Spirit of the Revolution

by Debbie Peterson

  Mathias took a seat beside her. “Well, to give you a little history—early on, James studied to become an instrument maker and after a few setbacks, including the rejections from the Clockmakers Guild, he finally set up a shop at the University there in Glasgow. I believe that transpired with the help of some friends who believed in his talent. So, perhaps in this shop someone put him to work on some kind of mine pump. Of course, my cousin having a like mind would find all his inventions fascinating, I’m sure.”

  “I’ve no doubt about that,” she said, as she turned several more pages.

  “Here’s something a little different and it sounds promising given the date.” Jo pointed to the entry. “He wrote this July 1, 1777. He says, ‘Talked to Joshua Porter. There is progress and I’m much relieved.’ Progress on what? Do you think the entry might have anything to do with the cause of the patriots and our letter?”

  “Very possible. Joshua and all his kin supported the patriot cause with each breath they took,” Mathias said. “But I’ve no idea what Thomas’s dealings with the man would entail. I can’t think of anything they shared in common unless it had something to do with farming. But making a connection between progress and farming crops is something that totally escapes me right now. It isn’t as if anyone tried any new techniques in the planting or sowing of their produce.”

  “Still, I think I’ll write his name down on our list of possibilities. I don’t think it would hurt to do some research on the man and see what we come up with,” she said as she took a moment to jot his name in her notebook. She returned to the journal and turned the page. “Oh, here he is again. Only this time we have an additional name, this entry, dated March 7, 1778, says, ‘Met up with Porter and Brewster near to Valley Creek. I believe the selected location is an excellent choice for this undertaking. Will begin work immediately.’ Do you know someone named Brewster?”

  “Matthew Brewster is again, another staunch patriot, but I don’t know what they would have in common other than friendship.” Mathias glanced at each of the boys, awaiting their input.

  Samuel shook his head as he rested an elbow on the mantel and a cheek against his curled fingers. “Joshua owned land near to Valley Creek, so I wouldn’t think it out of the ordinary to meet in that location, but for what purpose I have no idea.”

  “You have to remember, Matthew was a blacksmith by trade,” Alexander said. “What would a farmer and a blacksmith together, have to do with your cousin?”

  “I don’t know.” Mathias paused. “Nevertheless, something progressed nicely, as stated in the first entry and then they discovered an excellent location, where they could undertake that something as so noted in the second entry. Gut feeling tells me those entries are somehow related to Jacob’s letter.”

  “I think you’re right about that,” Sam said.

  “Could Thomas have bought arms for the patriots and they simply needed a place to hide them, before dispersing them?” asked Jedediah. “That might identify the use of the word ‘contraption’ in Jacob’s letter.”

  William shook his head. “All things are possible, Jedediah, of course. But I don’t see the need for a blacksmith if such were the case, unless they needed his wagons to carry them.”

  “Still, that’s something to consider, William,” Mathias replied. “But if Thomas bought a significant amount of weapons, I think it would make more sense to get them out to the men immediately, if even just a few at a time. And if you recall, the date for the entry is March of 1778. That’s three months prior to my cousin’s execution. If the ‘something’ is referring to a cache of rifles, surely he would see to it they got into the hands of the patriots. Those men desperately needed them at the time. Therefore, I don’t think he would keep them locked up somewhere over a period of several months. That scenario doesn’t make any sense at all.”

  “Unless we’re talking cannon instead of muskets and if they suspected the British of spying on them,” Alexander added. “Perhaps they couldn’t find a favorable moment to relocate something of that size and weight.”

  “Well, if ‘progress’ is in reference to the acquisition of weapons, either cannon or rifles, couldn’t we locate a record somewhere for their purchase? Maybe we could even find a ship manifest which notes the arrival of the shipment to the United States and to whom the shipment belonged,” said Jo.

  “I think the chances of finding something along those lines are next to impossible.” Mathias shrugged. “The countries sympathetic to our cause and willing to sell armament to the patriots, such as Spain and France, took great care in ensuring England didn’t discover the act. For this reason, we bought most of our supplies with gold or silver from an undisclosed source and then smuggled them into this country via ships that sailed through Cuba and often times even Haiti before they finally made shore here. We used some pretty crafty gunrunners on many an occasion as well and of course, they never left any kind of trail for anyone to follow.”

  “Well, don’t forget, we might still be looking for the gold or silver, itself,” William said. “Perhaps the ‘progress’ referred to the accumulation of wealth they needed. And if they planned to purchase some kind of armaments, then the knowledge, by necessity, would only include those taking part in the mission.”

  Jo chewed on a fingernail as she looked down at her notebook. “I’m going to go ahead and add the name of Matthew Brewster to our notebook. I’ll see what the genealogical society can find out about either of these men and the part they played during the war. Maybe they can locate a record or two that’ll help us narrow down some of the possibilities. And tomorrow, I’ll get that letter off to Scotland. With any amount of luck, we’ll find out whether or not Thomas sold any of his property there,” she said.

  “Is there any further mention of either of the men?” asked Mathias, giving a nod toward the book.

