Mrs. Hurst had been with them since their parents married. But aged and rheumatic as she was, how much longer could she keepat her tasks? And Adam, their hired lad, was at an age where he could enlist in the army.
“We’re immensely blessed. The future is bright. Your future, anyway.” Mae tried to summon some joy. “I’m not at all sure about mine.”
two
Rifle Men that for their number make the most formidable light infantry in the world. ... Men who from their amazing hardihood, their method of living so long in the woods without carrying provisions with them, the exceeding quickness with which they can march to distant parts, and above all, the dexterity to which they have arrived in the use of the Rifle Gun. ... Every shot is fatal.
The Virginia Gazette
Within the smoky, dimly lit Day’s Bridge Tavern along the Passaic River, General Rhys Harlow sat at a corner table. Spread over the spacious taproom were his company of riflemen—eighty enlisted men and sixteen officers. The slim profiles of ninety-six long rifles turned the tavern into a military garrison.
On the table before him lay a letter from General Washington, recommending him to the particular notice of Congress as a good and valuable officer. He’d been promoted to the rank of brigadier general in the Continental Army after being a prisoner of war in Quebec till recently. His time among the British was finally finished, at least in their custody. He’d far rather face them on the field.
“Here’s to the Canadian expedition officially coming to a close.” Major James Bohannon, his adjutant, raised his pint of ale. “I neverthought we’d escape the far north, but here we are, a stone’s throw from my very home.”
Captain Casper Sperry reached for a worn copy ofThe New Jersey Gazette. “So, General, bets are being placed on where the American army should winter. What’s your preference?”
“The Lowantica Valley west of here seems a formidable defense with a brook for fresh water and sloping ground to ward off north winds. And near enough to keep a wary eye on Philadelphia and New York,” Rhys said as the heated toddy stole through him and took the chill from his bones. “We’ve a fair supply of wood for covering and fuel, besides.”
Bohannon nodded. “The enlisted men will winter in tents, God help them, though there’s talk of building log huts. General Washington will likely headquarter at Jacob Arnold’s Tavern on Morristown Green, large enough to hold his aides-de-camp, servants, and guard. Even Mrs. Washington, should she visit.”
“Imagine that.” Sperry grinned as a harried maidservant plopped down heaping pewter plates. “A little feminine company would be most welcome.”
Bohannon surveyed the fried eggs and bacon and toast with obvious approval after months of scant rations. “I heard tell of a promised dance or two hosted by none other than the general himself.”
“As for us officers, we’re billeting here in Chatham, aye?” Sperry asked. “Or riding on to Morristown if it proves more accommodating?”
“New Jersey declared for independence last year, so hopefully the villagers will be obliging. Chatham’s liberty pole marks them as firm Patriots,” Rhys said. “Much like Morristown.”
Nodding, Bohannon picked up a fork. “My parents, God rest them, left a large house on Chatham Green. There’s room enough for a few of us officers ... if my sisters are willing.”
Rhys listened, hopeful. For a soldier on the run, a canvas tent seemed the best to be had, but a house? Though the winter hadbeen mild and muddy thus far aside from a spate of snow, he sensed it would soon turn brutal, as northeast winters often were.
Bohannon continued, “My brother is a staunch Patriot and apothecary and lives in his shop. He’d be a valuable resource should there be medical needs among the troops.”
Sperry winked. “I’d rather talk about your sisters.”
Bohannon grinned. “Well, they’re not yet married, nor are they spinsters. One is known as the belle of Chatham.”
Sperry’s interest sharpened. “Thebelle? That bodes well.”
“But can they cook?” Rhys asked wryly.
Sperry chuckled, but Bohannon turned sheepish. “Pampered pastor’s daughters? A hired woman helps—and a lad who tends the horses and brings in wood and whatnot.”
Rhys forked another bite. Pampered? Unable to do the most basic of tasks? He thought of his own mother and sister, the ordinary he was raised in, and the lack of the smallest luxuries at first. A few of his officers had been born and bred with a silver spoon while his was a humble wooden ladle. Yet they all were proven marksmen, having survived conditions most snuff-snorting men couldn’t. All for the cause of liberty.
“I should like to meet these sisters of yours,” Sperry said, taking a pinch of snuff, which was, to Rhys’s reckoning, his only fault. “And billet with you Bohannons for the winter.”
Leaving the tavern, Rhys surveyed the Bohannon home from a distance. Situated on Chatham’s village green, it was a handsome house with a red sandstone foundation, pitched roof, puffing chimneys—four, to be exact—and large, elegantly proportioned windows. His own newly finished home in Virginia, though smaller, mirrored these sturdy Yankee dwellings.
Bohannon led them across the snow-slick green, avoiding the wagons, carts, and horses on the main streets. Sperry seemed high-spirited, confident the Bohannons would be their host. Rhys couldhardly believe their good fortune after so long and harsh a campaign. Would they really sleep atop a bed out of the weather? Sit down for a meal of something other than hardtack and dried peas? He craved coffee. Cake. Even chocolate.
As they came closer, he was suddenly mindful of how ragged he looked. An icy dawn plunge into the Passaic had cleansed him bodily, but his buckskins and linens could stand some mending. Did Bohannon’s sisters sew? Or did the hired help do that too?
Hat in hand, Bohannon knocked on the door of his own house. An unfavorable sign? Rhys stood behind him with Sperry on the wide stone steps. Soon the well-made oak door swung open and a young woman stood before them, her mouth a perfectO. In a trice he took her in. Her indigo gown was edged with delicate lace. Her flaxen hair seemed a shade lighter than her paleness, which heightened her piercing eyes.
“Brother, can it be you?” Her shock led to an exuberant embrace that sent Bohannon backward on the slippery steps.
