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REBEL HEARTS


Chapter 10: ‘Tough and In Charge’


They buried the poor doomed baby and her mother the next morning in the Finn Family Cemetary. With only Buffy, the man, Wood, the young boy Robin and Andrew in attendance. Andrew had insisted, even though the mere trip up to the small knoll took it’s toll immediately on his underdeveloped lungs.

William quoted some passages from the Bible and made them sound almost poetic, full of some hope for the two beings that never had any chance of hope in this world. Buffy was more grateful to William then she dared to show to anyone, so she merely stood next to him as he read the words from the Good Book.

Now and then, Buffy would steal a glance at the boy, Robin Wood, as he was named. She had seen the boy once or twice, about the Plantation, but his mother made sure to keep him inside as much as possible. Buffy had supposed the other slave children may have teased poor Robin, because it was obvious to anyone who had laid eyes on Riley that this slave child was ‘his’ son, no one elses. Robin had Riley’s eyes.

Buffy had promised herself, right then and there, as they buried Robin’s mother, that she would rectify this, somehow. She did not care who was scandalized or angry at her for doing so, Buffy intended on seeing that the boy, Robin, got some kind of inheritance from Riley, even if her errant husband got home from the War in one piece.

Robin would at least have a basic education, the local laws of South Carolina be damned. When the makeshift service was over, poor Wood, the husband of sad, dead Kendra, had come over to thank both William and Buffy for giving his wife a funeral, tears filled the big man’s dark eyes.

By the time Buffy, William and Andrew had returned to the house, she was sobbing and took her leave of the men. She had sequestered herself in her bedroom, Buffy was calling it ‘her’ bedroom now, leaving Riley’s name or the term ‘master’ from the place.

After she had sat at the window bench of the bedroom stared out at the vista for nearly an hour, Buffy lay down to try and nap. Dinner, with William, was as usual, at 6:30 PM that evening and she had every intention of honoring her promise to dine with him. Especially that evening above all others.

“The ham is delicious,” Spike said caustiously as he eyed Buffy from above his wine glass. His Buffy had been very quiet for nearly the entire meal, and Spike attributed that to the sadness from earlier that morning.

Buffy had gotten through the service, fairly well, but by the time she, Andrew and himself had gotten back to the house, she had broke down in tears and departed upstairs to her room. There Buffy remained until it was time to join him for dinner and since the minute she had arrived in the dining room, she had been near mute.

“I will tell the cook that you enjoyed the ham, William,” Buffy quietly assured him. “Thank you again, William,” she added in a near whisper, “for saying the words for them. It meant so much to me, to Wood and the boy, Robin also.”

Spike nodded and sipped his wine again, “tell me, Buffy,” he began carefully, “have you heard from Riley, lately that is?” Her head snapped up from her plate, abruptly, but she visibly regained her composure and shook her head slightly, “no. But then again, correspondance can be difficult, especially from the front lines.”

‘Hmmm,’ Spike mused, ‘I’ll wager you are not corresponding with your worthless husband all that much, either, are you Princess?’ “I see,” is all he could respond to her with.

He decided to change the subject, “tomorrow,” he began “I’m riding with Lt. Abrams and his men to scout around the neighboring country. Truth is,” Spike smirked slightly, “it’s just an exercise in galloping about, looking like we are tough and in charge around these parts.” Spike grinned at Buffy, delighted when she smiled ever so slightly above her tea cup.

“We shall leave first thing, at sunrise and be back by supper tomorrow night. Hope you will join me for dinner, right luv?”

Buffy nodded, then, “I promised you, William. I do not break my promises, not lightly anyway.”

He scowled for just a moment then, “Buffy, we have not really talked. About the other night that is, and the night in Boston, when you broke a very important promise, at least to me.”

She gave him her patent ‘deer looking down a musket’ expression and opened her mouth to respond when Mahalia came scurrying into the dining room.

“Missy Finn,” she exclaimed, “it’s poor Master Andrew, he’s findin’ it hard to breathe, Missy. Please come, he needs you!”

