The Patriot's Daughter

A Hound Named Truelove

I TOSS THE BLANKET off my warm body and squeeze away the sleep in the corners of my eyes. I hear birds chirping outside the tent and suddenly realize I've forgotten where I am.
      Papa's tent.
      Except he is gone, at River Springs, on a mission, and I'm here alone.
      Not entirely.
     I rise eagerly, stretching my arms above my head. Yes, not entirely alone.
     I grab hold of the pitcher and duck under the tent flaps. Warm wind blows my hair out of my face, and I glance upwards. It must be mid-morning already, as the sun is already well into the sky. I tossed and turned without sleeping hardly an hour, yet I'm embarrassed that it will look as if I've lazily slept so late. Hoping no one has noticed, I walk around the tent and approach the side, suddenly catching the suspicious glare of a shaggy soldier. I wrinkle my brow, wary of his near presence. He looks from me to the tent, raising both brows, and makes a mocking snoring sound as heat flows to my cheeks.
      I resist rolling my eyes, determined to still be graceful in the midst of strangers. Like my mother. I distract myself with the pitcher, raising a handful of water to my face and rubbing at my puffy eyes. Swooshing a bit in my mouth, I let the rest fall on my hair, washing away several days worth of oil. It soaks my dress, but I don't mind in the sun's heat.
      It's been almost twenty-four hours since Papa left and I'm becoming restless, waiting for his return, for news of Michael and of River Springs. The only company in camp is Liam, but how can I be around him when half of me wants to avoid him?
      I look to the side, bending to tie my shoes as another breeze sweeps my hair off my shoulders. Anger occasionally boils in my veins, anger at myself, when continual thoughts return to him. Why is it so hard to take thoughts captive, as the Bible commands?
     Liam hasn't even emerged from his tent yet this morning. Hopefully a full night of rest after sleeping most of yesterday will allow him to fully recover.
      Rising, I walk through the camp that is oddly quiet. Men are comfortable, though some anxious with a desire to fight. They haven't seen battle in awhile. But this is Papa's hidden camp, designed for staying still and not being known, ready to strike wherever needed. We will stay here as long as he permits it.
      The fire closest to my tent has diminished, only a lump of burning coals and ashes. My fingers run along the sides of my dress as I listen to conversations floating through camp, observing games played with wooden dice. A small dog sits at a stool by its owner, eyeing a piece of meat. I smile, thinking it wouldn't be bad to have a dog as a friend during the war. Without considering it, I walk up to the soldier, looking down at the hound. The dog's ears perk and it rises to its hind legs, then lowers to my feet. "Is she yours?"
     The soldier peers up, his dark eyes warming upon seeing me, and tilts his head. "Ma'am. No, Truelove's not my own." He eyes the dog with a conflicted glare.
     I smile back, bending to the dog and letting my small sack of food bounce in my hand. She approaches with young brashness, fumbling with the meat. The soldier sighs, leaning on his leg with both folded hands. "She wondered into camp about the same time as your father the other evening. Since he was coming back from the north, I jokingly named her Truelove, after General Washington's favorite dog."
     I snap both eyes up, jaw dropping. "You're kidding? I've read stories about the general and his dogs." Looking back down, I study the dog I suddenly recognize as English. A hound, without a doubt. Washington has foxhounds he uses for hunting and companionship. Everyone knows he adores the canines, his favorites being Sweet Lips, Venus, and . . .
     "Truelove!" I say the pup's name with a smile, her head cocking. I tilt my head, lifting the hounds face to my eyes in wonder. "You're a runaway pup, hm?" The dog pants, pressing it's face into my hand to chew the skin. Shaking my head, I look up to the soldier who I originally thought was the owner. This dog doesn't belong to any soldier. It just might belong to the dearly loved George Washington himself!
     The dog finishes the scraps in my hand and I rise, folding my arms. "What will we do to return her?"
     The soldier glances down, hesitant, and scratches the side of his beard with short fingers. "Ma'am, I don't mean to throw this on you, but . . . Truelove needs someone to care for her and," he looks up, pursing his lips with great consideration, "no soldier's gonna want to watch her." He looks behind his back, as if considering an option too risky to say aloud. He lowers to a whisper, leaning in. "Could you care for her till she is returned to her master?"
     I open my mouth with widened eyes. Of course I would love to care for the pup, but a part of me wants to focus on nothing else but Michael. Then again, what can I do for him while here alone?
