Lizzie put a hand on the mare’s neck, both to steady herself and to give herself something familiar to concentrate on.
Joshua kept his eyes on Lizzie. “I realize he is having a difficult time. But we all are.”
“Don’t be silly, Joshua. You must weigh twenty pounds more than he does. Mama makes sure that you eat properly, even in hard times.”
“Suppose he were one of the soldiers living in Uncle Blake and Aunt Charlotte’s house?” Joshua argued. “Suppose he were one of the ones taking food away from Isaac and Christopher?”
“But he’s not!” Lizzie retorted. “And he’s hungry and cold just like any human being would be. Look at him, Joshua! Look at him!”
She punched his shoulder until he gave in and turned around. The soldier, not believing that Lizzie would return to help him, was leaning up against the side of the building. In his dejection, all he could do was trace shapes in the dirt with his ragged boots.
“We have to help him, Joshua.”
“You’re helping the enemy, Lizzie.”
“He’s not the enemy, Joshua. He’s just one soldier. That could be you in a couple of years.”
Joshua was silent and swallowed hard. “I don’t know, Lizzie, I don’t know.”
“Why is it so hard for you to see he needs help? He needs us now just as much as that day in Uncle Philip’s clinic.” “This is not the same thing.”
“Yes, it is. You’re always preaching about doing what is fair. Something that is truly fair is fair to everyone, not just to people you agree with. It’s not fair that you should have enough to eat, and he does not.”
Joshua did not answer.
“If I want to help him, you can’t stop me,” Lizzie insisted.
“Well, if it isn’t Joshua and Lizzie Murray.”
A gruff voice from behind surprised them both. Lizzie wheeled around to face Daniel Taylor. Behind him were three of his gang, casually thumping sticks against the palms of their hands.
“I saw you talking to that soldier, Lizzie.” Lizzie tossed her hair back proudly. “So what if I did? It’s not any of your business.”
“I’ll make it my business if I see you talking to him again.” “Don’t threaten my sister,” Joshua growled.
Daniel turned haughtily to Joshua. “Don’t tell me you’re turning into a lobsterback, Joshua. I would have thought better of you than that.”
Joshua put up his fists. “You mind your own business, Daniel Taylor.”
The boys behind Daniel stood poised with their sticks in the air.
Lizzie lurched between Daniel and Joshua and grabbed Joshua’s wrists. “What are you doing, Joshua? Fighting won’t solve anything.”
Daniel laughed. “Ha! Now I know why you say that to me all the time, Joshua. You’re taking orders from your little sister.”
“I’m not taking orders from anyone!”
“Just don’t talk to that soldier again,” Daniel said, staring at Lizzie. She stared back at him, her chin in the air and her stomach churning violently.
When Daniel moved on down the street, Lizzie searched for the soldier. He was gone.
CHAPTER 13
Night of Terror
Crash! Lizzie ran to the front window. Joshua was close behind. “What was it?” she asked as they leaned against the glass and peered into the street.
“I can’t see anything from in here,” moaned Joshua. “If Mama and Papa would just let me go out for a few minutes, I could find out what is going on.”
Their father spoke behind them. He made no move to get any closer to the window. “Joshua, we discussed this already, and you agreed to stay in.”
“But, Papa, I just want to find out what is happening. Aren’t you curious?”
Papa shook his head. “This is November 1. The Stamp Act took effect today. We all knew what would happen when this day came.”
“You are going to have to report on this in the paper tomorrow. I could write a story for you.”
“I have other sources. I see no need to put my son at risk.”
Constance Murray came down the stairs. She had been upstairs for more than an hour with Emmett, Olivia, Isaac, and Christopher, trying to settle them down and coax them to sleep.
“I think they’ve settled at last,” she said.
“I don’t see how they can sleep with all this noise,” Lizzie remarked. There was far too much activity in the street to be able to relax and sleep. She knew she would not sleep a moment all night.
