The Tory Widow (53 page)

Jack slowly flexed his fingers, opening and closing his fist. “The muscle is on the mend as well—feels stronger.”

While Anne re-dressed his wound with fresh ointment and a clean bandage, the doorbell clanged, followed by a familiar voice calling, “Titus here!”

“Come on back,” Anne shouted.

Titus plopped down beside Jack and fished a folded copy of the
Pennsylvania Gazette
from his pocket. “Bad news—Howe's finally left New York—over two-hundred and fifty ships heading for Philadelphia.”

Sally groaned and sank into a chair.

Jack studied the newspaper. “It says here eighteen thousand men at arms are aboard those ships . . .” He whistled low. “And that's not counting the eight thousand in Burgoyne's army.”

“Washington's shifting his forces as well. I saw a full corps of riflemen on the march toward Putnam's camp on the hill above town. They say the Putnam and Gates will be dispatched to try and stop Burgoyne from reaching Albany.” Titus puffed out a breath. “Looks like all hell's about to break loose.”

The cowbell clanked anew and Anne went up front to find two dusty soldiers dressed in like fringed frock shirts and leather leggings, standing at the open doorway, squinting upward, trying to read the weatherworn shop sign in the twilight.

“Can I help you, sirs?”

“A-yup . . .” the shorter of the two took a step inside. “We're lookin' fer Peabody's Press . . .”

“At the sign of the Acorn and Oak . . .” the second soldier added.

“This is Peabody's Press . . .” Anne felt the comfort of Jack and Titus looming behind her. Sally scooted around to stand at her side, iron poker in hand.

The short soldier let the breach end of his long rifle thump to the floorboards as he drew forth a pair of sealed letters from inside his shirt. “These here are sent by Cap'n Peabody, Third Yorkers.”

With a high-pitched yip, Sally ran up and snatched the letters from his hand. Saying, “One for you and one for me,” she handed a letter to Anne and cracked the seal on the other, wandering back into the kitchen to sit on the hearth and read by the light of the fire.

“Can we offer you boys a meal for your trouble?” Jack asked.

“Smells awful good.” The shorter man leaned in on his rifle. “I wouldn't oppose the notion of drawing a quick bite to eat.”

The tall man shouldered his weapon. “We thank ye kindly for the offer, friend.”

The soldiers were ushered to seats at the kitchen table. Anne dished up brimming bowls of stew served with crumbling hunks of cornbread and tankards of spruce beer.

Armed with spoons dug up from the depths of their possible bags, the riflemen grinned at the portions, the shorter one saying, “I don't hardly memorise the last time we et anything as fine.”

While the unexpected but welcome guests smiled and slurped their way through their suppers, Anne brought a brand from the fire to light the four-wick oil lamp, and she sat beside Jack to read her letter:

Anne glanced over at Sally, still immersed in reading her single foolscap sheet so covered in compact handwriting, she was compelled to rotate the page to read the sentences David crammed into the margins. Shrugging, Anne smiled at the three short sentences her brother scrawled in haste. “I suppose David hasn't much inclination to write after pouring his heart out to Sally . . .”

“Aahh, Pinkus.” The short rifleman shot his companion an elbow. “Here we sit, noses buried in our feed, neglectin' t' pass along the cap'n's message.”

“It's true—we're a right pair o' gluttons, miss,” the taller man sputtered through a mouthful of cornbread. “The cap'n—he said for you to read between the lines of what he writ, as he always must guard agin a letter goin' astray into enemy hands.”

Brow beetled, Anne looked at Jack. “Between the lines?”

“By Christ, I should have figured . . . afterall, he is
your
brother.” Jack pulled the lamp close and set the glass chimney to the side. He took the page and held it to the heat of the flame. After a moment, words began to darken and form in the blank space between the second and third lines of the letter—

“I don't know . . .” Anne looked at Jack, caught up in the excitement dancing bright in his dark eyes. “It seems our small dreams will have to wait while we work toward the larger cause . . .”

With a whoop, Jack pulled Anne into his arms and whispered into her ear. “Oh, Annie, you are the darling of my heart, to be sure.”

“A toast!” Titus raised his tankard. “Here's to those who dare to be free!”