Buffy leapt from her chair, nodded a good night to William and almost ran out of the room to the stairs. By the time she reached poor Andrew’s room, Buffy realized that William had followed her upstairs. He nearly pushed past her to the young man’s bed and leaned in to check the sounds of his breathing.

“Mahalia,” William said with composed urgency, “if you will, get some mustard, clean wraps and a fresh candle and I have matches. Please hurry Mahalia, time is important here.”

Mahalia hurried from the room and Buffy joined William by the bed, “what are you doing?” she asked anxiously as she took Andrew’s clammy hand in hers. “It’s a way to treat the croup,” William responded quickly,

“I know it is more common in babies, but some of my troops have come down with croup-like symptoms more then once. If we apply the treatment, just right, right away, we can help the boy breathe better. When Mahalia comes back, have her fetch Jesse down to the barracks, there’s a doctor there. He’ll do better with this then any of us can.”

Andrew gasped for breath desperately and Buffy felt truly afraid for him. She noticed, however, that the boy gave Captain William Anderson a brave look of thanks and relief.

Later, after the British Doctor had been fetched and come to treat Andrew properly, Buffy joined William in the parlour, briefly. “The boy will be fine now, Buffy,” Spike assured her as he sipped a brandy.

“It seems I owe you, now more then ever, Will,” she murmered as she focused her stare on her wedding picture above the mantel. Spike noted the sad look in her emerald eyes, the way she tilted her head to one side.

‘She’s miles away,’ he thought sadly, ‘miles away from me, in her mind, even though she is so close I can smell the vanilla scent of her hair.’ He could tell she was deep in thought as she surveyed her and Finn’s portrait, a somewhat guilty look in her green eyes. ‘Yes,’ he mused silently, ‘perhaps you do owe me, Buffy luv, but what I want from you; you’ll never give of your own free will. You are too good, dear. Too pure and loyal, even if your fuck of a husband does not deserve your marital devotion.’

William and his small group of men, including Lt. Abrams had departed, as promised, from Finnwood to ‘scout’ about the countryside. Captain Anderson had left Lt. Doyle to keep an eye on things while he was gone, and Buffy felt more then secure to peruse her rose gardens near the house. Even now, Buffy was working in her fair sized garden, wearing a pair of good, heavy gloves, weeding and tending to the various hued buds and blooms.

‘The gardens are beautiful!’ she thought proudly, ‘they shall rival dear Jennifer Gile’s own gardens this year!’ Buffy remembered with quiet joy, the night in Boston when she had sat with William in the Gile’s gardens.

‘He has no idea,’ she shook her head sadly, ‘none at all how wonderful a memory that night is to me. How I…’ Buffy’s warm reverie was disturbed by the sound of a lone horse, coming up the front pathway of the house.

By the time she had reached the front porch, Buffy realized that Angel O’Connor had just dismounted his horse and now stood grinning like an idiot at her.

“Why are you here Angel O’Connor?” Buffy asked evenly, trying to keep the hatred and panic from her voice. “I wanted to speak with ‘you’ Mrs. Finn, alone,” he answered smugly. “My man, Saul. He informed me that your Captain Anderson was out and away from Finnwood, thought I’d take the opportunity to speak my mind. Without unwelcome ears to hear.”

Buffy cringed, but stood straight up to her full 5’1” height, “unwelcome or not,” she hissed, “you know full well you are not welcome yourself here, Sir. Go off from here, or I’ll…”

Angel swaggered up closer to her and eyed her like a full course meal, “you’ll what, Buffy,” he sneered. “Just what will you do, now that your Captain is amiss and there is not another white man on your property to throw me off. What will you do, Mrs. Finn?”

Jesse had just made an appearance behind Buffy and she felt the cold steel of Riley’s pistol being placed in her hand. Buffy made sure to conceal the weapon behind her dress then glared at Angel, “I do not need any man to throw you from my property O’Connor,” she spat with contempt, “I am most capable of that privelege on my own. But, speak your business then leave.”