“They are exhausted,” her mother said. “I made sure that they played very hard today. I knew the night would be like this.” Mama ran her fingers through Lizzie’s red curls. “You should try to get some rest, too.”
Lizzie shook her head vigorously. “No, I’m sure I couldn’t sleep.”
“Are you going to stay up all night, Papa?” Joshua asked.
Papa nodded somberly. “A rock thrown off course might break a window. A stray spark would do far more damage.”
“I’m a member of the Sons of Liberty now, Papa. I should be with them on a night like this.”
“For what purpose?” Papa raised his voice slightly, startling Lizzie. “You are one person, Joshua. You cannot stop the rampage, especially when your fellow Sons of Liberty are very likely at the center of it. Most likely, Sam Adams and his gang have spent the evening in their favorite tavern. Now they are so full of ale they have lost their common sense.”
“Papa!” Joshua protested. “You can’t possibly know that for sure.”
“You and I both know that it has happened before. People have gotten hurt because of a gang’s drunken street brawl.”
“That is not Sam’s purpose.”
“No, but it has happened. I have no doubt that the taverns of Boston have seen a lot of business tonight.”
“It’s a protest, Papa, against an unfair law,” Joshua insisted.
“It’s madness, Joshua, plain and simple. The king is across the ocean, no doubt enjoying a fine breakfast right now. These riots mean nothing to him.”
“Oh Papa!”
“Joshua,” Papa warned. “I don’t want to hear another word about it. You are forbidden to go out tonight.”
Joshua flung himself into a chair to sulk. Papa picked up an iron poke and stirred the fire. The flames danced and cast an orange glow on the room. Mama stood behind Papa and rubbed his shoulders.
“Mama!” came a cry from upstairs.
Mama sighed. “That’s Olivia. I guess she’s still awake after all.”
“I’ll go,” Lizzie said and turned to the stairs. She welcomed a reason to escape the tension in the front room. The disagreements between her father and her brother were almost as difficult to listen to as the ruckus outside.
Upstairs, she crept into the room she shared with Olivia. “I’m here, Olivia,” she said softly.
“I can’t sleep,” the little girl said as she rubbed her eyes with her fists.
Lizzie sat on the bed next to her sister. “I know. But you must try. I’ll stay with you until you fall asleep.”
Olivia pulled the bedding up under her chin and rolled toward the wall. Our mother is right, Lizzie thought. Olivia is exhausted.
Gently, she rubbed her little sister’s back to soothe her.
The street noise was muffled on the second floor of the house. Lizzie could still sense that the neighborhood was active, but she could not make out the sounds. Nevertheless, she could not relax. Without a fire and her parents in the room with her, she felt even more on edge. She was isolated, alone. Even as she tried to bring comfort to Olivia, her own fear grew.
In the dim moonlight that filtered through the window, Lizzie studied Olivia’s face. In her sleep, Olivia looked far less overwhelming than she was when awake. She was a boisterous child, always seeking adventure. She could hardly sit still for more than three minutes at a time. In many ways, Olivia was like Joshua. They were natural leaders, not afraid to say what they thought. People enjoyed being around them and paid a
ttention to what they did.
If Olivia were older, she would probably have the same fire for the colonists’ cause that Joshua had. Lizzie was glad Olivia was too young to get involved in the controversy between England and the colonies. Lizzie sincerely hoped that by the time Olivia was Joshua’s age, the debate would be long over. Surely in ten years, life in Boston would once again be comfortable and peaceful.
At last Olivia’s breathing was even and deep. Lizzie crept from the room and down the stairs. Joshua had scooted his chair closer to the window, and her parents had sat down together. No one was speaking.
Even though Joshua was grouchy and complained about having to stay in, Lizzie was glad their parents had forbidden him to go out. Joshua thought he was grown-up enough to make his own decisions, but Lizzie was glad to have someone looking out for him. At least she would not have to spend the night worrying about his safety.
