“Why did we receive more soldiers?” I asked Henry, as he sat down to enjoy a midday meal with me.
“Colonel Fry is dead.” His voice was flat.
“Wait. What? How?” I asked as I dished out a bowl of soup. I served a few of Henry’s soldiers earlier, grabbed a bowl for myself, and maintained a slow simmer to keep Henry’s meal warm and ready. “What does that mean?”
“Colonel Fry fell off his horse, broke his neck. Died. It happened a little over a week ago.” He said with a slight laugh, disbelief that it happened like that. He blew across the spoon of squirrel soup before taking a bite. I mended his shirt he had ripped when helping men move logs into place. “They have promoted him.”
“Who was promoted?” I looked up from my work. “Colonel Fry?” I knotted and bit off the end of the thread.
Henry shot a look in my direction and snorted. “Washington. He’s now Colonel Washington.”
“Oh. He seems so young.” I examined my stitch work. Over the past month, I was proud of myself for my improvement. “Will they promote you as well?” I glanced up at Henry as I tried to judge his reaction to my question.
“Mayhap. Mayhap not.” By the tone of his voice, I concluded that wasn’t the way it worked. What did I know about the inner workings of eighteenth-century military? “He will be the Commander-in-Chief of the Virginia forces.”
“The additional men should be helpful to get the fort ready.” I interjected. Henry made a noise of agreement. Since his promotion wasn’t a guarantee–and I felt as though I was the reason for it–I wanted to change the subject. It appeared something else was on his mind. “And the extra supplies are really going to help around here.”
“Yes.” He peered in the pot for any remaining soup. He caught the chunk of bread I tossed to him.
“I saw them bring in nine small cannons. That will be great for defenses.” I studied his face. “Hey, what’s going on?”
“Why do you ask?”
“You have barely said two words to me since you told me the Fry died. I made you food, mended your shirt, and attempted to have a conversation with you.” I was getting heated. I wasn’t sure if it was from the layers of clothes in the June midday sun, or if it was my temper from his lack of concern of what I said. “You’re just blowing me off.”
“Amelia.” His tone was short.
“Henry,” I replied with a curt attitude.
He sighed. “My humblest apologies.”
“What troubles you, my lord?” That got a half smile from him.
“Tanaghrisson’s men left, and they won’t return. I’m not sure why.” He picked at his bread. “It has been troubling me.”
“It’s difficult for them. To be honest, I think Tanaghrisson is trying to start the war and see which side will win. He knows I must know something, or else he wouldn’t have asked for me. I told him the British will win. That is why he stuck around as much as he did. And since I have said nothing more to add than what I did, I’m guessing he isn’t too pleased with me.”
“Well, neither am I. Why won’t you tell me what is going to happen?” He stood up and began to pace. I continued to sit on the log, mending a rip in my coat. “I can prepare for it, make sure we win.”
I looked up at him, shielding my eyes from the sun. “I’m not sure we’re supposed to win this next battle.”
“What the devil do you mean, woman?” He looked around our tents to see who was nearby and could hear our conversation. He stood up, offered me his hand to pull me up from the log where I sat, and invited me to go on a walk. “We are going to lose, and you’re going to let that happen?”
“Yes. It’s going to happen. I don’t think I can stop that. I’m not sure I want to stop it.” We walked toward the edge of the encampment, away from any prying ears. “I’m trying to make sure you are best prepared for when it does happen.”
“Why wouldn’t you want to stop it? What is wrong with you?”
“Butterfly effect and all that,” I said matter-of-factly. Henry looked at me as if I had two heads. “If I had information that would stop this next battle, then perhaps we don’t go to war with the French. If we don’t go to war with the French, then the future of the United States, our independence, and Washington as the nation’s first president could be in jeopardy. I mean, if I screw this up, the country that I know, and love, may never come to be. Then what?” I paused for a moment to give him the opportunity to respond. He stood there and stared at my two heads. A third must have sprouted while we were speaking. “Then I could have really screwed things up.”
“I do not understand what butterflies have to do with this.” He shook his head. “What if that was the reason that it, whatever of whomever it is, sent here you? To change history.”
“My historical knowledge of Jumonville was he was to die, and he did. That is why we will have Jumonville Glen. It is where he died. However, Jumonville died because of me, and I must live with that knowledge. I was not mentioned in the history books, but Tanaghrisson killing Jumonville was mentioned. And that happened, my intervention or not.”
Henry let out an audible humph and continued to walk the perimeter of the meadow with me.
“We need to consider that I might have been the reason that he died. I mean, I suppose I was the reason. Maybe?” I shook my head. “I know some things that are supposed to happen and I’m here to make sure they happen according to history or future or whatever.”
“What do your history books say about me?” He paused in front of me.
“I don’t know. Nothing. They don’t say anything about me either.” I shrugged. “I just knew the death of Jumonville would start the conflict. We are going to lose this upcoming battle.”
“We’ve got to try.” Henry said with urgency. “If we’re not in the history books, then what?”
“Of course, we do. If we don’t try, there could be many more deaths and it could change the course that they have set us on.” We began to walk past the meadow where horses grazed. “However, we can’t change the ultimate outcome. We are going to lose.”
He stopped to look at Louis as he stood next to a couple of mares. “You’re going to be the death of me.”
“I hope not.” I was serious about that. I wasn’t sure what the plan was for Captain Henry Spencer, but I could only hope that I would not cause his death. I could live with the knowledge that Jumonville’s death was because of me. He was a jerk. I could not handle losing Henry because of my intervention. “I have one nagging worry.”
We continued our walk around the perimeter of the meadow. There were a few cows and the more horses grazing nearby. “How to get home to your time?”
“Okay,” I put my hands on my hips. “Make that two nagging worries.” Anyone that looked at us thought he was getting an earful from me. “I had completely forgotten about trying to get home. No. What I’m worried about is Bouchard. He did Jumonville’s dirty work. He was the one that inflicted the torture. When we left the glen, he was still alive.”
“Do you think he is going to come after you?”
“Of course, I do.” I scoffed. “You didn’t see the way he looked at me when Jumonville was scalped. I could tell he blames me for all of that.”
“Mayhap.” Henry pondered what to do next. He ran his hand over his chin. He seemed to think out his actions, whereas I was ready to pounce. “He is on his way to Winchester with the rest of the captives. Unless he escapes.”
“Exactly.” I wiped the sweat from my brow with a square of linen I had in my pocket. “I don’t need to be his target.”
Henry looked back towards the men. “I need to get back to my duties.” We walked back towards the rest of the group of soldiers. “We will think of a way to keep you safe with this upcoming battle. Can you tell me anything about it?”
I pulled out my notebook to confirm the date that was etched in my memory. “The morning of the third of July. We will suffer casualties, but so will the French. I’m not sure how many. I didn’t write that down.”
“That gives us a month to get more men, maybe we can win, despite your prediction.” Henry took a long step to cross the stream to get back to the side with the tents. He held out his hand and I took it.
“Maybe.” With a little help from Henry and a leap with my short legs, I made it over the stream. “You don’t suppose someone could accidentally kill Bouchard on the way to Winchester, do you?”
“Ha,” Henry exclaimed. “You can be vengeful. You are not a meek woman.”
“What led you to believe that I was meek?”