Spirit of the Revolution

by Debbie Peterson

  “Mail’s here,” Sam called out from the family room.

  “Okay, thanks,” she replied. “Are you sure you guys don’t want to come along?”

  “Nope,” said Sam as he stepped into the entryway. “We’d rather stay behind and watch over the house. Sanders might decide to come back. And we’ll keep Dak company.”

  She reached down to rub Dakota’s ears. “Well, even if he did, he wouldn’t find the letter. We have it hidden well enough,” she said.

  “Yes, but we don’t need him ransacking the house in his quest to find it,” Sam replied.

  “I guess you’re right about that.”

  “Off with you now.” Sam opened the door and stepped back. “I hope your day is productive.”

  “I hope so too.” Jo gave him a smile and turned toward Mathias. “Are you ready?”

  “Ready and waiting,” he said.

  As she stepped onto the porch, the packed mailbox caught her eye and she took a minute to empty it. A thick envelope from Nan sat atop the stack. The promised pictures had finally arrived. After leaving the rest of the mail on the table, she slipped the package atop her notebook and then made her way to the car. She placed her supplies on the console, got inside, and buckled up. A split second later, Mathias appeared in the passenger seat.

  “Is that a letter from Nancy?” he asked as he inclined his head toward the package.

  “Yep. I think its copies of all the pictures she took during their vacation. We can look at them over lunch if that’s agreeable to you.”

  “That it is. So, where to first?” he asked once they turned onto the main road.

  “We’ll start with the state archives and see what, if anything, we find there. After all, they are the central depository for all things historic in Pennsylvania and perhaps we’ll get lucky and not have to search any further. If not, we’ll head out to some of the more promising museums, beginning with the one that has the McGregor manuscript in their collection.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Mathias replied.

  “Oh, and there’s also a genealogical center that has all kinds of historical records from all over the world. I want to check the place out too. Perhaps we can find Thomas’s land records for Pennsylvania, Virginia, and Scotland all at the same time. Not that we couldn’t make the drive to Virginia if we needed to. The trip would merely cost us some extra time on another day. However, I’m not sure how easy it would be to get to Scotland and do our research from the British Isles.”

  “What? You mean you just can’t will yourself there?”

  “Oh, don’t tell me you can do that too,” she replied in mock exasperation.

  “You know, I truly don’t know if the force of my will can take me all the way to Scotland.” Mathias gave her a sideways glance and grinned. “Shall I give it a try and see what happens?”

  “Don’t you dare. It would be just your luck to get stuck somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean and not find your way home.” Her smile faded away as she envisioned life without Mathias and it left her feeling empty and cold.

  “Looks like autumn has arrived in all her glory,” Mathias said, pointing to the colorful trees and the falling leaves along the sides of the road.

  Jo shot a glance out the window and nodded. “Yes, it has. Do you realize we’re just weeks away from Thanksgiving? I love this time of year; I love the colors and the smells. It also means we’re getting close to winter and winter means Christmas, which, by the way, is my favorite holiday of the year. You’re all going to help me celebrate it, aren’t you?”

  “Wouldn’t miss it,” Mathias replied. “Christmas is a fine time. You know, over the decades, we’ve found the changes in celebrations and traditions quite interesting. At least, among the various residents of our house. In my time, Santa Claus, toys, and stockings didn’t exist. The notion of cutting down a tree, bringing it inside the house, and throwing odds and ends all over it never once crossed our minds. In fact, Christmas celebrations centered mostly on adults, if one celebrated the day at all. For those who did acknowledge the holiday, they did it with a large feast, singing, and dancing—that sort of thing.”

  “Well what about the churches? Surely they held services to commemorate the birth of Christ during the time of your mortality,” said Jo, suddenly fascinated by the traditions of his era.

  “As far as religious services, some of the churches actually forbade any kind of recognition of the day at all. They declared it naught but a Pagan Holiday and would even go so far as to fine their members five shillings a piece, if they were caught having any kind of Christmas celebration.

