American Challenge

by Susan Martins Miller

  Lieutenant Rand let go of his sword. His eyes glittered with anger. “Mr. Lang, be very careful what you print from now on.”

  Kate stepped quickly from the doorway to get out of Lieutenant Rand’s way as the officer left. “Why is he so mad?” Her voice sounded very small.

  Harry grinned. “The Suffolk County leaders drew up this list because of the Port Bill and Intolerable Acts.” He handed Kate a copy of the handbill.

  The Intolerable Acts were Boston’s latest punishment for the tea party. Parliament called them Regulatory Acts. Patriots called them Intolerable Acts, because they said no Englishman would tolerate or stand for them.

  The Intolerable Acts changed the way Massachusetts was run. Instead of elections, the king and his friends chose people for all the important jobs. Juries were even appointed by the king’s friends, so it would be hard for people to get fair trials.

  Kate stood in the doorway where there was enough light to read the list. “Suffolk Resolves” was printed in large letters at the top. The most dangerous thing it said was just what had made Lieutenant Rand so angry: that Massachusetts army should train and be ready to fight to keep the rights the king and Parliament wanted to take away.

  Fear slid through Kate in an icy wave. “Are the Patriots declaring war on England?”

  “No.” Harry’s brown eyes were serious. “But we need to be ready to protect ourselves.”

  “We could use your help, children,” Uncle Jack said to Kate and Colin. “Paul Revere is waiting for us to finish these handbills. He’ll take them to the Continental Congress meeting in Philadelphia.”

  Kate knew the colonies had decided to hold a meeting called the Continental Congress. People from every colony were invited. They wanted to make a plan to convince the king and Parliament to leave Boston alone and give people in America the rights they used to have.

  It’s like Harry said months ago, Kate thought. The king meant to hurt Boston by closing the harbor. Instead the Lord was using Boston’s trouble for something good, to get the colonies to work together. Maybe, she thought, things will turn out all right in the end after all.

  She watched while Colin put on a leather apron to protect his linen shirt and brown cotton breeches. Kate wet the big pieces of paper, and Colin inked the type with ink-soaked balls of wool and leather. Uncle Jack and Harry took turns swinging the large wooden handle to work the press, and Kate hung up the paper to dry when it came off the press. Before they finished, they had to light candles and lanterns to see.

  Kate was thinking as she worked, trying to decide if she was really a Patriot or a Loyalist. It felt good to work hard with her uncle and her cousins. She was glad she could help. Did that mean she was a Patriot?

  Mr. Revere arrived as Harry hung up the last handbill. His dark eyes twinkled in his ruddy face. “It looks like you’ve been helping with the handbills, Colin. We shall make a Son of Liberty of you yet.”

  Colin grinned, and Kate knew how proud he must feel. She wished Mr. Revere would notice her, too, but men never seemed to pay much attention to little girls.

  “I wish I could be with you in Philadelphia, Paul, to hear what the Continental Congress thinks of the handbill,” Uncle Jack said, removing his apron.

  Harry agreed eagerly. “I wonder if they’ll dare say they feel as we do about the army.”

  “You may be sure I’ll let you know.” Mr. Revere held out a sheet of copper to Colin’s father. “Here’s the engraving I promised you.”

  Uncle Jack put on his wire glasses. He held the metal near a tin and glass lantern to check the picture the silversmith had carved into the copper. “Perfect. I’ll use it in the next copy of the Boston Observer.”

  Mr. Revere picked up some handbills and started for the door. His boots jingled. Kate saw his spurs made the sound. “Are you leaving tonight?” Harry asked. Kate knew Sam Adams had set up a system of post riders to carry news between towns and colonies. It was called the Committee of Correspondence. Paul Revere often rode for them.

  Mr. Revere said, “The congress begins in only nine days. The trip to Philadelphia often takes twice that long. I’ve a strong horse, but I’ll have a hard ride.”

  Kate, Colin, and Harry watched from the doorway while Uncle Jack walked with Paul Revere to his horse, which was tied to a post in front of the shop. Kate remembered Mr. Revere’s copper engraving. “What is the picture he made, Harry?”

