Decision at Fletcher's Mill

by David Caringer

  General Morgan turned back to the sergeant and said, “This is him, Strickland. I don’t rightly care what you think. You’re gonna do what I tell you or I’m gonna have your hide removed to use as a saddle blanket!”

  The sergeant painfully allowed himself to turn and gaze at Billy with a scowl of subdued distaste. “Yes, sir, but how…?”

  That was all he managed to say before the general exploded into a thunderous roar, “Shut your mouth, Sergeant! You are going to escort this fine young officer on this mission and you are going to ASSIST him in the accomplishment of the mission! I said I don’t want to hear any more debate about it! I meant that! You might as well know this is your last chance with me. If you make a shambles of this, I’ll shoot you myself and hold the general court later!”

  Silence prevailed thickly for a few seconds before Sergeant Strickland lowered his gaze slightly and said, “Yes, sir. I understand, sir.”

  A messenger came into the tent behind Billy and walked up to where the general was now sitting behind a field table. Bending over, the messenger whispered something to the general and waited for a response. The general gave the messenger detailed instructions that were clearly intended to be conveyed to someone else. He made the messenger repeat the instructions back to him before allowing the man to leave. Billy didn’t know these instructions would affect his future. He managed to hear something about gathering troops and wagons and having them stationed at the other side of the hill near the trail heading south.

  General Morgan turned to him and said, “William, I’m still so proud of what I saw in you today that I can’t hardly believe we’re kin.” Billy was shocked at the use of his first name, but he remained silent. The general went on, “I’ve no doubt that you are pretty curious by now regardin’ what it is I’m wantin’ you to do.”

  Billy said, “Well, yes sir I am … a bit.”

  The general stepped around the field table. Billy couldn’t help noticing a hand-drawn map on the table. The map appeared to be very detailed. The general looked first back at the sergeant, and then at Billy. He said, “You see, we have a little problem that has come up as a result of our shockin’ success this morning with old Benny’s troops. It seems we done captured an amazin’ amount of enemy weapons, ammunition, and other supplies.” Billy understood.

  The general continued, “Lieutenant, the job we was given by General Greene when we came down here was to apply pressure to the British and draw some of them away from him. Then we was to provide aid and assistance to the Overmountain Men and others like Francis Marion and his boys. We’ve definitely applied pressure to the lobsters by whippin’ em here today and takin’ so many of them as prisoners. We now have an ideal opportunity to follow through on the second part of our instructions by sendin’ some of the ‘valuables’ we’ve captured to our friends further south.”

  General Morgan sniffed loudly as if he just remembered something and said, “That Yankee major that left just before you came in here is Major Throckmorton. Throckmorton is supposedly in charge of the supply train for this army. Personally I think he’s a liar and a thief, but General Greene inherited him from Gates when he left and Greene seems to trust him for some reason.” The general paused again for a moment before continuing with, “Throckmorton just tried to tell me that all of those captured supplies now belong to the United States and that I’ve got no right to just be givin’ them away to anybody else…. I shoulda throttled the little weasel before I let him get out of this tent. No tellin’ what trouble he’ll cause for some other unfortunate souls today. Anyhow, you’ll have to deal with him and get a good inventory written down listing all the items you’re taking with you. I’ll give you written orders about that so he can’t give you any trouble.”

  Understanding began to dawn on Billy. General Morgan again continued, “I can’t send all of this stuff south. We need a lot of it for our own boys, but I plan to send three wagons loaded with as many muskets and as much powder and shot as we can pile onto ‘em to our militia friends as soon as the wagons are loaded. You and Sergeant Strickland here are going to escort this stuff all the way to its destination and see it’s delivered to those that need it most. After that, I want you to work your way back to the main body of General Greene’s army up across the river. I’d say come back to me, but I ain’t sure where we’ll be. I’ll give you written orders layin’ all this out along with a letter from me givin’ you authority to do anything you feel best to make this happen. Strickland here is a good sergeant, and he knows how to fight just like you. Problem is, he sometimes gets into the spirit store and forgets who it is he’s supposed to be fightin’….” Billy couldn’t help glancing at the sergeant, who was amazingly still standing at attention.

