Chapter 1

Right now, thought Hannah, the first lambs of the season were about to be born. Tiny lambs with sweet, round faces. Frisky lambs kicking up their heels in the spring sunshine. She could hardly wait to see them!

But she would have to wait. Hannah pushed out her lower lip. It wasn’t fair. Father and her brother Ben got to watch the lambs being born. Sometimes they even slept in the barn to make sure the mothers and babies were all right. But not Hannah.

“That is men’s work, not women’s work,” her mother always said.

Women’s work. Hannah looked down at the mitten she was knitting. Oh, dear. It was all lopsided. And she had hoped to finish it tonight. Then Ben would have a new pair when he went out to chop wood tomorrow.

Could she have dropped a stitch? By the dim light of the fire she began to count. Twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven ...

“Josiah Plummer has joined the army,” Ben said. He was sitting on the stool farthest from the fire, whittling clothespins for Mother. He put down his knife.

“Father,” he said quietly, “I want to go too.”

The soft hum of her sister Rebecca’s spinning wheel stopped. The two younger boys, Jemmy and Jonathan, were suddenly quiet. Even Mother, whose busy needle never stopped, paused in her darning.

Everyone looked at Father.

For a moment there was no sound but the pop and crackle of the fire.Then Father set down his Bible. His long, lean face looked stern as he shook his head. “No,” he said. “I cannot allow it.”

“But, Father!” Ben jumped up, sending clothespins clattering to the floor. “You know men are needed to fight the British. General Washington has called on Connecticut for more soldiers.”

“Men,” repeated Father calmly. He was always calm, and usually so gentle. But when he made up his mind, it was made up to stay. “Not boys of fifteen. Boys of fifteen are needed on farms to raise grain to feed the army.”

“I will be sixteen by summer,” argued Ben. He paced up and down in front of the fire, his face red as the burning coals. “Ebenezer Reed was only fourteen when he ran off to fight. And Josiah just turned sixteen.”

Keep your temper, Ben, thought Hannah. She looked up to her oldest brother more than anyone. He was so tall and handsome, with his dark curls and teasing grin. And he could do anything, from plowing a straight row to shooting a pigeon out of a tree to whittling a whistle for five-year-old Jonathan. He felt so strongly about things though that sometimes he spoke out of turn.

“You are too young,” Father said firmly. “I cannot do without you on the farm. And have you forgotten about the clock-making trade?”

For almost a year Ben had been an apprentice in Father’s shop, building wooden cases for Father’s tall clocks. And learning to make the brass insides too.

Ben turned to face him, his eyes flashing.

“How can I sit here making clocks when our country is fighting for its freedom?”

Ben, thought Hannah, you have gone too far this time. No one spoke to Father like that. It was not respectful.

All at once Mother was on her feet, gathering up her sewing. “Come, children,” she said. “Time for bed.”

Jemmy and Jonathan hurried off to their cold bedchamber. Rebecca wrapped a brick from the fireplace in a scrap of blanket to use as a bedwarmer. Hannah picked up a candle-stick to light the way upstairs.

She looked again at her knitting. In the brighter light she could see the mitten’s odd, lumpy shape. And yes, there it was. A hole right next to the thumb. What a bother! Now she would have to take out all those rows of stitches. Ben would not have his new mittens tomorrow.

Mother was looking too. “Oh, my,” she said, shaking her head. “Never mind, Hannah. We will put it to rights in the morning.”

Father and Ben still sat by the fire, quiet now. Father had picked up his Bible again. Ben was staring at the floor.

“Will you check for lambs before you go to bed?” Hannah asked him.

But Ben did not seem to hear.

Upstairs, in the high feather bed she shared with Rebecca, Hannah tried to go to sleep. But she couldn’t get warm. The brick didn’t really take the chill out of the cold sheets. And she couldn’t seem to get comfortable either. In her mind she kept hearing Father’s and Ben’s voices.

“Go to sleep, Hannah,” murmured Rebecca drowsily.

Then Hannah realized that she was hearing Father’s and Ben’s voices. They were arguing again.

A shiver went down Hannah’s spine. What if Ben did not back down? What if he ran off to join the army like Ebenezer Reed?

Hannah moved closer to her sister’s warm back. Lambs, she thought. Think about lambs. Funny, silly, dear little lambs. In a moment Rebecca’s deep breathing said she was asleep. Hannah felt herself drifting off too.

Suddenly Father’s voice came up through the floorboards.

“You don’t know, Son, what a terrible thing war is.”

Lambs, Hannah said to herself. But when she closed her eyes, she could no longer see their sweet, woolly faces.

All she could see was marching soldiers.