 

COOK sent me down with a nice, clear broth, Abner.” The cook's boy set the covered pot on the table. Stringy arms akimbo, he said with a shake of his head, “Sweet lamb o' Jesus! Would ye listen to the poor bastard moan? How can you bear it?”

Abner dipped a rag in a bowl of water and wrung it out. “A wet cloth to his lips seems to give him some comfort.” The old seaman sat on a three-legged stool near the bunk, and dabbed the wet rag to his patient's lips—lips, nostrils and one eye being the only parts of his face not swathed in layers of pus-stained bandages. His moans quieted.

The boy came to stand beside Abner. “Cook says the poor bugger's face's mangled beyond repair.”

“His face was near cleaved in two by a saber, and he has a rebel musketball buried in his skull bone,” Abner affirmed. “And I should know. Ain't I the one what changes the dressings?”

“Cleaved in two!” The boy stepped closer to get a better look. “Cook says you're wasting your time—cook says this bugger won't survive the voy—!”

Quick as a cat, the bandaged convalescent reached out and clapped his fist around the boy's bony wrist, causing him to near leap from his skin.

“Foh!” Ol' Abner cackled and slapped his knee. “Aye, lad. Ye can see the cap'n here has fire in him yet—a fire not so easily smothered.”

Twisting and tugging, the boy tried to break free but the grasping fingers only tightened and pulled him inward.

One watery blue eye, red rimmed and shot with blood, stared out from an opening in the rusty bandages wrapped around the man's head. Crusty lips parted, and the boy heard him gasp out one word:

THOMAS PAINE,
Common Sense

HISTORICAL NOTE

In order of appearance, the following are characters appearing in this book who were drawn from the historical record. All other characters in
The Tory Widow
are drawn from the inner recesses of my brain.

The following facts and events have been modified or altered for sake of this particular story and for dramatic effect:

Though my attempts to be true to history and geography in the telling of this story were undertaken with great diligence,
The Tory Widow
is still a work of fiction, written by a mortal being capable of error, misjudgment and inaccuracy, and I claim complete credit for any mistakes that may exist.

 

—CB

THE TORY WIDOW

READERS GUIDE

1.
A woman's marital status had considerable impact on the opportunities available to her in eighteenth-century colonial America. The same was true of widowhood. How do you think Anne Merrick 's life changed as a result both of her marriage and of the death of her husband?

2.
What specific events and experiences do you think caused Anne Merrick to move from political ambivalence to ardent patriotism over the course of the story? How do you think her life changed as a result?

3.
American Patriots and Loyalists alike were adversely affected by tumultuous events depicted in
The Tory Widow
. Do you think the demands and sacrifices required of average Americans during the revolution compare to those of present day Americans in twenty-first century wartime? How so?

4.
“Now there's another fine example of foolishness—they won't allow a black man to carry a gun or stop a British musket ball when it is clear they need every willing hand—more afraid of slave insurrection than they are of becoming slaves themselves.” What would be the motivation for a black man, free or slave, to support the revolution?

5.
Colonial Americans waged armed rebellion against the colonial system, which lacked representational government and limited economic growth. Can you imagine conditions or events that could drive contemporary Americans to revolt against their government?

6.
“Our independence is won as much by lead type as it will be by lead bullets.” What was the importance and the impact of the printed word during the time of the American Revolution?

7.
The struggle for independence is a major theme of
The Tory Widow
. What stories of quest for individual freedom are interwoven into the larger backdrop of the fight for American independence from England?

8.
Tarring and feathering and physical violence against private citizens, destroying private property, and firebombing naval vessels—all can be described as acts of terrorism. As a private citizen, does the goal of political change free Jack Hampton of any moral liability for his involvement in these acts?

9.
The city of New York in 1775 convulses with sudden and violent change. How do the experiences of Jack, Anne, and the people they meet reflect those changes?

10.
Describe the Anne Merrick we meet on her wedding day at the beginning of the book. Compare her to the Anne Merrick we've come to know by the story's conclusion.

11.
We are introduced to the strong—in some cases, overbearing—personalities of Anne Merrick 's father, husband, and brother. Little mention, however, is made in the story of female family members. How do you think Anne may have been affected by the relative lack of women in her family life?