     "I can do that." I smile, nodding from him to the hound.
     "Thank you Miss, thank you." The solider seems tired, perhaps from trying to find a rescue for this pup. I nod farewell, the small pooch wagging its tail while falling in step with my fast strides. It playfully barks at my dress's swaying ends as I laugh, walking between tents until we arrive at a fire with food, knowing Liam will be hungry upon waking. Eventually I find pieces of beef, a container with some kind of stew sitting by an open fire with no soldier to claim them. I glance about, grabbing the food with no one there to take them. Walking to the tent, the flaps sway slightly from a soft breeze. I swing them back, stepping through. 
      Liam looks up, brows raised as he buttons up the white cotton shirt hanging past his waist.
     "Oh—" I stop, catching his glance, gripping the food in my hands. "I didn't realize you were awake."
     His blonde hair sticks to his face in strands and the fire in his green eyes is back. He tucks in his shirt with one hand. "I just woke up. What's been happening in camp while I've been missing in action?"
      Moving to the wooden stand in the corner of the tent, I set down the sack of meat and can of stew. "Nothing interesting. Just soldiers playing games and making fires. I found a dog. George Washington's hound, actually." I let a teasing smirk tug my lips, returning in front of him and tilting my head.
      He frowns, though a surprised smile tilts the corners of his mouth up. "What?"
      "Well—" I shake my head, "I didn't actually find her. A soldier did, but I'm taking care of her for him until we can return her to Washington. How are you feeling?"
      He looks down at me through a winsome gaze, sidestepping me and pushing back the tent's flaps. "Great. As if nothing happened at all." I nod even though he's already past me and calm my beating heart, turing to follow. "How could Washington's dog have gotten lost?" He looks against the sun, observing the soldiers. "I don't get it."
     I come up beside him outside the tent, raising a hand above my eyes to block the sun's glare. "I've been wondering the same thing. Maybe you can help me return her after we rescue Michael and things return to normal."
     I hear him pause, shifting slightly towards me. "Normal? I'm not sure what that will look like after the war." He seems to think for a moment, careful to reply, and when he looks at me, his eyes tell me it all. "At some point, I need to get back home. My Momma's still there and needs two hands to keep a roof over her head. Little Natalie still needs her big brother." It's the first time he's mentioned his sister. A smirk tugs his lips, but I see the longing in his eyes. He wants home, he needs his family, and the hard truth reveals itself before my eyes like a dark curtain whipping back.
     Liam O'Dally won't stick around for long after the colonel releases him.
     How could I have expected anything else? A part of me should be relieved. So why do I hurt? Why does it sting?
     "She likes you." Liam looks to Truelove now, raising a brow. He licks his lips, whistling to the hound who comes up to his legs and walks through them as he takes a step after another. Her playful bark sends a laugh bubbling in my throat and a chuckle rippling through Liam's chest. I squeeze my side, biting down hard on my bottom lip and watching his eyes follow Truelove's tail that wags vigorously from side to side.
     A loud commotion startles us both.
     We look at each other, both moving quickly without saying a word. I lift my eyes above the bobbing heads ahead and rush into the sea of men, feeling Liam close behind. Hair stands on the back of my neck at the possibilities.
     Could it be Papa? Has he rescued Michael?
     No, that would be too soon, but what if God answered our prayers?
     I fling my hair off my shoulders, using all the strength I have to push past wide and narrow shoulder alike, all much bigger than mine. 
     Then my eyes catch it. The brown eyes of a quarter horse, its mane milky white.
     "Faithful?" I become more curious than excited, confused as to why she would be here. Her white head jerks up and down, revealing its rider's countenance every few seconds, and then I understand. The horse's head shoved downwards, my entire face lights, and I move from Liam and deeper into the crowds to reach my Papa. A laugh bubbles over and out loud. Joyfully. Barely do I feel a hint of strength rise as the joy increases, and I welcome it fully.
     Finally making it past the group, I dive past the final few men and in front of Faithful, swinging both arms around her neck. A leg swings over the saddle and I bounce up in the air and back down, ready to hug him. But as he lands, another set of legs, draped in long, pretty cloth, swings over the saddle with the help of my Papa's arms.
     My jaw drops, feelings of relief and excitement and confusion slamming into me front on. I raise my hands to my face, squeal in delight, and rush into a pair of arms other than my Papa's.