  “It shows how to make saltpeter. If war comes, the Patriots will need saltpeter to make ammunition. We won’t be able to buy it from England.”

  War! The word never went away. A shiver ran through Kate. “I thought the Patriots didn’t want war. I thought we just wanted things back the way they were.”

  Harry nodded. “So we do. But we can’t always have what we want without a fight. We need to be ready, just in case.”

  Kate remembered how angry Lieutenant Rand had been earlier that day, how quickly he’d grabbed for his sword. It wouldn’t take very much for a few angry men on either side to start a fight like the Boston Massacre four years ago.

  But after the massacre, the people of Boston had been able to make peace again. This time if there was a riot and one side began shooting, would the people be able to keep peace—or would there be war?

  CHAPTER 6

  A Spy

  Colin, Kate, and Liberty hurried along the road to the Neck on a cool September day. Sarah’s father was helping build a wall there for General Gage, and they wanted to see it. With the harbor closed, there wasn’t much else to watch in Boston these days, except soldiers.

  A family that looked tired after walking a long way scuffed along carrying bundles and leaning on walking sticks. They were headed toward Boston.

  “Another Loyalist family,” Kate said. “If we didn’t live in Boston, my family might have been forced to leave our home as well.”

  She couldn’t keep the anger and pain from her voice. Patriots in towns other than Boston were mad at the Loyalists for the punishments King George and Parliament were forcing on Boston. Patriots were threatening Loyalists, chasing them from their homes. The Loyalists had nowhere to go but Boston.

  “I guess the Loyalists know the redcoats here will keep them safe,” Colin said. “How are things going with the Loyalist family from Concord that moved into your house last week?”

  “I hate sharing our home with them.” Kate kicked at a stone and almost tripped over the petticoat beneath her pink skirt. “Esther—she’s my age—shares my bed. She won’t play with Sarah because Sarah is a Patriot. Sarah is furious.”

  “Maybe she thinks you feel the same way as Esther. Sometimes I don’t know what you believe, Kate.”

  “Why does it have to matter?” Kate stamped her foot in frustration. “Sarah’s my best friend. She’s much nicer than Esther. And you’re my cousin. Why should anything like Patriots and Loyalists come between us?” She stuck out her lip, tired with the way everything had changed lately. “There’s lots more work with Esther’s family, too,” she complained.

  “Doesn’t Esther’s mother tell her to help with the chores?”

  “Esther and her mother spend all their time saying how terrible the Patriots are and eating our food. Today Esther complained that we hadn’t more sweets. With the price of sugar and molasses, we can’t afford many sweets.”

  “She sounds spoiled.”

  “Mama says not to speak badly of her.” Kate sighed. “It must have been awful to be forced out of their home. They only had time to pack a few clothes. I truly am sorry for her.”

  Life was so confusing lately. Yesterday, she had asked her father why he continued to treat patients who he knew were Patriots, when he didn’t believe in their cause. He had looked upset that she would even ask the question.

  “A doctor treats everyone, Kate. Regardless of what people believe or what they’ve done or how much money they have … or anything else. You should know that.” He sighed. “Besides, each man has to make up his mind for himself about whethe
r to be a Loyalist or a Patriot. I can’t force my beliefs on anyone.”

  Then why do you always argue so much with Uncle Jack? Kate wanted to ask.

  But she kept thinking about what Father had said: Each man has to make up his mind for himself. She wasn’t a man, of course—and how could she make up her mind when she felt so confused?

  They reached a small rise in the road, and she saw that soldiers and workmen covered the Neck in front of them. Some were working, others watched. A few days after Paul Revere left for Philadelphia, General Gage had ordered a wall built all the way across the Neck. He called it a fortification because the wall protected the town like the wall of a fort.

  It was a cool day, but sweat trickled down Kate’s spine beneath her cotton gown. The townspeople couldn’t leave Boston by water because of the warships. Now they wouldn’t be able to leave by the only road out of Boston if General Gage decided they shouldn’t. Seeing the wall and cannons made Kate feel like a prisoner in her own town.