  Jo read the last of the pages and then lifted her gaze to meet with his. “There is one entry written on May 21, 1778. He writes, ‘Almost finished. We are optimistic all will run smoothly and as expected.’ The passage sounds like it could easily connect with the other two, but—”

  “I’m sure it must,” Mathias said. “They all fit together. We just have to make sense of the pieces. Anything else?”

  “There are two more entries regarding family matters. The last one, written on May 31, 1778, notes his first grandson’s day of birth, and then there’s nothing more.” Jo closed the book, placed it on the coffee table, and sighed.

  Samuel snorted and waved a hand in disdain. “Well, we all know the reason for that, don’t we.”

  The boys discussed the notations of Thomas’s journal long into the night and at one point, Jo finally excused herself from their conversation. The events of the day tired her out and she needed some sleep before morning arrived. Once she entered her bedroom, she placed her bag and notebook down on the bedside table. The pictures Nan sent spilled out of the opening. She intended to show the boys the images when she got home, but in the excitement over the journal, she altogether forgot them.

  She gathered the photographs and sat down on the edge of her bed. Once again, she looked through them. She took time to study each one, and found them all remarkable. The boys looked just as normal and real as any other living person did.

  She isolated her favorite picture of Mathias and put it on top of the stack. He stood very close to her as they entered Fort Mifflin. As they gazed at each other, he gave her that charming grin that always set a swarm of butterflies soaring through her belly. She couldn’t have asked the camera to capture anything better.

  Nan took some great shots of the other boys as well. She noticed something then. Her boys only appeared in photos of historic significance to the Revolution. Could the emotion of such places produce the miracle she held in her hands?

  At that moment, an idea found its way into her mind. The perfect Christmas gift to give her boys sat right in front of her. Something so much better than surprising them with a personal Christmas Eve conce
rt that featured their favorite songs.

  At a gallery inside the mall, a rather well known artist possessed the ability to paint people as if they hailed from other eras and cultures. A good friend and colleague in the orchestra hired the artist to paint her husband as a seventeenth-century pirate. The painting turned out exceptionally well. Perhaps she could engage the artist to immortalize her boys on canvas, making them Revolutionary War soldiers, of course. She selected her favorite photos of each and then tucked them into her bag before getting ready for bed. Come the morning she could leave early for work and pay the man a visit. She could hardly wait to see the finished product.

  ****

  Downstairs in the family room, after the discussions finally ended, Sam approached Mathias.

  “I didn’t want to mention this until Jolena fell asleep. I could see no sense in worrying her over something so trivial,” Sam said. “We had an unexpected visitor while you attended your errand today.”

  Mathias narrowed his eyes. “Not Paul Sanders again.”

  “No.” Sam shook his head. “Not quite that bad. No, the Parker boy finally emerged from his hiding place in the bushes, crossed the road, and tried the front door.”

  “You don’t say.” Mathias gazed out the window that faced the street. “Took all of a week for him to gather enough courage huh?”

  “I don’t think the doodle has any courage,” Sam replied. “I think what he has is stupidity. William turned the stereo on, with the volume at full bore. The boy dashed off across the street like a deer with a bobcat on her tail.”

  “Well, if all he owns is stupidity, then he’ll surely return.”

  Chapter 16

  “You look pleased about something.” Mathias brushed a length of wind-blown hair away from her face as they stood by the side of her car.

  “Well—” Jolena shot him a wide-eyed glance and blushed. She looked down at her bag, clutched it a little tighter, and said, “I have the letter to the Scottish archives ready to mail and you know I’m still excited about finding the journal.”

  “I see. Do you think you’ll arrive home on time?” He caught sight of the Parker boy peering through the bushes. His eyes narrowed as he considered the possible reasons for his daily presence this past week. None of those reasons pleased him.

  “I should,” Jo replied. “If something happens to cause delay, I’ll call and let you know.”

  “All right, then I’ll see you later.” Mathias stood away from the open door to allow her entrance into the car. The boy hadn’t so much as twitched. “Drive carefully.”

  “I will.” She climbed into the car and started the engine. While she strapped into her seat belt, she said, “Have a good day. Because I plan to.”

  “Will do.” Jolena returned his wave as she drove off. Yet, he maintained his position while keeping his gaze fixed on Owen, who fixed his gaze on Jolena. Sam appeared at his side the moment her car disappeared from view.

  “What the devil do you think he’s up to?” he asked, as he too focused on the solitary figure, hunched beneath the foliage.

  “I think we’re about to find out.” Mathias nodded toward the bushes just as Owen separated, then inched his way through them.

  Owen shot a furtive glance in each direction before he made a dash straight for the house. He looked at the front door and then glanced over to the side of the property.

  “I believe the boy is weighing his options,” he said.

  “Yes, indeed. How far do you think we ought to let him get before we send him on home?” Sam asked as they charted the kid’s progress around to the back side of the property.

  “I think we’ll just go ahead and invite him in,” Mathias replied. “And see what it is he’s after. Meet me inside. I’m going to follow him around and let him in the back. Get the rest of the boys ready. We’ll want to make sure our guest is properly entertained before he leaves us.”

  Sam’s eyes lit up with anticipation. “Yes, good idea. I think it rude to do otherwise.”