  “However, others did hold services. They would even decorate their churches with a bit of evergreen, garland, and holly, much as they do today, minus the lights, of course. Sadly, at least in my community, we missed out on that delightful tradition with the mistletoe.”

  Jo couldn’t say she was sorry to hear it.

  About three hours later, they walked out the door and down the steps of the State Archive building. Despite the help of a very knowledgeable employee, they found nothing in the vast accumulation of books and manuscripts concerning Thomas McGregor, or anything remotely connected to something called tinker’s toy.

  They stopped next at the genealogical center and as luck would have it, the facility carried the land records they needed for both Pennsylvania and Virginia on microfiche. Despite a thorough search, they couldn’t find any indication Thomas McGregor ever sold anything prior to his death.

  Jo then searched the probate records for the state of Pennsylvania. The file they found for Thomas recorded he died intestate the same month and year Mathias died, just as he surmised from Jacob’s letter. The record indicated the heirs of Thomas McGregor received an equal portion of all his property and earthly goods. They couldn’t eliminate his lands in Scotland as the source of tinker’s toy, since the library didn’t carry those particular records and the probate file didn’t mention ownership of anything outside the United States.

  “Just let me get a copy of the probate record for my file and we can leave,” Jo murmured just loud enough for Mathias to hear. “I’m starving.”

  After they left the center, she drove to the nearest fast food restaurant in an effort to save some time. They still had several more stops on their list of things to do. “Can I get you anything?” She asked the question without a trace of humor as she waited in line at the drive-through. No easy feat, that.

  He studied the menu for a minute and said, “Let’s see, you can make mine a double with cheese, some onion rings, and the strawberry shake looks pretty good too.”

  A smile finally appeared as she ordered her food, and then made her way to the park just across the street.

  “Let’s sit at that table over there, in the far corner,” she said, once they parked and exited the car.

  “I’m right behind you,” Mathias replied.

  While she ate her meal, Jo opened the package and perused the bundle of pictures. She placed the photos close to Mathias so he could see them too. As she picked up a napkin to wipe away the last of her hamburger, she stared down at the picture, now laying on top the pile. The sharp intake of breath that followed made her choke a bit on the last remnants of her sandwich. She coughed and sputtered before taking a long drink of her juice.

  Mathias leaned toward her. “Are you all right?”

  She could only nod and while trying to catch her breath, picked up the photo and turned it to face him.

  His face took on the same look of surprise hers must surely hold.

  “How is such a thing possible?” he asked as he studied the thing.

  “I don’t know. But it’s a great shot of you and Sam by the Liberty Bell. You guys look like those war re-enactors. Look, here is another one, and another.” The number of pictures that included her ghostly companions amazed her. They looked just as solid in the photos as they did when they projected themselves to her. She and Mathias looked at each other for a moment. “I wonder if it puzzl
ed Nan to see all of you touring the same historical places we visited and on the same days.”

  “Perhaps she would think it naught but coincidence,” Mathias replied. “Are any of us in any of the photos taken at home?”

  Jo gasped as she considered the consequences of that occurrence. “I don’t know, let me look.” She thumbed through the entire stack and placed the pictures in which Mathias and the boys appeared in a separate pile.

  “Nope, you’re not in any of them, thank goodness,” she said. She picked up the photos and began counting. “Now that I have them separated, we only have—let’s see—fifteen, sixteen, seventeen pictures total in which you boys appear. So, considering just how many photos Nan sent, that’s not that big of a percentage. Perhaps she won’t even notice. She focuses more on family faces, anyway—”

  ****

  Jo’s mind centered on the impossible pictures as they arrived at the museum holding the McGregor manuscript they hoped to read. Casting the photos aside for the moment, she sought out a curator among the crowd of visitors, opened her notebook, and showed him the title and number copied from their Web site.

