Every Rose Has a Thorn (The Patriot Romance story)

Chapter 7

Clara headed back to the tent and sat down, Tavington went in and looked over at her before sitting down on his cot. Clara Offered the older man a piece of bread, he chuckled deeply and took it from her hands.

"You don't talk much, do you?" He inquired, cocking an eyebrow at her. She shrugged and continued to eat. Clara shrugs and leans on his shoulder, cuddling to his side, while she eats.

"Not much, I guess, not been a very talkative person back home."

"What'd you do back home?"

"Worked at my father's bakery, I also worked as a seamstress from time to time, sewing blankets, clothes, etc."

Tavington gave Clara an approving look, "Impressive and I'm assuming you also took care of your siblings?"

"Yes sir."

"They love you?"

"Very much."

"You love them?"

"Yes sir." Clara nodded her head and smiled softly.

"What happened to your mother?"

Clara's smile faded and she looked down, Tavington realized his mistake and he furrowed his eyebrows, "You don't need to-"

"She died," Clara responded, fiddling with her fingers and her dress, "Fever took her away. She was bed-ridden for a long time, she was weak, she couldn't move, barely talked. It happened two years ago, so I was sixteen, it was so long ago yet I remember exactly the way her face looked when I was visit her in her room-

-Her face was so pale, she looked like death himself, her eyes were sunken in, when she did talk her voice was so raspy, she was everything to me, she taught me how to read, write, sing, sew, bake, everything. I miss her so much."

Clara let a tear fall down, Tavington felt his heart shatter slightly. She wiped her tears and looked up, "But she's in a better place now I suppose..."

Tavington grabbed her hand and scooted closer to her, her lip quivered and all of a sudden she lost it. She cried into his chest, The Butcher wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close to him.

"Shhh, it's okay kid..." He whispered, putting his head on the top of her head, "Let it out... it's okay..."

Clara let more tears fall down, he pet her red hair softly and stroked her back, trying to calm her down. He held her tight and didn't want to let go of her.

"You're okay... it's all okay. Let it all out, it's okay to cry." He continued to whisper before he stopped talking and thought for a minute, trying to think of ways to let her relax. He smiled to himself before he started to sing an old folk song, "Tom the Piper's Son."

As he sang, Clara slowed down her breathing but continued to cry softly.

Tavington's voice was like an angels, it was soft, deep, smooth. It was nearly perfect. Clara took a deep breath and Tavington ran his fingers through her hair, she stopped crying but tears still ran down her cheek.

"It's okay, it's okay." Tavington whispered, looking down at her, wiping her tears with his thumb, "I'm sure she's proud of you for all you have done for your family."

Clara sniffed and looked up at the man, her lip still quivering. She went quiet, Tavington continued to hold her in his arms for a long time.

He soon felt her body go limp in his arms... she had fallen asleep. He lays her down and pulls a blanket over her body to keep her warm. He gets dressed and ties his hair up, looking at her the whole time.

"She's so precious," Tavington thought to himself, "So beautiful..."

He smiled before exiting the tent and doing his normal rounds around the camp, he found Wilkins sharpening his saber, Bordon whittling a piece of wood, and other soldiers taking care of their clothes and horses. He saw some soldiers roping in a wild reddish brown mustang, with a blonde mane and tail, and a white streak going down his nose. The wild animal reared up, it's large muscles tightening and tried to bite and kick the soldiers. They put him in a small area that was surrounded by fencing.

"Large animal huh?" The Colonel walked up and saw the horse racing around, kicking dirt up, "Handsome isn't he?"

"Yes sir, we've been trying to break him in since we found him. No luck."

"Hmm." Tavington crossed his arms and smiled at the horse, "Well then, this ought to be a fun show. Men!"

All the soldiers gathered around and Tavington looked at them, "First one to break the horse in, get a day off from training, get to go to a brothel and have a nice cold shower and good meal, and spend the night with a lovely lady."

All the men cheered and gathered around the fencing, then jumping in one after the other. Clara woke up to the sound of men cheering and hollering, she changed from her dress to old riding pants and one of Tavington's blouses, it was just a little too big for her. She ran her fingers through her hair and stepped out of the tent. She saw a few men being bucked off a horse. Clara went right up to Tavington who was laughing at the rather... amusing sight.

"What's going on?"

"They're trying to break in a wild mustang." Tavington looked down at her, "Is that my blouse?"

"Um-"

"You look beautiful in it." Clara turns a dark shade of red, she fiddles with her hair as another man gets thrown off of the horse.

20 men tried and all of them got their arms sprained or some kind of injury from it. They all gave up, Clara stayed by the fence and stared at the horse who was pacing around in circles. His muscles twitched and his legs were shaking, the poor thing was tired. Clara left and went to grab a piece of bread, she came back up and set the bread on the fence, hoping the animal would eat it.

She left and went to the tent, got undressed and laid down on her cot. Tavington turned over and faced his back to her, snoring lightly as he slept. She took a chance and cuddled up to him, she rested her head on his chest and fell asleep quickly.

William Tavington woke up in the middle of the night and saw the girl snuggled up to him, he paused and smiled at her before wrapping his arms around her to protect her. He fell back asleep both having a huge grin on their faces.