent. She also felt strangely exalted learning that his wife was dead. It was a stupid feeling, especially since after tomorrow—while Shannon was unwittingly aiding her in her flight by adding more excitement to Market Day—she'd never set eyes upon him again. Stupid or not, the feeling nestled close to her like a kitten. Also, she was now feeling vaguely guilty, thinking she had tricked him out of a confidence that was dangerous to reveal.
She looked at the confusion on his face and saw he was thinking the same. "I'm going to run, too," she blurted, scaring herself, but glad as soon as she said it. "I can't bear it any longer. So, I'm running . . . tomorrow . . . while they're all out making a fuss and fools of themselves. They can all be damned, and they'll never see the back of me."
Emmett was frightened for her . . . more than anyone before in his life—except when his wife lay dying. He thought of the mummified remains of the slave hanging from chains on the outskirts of New Kent. Of the broken, branded woman the good citizens gloated over and named Runner Mary.
"They'll catch you," he said, "and bring you back. It'll just make things worse."
"Oh, ho! So you can desert, but I must remain in my master's keep? Is that how you see it?"
Shannon thought of the sawpit and his decision to run at just about her age. He understood all too well. But . . . "You're just a little thing," he said. "Don't be angry at me for saying that. You don't know what's happening. Things are mad."
He thought of the redemption village and the child dying of smallpox. He thought of Frenchy McShane and Bill Grady's head on the post. He thought of the Dutchman's farm and all the dead and the woman lying spread-eagled in the snow and her hair at Frenchy's belt. How could he explain all this? He looked at her face: defiant, determined, plain Scots-Irish stubborn. It appeared even more so, framed by her thick red hair. This was not a woman to debate once she had made up her mind.
"Do you have a good plan?" he asked.
"Yes." So flat and final, he almost believed her.
"Stay just off the road so you can hide as quick as a thrust if a wrong one appears," he said. "Do you promise you'll do that for me?"
She just nodded, yes.
"I'll make a good show for them," he said. "I'll drill and train every man in New Kent so hard they won't be able to stand for a week, much less chase after an errant scullery maid."
Diana stood up. A bargain had been struck between them, although she wasn't sure it was the one she would have wished under different circumstances. They stared at each other, wanting there to be more to say. But there wasn't. Diana took a step toward Emmett, and for a moment he thought she was about to kiss him and his heart hammered for the kiss, but then she just said "Thank you" and was gone.
NEXT: Escape From New Kent
*****
S.O.S. ALLAN'S NEW NOVEL
Between February and May of 1942, German U-boats operated with impunity off the Florida coast, sinking scores of freighters from Cape Canaveral to Key West and killing nearly five thousand people. Residents were horrified witnesses of the attacks—the night skies were aflame and in the morning the beaches were covered with oil and tar, ship parts and charred corpses. The Germans even landed teams of saboteurs charged with disrupting war efforts in the factories of the North. This novel is based on those events. For my own purposes, I set the tale in the fictitious town of Juno Beach on the banks of the equally fictitious Seminole River—all in the very real Palm Beach County, a veritable wilderness in those long ago days. Among the witnesses were my grandfather and grandmother, who operated an orchard and ranch in the area.
*****
A DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY
The year is 1778 and the Revolutionary War has young America trapped in the crossfire of hatred and fear. Diana, an indentured servant, escapes her abusive master with the help of Emmett Shannon, a deserter from the desperate army at Valley Forge. They fall in love and marry, but their happiness is shattered and Diana Shannon must learn to survive on her own. From that moment on she will become a true woman of her times, blazing a path from lawless lands in the grips of the Revolution, to plague-stricken Philadelphia, to the burning of Washington in the War Of 1812.
*****
TWO NEW AUDIOBOOKS ONLY $4.95!
Tales Sometimes Tall, but always true, of Allan Cole's years in Hollywood with his late partner, Chris Bunch. How a naked lady almost became our first agent. How we survived La-La Land with only the loss of half our brain cells. How Bunch & Cole became the ultimate Fix-It
Boys. How an alleged Mafia Don was very, very good to us. The guy who cornered the market on movie rocks. Andy Warhol's Fire Extinguisher. The Real Stars Of Hollywood. Why they don't make million dollar movies. See The Seven Pi$$ing Dwarfs. Learn: how to kill a "difficult" actor… And much, much more.
