“So many Chatham men have enlisted,” Samantha said. “The village seemed to empty at the start of the war and now leaves me wondering who will make it back.” She turned to Coralie. “What do you hear from your British officer?”
“Lieutenant Gibbs? We exchange letters on occasion.” Coralie darted a glance at Mae as if to shush her from saying otherwise. “He may return here, though given his loyalties I fear he won’t get a warm welcome.”
“His parents moved to New York City at the outset of the rebellion to be with their Loyalist kin, if I remember right.” Phineas frowned. “It might be wise if he steered clear of Chatham, given that last tarring and feathering incident.”
“Please, say no more,” Coralie murmured. “’Tis terribly upsetting.”
Samantha eyed her sympathetically. “I remember your eldest brother is with the New York militia now.”
“Colonel Jon Bohannon.” Mae felt a particular pride in all he’d accomplished away from Jersey. “He’s missed.”
“He’s been back to Chatham but twice,” Coralie told them. “We’ve met his wife and oldest children but not the youngest.”
“He’s along the Great Warpath, if I recall.” Phineas grimaced. “As it stands, I’d rather encounter smallpox than a Huron warrior. We’re not just fighting the British but their Indian allies.”
“The Americans have the Oneida on their side,” Mae said quietly. “The Tuscarora too.”
Had they read the newspaper accounts of the worst of the violence in New York? Settlements and towns set on fire, families burned out, many displaced or killed. Both sides were guilty of untold brutality and bloodshed.
“Heaven help us all.” Samantha looked more distressed than Mae had ever seen her.
“I pray for peace.” Phineas poured them all more cider. “I’ve heard firsthand that most of the Continental Army’s enlistments have ended and many men have returned home, thus General Washington has no substantial fighting force despite his latest victories.”
“What a waste war is.” Coralie shook her head. “Imagine the men taken away from their families and their women and children left to fend for themselves. And now many of those fallen soldiers won’t return home or see their loved ones again. I feel helpless in the face of it.”
Mae had prayed for peace when the fighting raged in Princeton and Trenton, almost on their doorstep. And then came a January lull. “I admire General Washington calling for prayer and fasting so frequently.”
Prayer, fasting, and spring would bring a great many changes. The army, if not disbanded, would move on and Lowantica Valley would return to fertile fields, Chatham and Morristown to soldier-less hamlets. James would leave, as would Captain Sperry—and General Harlow.
Thatshe wasn’t ready to wrestle with. Not yet.
eight
Don’t tread on me.
Gadsden Flag
Mae returned home with Coralie in a state of high if hidden anticipation. But by full dark neither James nor the officers appeared, turning her sister as relieved as Mae was disappointed.
“One never knows when they’ll darken our door,” Coralie said as they huddled by the hearth on the sofa. “How weary I am of the unpredictability of it all—and feeling my brothers are the enemy.”
“Our brothers have admirable convictions.” Mae’s tone held a rare rebuke. “Hardly a summer soldier or sunshine patriot, shrinking from service to his country, but deserving of the love and thanks of man and woman.”
“You quote the rebel Thomas Paine.” Coralie pulled her shawl closer as the evening chill deepened. “How almighty and glorious he makes violence and bloodshed sound.”
“Wars have been fought for less noble reasons.”
“Noble? Then why are these Americans deemed traitors to the Crown? You well know they’ll be hung along with General Washington himself once the army is disbanded.”
“No matter the outcome, they’re honorable men who’ve taken a stand against oppression and tyranny.”
“Oppression and tyranny, my eye!” Coralie looked aghast. “’Tis bad enough you’re sewing with the Liberty Ladies. Are you now a Patriot too?”
“I desire peace foremost.” Mae felt it to her soul, but how did anyone stay objective or impartial? “Can you honestly say you’re neutral, given you’re affianced to a British officer? Doesn’t his allegiance sway you?”
“I believeheis on the right side, the winning side. I feel a loyalty to king and country you obviously don’t.” Coralie stood, her skirts swirling as she turned rapidly aside. “I’m sick to death of this conflict and all the fury it incites. I can only pray all this madness and bloodshed soon come to an end.”
She hurried upstairs, her irate words lingering. Dispirited, Mae pondered whether to read or sew or follow her sister to bed. The tall case clock in the hall struck ten, but the officers were still away. Numerous scenarios besieged her. Had General Washington received dire news? Had he made the decision to abandon the war? Or had someone betrayed him? Spies were everywhere, ’twas said...
