“There could be plain old criminals,” Molly suggested. “With so many men off in the militia, looters might break into houses that don’t have men to defend them.”
“Maybe that’s what I’m feeling,” Callie said slowly. “As a way to keep busy until the men return, how about if we practice what we’d do if thieves did break in? Like the drills that soldiers are always doing.”
“I like that idea,” Molly said. “Trey told me that’s why soldiers drill all the time. So they’ll know what to do when they face danger. Most people just freeze when something terrible happens. We’ll do better if we’ve practiced how to react.”
“Exactly!” Callie said, struck. “When the British soldiers broke into my house in Washington, I felt paralyzed, like a terrified rabbit. I don’t think I could have done anything more since they outnumbered me, but I hate myself for feeling so helpless.”
“No one likes feeling helpless,” Sarah said with a touch of grimness. “Let’s work out what we’ll need to do if we have to defend ourselves.”
Callie regarded her pistol thoughtfully. “In Washington, I knew a single shot wouldn’t be enough to save me from a squad of angry soldiers. But if there was a break-in here, it would probably be only a few men. I need to put the pistol in a convenient place, along with powder and shot for reloading.”
“How about this?” Molly pulled a small table to a position with a clear shot to the doorway. Then she put a basket with her rag rug materials on the edge toward the door. “You can put your pistol and ammunition there and someone coming in won’t see them.”
“Perfect! What about knives? We have Sarah’s good sharp cooking knives, but it would be hard to throw them accurately without a lot of practice.”
Molly considered. “Knives work best close up. I don’t want anyone to get that close to me!”
“I certainly hope not, but if several drunks break in and see three females, they might decide they want to amuse themselves.” Callie swallowed hard. “Which means they would get far too close.”
They all fell silent, too aware of the possibilities. Molly said, “I have a good-sized scrap of tanned leather. I could fashion it into a couple of sheaths for the smallest knives that could be worn on a thigh.”
“You have a delightfully wicked mind!” Callie exclaimed. “Let’s get to work on those.”
“Don’t forget tobacco,” Sarah said. “We’ve got great barrels of it just sitting here. They’re nice and stable on their flat ends, but if we turned a couple on their sides, they’d roll fast if pushed, and they’re heavy.”
“Brilliant, Sarah! Molly, let’s start by tipping a couple of the barrels on their sides and aiming them toward the doorway. After that, we make sheaths for the knives.”
Her stepdaughter smiled. “This is fun, in an alarming way.”
“I’m sure it will come to naught,” Callie said. “But the preparations will keep us busy.” She laid her loaded pistol, her powder, and her extra balls on the table behind the rag basket. She’d told Richard earlier that she wasn’t sure she could try to kill someone. But her opinion on that was changing.
Chapter 22
“The cabin is down here.” Peter directed the cart into a bumpy track that wound through a tunnel of trees. “I brought Trey as far as I could so we’d be beyond the battle.” His words were underlined by the blasting of artillery just east of them.
The lane ended at a weathered log cabin. Chickens scrabbled around the yard, glancing up incuriously before returning to their hunt. Gordon guessed they’d been turned loose from their cages so they wouldn’t starve before the cabin’s owners could return.
“If the redcoats find this spot, those chickens are history,” Josh remarked as he halted the cart in front of the cabin. “Did you have to break in, Peter?”
The young man nodded, looking apologetic. “The lock was very simple. I didn’t want to leave Trey lying out in the open. I left some money and a note of apology. I also left both of our rifles under the table. I didn’t feel strong enough to carry them.”
Gordon and Josh followed Peter inside. Trey lay with his eyes closed on a simple pallet of old blankets that his friend had fashioned in front of the cold fireplace. The crude bandages on his left shoulder and leg were stained with blood, but he opened his eyes when they entered. “Grandpa!” He looked ready to weep with relief.
“Don’t worry, Trey,” Josh said in his deep, comforting voice. “This is a good friend you have here. He came straight to the warehouse, then guided us back.”
Trey’s exhausted gaze moved to Peter. “He saved my life. If the British had found me, I’d be dead, like Hank McComas and Danny Wells.” He swallowed hard. “I really liked them both.”
“Were they the ones who shot General Ross?” Gordon asked sympathetically.
“I’m not sure who fired the shot that took him down,” Trey said painfully. “Three of us fired at once and we’re all sharpshooters, so it could have been any one of us. General Ross was knocked from his horse and an aide caught him before he hit the ground. His troops gave a kind of howl of anguish and rushed forward to attack us. Hank and Danny were both killed under the tree they’d used as a shooting platform. I . . . I’m sure they’re dead. I was hit twice but I was farther away so it wasn’t so bad.” His face screwed up and he looked very young. “I’m not dead yet. Am I going to die?”
Gordon removed the leg bandage, poured on whisky to clean it, then applied a fresh bandage. “Some day, but it won’t be today. The musket ball that struck your left thigh went straight through the muscle without hitting any major blood vessels.”
Trey’s jacket was already off, so it was easy to examine the shoulder wound. “A ball grazed over your shoulder.” He poured more brandy, then fashioned a pad and bandage. “Inflammation is always a danger, but you’re young and strong and you’ll be home with your grandmother very soon. You should be fine. In the future you can brag to girls that you’re a hero of the Battle of Baltimore.” Which was no more than the truth.
Trey gave a rusty little laugh, then gasped when Josh and Gordon carefully lifted the blanket he lay on from both ends, using it as a stretcher to carry him outside to the cart. As Peter fashioned a blanket canopy to keep the sun out of his friend’s eyes, Gordon returned to the cabin and added to the money Peter had left.
Then he collected the rifles, powder, and ammunition, and closed the door. With luck, the owners would return to find their cabin intact and the money sufficient to excuse the home invasion.
