Chapter Text
Caleb pulled the whaleboat to shore and disguised it with leaves. After a quick sweep of his surroundings, he went over to where he had left his horse tied off to a log.
“Hey there, how’d you make out today?” he whispered as he stroked the horse’s mane.
“I had a good day of it, thanks for asking,” he continued, laughing silently to himself. He reached in his saddlebag for the last apple, and, after taking a bite himself, offered it to the horse. After all, this particular horse was Ben’s current camp favorite apart from his own; therefore Caleb made a point to take good care of her.
“Alright time to head back now,” Caleb told the jet-black horse as he mounted and commanded her to start off toward the road back to camp. Although this area and the road had been considered secure for some time now, Caleb still couldn’t quite bring himself to ride openly down the center. Instead he kept to the shadows the tree line provided, riding quickly for camp under the cover of darkness. He felt like he was gliding through the countryside, his heart light after a day of catching up with Abraham. He couldn’t wait to tell Ben all about how their friend was, and how it appeared as though their plan would work perfectly.
Upon arrival at camp, Caleb rode over to the hitching post where his energy deflated instantly. There were barely any horses hitched, a telltale sign that the majority of the dragoons were still out on the nightly patrols and raids. Unlike most commanders in the camp, Ben held not only the position of 2nd Light Dragoon Commander, but also aided the Head of Intelligence for General Washington. While his dragoons were lauded with praise for being the most successful troop in the Continental Army, Ben’s men were also well known for having the lengthiest missions.
Caleb liked to joke with Ben that the sandman was going to cut Ben and his men out of his evening route if Ben kept this up for the rest of the war. Ben would always laugh and shrug it off. Still, Caleb ensured to occasionally have Ben woken up purposefully late on the morning after returning from particularly hard missions.
Making a pass by the Dragoons section of tents and campfires just in case, Caleb kept his eyes peeled for any of Ben’s men.
“Can I help ya sir?” a hardened man asked from a group of men around a campfire as Caleb passed.
“Maybe Sergeant, I’m looking for Major Benjamin Tallmadge,” Caleb said. It never hurts to ask.
“Major Benjamin Tallmadge,” the man repeated while sharing a look with his fellow soldiers at the fire. It was not a pleasant look.
“It’s unfortunate that is, sir,” another younger dragoon said to Caleb somberly, “The 2nd Dragoons were ambushed by the Queen’s Rangers, only one man managed to escape back here this morning. Scuttlebutt is the rest are all dead.” Caleb felt numb, like he had been completely doused with ice water. Before he could say anything, the younger man began to speak again.
“Sir, it may still be him, he came into camp in a British uniform and he’s been in briefing higher command, maybe wait to see when he comes out…” the soldier trailed off apologetically. The odds of that man being Ben were incredibly slim.
“Thank you,” Caleb spoke quietly. His heart in his throat, he walked over to pace and wait near the building for higher headquarters. Caleb wasn’t often a very religious man, but he prayed to God all the same for his best friend as he waited. How sharply this day has taken a turn for the worst, he thought. He tried not to think about what had been happening while he was eating and having fun with Abraham earlier. I could have been there, done something more, helped Ben… Caleb thought irrationally, knowing there was nothing he could have done.
Suddenly the door to the command post creaked open, and Caleb’s heart stopped.
There, in the doorway, stood a man from the 2nd Dragoons wrapped in a blanket, unmistakable to Caleb as the one and only Benjamin Tallmadge. As Caleb rushed to his side, he noticed bandages and pants that weren’t Ben’s and the familiar chestnut hair in a messy braid. Most strikingly, he noticed Ben’s eyes as they locked with his own, a sea of sadness with a streak of rage. Letting his own eyes say what he could not speak aloud, Caleb stared back at Ben, lingering for a moment before carefully drawing him into their usual return-to-camp hug.
“Benny-boy! Glad to see you back!” Caleb greeted cheerfully as always. Pulling away with a faint ghost of a smile, Ben waited as he let Caleb quickly survey him with more detail. Ben subconsciously tried to draw the blanket around his bandaged shoulder and shirtless torso, and finally replied with a full grin, “You’re the only one I’m glad to see in this camp and that’s the honest truth.” The pair started to walk in the direction of their tents, and Caleb couldn’t help but notice how tired and pale Ben looked in the passing campfire light.
“How did the meeting go?” Ben asked, looking at Caleb expectantly.
“Better than good, Tallboy, Abraham’s his same old self and I can’t wait to tell you all about it tomorrow,” Caleb said, preparing for the inevitable backlash.
“Caleb Brewster you –,” Ben began, leaning on the front beam of his tent frame.
“Tomorrow,” Caleb said firmly. “Unless you want to tell me tonight…” he lowered his voice and trailed off softly, searching Ben’s face.
“Tomorrow it is then,” Ben said equally firm with a genuine smile that still didn’t quite reach his eyes. “And no…not yet, but Caleb,” he looked earnestly into Caleb’s gaze, “thank you.”
“I’m just a tent away if you need anything,” Caleb said. Ben nodded and after a gentle cup of Caleb’s jaw and final clap on the shoulder, they went their separate ways. The country may be at war, the 2nd Light Dragoons decimated, but tonight they still had each other, and that would be enough for now.