Liberty's Legacy

by Heidi Sprouse

  “I will be only…too glad…to join you,” my eyes drooped shut, “when I am…able.” When I can move again. “I have been plagued with a confounded fatigue that comes and goes.” A twinge of pain from my lingering discomfort made me press a hand to my stomach. Each day, I took a little more food, Rebekah experimenting with what I could keep down best. My innards were still temperamental. “I…” I swallowed hard. “I need to use the privy again.”

  Rebekah had already helped me four times earlier that day. Progress. The day before, I took ten trips, and I did not always make it to the privy. She leaned toward me, intent on supporting me again when my stepfather laid a hand on her shoulder. “I will take my son.” He pulled my arm around his shoulders.

  “Father, that is not necessary. You and Nicholas must be tired. You need your rest. I can do this on my own.” My angel protested. She had good reason. Rebekah had seen my efforts on my own and they were not attractive.

  I had fallen flat on my face several times when I was stubborn in my insistence to manage by myself. The last time, I crawled to the privy on my hands and knees only to find Rebekah standing before me when I tumbled out in an untidy sprawl on the ground, her hand extended. She pulled me up with embarrassing ease and helped me to return to my bed. I learned my lesson and accepted her aid. Being seriously ill had a way of making me humble, realizing that I could not survive on my own.

  Jacob raised his hand to reassure her. “I do not want to hear about it. You are still my son, no matter how old you are. It will be a sad day on this earth when you will not accept my help.” He gave me a poor attempt at a smile and brought me up out of the nest of covers. His features twisted in a grimace. “Clearly, you are not capable of going on your own. You have wasted considerably.”

  Nicholas clapped me on the back and nearly knocked me over. His hand brushed the ridge of my ribs and his forehead creased, his troubled gaze meeting my stepfather’s. “We must put some meat on his bones and build up his strength or young Benjamin will be cannon fodder. There is not even enough left for the buzzards to pick him clean.”

  With infinite patience, Jacob half carried me across the yard, taking me in a rough embrace once we reached the privy. “Too close, my son. We came too close to losing you. I will not blame you if you choose to sit out this fight and stay here with Rebekah until it is over. You have already fought enough.”

  Stay with Rebekah. The more days I spent with her by my side, the more indispensable my angel had become to me. I had shied away from the thought that my stepfather might not make it back, but it was a potential reality that I had to face. If I found myself alone with no prospects of my loved ones returning from the trials of war, would I leave Rebekah and go back to Johnstown? The mere suggestion caused a physical pain that jabbed at my heart and made me catch my breath, as if I had been punched square in the gut. No. I would not leave her. I would stay or bring her home to Mama, but Rebekah had to be a part of my future—if there was a future to be had.

  The return of my stepfather and Nicholas Stoner changed everything. I gripped Jacob’s arm with what strength I had—that of a fly—and met him with a level stare. “I cannot call myself a man if I sit this out. If the tables were turned and you had to make this choice, what would you do? We both already know, Father. There is no choice. You and Benjamin Willson taught me that lesson well. This country is mine if we keep it. It is what I and others like me make of it. I do not intend to lay down my life, but I will if my sacrifice will save others or mean a better life for those who are left behind and those who will follow.”

  His hold on his emotions was tenuous. With his jaw clenched and his mouth sealed tight in a thin line, my stepfather nodded. His hand squeezed the nape of my neck. A reminder that he had walked with me all my life and would continue to do so.

  In an effort at levity, I gestured to the small outbuilding. “If you do not mind, Father, I must sit down now before I fall down.” He laughed at that one and stepped back while I went into the privy. When I finally managed to get on my feet again and stepped out into the bright summer day, Jacob Cooper was waiting for me. My legs gave out half way to Rebekah’s cabin. Like he did on the day I was born, my stepfather caught me.

