The flames were back. With them were the remembered screams of those men that he destroyed in the aftermath of the attack. He was overwhelmed with an avalanche of guilt and loss that threatened to crush the life from his chest. He wept uncontrollably as he fought to understand why his family had been taken, and to reconcile his cruel retribution on those men. He knew that in killing them, he had become like them. How could God forgive him? He relished the sense of control that he felt most of his adult life whether he understood it or not. Now he knew he had little control over anything.
The conversation with Ezekiel reminded him of his own terrible weakness. His pride had been pricked. Much of his grief was indeed caused by the loss of his beloved wife and son. However, he was also trapped in the prison of vendetta that was conceived on that terrible night. He could not forgive those men. He believed they were now in hell where they belonged. There was a vicious hateful side of him that relished the thought of their agony. These thoughts conflicted with Ira’s own desperate desire to be forgiven for the wrong he himself had done. He didn’t know how God could pardon him if he continued to hold on to the awful hate that was tearing him apart.
The sobbing finally stopped. Ira found himself all alone on his knees with his face buried in the open top of the coin-filled chest. The cold stone of the cavern and the smell of raw earth made the place seem like a tomb. He slowly began to collect himself as he closed the chest and locked it before standing up. He lifted another quiet prayer for mercy to God even while he continued to doubt that he really knew God at all. As he brushed the dust from his coat and picked up the lantern again, a different thought asserted itself. He knew what he must do. He would regain control of the events around him. His resolve strengthened as his pride once again took precedence over his values without any conscious consideration. He would see to it that Elizabeth, Zeke, and Mona survived this. He would look after his granddaughter and his friends. He was a very rich man. He would use his money to buy security for himself and those he loved. Life had always worked out this way in the past. Why would money fail him now?
The ridiculous nature of this conclusion struck Ira like a cold slap in the face. He felt God take control of his thoughts and pull him back toward sanity. He remembered the story of Judas and the thirty pieces of silver he was paid to betray Christ. Thirty pieces of silver was a pittance even then. It was the price paid for a common slave. The priests undoubtedly meant it as an insult in their twisted scheming way. Judas accepted it, though. That was amazing. Ira’s thoughts wandered in this peculiar direction now and he couldn’t clear his mind from considering the wasted life of Judas Iscariot. His own confused values paled in comparison to the bizarre failure of Judas.
Ira stared uncomprehending at the stone of the chamber wall as his mind was pulled deep into antiquity to the hot windswept Judean countryside. The images were so clear. They were surely brought by God Himself. It was as if he were presented with a crystal-clear view of the life and times of this most notorious of all traitors. What drove Judas? Ira knew that the man was one of the twelve original apostles chosen by Christ. Judas was there during all those miracles. He saw Jesus feed thousands with only a couple of fish and few cakes of bread. He watched while Jesus made the deaf hear, the blind see, and the lame walk. He had seen Jesus call the dead back to life. Judas saw the Master cast evil spirits out of people. He saw Jesus walk on water. He watched Jesus calm storms at sea with just a few words of command. Judas himself was given authority to heal the sick and cast out evil spirits along with the other apostles. He had used that authority.
Judas was there for the Sermon on the Mount. He witnessed the confrontations with the religious authorities. He was there during those quiet nights on lonely hillsides while Jesus, the Creator, patiently taught His friends the truth of the gospel. The Bible said that Judas was a thief though. He carried the money bag of the King and His disciples. He “helped himself” to what was in that bag. He was clearly driven by greed, by the lust for money. Judas betrayed The King of Glory for thirty pieces of silver. Jesus knew it was going to happen. He knew the real Judas all along. Judas was probably present when Jesus asked the rhetorical question, “What does it profit a man if he gains the whole world and loses his soul?” Was Judas even listening? Was money that powerful? No. It wasn’t. Not then, and not now.
Ira suddenly found himself on his knees again. The weeping was different now. He cried out his shame and grief to the only One Who could give him relief. What seemed like hours passed as he poured out all of the hatred and pain. He found himself fully forgiving those men who took everyone he loved from him. He pleaded for mercy from his King and Creator through Jesus who gave His Own Perfect Life to redeem Ira from his awful corruption. The money was no longer important. He could lose it all without caring. Ira finally felt real peace. He released all the hatred that kept him bound to the villains who destroyed his family. He was forgiven, and he knew it. He was finally, completely free.
CHAPTER 21
Billy and his men were exhausted as they trudged back down the road to the farm. The fierce fight and the terror that came with it would have a powerful effect on anyone. Billy thought the walk back to the farm seemed considerably farther than the distance they must have covered chasing the Tories who escaped with the wagon. They arrived to find the seven captured men still under guard, but now engaged in digging graves for their fallen friends at the back of the house.