Lizzie returned to her post beside Joshua at the window. Outside, a steady stream of people rushed through the streets, some with torches. Are the torches to give light or to set fire to something? Lizzie shuddered at the thought of more fires erupting in Boston.
Papa was right: This was more than a crowd protesting an unfair law. It was a mob determined to find revenge. People were running in every direction. Men swung their guns around in the air. Boys not much older than Joshua were out there, standing below the windows of Loyalists, shouting names and throwing rocks. The Stamp Act Congress had brought hope for a few weeks—hope that the law would be short-lived once King George received the protest of the colonies. But her father was right. They all had known that Boston would explode in fury on the day that the law took effect. Now they watched out the window to learn how vicious the fury was.
“Lizzie, come sit with us,” her mother invited. “You’ve been feeling poorly. I don’t want you to catch a chill standing by the window.”
“Joshua can watch out the window for all of us,” her father said.
Joshua raised his eyes to give his parents a dejected glance. “Come, Lizzie.” Mama raised one arm to welcome her daughter.
Lizzie snuggled in next to her mother. She shivered despite the roaring fire.
“You’re safe here, Lizzie,” her mother said in low, soothing tones.
As Lizzie leaned her head against her mother’s shoulder, she felt the welcome weight of a quilt spread over her. The fire was the only light in the room. It snapped and crackled, mesmerizing Lizzie. Despite her earlier protests, Lizzie gave way to her exhaustion and slept.
The pounding on the door woke her up.
She threw off the quilt and sprang to her feet. “What is it?” she cried. How long have I been asleep? Why am I in the front room and not in my bed? The disorientation cleared, and she remembered the events of the evening. Blinking her eyes, she saw that it was still dark outside the window.
Mama pulled Lizzie back as Joshua and Papa went to the door. The pounding came again.
“Who is there?” Papa demanded. With one hand, he double-checked the bolt on the door.
“We need to see Joshua!” came the gruff reply.
“I demand that you tell me who you are,” Papa insisted.
“Just open the door!”
“That’s Daniel Taylor!” Lizzie exclaimed.
Papa looked at Joshua, who nodded. “She’s right. I’m sure that’s his voice.” He looked out the window, then said, “There are seven or eight boys out there. They look mad.”
“I know he used to be a friend of yours,” Papa said to Joshua. “Have you had anything to do with him recently?”
“No, Papa! I have seen him in the streets, but he is not one of my friends any longer.”
Papa turned back to the door. “What business do you have here?” he shouted through the bolted door.
“My business is with Joshua—and Lizzie.”
“Me?” Lizzie cried. “I have nothing to do with Daniel Taylor.” Her mind flashed back to the scene in the street, when Daniel had thwarted her determination to help a hungry soldier.
A spray of rocks pelted the front door. Lizzie clutched her mother’s arm.
“Please leave!” Papa shouted.
“No rocks!” Daniel screamed at his companions. He turned back to the door. “I promise you no harm will come to you, Mr. Murray. I simply want to speak with Joshua and Lizzie.”
Father glared at Joshua. “What have you been up to, Joshua? Why does Daniel Taylor want to speak to you? And have you gotten Lizzie involved in your inflammatory behavior?”
“Papa, no!” Joshua said adamantly. “Daniel and his gang are on their own. I promise you I have had no dealings with them.”
“Then why does he want to see you so badly?”
“I don’t know. Truly, I don’t know.”
Papa turned back to the door. “Send your companions away, Daniel. You may speak to Joshua alone.”
Lizzie held her breath. Her father was not about to unbolt the door and give entrance to a gang, but would he allow Daniel to come in?
Grunts and scuffles followed.
Joshua watched at the window and reported, “They’re going. They’ve backed up into the street. Everybody but Daniel.”
“Does he have a weapon?” Papa asked.
Joshua shook his head. “Not that I can see. He carries only a torch … and some sort of bundle.”
“My friends have gone, Mr. Murray,” Daniel shouted, “but if you do not open the door, I will call them back and we will break it down!”