  Townsmen were teasing the soldiers. “Can’t ye build any better than that?” called one man. “Your wall is no stronger than a beaver dam!” yelled another. “That wall won’t protect you. A group of Patriots could blow it down!” called a boy about Colin’s age.

  Some soldiers ignored them. Others yelled nasty comments back at them. But the townspeople knew the officers wouldn’t let the soldiers harm them.

  Colin and Kate sat down beneath an oak tree to watch. Workers hauled bricks in two-wheeled wooden carts. Others laid the bricks to make the wall. Sweat glistened off the men’s faces. Their shirts were wet with sweat. Officers yelled orders. In the middle of it all, people and carts and donations filed over the Neck along the road into and out of Boston.

  Kate’s stomach growled. She put a hand over the apron that protected her dress and laughed, embarrassed.

  Colin smiled. “Seems everyone’s always hungry these days. Thanks to the gifts, at least no one’s starving.” He pulled two small green apples from his breeches pockets and handed her one. Kate knew the breeches used to belong to Harrison, as had his patched white shirt. Colin had grown so much during the last year that his own clothes no longer fit. “These are from our apple tree.”

  The children watched a boy a couple years older than Colin push a cart filled with bricks. The boy’s red hair was tied back in a club with a piece of leather. He wore a blue farmer’s smock that came almost to his knees over his homespun breeches and a black hat with a floppy brim. While they watched, one of the wheels struck a large rock and started to tip.

  “Watch out!” Colin jumped up and darted forward.

  The boy struggled with the cart’s wooden handles, trying to keep the load upright. Before Colin could reach him, the bricks shifted to one side. The cart tipped. Hard clay bricks poured out on top of the boy.

  Colin dropped to his knees and frantically pushed bricks off the boy. The lad groaned, trying to sit up.

  Other men hurried to help Colin free him. Kate ran and crouched by his side. As the bricks were cleared, Kate fought back a wave of panic at the sight of the boy’s leg. The bricks had torn away the knee-high stocking. She could see how badly the leg was hurt.

  “We’ll have to stop the bleeding,” Kate said to Colin.

  He nodded and glanced about quickly, then turned to one of the men beside him. “I’m a doctor’s apprentice. Is there any drinking water about?”

  “I’ll get some.” The man scurried to get the bucket.

  Colin looked up at Kate. “We need something to clean the wound.”

  She hesitated only a moment, then unpinned the part of the apron that covered the top of her dress and untied the bow in back. Next, she ripped off the square that made up the top of the apron. She tore the apron’s ties off and then tore the rest of the apron in half, handing everything to Colin.

  The workman returned with the leather water bucket, panting slightly and sloshing water onto the ground in his haste.

  The boy clutched Colin’s arm. “What—what are yuh goin’ to do?” His face was pale as a clamshell and covered with sweat. His hat had fallen off, and his red hair was as damp as his face. Green eyes, huge and frightened, stared up at Colin.

  Colin smiled, and Kate knew he was trying to look brave. “I’m going to clean your leg and stop the bleeding so I can see how badly you’re hurt.”

  “It—it hurts somethin’ fierce.”

  Colin nodded. “I know. I’ll be as careful as I can, but cleaning it will hurt some more. Can you stand it?”

  “I guess I don’t have a choice.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Larry. Lawrence Crews. From out Lexington way.”

  “Well, Larry Crews, if it gets to hurting too much, you just yell at me.”

  Liberty stuck his nose next to Larry’s face and sniffed. Then the dog licked Larry’s cheek and laid down beside him, resting his chin on Larry’s shoulder. Larry reached out one shaking hand and rested it on Liberty’s back. “That’s my dog,” Kate said. “His leg was hurt awhile back. He understands how you feel.”

  “Did it heal up good?” Larry asked between clenched teeth as Colin dabbed at his leg with a damp piece of Kate’s apron.

  “Yes, indeed. He limps a bit, but it doesn’t stop him from going wherever he’s a mind to.”

  Kate knelt beside Liberty and started telling Larry about the boys who’d attacked the dog. She was trying to keep Larry’s mind off his pain.

  The workman who’d fetched the bucket of water held Larry’s ankle to keep his leg still while Colin worked. Kate was aware that most of the workmen in the area were standing about, watching.

