The Color of Freedom (10 page)

"I've been told of a farmer willing to stockpile food stores. Isaac the stevedore went ahead to make all ready. For a significant sum, of course," he despaired. "But we will make it up."

"You're still going to go through with this?"

"It's been my plan all along."

"But after what just happened-"

Salizar
grinned broadly. "We've been given the perfect opportunity to sneak into the city. The mice play while the cat's away."

Meadow suddenly understood what a pirate the man truly was. "You're despicable," she spat.

He shrugged. "A man has to eat."

They sat in silence as the countryside rolled past. Meadow felt faint, and her head churned with images of the morning. At one point, she vomited her revulsion over the side of the wagon.

At last,
Salizar
turned the horse into the lane of a farmhouse. A woman appeared at the door so quickly Meadow assumed she had been watching at the window.

"Is this the home of Jonas
Bridwell
?"
Salizar
called.

"Aye, 'tis. Have ye news of him?" asked the stony-faced woman.

"He is not at home?"

"Nay. Called to arms in the middle of the night. He left for Lexington before first light. Have ye any word?"

Salizar's
features softened to pained sorrow, and Meadow almost gagged on the phony display of compassion. "I'm sorry-" he began, but she interrupted him.

"Oh, stuff it,
Salizar
. Be about your business. I'll tend to the lady."

Meadow hopped down and approached the trembling woman as the old man coaxed Aberdeen toward the barn. "There's been an exchange of gunfire, madam," she explained gently. "Several Americans were wounded, some fatally. I'm sorry I can give you no names."

The woman sank to a chair in slow motion, the muscles in her jaw clenching and unclenching. "Surely, they would send word about Jonas if he, if he-"

Meadow nodded. "Of course they would. But most of the militia followed the British to Concord. It may be a long day, I'm afraid. Is there anyone who could come stay with you? A neighbor or relative?"

"Aye, I've a good friend down the road a pace. Her husband has also gone away to fight. I'll go to her."

"I'll hitch a horse for you. Have you any children?"

"Nay, lad. The last is long since grown."

Meadow proceeded to the barn and located a small cart. She could hear
Salizar
clattering beyond her sight. He must have found what he was looking for.

Having no idea of the woman's driving abilities, Meadow chose a dappled gray mare that stood quietly in its stall. It made no protest as she harnessed it to the cart and led it to the woman's door.

The woman appeared with a heavy shawl and a hamper laden with food that would most likely remain uneaten. Meadow helped her in and handed up the reins.

"My master has business with your husband. I'll see he pays you what is owed."

"Thank you, dear," the woman said gratefully. "You're a good lad." With a flick of the reins, she drove out of the yard.

"Wynn! Come prove your mettle! I need a hand with these heavy barrels,"
Salizar
called from the barn's open door.

On entering, she found he had emptied the wagon of its dwindling merchandise and its sacks of rags and bones and stacked them haphazardly about the floor. Now he gestured toward a mound of foodstuffs piled neatly in one corner.

"Isaac really came through!" he cheered. "Flour, sugar, bacon, cornmeal! This will sell for its value many times again!"

Meadow set to loading the heavy bags and barrels and soon removed her coat. It was backbreaking work, but at last the wagon bed was filled and covered with a dirty canvas.

"You better hope the rain stays away," she muttered. "Even big old Aberdeen will have a time of it pulling this load through mud."

Meadow's stomach growled ravenously. She munched on stale cornbread and helped herself to a hand pump in the yard. Then, before leaving, she demanded several coins from her reluctant employer and left them on the kitchen table.

"I truly hope your husband is all right," she murmured to the empty room.

Salizar
chose a route that joined the Boston road several miles east of Lexington. Aberdeen plodded along slowly, and the sun toppled into the west before they approached the juncture.

As they drew near, the sound of heavy boots echoed in the distance. Meadow caught a whiff of smoke and spied a lazy spiral curling heavenward. Aberdeen snorted and tossed his head nervously. The spiral soon darkened to a pillar that blackened the sky and choked the countryside.

"We're too late,"
Salizar
stated, halting the wagon. "The British have returned."

Ahead of them, the figures of a woman and three young children broke into view, arms laden with precious articles that dropped in their wake. A man clad in a scarlet uniform gave chase. Abruptly, he threw up his arms and fell headlong onto the dirt. The sound of a shot followed, rolling along the road like thunder.

Meadow's hand jerked to her mouth and her eyes bulged with horror. What had happened? What were the British doing here? And who dared to shoot at them after what they had done to the men on Lexington green?

As she watched, a company of regulars passed into view, staggering down the Boston road. Muddy, disheveled, and drooping beneath their packs, they stared grimly ahead. The men little resembled the crisply marching troops of that morning.

Another shot rang out, felling a soldier who crumpled beneath his knapsack. His comrades shouted in alarm, swinging guns that only guessed at the position of the ghosts that haunted them.

Meadow caught a glimpse of gun smoke wafting from behind a large tree. As she watched, the figure of a man darted out dressed in filthy buckskins and a wide-brimmed hat. He ripped open a paper cartridge with his teeth as he ran, pouring in powder and shot and jamming the ramrod down the barrel. After diving behind a stone fence, he primed the pan and sighted along the gun's incredible length. Another thundering crack rent the air.

"Move along, men!" shouted a red-clad officer. Usually mounted, the man had lost his horse or decided the animal made him too easy a target. He marched among his company, pressing them onward toward safety.

Salizar
turned Aberdeen off the road toward a barn behind which they might wait out the dangerous parade. As they crossed a field, the source of the reeking cloud rolled into view. A two-story house burned ferociously, throwing sparks high into the air. Flames roared from its windows and licked hungrily at the roof.