“He means what he says, Papa,” Joshua said. Papa pointed at a spot on the floor about ten feet from the door. “Stand there, Joshua. This hooligan will not enter our home. He may speak to you from the doorway.”
Then Papa wedged one foot against the door, unbolted it, and opened it about twelve inches. “You may speak.”
Lizzie could see Daniel’s face, darkened with the grime of the night’s riot.
“I have something you may be interested in,” Daniel said. His nostrils flared as he sneered at Joshua and threw his bundle into the house.
It landed at Joshua’s feet and fell open. “A redcoat’s jacket?” Joshua asked.
Lizzie gasped. She could think of only one reason why Daniel Taylor would bring them a soldier’s uniform. She broke from her mother and scrambled to get the jacket.
Daniel laughed outside the door. “I thought you would be interested in that!”
Ignoring him, Lizzie held the jacket up for inspection. On one shoulder were the crude stitches she was looking for. She knew who the jacket belonged to.
“Where did you get this?” she demanded. “Where do you think?” Daniel answered. “I took it off the back of your friend.”
“What is he talking about?” Mama demanded. “What have you to do with a British soldier?”
Lizzie barely glanced at her mother. She had no time to explain now.
“Why did you take his jacket?” Lizzie hissed at Daniel. She clutched the dirty jacket to her chest and determined to hold back the tears.
“He won’t be needing it anymore.” Daniel roared with laughter again.
At that moment, Lizzie loathed Daniel Taylor. She swallowed the lump in her throat, but she could not stop the tears any longer. “You killed him, didn’t you?”
Daniel shrugged. “No, I didn’t kill him. I just found him that way. So you see? All your tender care was for nothing. You should have let him bleed to death six months ago.”
“That’s enough!” Papa said, and he shoved the door closed and bolted it.
They could hear the whole gang laughing as Daniel rejoined them in the street.
Lizzie fell to her knees and sobbed.
CHAPTER 14
The Accident
Christmas came that year just as it did every year. The riot that had broken out when the stamp tax took effect had subsided into a series of minor skirmishes. Sam Adams rallied the young men of Boston even more vigorously. Some people flatly refused to buy the little blue stamps for their l
egal documents. This made doing business very difficult.
Finally, in late December, Boston settled down to a peaceful observance of the Christmas holiday.
Lizzie set the table meticulously, as she did every year. Once again, Uncle Philip, Aunt Johanna, and Charity would share Christmas dinner with the Murrays, along with Uncle Blake and Aunt Charlotte and their two boys. But this year, even having the family together added to the tension.
Uncle Blake had become quite outspoken about his Patriot leanings. If Uncle Blake was doing something dangerous—well, Lizzie did not want to know about it. Many of the Patriots in Boston were disobeying British laws, especially if the law was about money. Joshua considered such defiance to be a patriotic act. He was still sure Uncle Blake was avoiding tax fees.
Uncle Philip was equally emphatic about his tendency to agree with the Loyalists. He still thought of himself as British, unlike Joshua, who considered himself an “American.” Although Uncle Philip had never been to England and probably never would travel there, he trusted England to govern the colonies in a fair way. He argued that the colonies would not have developed as rapidly as they had without the aid of England. It was only right that the colonies should help the mother country when she needed them.
Lizzie’s parents tried to continue their neutral stance, but they received constant pressure from both sides. And of course, Joshua’s agitation grew every day. Lizzie’s heart was heavy when it ought to have been full of joy.
She set the last goblet in its place.
“A beautiful table once again,” Aunt Johanna said.
Lizzie smiled as earnestly as she could. “Thank you.”
“You do such a lovely job. It’s always wonderful to see these beautiful dishes.”
“Especially when it’s hard to have a real Christmas dinner right now,” Lizzie said.
Aunt Johanna’s smile faded. “Yes, it’s difficult. The food will be simple this year, with no delicacies. But we are all together and all safe. That is what is most important.”
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