  Mathias accompanied Owen as he climbed over the fence and made a beeline for the door. The boy peeked in each direction before he took some gloves out of his coat pocket. From all appearances, the dog concerned him a bit, but since Dakota barked furiously from the other side of the second fence, he threw caution to the wind and approached the house.

  Owen put his gloves on and just as he placed a hand on the knob, Mathias caused a gust of wind to blow it slightly ajar. The boy smiled a bit as he entered, seemingly pleased with the ease of his task. Once inside, he placed his hands on his hips and cast his gaze around the kitchen.

  Mathias slammed the door shut. Owen let out a short, almost inaudible scream. He jumped and while in midair turned toward the door and stared. The boy shook his head, took a few deep breaths, and then licked his dry lips before heading toward the hallway.

  Mathias met up with Sam near the family room. He raised an eyebrow in question. Mathias shrugged in return. They followed Owen into the room. The boy’s eyes lit up at the sight of Jolena’s stereo system.

  “Awesome,” he whispered. He ran his hand appreciatively along the sides and tsked. “I gotta have this.”

  “Looks like we have a thief, Mathias.” Sam sneered.

  “I would have to agree, except he has yet to put anything in his pockets,” Mathias replied. He stood back as Owen made his way to the small telephone table. Their uninvited guest opened the drawer, and then rifled through the contents. Yet, instead of leaving it a mess, he put everything away exactly as he found it. Owen dropped his head and sighed, then turned around. His gaze ambled over every nook and cranny inside the room.

  “What in the blazes is he looking for?” asked Jedediah the moment he and William popped into the room.

  “Something valuable, no doubt,” Sam replied.

  “Well, it seems he’s finished in here,” Mathias said. Owen exited the family room, and walked toward the parlor. They followed him past the archway. Alexander waited inside the room, with arms folded, guarding Jolena’s smaller antiques.

  As Owen cast his gaze around the room, Jedediah circled him, looking him over with contempt. The boy shivered, rubbed his arms, and then made his way to the small secretary. He opened each of the empty drawers in turn and peered inside. Next, Owen examined all of the cubbyholes. He searched the top of the mantel and then looked under her clock. Still, he had yet to take anything and Jolena had very valuable things inside this room.

  “Why would he look under the clock?” asked Sam. “Do you think he’s looking for something in particular?”

  “I don’t know.” Mathias took a step back and turned to the side, thus allowing the boy to walk past him.

  “He’s heading up the stairs,” William called out as Owen pivoted and made a sudden right-hand turn.

  Alex, along with Sam and William, simultaneously appeared at the top of the landing and awaited his ascent. Mathias followed close behind.

  Sam rolled his eyes, his patience spent. “Enough of this nonsense. Perhaps one of us just ought to come out ask him what he’s doing here,” he said.

  Alexander shrugged and turned to face his victim. “I’ll do it.” He approached Owen after he entered the first bedroom at the top of the stairs. As Owen stooped down to open dresser drawers, Alex put a hand on his shoulder, and leaned very close to his ear. “Why don’t you go ahead and tell us why you’re here. Perhaps an idea or two might surface that could aid your endeavor if you simply asked the question aloud,” he whispered.

  Owen sighed, shut the last of the dresser drawers, stood up, and took one final look around the room. “Where on earth would that woman stash a valuable letter?” he muttered, as he took a step backward and rubbed at his forehead. He glanced over at the clock on the bureau and then fixed his gaze on the window. “Sanders ain’t gonna be happy if I can’t find it.”

  “By all the saints—” Samuel gnashed his teeth and balled his fist. “Apparently that spineless coward is too terrified to come after the lett
er himself,” he spat. “And thus has found a kindred soul to fetch it for him.”

  “I think we’ve gathered sufficient information lads,” Mathias said. “So, I think it’s time to let him know he’s worn out his welcome.” The moment Owen cleared the bedroom and stood in the hallway, Mathias slammed the door. Then, each door in the upstairs portion of the house followed in succession. One door after the other, banged shut, then flung open, before they each slammed shut again.

  Startled by the frightening spectacle, Owen spun around in an obvious effort to beat a retreat down the stairs. Sam appeared in front of him, impeding his progress. The boy’s eyes grew ever wider as he looked the ghostly apparition up and down. Mathias chuckled over the hideous expression Sam concocted for Owen’s benefit.

  The terrified lad drew in a deep breath, threw back his head, and bellowed at the top of his lungs. He headed for the opposite end of the hallway then and dashed toward it as if the devil himself chased after him.

  Well, they weren’t quite the devil, but—

  William vacated his position to appear several feet in front of the boy. Owen skidded to a halt, raised both hands in front of his face, and whirled around. Once again, he made a mad dash for the landing. Mathias made the long hallway appear ever longer with each step he took. The boy’s chest heaved with his relentless effort to escape the house. Finally, he stopped dead in his tracks and whipped his head from side to side. His eyes settled on the short hallway leading off the center and to the library. A small moan escaped his lips. He turned toward the unexplored corridor.

  “Don’t allow him to get inside the library,” Mathias called out. “He doesn’t need to know it’s there.”