Son of the Revolution

Son of the Revolution

by June Venable

Published by L&L Dreamspell

Spring, Texas

Cover and Interior Design by L & L Dreamspell

Copyright © 2009 June Venable. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the prior written permission of the copyright holder, except for brief quotations used in a review.

This is a work of fiction, and is produced from the author’s imagination. People, places and things mentioned in this novel are used in a fictional manner.

ISBN:       978-1-60318-155-6

Visit us on the web at www.lldreamspell.com

Published by L & L Dreamspell

Produced in the United States of America

DEDICATION

While my first book, Hannah’s Journey, was dedicated to my family, Son of the Revolution is for the additional family acquired through them. To Brent, Frances and Kacey, I feel fortunate that you have become a part of us. My story is also for little Chloe who was inadvertently omitted last time, and a special dedication to my brother, Terry, who loved history as much as I do.

 My thanks go also to my critique group, Story Spinners, as well as to Joan Hall for editorial duty and to my husband, who must know my story by heart.

* * * *

Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery? Forbid it, Almighty God! I know not what course others may take, but give me liberty or give me death.

Patrick Henry

ONE

Spring, 1781

Caleb clung to the limb of the oak, trembling as musket fire dug into its massive trunk. He curled into the smallest target possible and prayed the thick foliage would hide him from the uniformed soldiers.

The freezing rain soaked through his thin jacket. He shivered and thought of his mother’s cheerful kitchen with its roaring fire and the smell of freshly baked bread. He had never felt so cold and hungry in all his sixteen years.

“Ride on, men,” the officer below said. “Neither man nor beast can tolerate this infernal weather today. We’ll find the deserters soon enough.”

Caleb sighed in relief. Barely daring to breathe, he peeked through the branches and watched the soldiers ride away. He longed to shout after them, “I’m not one of your British runaways. I’m with the South Carolina Militia.”

The sound of hoof beats had faded into the distance before he felt safe enough to leave his perch in the sheltering tree. Unsure of his surroundings, he thought it best to stick close to the river’s edge hoping to find his regiment. Trudging along, he suddenly recalled his father’s words.

“You’re a good boy, son, but at times you let your mind wander and forget what you’re doing. Someday, it’s going to get you in trouble.”
Pa had spoken the truth. I’m in just about as much trouble as a fellow could wish for. First, I lose my regiment, and now I’m hiding from the Red Coats.

Shaking with cold and fright, but determined to go on, he kept to the river’s path until once more the clouds grew heavy with rain. Squinting into the gathering gloom, he spotted a structure set back in a grove of trees. Suppose loyalists lived there? He hesitated, but hunger drove him toward the farmhouse. Even a loyalist might take pity and offer some food. Moments later, he stood before the entry. Lifting the heavy knocker, he let it fall against the wooden door. At length he heard the latch lift and a pair of blue eyes appeared through the narrow crack. Looking closer, he saw a girl near his own age.

“Who are you, and what do you want?” she whispered.

The boy stared at her until she made a move to close the door. He stammered out his name. “I’m Caleb Fields, ma’am, and I’m lost.”

“Come in, then.” The door swung wide. “But do so quietly, Master Fields. My mother lies ill.”

Caleb followed her into the cozy house and stood warming himself before the smoldering embers on the hearth. “Where’s your pa?” He thought it strange that her father let her answer the door in these uncertain times.

The girl hesitated. “My father has gone for provisions. The soldiers took almost everything we had.”

“Then it’s just you and your ma here?” Caleb asked, trying to make conversation.

Mistaking his meaning, the girl darted over to a chest, threw it open and pulled out a blunderbuss. “My father will return soon, but until then I can take care of my mother. If you have any thoughts of stealing from us, just you try!” Blue sparks shot from her eyes and she pointed the firearm at him. The gun never wavered.

Caleb stumbled back and raised his arms above his head. “Oh, I’m not here to steal, ma’am. I’m just tired and hungry, but I can see it’s best if I get on my way.” He didn’t doubt for a moment this feisty girl would pull the trigger if he made one false move.

To Caleb’s relief, she dropped the weapon to her side. “All right, sit down. We don’t have a lot but I can give you some soup, and I have a fresh loaf of bread. I made the soup for my mother, but she didn’t feel well enough to eat.”

Caleb breathed easier when the girl returned the gun to the chest. He drew a chair up to the table and sat down slowly. He didn’t want to get her riled up again.

The girl worked silently for a time, not turning her back. Then, she looked up and spoke. “I’m Abigail Clark, but I’m called Abby. I’ve lived here all my life. Where do you come from?”

“Northhampton County in North Carolina, but for some time my family has lived in the Barnwell District here in South Carolina. I guess I’m a long way from home.”

“Yes, most assuredly. I’ve studied my map book and know the area. How did you get so far from home?”

Caleb twisted uncomfortably, but decided he must tell this curious girl his whole story. “I’m happy to tell you, ma’am, but could I please have some of that soup first?”

Abby ladled out a generous serving into a crockery bowl and brought it, steaming, to the table. Caleb began to devour the first food he had tasted in two days. She then opened a cupboard and took out bread and some dried fruit. Setting them before the boy, she chose a chair across from him.

“I can’t even offer churned butter for your bread. The soldiers took the only cow we had left. I hope Pa can find some provisions. Tears welled in the blue eyes, but were quickly brushed away.

Caleb ate while the girl watched. The soup, thick and hot, took away the chill. After he demolished a second bowl, he leaned back and smiled at Abby. “Thank you, ma’am, I haven’t had soup that good since my ma died.” Caleb thought how different life had seemed just a short time ago.