  “I wonder if you could show me the location of this item you have listed in your inventory as, um, catalog number SPC5525108. I would really like to read it if I can, because it deals with an ancestor,” Jo said.

  “I’m sorry, madam,” the curator replied, raising his nose just a little higher than necessary. “That particular manuscript is part of our Special Collections department and we keep them locked away from the public. Only those who have the highest professional credentials are allowed to handle such items and even then, only rarely.”

  “Oh, really?” Jo put a hand to her hip as her temper flared. She didn’t much care for his attitude and she hated it when someone called her “madam.”

  “It’s all right, Jolena.” Mathias placed a hand at her waist and said, “We don’t want to antagonize the man because we need to stay here just a little while longer. So, just look around at all of the displays and enjoy them while we’re here. While you’re busy perusing them, I’ll help myself to the Special Collections section, since I’m quite certain I have the necessary credentials to handle such items. Don’t worry, I’ll be right back.”

  Jo took in a deep breath and smiled sweetly at the suddenly confused curator. “I understand, sir. In that case, I’ll just look around at your lovely displays then.” She turned away without waiting for a response while Mathias disappeared through one of the doors at the back. Seconds later, he reappeared and shrugged.

  “Bathroom—”

  Jo almost laughed aloud. She found another display to peruse as Mathias disappeared through the wall once more. In fact, she found several interesting displays to study while she patiently waited. She cast several furtive glances toward the wall, and worried over his lengthy absence. Suddenly, he stood next to her.

  “Follow me.” Mathias led her toward the back and around to the left side of the building. “I know it took a while, but I found the book, Jolena and we’re in luck. The journal did belong to my cousin. I don’t know if it contains anything we need or not, but I’m going to slide it through the bottom of the door and place it inside your notebook. You need to kneel down, put your notebook and bag on the floor just as close to the door as you can get them. Then I want you to look through the literature right there while I complete the maneuver,” he said pointing to the pamphlet display.

  As Mathias disappeared once more, Jo stooped down and inched her things toward the opening under the door. Seconds later, the curator made his way toward her. Her heart thumped wildly as he approached. But, he couldn’t possibly know what they—

  “Excuse me, madam—” He withdrew a large ring of keys from out of his pocket.

  Jo followed his gaze from the keys to her belongings on the floor. “Oh, of course. I’m so sorry.” She replaced the pamphlet she clutched in her hand, and all the while hoped Mathias had already placed the journal inside her notebook. If not, the snobbish curator might just catch sight of the thing sliding underneath the door all by itself. She then turned around and gathered her possessions as slowly as she dared. Once gathered, she stood up to allow him entrance.

  “All right.” Mathias gave her a wink as he walked through the wall just next to the door the curator entered. “We have everything we need. Let’s go home.”

  Just then, a yelp and a sudden commotion sounded from the other side of the wall. She could hear the tell-tale sounds of several heavy objects crashing to the floor and scattering in complete disorder across the tile. She shifted her gaze to Mathias.

  “Not to worry. Our benevolent curator has a little mess to clean up in there.” He gave her a wink and said, “I thought a little bit of hard work might lower his nose a notch or two and take away some of that arrogant sass he’s so fond of dishing out. So—let’s go home, shall we?”

  Chapter 15

  Laughter announced the return from their quest. Jo clutched the precious notebook to her chest as she and Mathias raced into the foyer. Then in a play of grand exaggeration, she locked the door, turned the deadbolt, whirled around, and gazed at each of the boys. They all stood looking at her as if she had quite lost her mind, which in turn, made her laugh even harder.

  “Shh.” She placed her finger to her lips. “We have absconded with stolen booty and it must remain secret.”

  “You found something?” asked Sam as he followed Jo and Mathias into the family room. The other boys trailed a step behind.

  “Indeed, we have, Sam,” Mathias replied. “We have in our possession Thomas McGregor’s personal journal. I’ve yet to convince Jolena, and believe me I’ve tried, that this manuscript rightly belongs to the McGregor family. Therefore, we have simply returned it to a rightful member of the family. Besides, I don’t think anyone really cares. They had the thing buried beneath layers of dust and junk. From all appearances, no one has looked at this book in decades and I don’t think it’s scheduled for display anytime soon.”

