The sun set slowly, casting an orange glow across the western horizon. Low, dark clouds portended a menacing storm. Billy ran along the rough terrain and crouched when he heard voices. He parted some branches and saw a handful of U.S. soldiers talking at the outskirts of the Gage encampment. Glancing down at his chest, he saw his shirt flutter with each heavy beat of his quickening heart. Billy swallowed hard and turned for the main road. After a short distance, he stopped and withdrew a piece of beef jerky. Taking a moment to rest and eat, he peered through the trees and discovered another enemy regiment several hundred yards away. The small battery of men was marching in his direction but was unaware of his presence.
Thoroughly panicked, Billy looked around for another route to escape but saw none. “The password ... the password,” he whispered to himself, trying to remember it. He noticed the jerky in his hand, quickly pulled his coat over his head, and dropped to all fours.
One of the soldiers squinted and spied Billy hobbling across the road, remarkably resembling a bruin. “Bear!” the Yankee shouted, raising his musket. “Slow your step!” he said to the others as Billy disappeared into the woods.
Minutes later Billy scurried up a steep embankment and hid behind a tree. He scanned Levi’s home. The only sign of life was the curl of smoke drifting from the chimney, and two saddled horses grazing near the front of the house. The door opened, and two American soldiers stepped onto the porch, smoking cigars.
Without taking his eyes off them, Billy ran to the back of the house to the barn and noiselessly slipped inside. Levi’s horse, Tip, became agitated upon his intrusion, and Billy tried to soothe him. “Easy, Tip, easy. Listen to me. I know you’re a plough horse, but I need you to run faster than you’ve ever run before.” Tip grew increasingly skittish as Billy tried to saddle him. The animal threw its weight and knocked Billy against the barn wall, causing some boards to snap.
At the front of the house the Yankees heard the commotion and raced for the barn, their pistols drawn. Billy tossed the saddle aside and launched himself onto Tip’s back. He kicked his heels hard into the stallion’s side as the horse lunged forward and out of the barn.
One of the soldiers took aim, but Billy steered Tip directly into his path, knocking the enemy off balance. The second soldier fired, but Billy evaded the attack and rode off. Tip raced through the labyrinth of low branches as Billy ducked and dug his heels harder into the beast’s flesh.
The Americans were rapidly catching up as Tip galloped along the twisting path. The animal’s nostrils flared as it tried to maintain the breakneck pace. Billy leaned down and wrapped his arms around the horse’s neck. “Come on, boy. Come on.” He turned to look behind him and heard the sound of a sword being withdrawn.
Billy grabbed a low branch and released it, causing it to swing violently backward into the face of one soldier, sending him reeling to the ground. The second soldier’s animal suddenly stopped, trying to avoid the fallen man, and threw its rider head first into a prickly bush. Billy grinned and guided Tip into the shadows of the timberland.
On the Gage property one of many campfires blazed, projecting phantom-like outlines of the nearby men as more wood was placed over the crackling flames. The American army was beginning to settle in for the night against the backdrop of twilight. Hundreds of tents had been erected, and now the soldiers casually milled around, enjoying the last scraps of their meal. The cooks continued serving the final few hungry troops while others were already preparing the long loaves of bread for the next day’s breakfast.
Inside the Gage house Chandler and Winder played a game of cards by candlelight. Chandler glanced out the window with a worried look on his tired face. “This doesn’t feel right. The men are too disorganized and undisciplined.” He watched some of the soldiers wrestling on the ground.
“As usual you worry too much,” Winder said.
“Aren’t you concerned that the British might launch a night attack?”
Winder rolled his eyes and took a large bite out of a loaf of bread. “You know what you are? An alarmist. The British are hardly in a position to attack us. Besides, we haven’t seen any of their scout parties. They don’t even know we’re here.”
“Don’t be so sure.” Chandler bit his lip and looked up at the moon before it was covered by clouds.