  General Morgan looked over at Dr. Bolt and said, “I’ve also decided to send the good doctor here with you. He ain’t helpin’ me much with my back trouble, and you’re goin’ to take some of our worst wounded fellas with you in one extra wagon…. I expect one of them men will be your friend, Whitaker.” Billy was again shocked at the general’s detailed knowledge of names. “Doctor Bolt will watch over the wounded fellas til you can get them somewhere for better care than we can give them out here. Once you get them someplace like that, you will leave them with the doctor and go on with the rest of your mission.”

  Billy finally responded in the only way he knew how, “Yes, sir. I understand, sir.”

  The general turned back toward him and quietly said, “I doubt that very much, young fella, but I seen you fight today. You’re gonna cover some very difficult ground with wounded men and valuable stores over about a forty-mile stretch. It’s gonna take days even if you don’t run into trouble with Tories or regular British patrols. We have good reason to believe the enemy is still out there watchin’ us. That’s what cavalry does normally. Benny’s got his tail singed today. I know he ran off with some of his men, but I think he will leave some of them back here to find out what we are doin’ with all these prisoners and with all this stuff.”

  The hair began to stand up on the back of Billy’s neck as he realized the importance of what the general was telling him. It occurred to him that this important job was being given to him personally, and he didn’t feel at all up to the task. It was like the general read his mind again as he gazed steadily into Billy’s bewildered eyes. “You’ll do fine. son. Besides, I’m sending Strickland along with you to make sure you stay out of trouble. He’ll help you with the troops. A few of them are these bone-headed Yankees. The rest of them are militia.”

  Billy nodded, and the general turned back to the map on the table. Tracing his finger across from where it showed their current location at the Cowpens, he ended up pointing to a small dot much further south near a creek and a small village. “You’ll take the weapons and military stores here where you’ll meet up with the local militia.” Billy leaned further to read the handwritten place-name under the dot. He had never heard of the place, but the name was Fletcher’s Mill.

  CHAPTER 8

  Ira sat in the warm candle-lit parlor near the fire. The militia captain sat in the other chair smoking a pipe and staring into the fire. The two men spoke in low tones for over an hour. Ira was learning things that he wouldn’t have imagined regarding the activities of his friend and mentor, Ezekiel. He was angry at first, and quite confused. Ezekiel was still unconscious. He had been moved to an upstairs bedroom in this spacious house and was now being looked after by Elizabeth and Mona. Ira wondered why pieces of different colored cloth were lying all over the parlor sofa and the grand table in the dining room. Elizabeth offered no explanation when they carried Ezekiel in from the road.

  Ira turned back to the captain and asked, “Just how long has this ‘arrangement’ been in existence?”

  Captain Robertson exhaled a great cloud of smoke toward the roaring fire and smiled wanly. “Well, Reverend Fletcher, we’ve been using your mill as a cache for weapons, powder, shot, and food provisions since before Christmas.”

 
Ira sat back in shock. “Are you serious? Why wasn’t I informed?”

  Robertson said, “Now, you’ll have to take that up with Mr. Zeke, sir … if he recovers….”

  Ira was completely taken aback. He said nothing for a few moments as he too stared into the fire. Another question struck him. “But how was this ‘material’ brought in and out of the mill without my knowledge or the cooperation of any other local people? Do you realize, sir, that you have endangered my granddaughter and all my assets without my permission or foreknowledge?”

  Robertson nodded solemnly. “Yes, sir. We do understand, and as a matter of fact, we did have the cooperation of several villagers. We never intended to endanger Miss Elizabeth or you. I think that was why Mr. Zeke insisted that you be kept out of it.”

