everything else out of my head, and fix myattention on the sound of feet crunching forest floor. It seems weâve been marching since God created Adam.
I hear Major Meeker behind us. Heâs lingered near the back of the group all day. His loud wheezing seems to fall into rhythm with our footsteps. Heâs a big man and the heat and rapid pace must surely have affected him greatly. He urges the men: âCome on boys, weâll catch âem yet, put yer heart in it.â
I smile. I like the pompous major with his gigantic nostrils and his expensive hat.
âYes, boys, put your heart in it,â I say quietly as we march on into the night.
       CHAPTER SIXTEEN
     NOTHING
       FRIDAY, JULY 23, 1779
I hear something. A rustling? A movement? I cough ⦠causing white spots of pain to light up behind my closed eyes. My temples throb as my ears suck in every sound around me. But all I hear is my own raspy breath.
âItâs only a dream,â I mumble, licking at my dry lips. Where is the water?
But wait ⦠I hear it again â¦
The last leaf hangs low on the stalk. Is it ready?
âFather?â
I open my eyes.
âScar?â
He doesnât answer.
I turn my head toward him and end up with a bunch of his thick, black hair in my mouth.
Again I hear it. A whisper.
I breathe in ⦠and out ⦠in ⦠and out ⦠trying to quiet the thudding of my heart.
The sky is brightening. I can no longer see the stars.
Itâs nothing. I close my eyes.
But then my eyes fly open. I have not heard a sound, but deep inside, I feel it.
Heâs coming.
       CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
     A SHOT CRACKS THE SILENCE
       THURSDAY, JULY 22, 1779
We marched all day and long into the night, camping finally after the moon had a good view of us. The miles added up to more than twenty, and my good mood disappeared into the sticky July night. My body is a tangle of aches this morning as I hobble into a clearing.
More pine, more rocks, more laurel ⦠from the view around me, I could easily be within shouting distance of home. But the white faces of the tired men who file into the clearing after me transform it into an alien place. They sag against trees, collapse in patches of ferns, and drain their canteens, but no one makes a sound.
The day has dawned bright, not a cloud in the sky. But the heat hammers away at us, morning or night; there is no relief from it. My clothes itch and I would do just about anything to dive into the cool river right now. I wipe the sweat from my face with my sleeve. