Son of the Revolution

Spring, 1781
Caleb clung to the limb of the oak, trembling as musket fire dug into its massive trunk. He curled into the smallest target possible and prayed the thick foliage would hide him from the uniformed soldiers.
The freezing rain soaked through his thin jacket. He shivered and thought of his mother’s cheerful kitchen with its roaring fire and the smell of freshly baked bread. He had never felt so cold and hungry in all his sixteen years.
“Ride on, men,” the officer below said. “Neither man nor beast can tolerate this infernal weather today. We’ll find the deserters soon enough.”
Caleb sighed in relief. Barely daring to breathe, he peeked through the branches and watched the soldiers ride away. He longed to shout after them, “I’m not one of your British runaways. I’m with the South Carolina Militia.”
The sound of hoof beats had faded into the distance before he felt safe enough to leave his perch in the sheltering tree. Unsure of his surroundings, he thought it best to stick close to the river’s edge hoping to find his regiment. Trudging along, he suddenly recalled his father’s words.
“You’re a good boy, son, but at times you let your mind wander and forget what you’re doing. Someday, it’s going to get you in trouble.” Pa had spoken the truth. I’m in just about as much trouble as a fellow could wish for. First, I lose my regiment, and now I’m hiding from the Red Coats.
Shaking with cold and fright, but determined to go on, he kept to the river’s path until once more the clouds grew heavy with rain. Squinting into the gathering gloom, he spotted a structure set back in a grove of trees. Suppose loyalists lived there? He hesitated, but hunger drove him toward the farmhouse. Even a loyalist might take pity and offer some food. Moments later, he stood before the entry. Lifting the heavy knocker, he let it fall against the wooden door. At length he heard the latch lift and a pair of blue eyes appeared through the narrow crack. Looking closer, he saw a girl near his own age.
“Who are you, and what do you want?” she whispered.
The boy stared at her until she made a move to close the door. He stammered out his name. “I’m Caleb Fields, ma’am, and I’m lost.”
“Come in, then.” The door swung wide. “But do so quietly, Master Fields. My mother lies ill.”
Caleb followed her into the cozy house and stood warming himself before the smoldering embers on the hearth. “Where’s your pa?” He thought it strange that her father let her answer the door in these uncertain times.
The girl hesitated. “My father has gone for provisions. The soldiers took almost everything we had.”
“Then it’s just you and your ma here?” Caleb asked, trying to make conversation.
Mistaking his meaning, the girl darted over to a chest, threw it open and pulled out a blunderbuss. “My father will return soon, but until then I can take care of my mother. If you have any thoughts of stealing from us, just you try!” Blue sparks shot from her eyes and she pointed the firearm at him. The gun never wavered.
Caleb stumbled back and raised his arms above his head. “Oh, I’m not here to steal, ma’am. I’m just tired and hungry, but I can see it’s best if I get on my way.” He didn’t doubt for a moment this feisty girl would pull the trigger if he made one false move.
To Caleb’s relief, she dropped the weapon to her side. “All right, sit down. We don’t have a lot but I can give you some soup, and I have a fresh loaf of bread. I made the soup for my mother, but she didn’t feel well enough to eat.”
Caleb breathed easier when the girl returned the gun to the chest. He drew a chair up to the table and sat down slowly. He didn’t want to get her riled up again.
The girl worked silently for a time, not turning her back. Then, she looked up and spoke. “I’m Abigail Clark, but I’m called Abby. I’ve lived here all my life. Where do you come from?”
“Northhampton County in North Carolina, but for some time my family has lived in the Barnwell District here in South Carolina. I guess I’m a long way from home.”
“Yes, most assuredly. I’ve studied my map book and know the area. How did you get so far from home?”
Caleb twisted uncomfortably, but decided he must tell this curious girl his whole story. “I’m happy to tell you, ma’am, but could I please have some of that soup first?”
Abby ladled out a generous serving into a crockery bowl and brought it, steaming, to the table. Caleb began to devour the first food he had tasted in two days. She then opened a cupboard and took out bread and some dried fruit. Setting them before the boy, she chose a chair across from him.
“I can’t even offer churned butter for your bread. The soldiers took the only cow we had left. I hope Pa can find some provisions. Tears welled in the blue eyes, but were quickly brushed away.
Caleb ate while the girl watched. The soup, thick and hot, took away the chill. After he demolished a second bowl, he leaned back and smiled at Abby. “Thank you, ma’am, I haven’t had soup that good since my ma died.” Caleb thought how different life had seemed just a short time ago.
Abby’s face softened. She washed the bowl and returned it to the cabinet. She put the lid on the soup pot and sat again. “Now, remember your promise? I’m ready to hear how you got yourself into this war.”
Caleb opened his mouth to begin his tale. Before he could speak, a heavy pounding startled the two young people. “Open up! It’s the king’s soldiers.”
Time stopped while the two stared at each other. Suddenly, galvanized into action, Abby grabbed Caleb’s arm and steered him toward a small room in which lay a thin, pale woman. Her dark hair flowed over the pillow.
“Mother, please wake up,” Abby whispered.
The woman’s eyes flew open. “What’s happened, Abby? Do I hear soldiers? Who is this young man?”
“Caleb Fields, Mother, and we have to protect him. I’m going to have him crawl under the bed, and then I’ll try to get rid of the soldiers. They must have left their horses down the road so we couldn’t hear them coming, but now we need your help.”
“Hide, boy, I won’t give you away,” the woman murmured.