Winder spread a healthy amount of butter on another piece of bread. “You know, even though you and I are of equal rank, you do know the only reason you’re in command is because of General Dearborn.”
Chandler turned from the window. “We’ve been over this. What is it you’re trying to say? That I’m unfit to lead?”
“You said that, not me, but it’s interesting you did.”
Winder drank some wine. “We shall see, won’t we?”
Chandler blushed, and he quickly went to the door where he motioned to several sentries. “Tell Major Black that I want him to take eight hundred men to the lake and help safeguard the supplies coming in from Fort George.”
The sentinel saluted and hurried off.
“After our victory at Burlington Heights tomorrow, I think we should press on to Kingston,” Winder said as Chandler returned to the table.
“One battle at a time if you don’t mind.”
Winder leaned back in his creaking chair with his hands behind his head. “If we keep advancing into British territory, I wouldn’t be surprised if Congress forged medals in our honour.”
The thought pleased Chandler as he gazed into space.
“I must admit, defeating the British at Fort George and again tomorrow will definitely boost my military standing.”
Winder lit a cigar and blew a perfect smoke ring before winking. “Then listen to me, follow my lead, and we’ll be the toast of Washington.”
Suddenly, there was a knock at the door as Major Smith entered and saluted. He was a handsome man of thirty with curly brown hair beneath his hat. Chandler returned the salute, but Winder didn’t.
“What do you want?” Winder asked, clearly irritated.
“Begging your forgiveness for the interruption, sirs, but I was ... I’m ... it’s hard for me to say,” Smith said anxiously.
Winder bashed his fist against the table, causing the bottle of wine to fall over. “Out with it, Major Smith!”
Smith took a few guarded steps closer. “I ... I’m worried that if the enemy were to attack this evening, we’re not adequately prepared.”
“Go on, Major,” Chandler said as Winder exhaled with disgust.
Smith retrieved a crumpled piece of paper from his coat and placed it on the table. It was a map of the American forces scattered across the Gage property. Chandler leaned in closer, but Winder sat back, completely uninterested. “I think we should properly position our guns in a defensive manner with an established rallying point should an attack occur. As it stands now, the men are poorly organized with no centre, left, or right wings to quickly form battle lines.”
“What’s your opinion?” Chandler asked Winder.
Winder yawned. “It’s a monumental waste of time. The men are tired. Let them rest.”
“I also feel the men should sleep with their muskets tonight,” Smith said. “I’ve taken the liberty of ordering them to load their guns with buckshot. If that’s all right with you, sirs.”
Winder stood, grabbed the paper, and tore it to shreds. “I’m tired of all this cowardice and lack of confidence. We’re the best-equipped and best-trained army in the world.”
“Sir, the men aren’t lacking in courage, just simple, standard military procedure,” Smith said to Winder.
Winder exploded with rage and kicked his chair aside. He slapped Smith across the face. “You snivelling rat! How dare you question my command?”
Chandler stepped between them. “No, he’s questioning mine, as well he should.”
Winder pointed a threatening finger at Smith. “One more stupid interruption from you or any of the other officers and you’ll all be relieved of duty. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir,” Smith said unwillingly, and saluted.
Chandler escorted him to the door. “Thank you for your concern, Major. I’ll take it under advisement.” After Smith exited, Chandler turned to Winder. “We should do what he says.”
Winder scowled. “My God, man! You’re letting your imagination get the better of you. We have thirtyfive hundred men.” He gestured at the tents as distant thunder rumbled. “Bad weather and a three-hour march with minimal forces from Burlington Heights to our position. Trust me. The enemy’s staying home tonight.”
Chandler relaxed into his chair and closed his eyes. “Perhaps you’re right. Maybe exhaustion is getting the better of me.”
Winder topped up Chandler’s glass and slid it toward him. “I’m always right. What you need is a few more drinks and a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow we’ll finish them off. Once and for all.”