Sergeant Duncan noticed their approach and stepped forward to report to his young lieutenant. Billy was surprised to learn that none of his men were injured in any way during this encounter. Duncan explained that the Tories attacked the farm at first light. The doctor, his assistant, and the farmer fought them off by firing through the windows of the stone and log house during several halfhearted Tory attempts to capture the building. They couldn’t keep the scoundrels from burning the barn. The farmer lamented that he accidently shot one of the horses when he tried to dissuade his enemies from stealing the wagon Billy had given him.
None of the wounded patients were harmed. Two of them were actually able to help reload muskets for the doctor and the farmer as they gamely defended the house. The farmer’s wife and daughter had hidden in the root cellar through the entire ordeal. Mrs. Phillips was now crying hysterically as she moved through and around her house bemoaning the bullet holes, her shattered milk churn, and the smoking ruins of the barn. The milk cow was standing near the side of the road placidly staring at the strange human activities in and around the house. The old sow found freedom for herself and her piglets when the wall of the barn forming one side of her sty collapsed. She sagely decided to use this rare opportunity to disappear into the woods.
Billy and the two sergeants held a brief but intense council with the doctor and the farmer while a messenger ran to fetch the three other wagons and their escorts. Billy was certain no one could stay here now. He spent a few minutes quietly observing and listening to the sullen hatred of the captured men digging graves for their fallen comrades behind the house. He and Strickland were convinced that the escaped Tories would undoubtedly return to complete their mischief with a much larger force. The doctor understood readily. Mr. Phillips was horrified when he learned that he and his family would have to leave their home with nothing more than what could be carried on their backs and wherever a few items could be tied to the overloaded wagons.
Space was made for Silas and the other wounded men. Sergeant Duncan made it very clear that the military stores were vastly more important than any personal property belonging to Mr. and Mrs. Phillips. In the end, they were only able to collect a small portion of their most cherished possessions. Mr. Phillips showed Sergeant Duncan where his stored food supplies were, and great effort was made to divide most of these provisions between the militiamen to be carried on their backs along with their personal gear.
All three wagons were emptied and reloaded with their contents redistributed to allow room for the doctor’s patients. Some of the lea
st important objects were eventually discarded. Most of these small items belonged to farmer Phillips and his wife. Billy let Duncan argue with them about this. He didn’t want to hear any more about it and there was nothing he could do to satisfy them anyway. Mr. and Mrs. Phillips were casualties of war. They were now refugees. He hoped they would find a new life elsewhere, but he could offer them nothing more than limited protection for the time being.
Everything was finally loaded and they were ready to move out again within two hours. The dead were buried. The seven prisoners were rounded up under guard. Duncan wanted to bring the prisoners along with them, but both Billy and Strickland adamantly refused. They didn’t have the men to waste guarding these loyalist thugs. Billy suspected that Sergeant Strickland wanted to shoot the men and be done with it. He couldn’t do that, but he realized that is just what these men would do to him if their roles were reversed.
An inspiration came to Billy just after he ordered his men to burn the house and anything the Tories might find useful. Even Strickland smiled wryly as he ordered the men to be stripped to their underwear and tied securely to what was left of the rail fence. Each man was gagged and blindfolded. Gagging them was Strickland’s idea. He was tired of listening to them spew their seething hatred for their captors, and Billy had forbidden him from bashing their teeth out with his musket butt. The blindfolding was Billy’s idea. He didn’t want the captives to be able to tell someone else the direction his convoy took. He realized eventually that this was absurd. Any fool would be able to follow their trail. The prisoners were blindfolded anyway.
The Tories were tied closely together with their hands behind their backs and their feet lashed to the fence rail. Two of Mrs. Phillips good quilt blankets were thrown over them. Billy made the woman give up the two blankets with the most yellow and pink color patches sewn into them. He wanted to humiliate these men. He believed this would cheer his own men, and might discourage these loyalists. He would have done more to this end, but he didn’t have time.
Billy reminded the captives that they could have been shot had he not decided to be lenient with them. He thought he heard muffled crying from a couple of them as he walked away. He felt a brief twinge of remorse before shrugging it off as he encountered more complaints from the farmer and his wife while their house began to burn. Billy ended up shouting down the arguments with a veiled threat to leave the family here to deal with their hostile neighbors. Mr. and Mrs. Phillips exchanged glances before hanging their heads in resignation. Billy started to say something further, but thought better of it and ended up ignoring the forlorn little family altogether as he ordered his now smaller convoy back into motion headed south.
The weather improved as they traveled the rest of that day. They were nearly ten miles away by nightfall. Billy was not happy with this distance, and neither was Sergeant Strickland. They both believed they were in greater danger now following the attack at the farm. John Red and their other guide, Private Spate, went ahead of the convoy and found a good defendable hill where they could spend the night. Billy and his men were almost totally exhausted by the time they reached this place. The wagons were brought into a small clearing at the top of the hill and the animals were unhitched and fed.