  That night, we had a slice of normal. Listening to stories from the battle front. Drinking tea and Kentucky bourbon. Nicholas was so smitten with the fine whiskey, he had more than a fair share … and soon was singing in his cups. Recounting our childhood. Making plans for when the war was over. If the war was ever over. I lay on Rebekah’s bed, the place that had become my second home on my long journey out of illness. My body was weak and heavy, but my soul was light. Smiling, I watched the dance of flame and shadows wash over my stepfather, Nicholas, and Rebekah. Three people I loved more than all the world. There was only one other I loved as much. Mama. I fell asleep praying that the Lord would give me the chance to be reunited with my mother. With everyone in this room at my side.

  25

  1 September 1814

  Benjamin Willson Cooper

  I stood outside at the corral, leaning on the fence. A shiver ran through me. The day was cool considering how hot it had been in recent days. Hot enough to melt. Hot enough to trick me into believing I burned again. That this time, the fever would turn me to ash. I relished the chill and a hint of autumn.

  I had managed to walk a good way into the forest and back. I prided myself on going farther every day, but I always completed the walk by finding something to hold on to. I could not believe how easily I tired. I glanced down, saw how my clothes were hanging on me. I had lost a considerable amount of weight, weight I did not have to spare. I cursed and gripped the fence. Useless! How useless are you? A month of my life, stolen by illness. My strength was returning, but not fast enough. What if I was not ready when the time came?

  Footsteps approached. Rebekah’s irresistible scent came first before my angel’s hand took mine. The sun caught her hair, her face, and her eyes. Reminding me that not every minute of my illness had been a waste. It brought me to my love. She stared out at the animals in her fenced area. “You will leave tomorrow? I do not think you are well enough.” There was a catch in her breath.

  She knew that we all must take heed of the signs of approaching conflict. What had begun as whispers was now as loud as the thunder of a drum. A steady stream of men had answered the call, passing by the cabin in the woods, some stopping for water, a bite to eat, any news, most moving forward with grim determination. The word had come down to Vermont, throughout New York, and beyond. Izard had been forced to follow orders against his military training and much better judgment. After laboriously fortifying the redoubts and whipping the army into shape, he had left behind a pitiful number of men and Prevost was coming on, fifteen thousand strong.

  I tried to picture that many men gathered together in one place, a dark cloud of menace, brooding on the horizon. What kind of storm would the British army unleash on us? Would we have enough militia to stave them off? We might not have the experience, the numbers, or the weaponry, but we had pure grit born of a fledgling nation that wanted to hold on to what we had sacrificed so dearly for in the first place. If we lost everything now, that would be a kick in the teeth from which we would never recover. Every single man, no matter how small, no matter how weak, counted. Even a shell of a man hollowed out by illness like me.

  Only last night, Nicholas and Jacob had laid out our plan of attack. We would make our way to Plattsburgh as quickly as possible. Once there, we would learn the way the wind blew, where there was a greatest need, and we would fill the gap.

  Nicholas, Jacob and I had no choice but to join our brothers in arms. We were able-bodied men. Even in my weakened state, I could still pick up my musket. On several of my outings in the past few days, I carried the Legacy musket with me, and brought it to my shoulder where it found a home. Took aim. Fired and ended up flat on the ground. The first few times. Only this morning, I held steady. Reloaded. And fired again, proving that like America,
the British could knock me down, but I would rise again. I could not call myself Benjamin Willson Cooper or be a son for either of my fathers if I did not meet our foe. I could not look Rebekah in the eye if I did not go now, comporting myself with dignity even though my eyes were burning.

  I turned to my angel and took her in my arms as I had dreamed of doing even when I was desperately ill. From the first instant I laid eyes on her. I became lost in her endless green gaze, as refreshing as the new leaves of springtime, and sealed her mouth with a kiss. She pulled back, palms pressed to cheeks gone scarlet. “What was that about?”

  My fingers skimmed along her chin before settling on the mad rush of her pulse, beating wildly at the base of her throat. “That was me getting better acquainted with you. You are like a book that I have not completed with so many pages left to read.” I kissed her again. “How much I want to see it through to the end. I do not want to leave, but I must go.”