Outside, Major Smith shook his head in disbelief as he watched Chandler and Winder drinking. “Their ignorance will be our ultimate demise,” he whispered to himself. He sauntered toward some of his officers where Samuel Foote waited. The major pointed to a small knoll east of the property. “I want the entire camp moved up there, including the cannons. Have the guns charged and make sure the slow matches are lit. And remind the men to sleep with their muskets loaded.”
“Did General Chandler order that, sir?” one of the officers asked incredulously.
“It’s not his order. It’s mine. Just do it.”
The officer saluted and ran off as Foote stepped forward. “Do you think the British will attack?” he asked the major.
Smith rubbed his bloodshot eyes. “If they’re worth their salt, they will.”
“Bring them on!” Samuel cried, readying his musket.
“Mr. Foote, we appreciate your supplies, but this isn’t the place for a citizen.” Smith motioned to another officer, who came running. “Take thirty men and occupy the church on the other side. I want three sentries posted twenty yards apart.”
The officer saluted and scurried off as Foote aimed his musket at an imaginary target. “I can hit a squirrel between the eyes. You could use me.”
Smith frowned at him. “Are you a God-fearing man, Mr. Foote?”
“Of course. Every patriotic American is.”
Smith surveyed the disorderly soldiers clumsily preparing to move camp. “Well, if you stay, you just might meet your maker.”
Foote looked at the sky and then at Smith. “You believe in God, don’t you?”
The major laughed, but soon stopped. “I used to ... but what kind of God would let any of this happen?” With one hand he gestured at the cannons and the infantrymen. “This war was a bad idea from the start. Every war is. Pure madness.”
Adam Green hurled a glass, and it smashed against the wall. He stood and tossed the chair he was sitting in through the window. “I told him!” he shouted, overturning the table and sending plates and cutlery crashing to the floor.
Keziah ushered Hannah into another room as Levi waited for his father’s wrath to end.
Adam glared at Levi. “I asked you to look after him. How could you let him run off like that?”
“Billy’s not a little boy, Pa. He’s a young man and quite capable. He saved our lives.”
“He’s not accustomed to war, Levi,” Adam shot back. He slumped against the door and gazed at the night sky. “My youngest son may be killed if he’s not already dead. I know how the army works. They’re going to need every man they can get to fight the Americans.” He stepped onto the porch.
Levi followed him out. “You’re going to have to let him be a man some time. He’s nineteen, after all.”
“He hasn’t had a chance to grow up yet. And you let this happen.” Adam punched Levi in the mouth, and he fell to the ground.
Levi got to his feet and chuckled. “You’re as ill tempered as Billy is.”
Adam punched him again, and Levi crashed to the dirt once more.
“I won’t hit you, Pa, no matter how many times you hit me. In fact, keep doing it if it makes you feel better.”
“Get up and fight like a man!”
“Are you listening to yourself? You sound like Billy. That’s what he wants to do — fight like a man. I wonder where he gets that from?” Levi wiped blood from his lip.
Adam fought to control his anger. Slowly, he extended a hand and helped Levi to his feet. “I’m sorry, son. It’s just that I can’t stand the thought of losing Billy ... or any of my children. You try to teach your child right from wrong, to make your son into a man, a better man than yourself. But maybe I failed.”
“You didn’t. He wants you to be proud of him. He’s got courage, Pa. Your courage. And as far as I’m concerned, that’s a success.” Levi smiled as Adam hugged him.
“Where is he?” Sarah Foote suddenly cried as she burst into the room.
They turned to see Sarah running toward them. “I don’t know,” Adam said sadly.
“He’s gone to fight, hasn’t he?” She collapsed to her knees and sobbed.
Adam went to her and knelt beside her. “He knows what he’s doing. He’ll be all right.”
“What if ... what if he’s hurt? What if he’s killed?”
Adam caressed her hair as she buried her face in his chest. “He isn’t going to die,” he whispered as though to comfort himself more than her. “He’ll come back to both of us.” He looked at Levi, Keziah, and Hannah.
“To all of us.”