     "Miss Annie!!" Her rosy locks drape over my shoulders as I hold as tight as I can, lifting my eyes above the saddle and shrieking in shock. Little Lydia bounces on the saddle, urgent to get down at this moment, her golden curls blowing in the wind. I look from Miss Annie to her daughter, shaking my head, fumbling for words. "How did this—I mean—you both are safe! I can't believe—" I stop short, looking this time to Papa, running fingers through Faithful's mane. "How did you ever do it, Papa?"
     He grins the widest grin I've seen on him since years have passed and shrugs both wide shoulders. "I told you, as the Lord lives, I would see to it that they were safe. By His grace, I kept my promise."
     I press my lips together in wonderful bewilderment, hugging Miss Annie again and again in excitement at what this means. Not only are the two girls I love dearly safe, but staying at camp will not be dreadful any longer. Having other females as company makes me excited for the days ahead.
     I gesture to both of them after Lydia is securely on the ground and holding onto her Mama's hand. "I will show you our tent and we will talk for hours, and Lydia! I must show you Truelove!" I stop to catch my breath like I always do when hurrying to speak my mind before I forget what there is to say, and then I turn to Papa at the mention of the hound. "Oh, Papa. Something terrible and equally wonderful has happened. I've found General Washington's lost pup, Truelove. We must return her—"
     His eyes glance back and forth from both of mine and I know immediately he isn't convinced. "Excuse me? Where did you find a dog?"
     My brow furrows. "Well, I can't be sure it's his, but it's like the ones he owns, and it responds to the name as if it is correct." I practice patience in my voice and posture, explaining the story as Lydia listens with round eyes. "And I can't imagine the torment dear Washington must be feeling without knowing where she's gone off to."
     Papa wrinkles his nose like I've done myself many times, a bit disturbed. "Never heard of a grown man, especially that of a general, with so much love for his dogs."
     I jerk my head back in defense, as if it's my duty to defend Washington. "It is perfectly normal for a man to cherish his pets."
     "It's a bit odd."
     I look over, surprised to see it was Liam who made the comment. My mouth drops as I refrain from showing annoyance at their prejudice. "It is not! Are the two of you daring to discourage your own general of adoring his dogs, then?" I lift a brow in both their directions.
     They simultaneously raise both hands in innocence, pulling their heads back. "No Ma'am." Papa's smile is clearly seen by the low sunlight as mid-day begins to settle around us in cooler colors, the sky now a dark blue.
     "Not I." Liam's eyes sparkle towards mine.
     I tilt my chin jokingly, bending to grip Lydia's hand. "Good. Now that that's settled, let's get you both to a tent." Gripping Faithful's reins, I nod to the girls who look winded and tired from the long journey to a camp they know nothing about. I catch Liam throw an unsure glance at Papa about Truelove, which I choose to ignore.
     "You ladies will stay with Maddie in my tent and I'll move over to Brenley's," Papa says, ever the gentleman.
     A smile slides upon my mouth as I pull up alongside Miss Annie and take her hand. "I can't believe you both are here. You will have to tell me everything."
     She blinks brown, tired eyes, and her smile is small though still just as kind. "Dear, our home is not the same anymore." She lifts a hand to my shoulder as we walk. A soldier jogs up to my side and offers to take Faithful's reins. I smile and slide them into his palm. "You wouldn't recognize it." Miss Annie's voice is sweet and smooth, calming my nerves that have worked up since this morning even though her words are grave. Miss Annie has always had this affect on people, able to bring peace to those present no matter what her words are. I slip my arm through hers, listening as we scan our boots shuffling through grass. "So much is destroyed, so much . . . gone.  I want to believe we can rebuild, but with most of the men either off at war or their lives having now been taken by those awful Dragoons . . ." I see her lift all fingertips to her lips, concealing a tremble. Her eyes are wide and wet as she looks at me. "I just don't know, Maddie. I can only pray the Lord redeems what was lost."
     My eyes soften with compassion as I stop to face her fully, my voice hardly strong. "It won't always be like this. We have to believe that." I hope my face does not show my own doubt in the words I haven't even come to believe myself. Still, I offer Miss Annie a sorrowful smile as she nods quietly, and we walk into the tent arm in arm.
     Papa carries Lydia inside while speaking over his shoulder to Liam. "Gather the officers for an update and strategy meeting."
     "Sir." Liam hurries away to prepare the meeting.
     Papa nods to the rest of us as he sets Lydia down and walks up to me, straight and tall. I watch him with steady eyes, noticing the mysterious smile that lies on his lips.
     "I found him."