  She hugged me close, her voice muffled against my chest. “I fear that I will never see you again. I do not know if I can be alone. Rufus was hard, but you, Benjamin. You keep my heart beating.”

  “You will not be alone.” I laid my hand on her chest, just above the rise of her bosom, allowing the vibration of her fluttering heart to make my arm tremble with its delicate yet powerful force. “I am here inside of you. Think of me with every beat and know that you will be with me on my journey. I promise you … I will come back, and I do not make promises lightly.”

  I took her mouth one last time, lingering to the point that she swayed, her legs buckling, until she was nearly senseless. “So you will not forget me.” I turned away and walked to the house. I glanced back over my shoulder once.

  This time, it was Rebekah who needed to hold on to the fence.

  26

  2 September 1814

  Benjamin Willson Cooper

  We talked little, each of us lost in our own thoughts. Rebekah burned brightly in my mind every time I closed my eyes. I carried her with me. The mint of her breath. The gloss of her hair. The dance of light and shadows in her gaze. I longed for her touch. To have her by my side. Leaving her on her doorstep was one of the hardest things I ever had to do. That and leaving Mama.

  I attempted to clamp down on my sorrow, concentrating on the trail before us. My body would not let me. My lingering fatigue and weakness was a frustration. Nicholas and my stepfather stopped often for my sake. A journey into Plattsburgh should have taken one day. As the sun dropped lower on the horizon, I knew we would need a second day. I wondered how useful I would be to seasoned soldiers like my companions. I was green. I should have stayed home to avoid slowing them down or getting in their way.

  As if he could read my mind, Nicholas clapped me on the back. “Do not worry yourself, Benjamin. We will get there when we get there. We are just grateful you were still waiting for us when we arrived at the home of Mrs. Barnes.” His voice dropped low, his gaze pinned on my stepfather as his horse swayed from side to side, leading the way. “Your father was in a desperate state when he found me. He was torn over his duty to take up arms and go back to watch over you. His greatest fear was losing you. He said that the state of the nation mattered less to him than your fate.” Our old friend squeezed my arm. “I would say the same.” Clearing his throat before embarrassing himself with a show of excessive emotion, Stoner dropped back behind me. We plodded along, my hands gripping my saddle tightly lest I fall off. I did not know if I could hold on much longer.

  This journey was much different from our initial trek into the heart of the Adirondacks. The threat of Britain’s invasion of Plattsburgh was an ominous dark cloud pressing down on all of us. Any men who we passed or who joined us moved forward in somber silence. We shared the same goal. To meet the call, to rise to the occasion, to beat back the enemy if we could. We were outnumbered. We were inexperienced. I smiled grimly to myself. That described the Patriots during the Revolution. We beat those Redcoats once and sent them packing. We would do it again.

  A wave of weakness came over me and I leaned forward, pinching the bridge of my nose. Jacob dropped back to ride alongside of me, reaching out to snag me at the nape of my neck. “You need a break, aye? Your body is still catching up. You are like a reed, you are so thin. There is nothing to you. You are certain now that you have spent a day in the saddle that you are up to this?”

  I straightened and set my shoulders. “Yes. Keep going. We can ride through the night. I do not need to stop.”

  His eyes snapped, his jaw tightening. “I will not have you cracking your head open when you fall off your horse. Like an ox you are, Benjamin. One of the most stubborn men I have ever known.” He waved to Nicholas. “We will set up camp here.”

  He jumped down off his saddle and reached up for me. I had intended to mask my fatigue. It would not let me. The instant I leaned on Jacob, my body told the story with brutal honesty. My legs trembled as soon as my feet touched the ground. I took one step on my own and nearly pitched over in a heap. A strong arm caught me and lowered me to a rock beside the trail. “Sit there and rest. Cross me and I will strap you on the back of your horse and lead you back to the lovely and incomparable Mrs. Barnes.”