  Jo made her way to the sofa, dropped her bag beside it, and sat down. Once she found a comfortable position, she retrieved the journal from inside her notebook and placed it on her lap. She stared at the thing for several seconds in indecision.

  Finally, she shook her head slightly and tsked, “Carolyn would kill me if she could see me now, but the gloves are all upstairs and I just can’t wait.” She took a deep breath and opened the cover. All the while, she made sure the delicate pages made very little contact with her bare fingertips.

  “In case any of you wondered, it says here, a very lovely lady, by the name of Shirley Hendrickson donated the journal to a representative of the museum in the year 1909. She presented the book to a Mr. George Bond in Lancaster. And I can’t thank her enough for her generosity. Anyway, Thomas begins this journal from Scotland on March 17, 1773 and in this first entry, he records his thoughts about the trip. He says—

  “‘I very much enjoyed my visit with James and Anna Watt. As always, they remain gracious and hospitable hosts. James and I enjoyed our scholarly conversations and learned much from each other. But now, alas, it’s time to go home where such conversations are a rarity.’”

  Jo caught the tip of the next page with her fingernail and turned it over. “Who are James and Anna Watt?”

  “James Watt is the man who married my father’s cousin, Anna McGregor. My father corresponded with them a few times, as I remember. I believe they lived in Glasgow much of that time,” Mathias replied. “We considered it a grand event to get a letter from Scotland.”

  “I bet.” Jo used the tip of her fingernail to blaze a path down the page. “Let’s see, the next several entries are merely day to day observations of his voyage back to the States. They encountered a rough storm and he records the death of two passengers along the way. As time passed, conditions onboard the ship deteriorated. He says here, toward the end of the voyage, the captain gave them nothing but moldy bread and spoiled cheese to eat. Yuck.” She held her h
and to her mouth and shivered at the mere suggestion of eating such fare.

  “Not uncommon, really,” Alex said, “if the lack of wind hindered the journey.”

  She then turned several more pages in a search for something significant to their quest. “So far, most of the notations on these next pages detail family events. He records their baptisms, marriages, and the like. Thomas also records the sponsors and witnesses to each of those events.”

  “Keep searching,” Mathias said as he paced the floor with hands clasped behind his back. “We need to see if there is any mention of the war or any dealings with the patriots.”

  “I know and I’m looking,” she replied.

  “And don’t forget to look for the sale of his properties,” Sam added. “Or for that matter, anything that might indicate an addition to his wealth.”

  “We can already eliminate his property here in America as being the source,” Mathias said. “Jolena found the probate records dealing with his estate after his death and as we concluded, he died about the same time we did. The court documents also show his properties, both here and in Virginia, divided equally between his heirs.

  “However, we found no mention of his properties in Scotland in that record. So, that means either he already sold his property there, or the State of Pennsylvania had no jurisdiction over his assets outside of this country.”

  “Well then, how do we find out if Thomas sold any of his property in Scotland before his death?” asked Sam, directing the question to her.

  “I’m going to write a letter to the Scottish archives and ask a genealogist to search the land records during the years the war took place. Then we’ll just have to wait and see what they find.” She shrugged as she turned a page. “Other than that—”

  “I suppose that sounds reasonable enough,” Sam replied.

  Mathias halted his steps just in front of where she sat. “Anything else in that book?”

  “Be patient, I’m still looking. Oh—” She extended a hand toward him without taking her eyes off the page. “Thomas visited the British Isles again. This entry dated August twenty-third of 1775 mentions another trip to Scotland and a second visit with the Watts family. He writes, ‘I’m very impressed with James’s new shop in Glasgow. The improvement he made to the Newcomen mine pump is most brilliant, indeed.’ Whatever that means.”