The wounded remained in the wagon under the studious care of the doctor and his assistant. The Phillips family managed to erect a makeshift tent using a tarpaulin and tree branches. The three civilian refugees disappeared unceremoniously into this shelter within moments after its completion and didn’t reemerge that night. Billy and the two sergeants distributed their men into a loose perimeter around the hilltop and created a watch bill to ensure that one of every three men was awake and alert in shifts through the night. Sergeant Duncan took the first watch followed by Sergeant Strickland. Billy planned to take the last watch early in the morning. He was sound asleep in a pile of leaves under his own canvas tarpaulin within minutes.
To Billy’s intense displeasure, he woke just before dawn to discover that Sergeant Strickland refused to wake him when the time for his watch started. He confronted the man a little more sharply than intended only to realize later what a tremendous compliment he was shown by this hardened veteran. A meal was quickly prepared and eaten. The camp was stricken and the draft animals were hitched to the wagons. Billy held a quick council with the two sergeants and the doctor to ensure they all understood the plan for this day’s march. He learned during this meeting that one of the wounded men had experienced a turn for the worse during the night. His fever was raging and the doctor suspected blood poisoning from one of his leg wounds.
Billy took a few moments to talk with the now conscious Silas Whitaker before giving the order to move out. The earlier conversation with Dr. Bolt reminded him of the precarious condition of his friend and these other wounded soldiers. He resolved to make as much haste as possible between here and the promise of safety and help at their destination. The wagons were soon moving steadily southeast on the hidden farm road.
The militia company was becoming an effective unit made up of soldiers who were disciplined in the heated necessities of combat. They were well led but no longer required much instruction, as each man moved out to perform his own critical function. Strickland watched the first squad and the wagons pass before turning to Billy with a profound observation. “You know, Lieutenant, I believe this gaggle of bumpkins might actually turn into somethin’ resembling soldiers yet!”
There was no smile. Billy understood and nodded. “I believe you may be right, Sergeant.”
CHAPTER 22
Ira Fletcher came out of the mill to find the sun shining brightly through the clouds above the eastern tree line. It was still cold outside, but the wind was gone. It seemed that the day would grow warmer with each passing moment. He experienced new life and incredible cleansing through the awesome grace of God in the secret cavern under the mill. He walked down the road toward his house. He paused to cheerfully greet Captain Robertson and one of his sergeants as they strolled up the road deep in conversation. The change in his host’s demeanor was not lost on the young captain. The pleasantry made the brightness of the new day a little warmer somehow.
Ira climbed the front steps of his house in a lighter mood than he had felt for quite some time. He couldn’t help realizing the dramatic change in his emotions since he stomped down these same stairs hours ago while it was still dark. He now remembered meeting Mona on the stairs in his earlier fury. The realization that he may have offended or hurt her pricked his conscience deeply. He made a mental commitment to find her and offer his profound apology as soon as possible on this beautiful morning.
Ira opened the front door of the house to encounter his granddaughter, Elizabeth, dutifully cleaning the front parlor. Several scraps of colored cloth were still visible scattered all over the room. The girl smiled at him as he entered, but the smile seemed guarded as if it were the product of an inner grace rather than actual joy at his presence. Ira was struck momentarily with another pang of conscience and paused to give her his full attention. His uncomfortable memory regarding his behavior was immediately replaced with the striking realization that Elizabeth was growing up. She was indeed a beautiful young woman. Ira felt another stab of anguish as he realized that she bore a striking resemblance to her grandmother, Mary, at this same age. He forced the bitter longing for his dead wife back and stood staring at Beth from the entry foyer. She paused in her actions as well. They both remained motionless waiting for the other to speak. Ira finally broke into a deep smile. “Good morning, Beth! You’re a beautiful sight this morning, my dear!”
Elizabeth straightened up fully and involuntarily reached down to adjust her apron. Her own smile turned quite genuine as she realized that her grandpa was indeed cheerful and glad to see her. She didn’t know what had come over him lately. She knew that he was a very complex man. She loved him inexhaustibly, but she never fully understood him. She did not remember her father, her mother, or her grandmother. The only family she had ever kn
own was Grandpa Ira, Ezekiel, and Mona Partridge.
This was her family plain and simple, whether they were all blood kin or not. She was afraid her grandpa would never fully realize or admit that he loved Mona far more than as a family friend. Elizabeth had always thought of Mona Partridge as her surrogate mother. She wouldn’t describe the relationship that way, but she knew that more than mere friendship bound them together. She knew her grandpa loved Mona deeply, but he was too stubborn and thick-headed to acknowledge his feelings and do something about them. Elizabeth wanted her grandpa to be happy. She knew he loved her completely. Elizabeth knew him to be a jumble of conflicting emotions buried deeply under a tough and proud exterior that was very difficult to penetrate. She believed that during her lifetime, she, Ezekiel, and Mona were the only humans who had heard Ira Fletcher laugh or cry. She knew Mona loved her grandpa too. Elizabeth wished she could do something to make these two precious people reach out to each other.
Ira was as hungry as he was exhausted. He hung his hat on a peg by the door and asked, “Are you making breakfast today, Beth?”
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