  A minute later, she heard horses’ hooves thud against the ground behind her. “What’s the problem?” a man’s voice asked, and Kate turned her head to see a redcoat officer looming on horseback behind her.

  A babble of voices answered him as a number of men all spoke at once. Kate was the one who finally explained. The officer knelt down and laid a hand on Larry’s shoulder. “Keep courage, lad. Thank God there was a doctor’s apprentice near.”

  Kate glanced again at the officer. “Lieutenant Andrews!” It was the kind officer they’d met at the common.

  The lieutenant nodded. “What can I do to help?” he asked Colin.

  “Is there a wagon we could use? I haven’t any instruments or medicine with me. We can take him to Dr. Firth Milton’s.”

  Lieutenant Andrews gave sharp orders. Kate admired the way the man quickly arranged for a wagon pulled by two strong horses. The lieutenant ordered hay put in the back of the wagon to make the ride easier for Larry. While the wagon was made ready, Colin tied a clean piece of Kate’s apron over the wounded leg with the apron’s ties.

  Watching Lieutenant Andrews and one of the workmen lift Larry into the wagon, Kate frowned and exchanged glances with Colin. She didn’t like the look of that leg. “It will need to be stitched up,” Colin muttered in her ear. “I’m afraid some of the nerves and muscles might have been cut by the bricks’ sharp edges.”

  Half an hour later, Larry lay on the counter in the apothecary shop while Kate and Colin watched Dr. Milton examine the leg. “You’re right,” Kate’s father said to Colin with an approving nod, “we’ll have to sew it up. One of the muscles is torn but not badly.”

  Dr. Milton let Colin sew up the badly wounded leg. The doctor held Larry’s leg while Colin bent over the leg, concentrating as he used the curved needle. He was sweating from trying so hard to do his work right. Every few minutes he rubbed his forehead against his shoulder so the sweat wouldn’t run into his eyes. Kate wished her father would let her help, too. After all, she knew how to sew fine stitches!

  Colin was almost through when the bells over the door tinkled cheerfully and Harry entered. He came and stood beside Colin, careful not to block the sunlight, but he didn’t say anything.

  Taking a deep breath, Colin made the last stitch, tied a knot, and cut the thread.

  The doctor smiled. “I couldn�
��t have done better myself.”

  Larry groaned and opened his eyes. “Is it over?” Dr. Milton had given Larry laudanum to help him endure the pain, but like most patients, Larry had been awake through the stitching. Kate saw Larry was sweating as much as Colin had.

  Larry squinted at Harry. “What are you doin’ here?”

  “Heard about your accident and came to see how you are.”

  “I’m fine.” He nodded toward Colin. “Thanks to this lad.” He looked from Colin to Harry and back again. “You two look a lot alike.”

  They both laughed. People always said Colin and Harry looked alike. It was truer as Colin grew older.

  While Dr. Milton, Kate, and Harry talked with Larry, Colin wiped his hands on a rag, then dipped water from a bucket into a basin and washed up.

  Dr. Milton wanted Larry to stay in Boston for a couple days so he could keep a watch on Larry’s leg. Patients usually stayed at home, but Dr. Milton sometimes let patients from out of town stay on a small bed in his library. He suggested Larry use it.

  “You won’t be able to do hard labor at the Neck for a while. When the swelling goes down a bit, Colin can use my carriage to take you back to your father’s farm,” Dr. Milton said.

  Kate ran to fetch a blanket and a warm meal for Larry. She often had to help care for patients who stayed in the library, and she was glad for the chance to use her healing skills.

  After Kate’s father went back to his apothecary’s shop, Harry grinned at Larry. “Took your patriotic duty a bit seriously, didn’t you?”

  Larry managed a small smile, though his lips were still pale from pain. “My load of bricks wasn’t dumped on purpose. It was a true accident.” Kate thought he looked ashamed. “A British officer was barkin’ at some workers, callin’ them lazy good-for-nothin’s. I was laughin’ inside and thinkin’ if he only knew what we have in mind for the Neck, he’d be sayin’ somethin’ worse. Should have been watchin’ where I was goin’.”