  I gave my stepfather a tired smile and leaned back against a tree. The two friends worked together seamlessly, quietly going about the business of setting up camp. The tent was up and the fire burning within a flash in time. At least it seemed that way. I had nodded off. Jacob stood over me, his sky-blue eyes turned to silver in the moonlight, his hair a wild tangle. “Come, my son. We will start over again tomorrow.”

  I stretched out in the tent that had traveled with Nicholas since he enlisted in the War of 1812. Judging by the many scuffed spots and patches, it may have been with him since the Revolution. If only this tent could talk.

  My bones were talking to me as every rock or bump dug its way in, all the way to my spine. I had no padding to give me a cushion. I shifted several times, easing myself on one side or the other only to find no relief. I closed my eyes and my brain tormented me, hinging on the uncertainty in our future. Britain. The invasion. The potential death and destruction that was waiting for us come morning. I pushed all those misgivings away, turned to thoughts of Rebekah. Lying beside me. Arms wrapped around me. Sharing the same air. Sharing my bed. The next time I opened my eyes, the sun was peeking through the crack in the tent flap door. A chill ran straight through me. I was alone.

  “He’s a brave one, Jacob. Like you.” Nicholas’ voice drifted in from the campfire. I shifted and could see him perched on a log, talking with my stepfather.

  My stepfather’s voice was soft in the early morning tranquility. Even the birds were quiet. “Aye he is. He makes me right proud. If the others who join us in the fight are anything like my Benjamin, there is no doubt. We will win.”

  I chose that moment to inch my way to my feet and stretch out the kinks in my bones. My body ached from the cold, hard ground, but they would not know it. I had made it through the night and I was stronger for it. Time to forge ahead.

  Tension was running through all of us. The anticipation building in intensity. The fight would come. The question was when.

  As fate would have it, war found us.

  27

  5 September 1814

  Benjamin Willson Cooper

  Grumbles of discontent rumbled around us. Everyone we met was in consensus. Secretary of State Armstrong was either a madman or a blundering idiot. He was so concerned about Lake Ontario and his efforts to take control of this strategic point where supplies came in for the British settlements and massive numbers of men could be moved with ease. Armstrong’s plotting had left Plattsburgh practically naked, its trenches and redoubts fortified by Izard’s efforts with barely any men left to defend it. The numbers were slowly swelling as the American militia in nearby states scrambled to answer the call. To face Prevost’s storm, a force that was five times the size of ours. As I passed through the town of Plattsburgh early in the morning, I could
not help but wonder if we were headed to our deaths.

  “Are you all right? You have been too quiet. Not ill again are you?” My stepfather rode beside me as we surveyed our surroundings, looking for any suspicious activity. The residents were either buttoned up inside their homes or had fled. It was as if we were wandering through a ghost town. A cold chill shook me. There was a good possibility that we might join the spirits ourselves.

  Jacob touched my arm, snapping my focus back to him. In the past few days, I had managed to rest and regain some of my strength as we waited for something to happen. “No, not unless you mean ill from what Armstrong has done to us. Talk about shooting his army in the foot. How do these people get positions of power?”

  Nicholas cursed. He had come up abreast of us and heard the tail end of our conversation. “It is often a story of who knows who in Congress. We traded God-given royalty for an entirely different sort of riffraff—the pompous variety. At least this Major John Wool seems to know what he is doing. Your father and I worked under his charge before we left to get you.”

  That offered some consolation as we moved with three hundred regulars, making our way to Lake Champlain. I struggled to find my resolve, my faith that we would prevail, when there was a shout up ahead. “Fall back! Fall back! We have been ambushed!”

  I strained to make out the harbinger of doom before us. In the distance, two long columns approached like scarlet snakes that seemed to writhe forever. Redcoats! My gut tightened, my hands knotting into fists on the reins. A current of anxiety tinged with excitement skittered through my veins. Now! We would face our foes at this moment. Not soon. Not tomorrow. Right now!