Angel smiled, a smile that Buffy was sure the odious man ‘thought’ was quite charming. “I’m going to be honest with you Buffy,” he chuckled, “I plan to have Finnwood for myself.”

‘Oh, there’s big news,’ Buffy thought sarcastically, but she held her tongue and listened to Angel’s next words.

“In fact, even if dear Riley makes it back from the War, I intend on commandeering Finnwood for myself. I am sure, once the British have won this uprising, and they will, that the King’s government will be most happy to reward loyal Colonials. I cannot think of a better way to be rewarded then to have Finnwood as my own. That includes everything and everyone on it.”

Angel took another step closer to Buffy, signaling her to pull the pistol that was hidden behind her skirt out into full view. Buffy cocked the pistol and aimed it right at Angel’s chest and heart. The tall dark man stopped in his tracks, a look of shock on his face.

“Now, O’Connor,” Buffy hissed, her own smug smile in place, “if you place even one of your filthy unwanted boots on my front porch, I’ll shoot you,” she warned with menace. “Be warned, Sir,” she continued strongly, “I am not the best shot, so even though I may aim for your cold heart, I might miss. I might hit another area of your body, one that would probably be more appropriate as far as justice goes, but I am sure you might miss having.”

Buffy heard Jesse stifle a laugh behind her and looked square into evil Angel O’Connor’s dark eyes. “All right, Buffy,” he muttered heatedly, “but remember who will own this farm, when this is all said and done, and that would be me. It might behoove you to think about your own best interests when this is over. Your’s and any offspring that you and Riley have. Though I doubt those will be forthcoming any time soon. My dear friend seems to only be able to impregnate slave women with his seed.” Angel turned and nearly leapt on his horse, then spurred the animal off down the pathway away from the house and Buffy.

With a sigh, Buffy lowered the gun and slumped, wearily where she stood on the front porch. “I’m sorry, Missy Finn,” Jesse mumbled behind her, “sorry about everything that bastard, Master O’Connor, said to you.”

Buffy turned slightly and actually grinned at her man servant, “why Jesse,” she chuckled with anxious relief, “I didn’t know you swore, ever.”

Jesse nodded proudly, “every chance I can Missy,” he acknowledged with his happy grin.

“Well,” Buffy sighed, “we’d better get inside, Jesse. Mahalia will want to hear all of the particulars, as soon a possible.”

The very young Lieutenant Doyle suddenly appeared from nowhere, “Mrs. Finn,” he said anxiously, “are you all right? I am sorry, Maam. Captain Anderson left specific orders that you not be bothered by anyone, I am afraid I have let him and you down.”

Lt. Doyle did not look any older then Buffy, “it is fine Lieutenant,” she assured the worried young man. “I handled Mr. O’Connor, quite well. Don’t you agree Jesse?” she asked the servant with a giggle. Jesse just nodded, a huge grin on his face.

Spike and his men had gotten back, as promised, around 4:30 PM. After a warm bath, water provided by Buffy’s man servant, Jesse, he dressed in clean clothes and retired to the parlour to have some of Finn’s finest brandy.

It bothered Spike, a bit, to imbibe his hated rival’s alcohol, but he figured that he might as well, ‘I intend on having his wife,’ he reasoned, ‘might as well drink his liquer too.’ With a hearty laugh, Spike rested on the sofa and waited, impatiently, for 6:30 and Buffy’s promised appearance.

He had half closed his eyes, savoring the fine brandy he was sipping, when Jesse appeared before his eyes.

“Captain,” the man greeted with hesitation, “I’d like to talk to you. Tell you somethin’ that happened today, while you and your men were gone.”

Spike sat up and put the brandy glass on a linen cloth that rested on the china table before him. “Of course, Jesse,” he nodded, “tell me anything you want.”


A/N: A short chapter. Keep the flow of the plot lines going. Please, please read and review. The problem is, I think, that if author(esses) don’t get reviews we lose some interest in our own fics? Anyway, thank you for reading. Luv, Spuf





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