Meadow closed her eyes and fragments of old memories blurred together like smoke, slipping into one another then whirling apart. Memories of flames and terror, disbelief and loss. The bitter taste of acid. The charred remains of a village.

Her eyes opened and filled with sorrow for the family newly touched by British hatred. But she had little time to mourn. For suddenly Meadow found herself gazing down the long barrel of a musket. An angry eye squinted at the far end, holding her steady in the gun's sights.

The man's mouth split in a wicked grin revealing yellow, broken teeth. A high-pitched cackle broke out. "Thought you'd escaped, didn't
ya
?"

The voice sounded oddly familiar. Looking about, Meadow saw the wagon had been surrounded by a troupe of armed rebels.

Then recognition dawned. Several of the men had eaten with them in the Yellow Dog tavern, but their appearance had changed from their last meeting. Dirt and blood smeared their clothing, and powder burns blackened their skin. Long hair blew ragged in the wind. Faces that had laughed and drank together now burned hard and angry.

"I knew I recognized that wagon!" the man cackled again.

One man trembled with fury and pointed an accusing finger at
Salizar
. "I saw the devil," he exploded. "Dressed in a red uniform and
participatin
' in the mischief. Led a pack of them
ravagin
' wolves right to my door, he did, and set me house ablaze!
Woulda
taken the scalp of me oldest boy, too, if the missus hadn't let loose with me granddad's pistol and put a hole in '
im
big as the barn door!"

Meadow gaped at the man, and
Salizar
spluttered with indignant fury. "I did nothing of the kind!" he managed.

"Not you, ye bugger, that scoundrel Duncan! A British spy, he were, and you led him to our doors!"

Salizar's
speech dried up, and his mouth worked like a fish gasping in the bottom of a boat.

Meadow absorbed the news quickly, but it didn't strike her with the same surprise. She had tasted the preacher's falsehood from the beginning. The fact that he was dead caused her little regret.

"They're spies!" the man hollered. "Shoot them!"

Meadow's throat closed, cutting off her breath so she couldn't even defend herself.

A chorus of cheers greeted the suggestion, but one man stayed them with an upraised hand. "No, Landon. Take them in. I'll have no vigilante justice."

"We've had plenty of that today already, Todd," one man pointed out. "Why develop a conscience now?"

"True enough, but I'll not lift my hand against an old man and a boy. Take them in, or find no difference between yourselves and the red devils that plague us."

At his words, rough hands seized Meadow and dragged her from the wagon. She and
Salizar
were forced through an overgrown field where briars yanked at their clothing. Landon led Aberdeen behind.

They were taken to a grove of trees out of sight of the road where a handful of colonists crouched, hastily stuffing their mouths with chunks of bread and a stolen apple pie. The men arose warily, muzzle-loaders at the ready, but they relaxed at the sight of their captors.

The prisoners were dragged before a tall man, distinguished even in his disarray. "We've captured a pair of spies, Colonel Barrett."

The man eyed them carefully. "A boy and an old man?"

"Their ages don't matter. They brought to our town a man called Duncan who was later seen in British uniform, delivering atrocities upon the good people of Concord."

"Three of us saw them together, sir," another man affirmed. "They spent the evening in the Yellow Dog two nights past, gathering information to use against us."

The Colonel's eyes narrowed. "Where is this Duncan now?"

"Dead, sir."

Barrett gazed at the pair shrewdly. "What have you to say for yourselves?"

Salizar
groveled before the man. "Beg your pardon, sir. I'm just a traveling peddler, as loyal to your cause as each one here. The man in question approached us on the road several nights past, begging the safety of our company. Having been accosted by a royalist that same morning, we welcomed his presence."

Meadow met the man's gaze without wavering. "What he says about Duncan is true. After leaving Concord yesterday, we had a falling out and parted ways. We've not seen the man since."

As the Colonel chewed on their story, a shadow shifted beside a nearby tree. John Blackburn stepped into view. "Let them go."

Barrett turned to him in surprise. "Explain yourself, John."

"I know these two and their sympathies. The old one is loyal to his wealth alone, but there's no harm in him. The boy has proven honorable, even aided the patriot cause. On my honor, sir, they are not spies."

"But you were there!" exclaimed the one called Landon. "You saw them in the tavern in the company of the spy."

"Indeed, I was there. I saw you drunkenly deal out information in exchange for the charms of a very clever man. How can you fault this man for the same misjudgment of character? I say, let them go."

Landon glowered at the remarks, but his protests fell silent.

After a short pause, Colonel Barrett nodded crisply. "I'll take you at your word, John. The prisoners are free to go."

"Thank you, sir," Meadow breathed, relief flooding her taut muscles.

Landon and the other newcomers gathered around the food. John lowered himself to the ground beside the tree and offered Meadow and
Salizar
a loaf of bread. They accepted it gratefully.

"What happened?" Meadow asked.

John sighed and wiped a hand across his face. "The worst, I fear. You were right. The British learned of the arsenal in Concord. The Committee of Safety has known this for weeks. When Gage moved to take it, a messenger rode ahead and warned us they were coming."

Meadow recalled the midnight riders. One of them must have gotten through.

John continued grimly, "There was fighting in

Lexington-"

"We were there."

He nodded and skipped the details. "John Hancock and Samuel Adams were hiding in the town, but both escaped before daylight. By the time the British advanced to Concord we already had the supplies hidden. They burned and looted portions of the town but found nothing.

"There was a skirmish at the bridge north of town, but our men held fast. The redcoats retreated in confusion - a rout, really - until reinforcements met them in Lexington. Hundreds of minutemen from all over the countryside have been following their progress back to Boston. Blood has been shed on both sides, but I believe the British have known the worst of it."