Abby’s face softened. She washed the bowl and returned it to the cabinet. She put the lid on the soup pot and sat again. “Now, remember your promise? I’m ready to hear how you got yourself into this war.”

Caleb opened his mouth to begin his tale. Before he could speak, a heavy pounding startled the two young people. “Open up! It’s the king’s soldiers.”

Time stopped while the two stared at each other. Suddenly, galvanized into action, Abby grabbed Caleb’s arm and steered him toward a small room in which lay a thin, pale woman. Her dark hair flowed over the pillow.

“Mother, please wake up,” Abby whispered.

The woman’s eyes flew open. “What’s happened, Abby? Do I hear soldiers? Who is this young man?”

“Caleb Fields, Mother, and we have to protect him. I’m going to have him crawl under the bed, and then I’ll try to get rid of the soldiers. They must have left their horses down the road so we couldn’t hear them coming, but now we need your help.”

“Hide, boy, I won’t give you away,” the woman murmured.

Caleb dropped to the floor and rolled under the bed as red-coated soldiers burst through the door and crowded into the keeping room.

Through a small tear in the faded quilt, Caleb observed Abby as she faced the men. Her voice sounded strong when she spoke. “Good day. I am Miss Abigail Clark. My mother lies ill. We have little food since the last time some of your soldiers came through. Now, sir, I’ll thank you to take your men and leave.”

The officer in charge stepped forward. “I’m sorry to hear of your troubles, Mistress Clark, but my men have grown tired and must have a place to sleep tonight.”

As Abby started to reply, Caleb saw her turn her head slightly. He inched forward to see what caught her attention. He swallowed a gasp. His knapsack lay on a bench beside the girl. The soldier followed her gaze.

“Is someone else here, Miss?”

Abby crossed her fingers behind her back. “No, just my mother and myself. That knapsack belongs to my brother. He forgot it when he left.”

Silence ensued for a moment before Caleb heard the click of the officer’s heels. The sound of boots, pacing back and forth on the wood floor reached him, then paused. “I think I should like to meet your mother. Please take me to her.”

Caleb lay still, his heart pounding. Abby led the soldier into the room where he hid. The small space seemed filled with soldiers. Dusty black boots stood inches from the small buttoned shoes on Abby’s feet.

“Mother, I’ve brought someone to meet you.”

“How do you do, sir? As you can see, I am indisposed. We have nothing to offer, so surely you’ll want to take your men and move on.” The officer leaned forward to hear her words.

“At your service, Madam.” The clipped tones sounded sharp. “I offer my sympathy for your illness. However, my men must have rest. We will need the use of your barn tonight to bed down. We’ll take our leave tomorrow, but I will consider it a kindness if you could offer us something to stave off our hunger. Oh, I wonder too if your husband is home, or perhaps out working in the fields?”

Amanda Clark’s voice hardened. “I’m sorry, sir, my husband has gone for supplies because the regiment preceding you took most of our provisions. However, if you will direct your men to the barn, my daughter will try to find something to feed your people. Do I then have your promise to leave us in peace tomorrow?”

Bowing, the officer replied, “You have my word, Madam, and I wish you a speedy recovery.”

Caleb watched the feet move away. Suddenly, the wet ground on which he slept the previous night took its toll and he sneezed. For what seemed like hours Caleb heard only silence. Then, the heavy boots once again came into view. In the next instant the coverlet went flying and Caleb looked up into the angry face of the captain.

The tall man grabbed Caleb’s leg and dragged him from his hiding place. Caleb dared a quick glance at Abby who bit her lip. Her eyes stretched wide and darted between the boy and the officer.

“Well, what have we here?”

“I’m Caleb Fields and I’m a patriot.” His face burned and his knees shook, but he stood and faced the officer. “There are many of us and we’ll win in the end. You’ll see.”

Surprisingly, the captain laughed. “We’ve run into quite a few of you patriots, lad. Don’t you realize your side fights a losing cause?’”

One of the soldiers rushed into the room. “Sir, this boy is militia! This is his knapsack. He’s assigned to a Captain Joseph Johnson.” He thrust Caleb’s papers into the captain’s hands.

Staring at the evidence, the captain’s face darkened. “If they send children to fight their battles, what can we expect next?” He crumpled the papers and threw them to the floor.

Caleb opened his mouth to respond when Abby shook her head slightly.

His lips tight, the captain turned to Amanda Clark. “Madam, I consider your deception a grave error, but I should have known. You continentals stick together. Now, please have this girl find us some food.”

Calling to one of his men, he issued an order. “Sergeant, take this boy to the barn. He can curry the horses and polish a few boots until I decide what to do with him.”

Addressing Abby and her mother, the captain spoke pointedly. “Your young patriot will soon learn how the British deal with their enemies. Not kindly, I can assure you.”

Caleb blanched at the threat. With only a moment left before the sergeant dragged him from the room, he cast another quick glance at Abby. She stood with closed eyes and clasped hands. What a brave girl he thought, and wondered what would happen to them both.

TWO

       Abby curled up on the bed and took her mother’s hand. “Mother, what do you think they’ll do with Caleb? We’ve got to help him.”

“Don’t worry, daughter. Whatever happens, we will make your father proud when he returns.” She stroked Abby’s dark hair, so much like her own.

“Now, you must go to the cellar and see what’s there. Perhaps you can find a few vegetables to put in the soup, and do add some water to stretch it enough to feed the men. Eating will keep the soldiers busy and perhaps they’ll not watch Caleb so closely. I have a plan that I’ll tell you about when you get back. Go quickly and take care, Abby.”