  Ira stood abruptly and began to pace. He grew angrier with each passing second. He understood why his friends kept these activities secret. However, he could not abide being thrust blindly into the conflict like this. The thought of the added danger to Elizabeth in this already very dangerous world made him furious. He could barely control the emotion welling up inside. He fought to keep his voice low as he turned back to the seated militia officer. “You and your compatriots have placed me in a very difficult position, young man! I can’t believe you would endanger me, my family, and this community by bringing your unwanted conflict here!” Robertson removed the pipe from his mouth but said nothing. Ira blurted, “At least one of those teamsters will reach the authorities at Winnsborough or Ft. Granby by tomorrow night or the next morning at the latest!” The import of this realization seeped into his own consciousness slowly and robbed him of the energy supplied by his earlier anger. Real fear started to grow like a cold stone in his chest. He slumped back into the chair and buried his face in his hands as he struggled to discern some way out of this mess.

  The room remained silent for nearly a minute as both men stared into the fire searching for words. Captain Robertson sat back slowly and said, “Sir, even if the lobster-backs get news from those frightened men, they won’t know the details of what happened. Besides, they have plenty of other concerns along their main supply routes. Colonel Marion and his boys have been giving them fits. They don’t dare send a small patrol this way to check on this incident, and they can’t afford to send a large body of troops quickly. Cornwallis is all the way up in North Carolina.”

  Ira stared at him and asked, “Then what do you suggest we do here? What about the area Tories? Evil men have inflicted great pain here in the past!” The memory of his personal loss washed over him with those words and he felt the return of an almost uncontrollable fury. He was on his feet pacing again.

  Captain Robertson stood. Facing Ira, he said, “My men and I will be operating in this area. We will do everything within our power to protect you and this village. We only ask that we be allowed to continue using the mill as a cache for military stores.”

  Ira almost shouted, “I don’t want your protection! I don’t want to be in this situation in the first place! I don’t want to choose sides in this evil conflict!”

  Robertson stared at the floor for a moment, then raised his head with tears streaming down his face. He took a half step forward and snarled, “Reverend Fletcher, how can you possibly remain uncommitted to liberty…. How could your wealth be so important that it blinds you to the tyranny of the Crown and anyone loyal to it?”

  Ira was standing still now. Competing thoughts raced through his mind. He was a very wealthy man with substantial real estate and other assets. He was powerfully connected in colonial politics. He enjoyed significant material blessings throughout his life. He did not want to be displaced and poor. He loved Elizabeth and was almost fanatically committed to her enjoying a bright and stable future. He knew many of the area Tories. Many of them were the same men who hated him for his rejection of slavery. These were the kind of men who had already taken so much from him. He couldn’t deny a growing animosity toward a Crown defended by these loyalist toadies.

  Part of him wanted to stomp out of the house and rouse the villagers to join him as he dragged Captain Crispin and his sergeant from their makeshift prison. He would have them flogged without mercy, venting his raw seething rage on their writhing backs. He would have them executed using a rope thrown over a limb of that same old oak tree in the village square. This would serve justice by bringing retribution on these two fools for the broken and unconscious body of Ezekiel upstairs. That vengeance might also satisfy the raging fire of hatred he still carried for the men who murdered his wife, his son, and his daughter-in-law. This irrational thirst for revenge hardly let him consider that he had already found and destroyed those men. He toyed with the idea that he could legally and logically dispense justice this way. Wasn’t he the sole arbiter of right and wrong here? He was the sole political authority in the village. He could avenge this evil. He could….

  Ira realized that he had been lost in thought as he stood in front of the still staring Robertson. With this came the realization that he was straying into the same madness he so quickly judged in other men. He wasn’t the sole authority here. God was. Reason reasserted itself. He couldn’t kill these men. Ira took that path years ago, and it didn’t solve anything. Vengeance belonged to God. He was not God. Vengeance did not belong to him. Finally, all the strength seemed to drain from him. He felt the weariness come over him again. Ira remained standing in the same spot staring at the floor with his shoulders slumped and his hands clasped behind his back.