THE TIMURA TRILOGY: When The Gods Slept, Wolves Of The Gods and The Gods Awaken. This best selling fantasy series now available as trade paperbacks, e-books (in all varieties) and as audiobooks. Visit The Timura Trilogy page for links to all the editions.
NEWLY REVISED KINDLE EDITIONS OF THE TIMURA TRILOGY NOW AVAILABLE. (1) When The Gods Slept;(2) Wolves Of The Gods; (3) The Gods Awaken.
*****
A NATION AT WAR WITH ITSELF: In Book Three Of The Shannon Trilogy, young Patrick Shannon is the heir-apparent to the Shannon fortune, but murder and betrayal at a family gathering send him fleeing into the American frontier, with only the last words of a wise old woman to arm him against what would come. And when the outbreak of the Civil War comes he finds himself fighting on the opposite side of those he loves the most. In The Wars Of The Shannons we see the conflict, both on the battlefield and the homefront, through the eyes of Patrick and the members of his extended Irish-American family as they struggle to survive the conflict that ripped the new nation apart, and yet, offered a dim beacon of hope.
*****
NEW: THE AUDIOBOOK VERSION OF
THE HATE PARALLAX
What if the Cold War never ended -- but continued for a thousand years? Best-selling authors Allan Cole (an American) and Nick Perumov (a Russian) spin a mesmerizing "what if?" tale set a thousand years in the future, as an American and a Russian super-soldier -- together with a beautiful American detective working for the United Worlds Police -- must combine forces to defeat a secret cabal ... and prevent a galactic disaster! This is the first - and only - collaboration between American and Russian novelists. Narrated by John Hough. Click the title links below for the trade paperback and kindle editions. (Also available at iTunes.)
*****
THE SPYMASTER'S DAUGHTER:
A novel by Allan and his daughter, Susan
After laboring as a Doctors Without Borders physician in the teaming refugee camps and minefields of South Asia, Dr. Ann Donovan thought she'd seen Hell as close up as you can get. And as a fifth generation CIA brat, she thought she knew all there was to know about corruption and betrayal. But then her father - a legendary spymaster - shows up, with a ten-year-old boy in tow. A brother she never knew existed. Then in a few violent hours, her whole world is shattered, her father killed and she and her kid brother are one the run with hell hounds on their heels. They finally corner her in a clinic in Hawaii and then all the lies and treachery are revealed on one terrible, bloody storm- ravaged night.
BASED ON THE CLASSIC STEN SERIES by Allan Cole & Chris Bunch: Fresh from their mission to pacify the Wolf Worlds, Sten and his Mantis Team encounter a mysterious ship that has been lost among the stars for thousands of years. At first, everyone aboard appears to be long dead. Then a strange Being beckons, pleading for help. More disturbing: the presence of AM2, a strategically vital fuel tightly controlled by their boss - The Eternal Emperor. They are ordered to retrieve the remaining AM2 "at all costs." But once Sten and his heavy worlder sidekick, Alex Kilgour, board the ship they must dare an out of control defense system that attacks without warning as they move through dark warrens filled with unimaginable horrors. When they reach their goal they find that in the midst of all that death are the "seeds" of a lost civilization.
*****
TALES OF THE BLUE MEANIE
NOW AN AUDIOBOOK!
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Venice Boardwalk Circa 1969
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In the depths of the Sixties and The Days Of Rage, a young newsman, accompanied by his pregnant wife and orphaned teenage brother, creates a Paradise of sorts in a sprawling Venice Beach community of apartments, populated by students, artists, budding scientists and engineers lifeguards, poets, bikers with a few junkies thrown in for good measure. The inhabitants come to call the place “Pepperland,” after the Beatles movie, “Yellow Submarine.” Threatening this paradise is "The Blue Meanie," a crazy giant of a man so frightening that he eventually even scares himself.
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