  Captain Robertson was staring at him with great concern. He was not aware of the inner turmoil roiling through Ira’s mind, and he didn’t understand that Ira was not reacting to his own angry outburst. Ira finally glanced up and noticed the captain’s silent stare. He then straightened himself up, cleared his throat, and slowly resumed pacing. Robertson quietly said, “I’m terribly sorry, sir. I don’t know what comes over me sometimes. I hope you will forgive me for that outburst. You and the people of this village have been quite generous to me and my men. We will do anything in our power to protect you, your property, and your friends whatever you decide regarding our supply needs.”

  Elizabeth was busy in one of the upstairs bedrooms working carefully with Mona to treat Ezekiel’s wounds and make him as comfortable as possible. The blacksmith, Mr. Griffin, had been taken to the village animal apothecary for any treatment he might offer the poor man’s shattered leg. The same was suggested for Ezekiel, but Elizabeth and Mona wouldn’t have it. They were now bent over the old man trying to clean the rest of the blood from his face and head. Mona displayed great nursing skill as she cleaned the open gash and then used five stitches to close it. She boiled the needle and thread for several minutes before using them, not because she understood anything about germs or infection, but because she just couldn’t abide doing it any other way.

  Mona Partridge was absolutely devoted to the Fletchers. Her family moved to this village to be close to the new mill those many years ago, and she grew up here. Mona, although a few years younger, became a close friend to Mary Fletcher when Mary and Ira moved back from Charleston after the death of Ira’s father. Mona had never married. She was a very pretty girl in her youth. She enjoyed the attention of several young men in the village but her parents were poor, and no one ever asked for her hand. Mona thought her youthful beauty faded with the passage of time. She didn’t realize that her physical appearance had kept pace with the sweetness of her personality. Mona matured into a beauty who was far deeper than her outward looks. The reason for her spinsterhood was a matter of availability. She grew less interested in pursuing a family and children of her own as the years passed.

  Mona eventually moved into the role of aunt with the birth of the Fletchers’ son, Isaiah, through her close friendship with Mary. Mona adopted the place of great aunt automatically when Elizabeth was born years later. She bonded with the baby almost instantly. The tragic death of Mary and the baby’s parents thrust her into the role of surrogate grandmother to this pre
cious child. Most, if not all, of the “ladylike” things Elizabeth learned came from Mona. Ira welcomed her into this position wholeheartedly because he knew Elizabeth needed her. More years passed as the child grew, and slowly, ever so slowly, Mona began to feel something growing inside her that she thought was gone forever. Her devotion to Elizabeth, Ira, and Zeke slowly changed to allow an ever growing love for her best friend’s widowed husband to secretly take root.

  Elizabeth sat down in the overstuffed chair near the bed and reached out to light another candle on the side table so that they could see more clearly. She said in a quiet plaintive voice, “Aunt Mona, please tell me you think he will mend. I don’t know what we’ll do…. We just can’t lose Zeke! God wouldn’t take him from us yet, would he?”

  Mona continued to work quietly as she replied, “Keep praying for him, dear, and trust the good Lord to help us. He knows more about what we need than we ever will!”

  Elizabeth said in a voice that was almost a whimper, “But I love him so…. He’s the only one besides you that understands how I feel about … things….”

  Mona looked over at the girl and spoke almost too sharply, “Now hush that kind of talk. Your grandpa loves you, dear, and Zeke should be fine with time.”

  Elizabeth straightened at this rebuke, but she couldn’t be argumentative with Mona. She said, “Aunt Mona, I didn’t mean anything against Grandpa…. It’s just that he can’t see I’m no longer a little girl! Why, I’m fully grown and I’ll be ready for a family of my own someday soon.” Mona sat on the edge of the bed and reached over to grasp Elizabeth’s hands in her own.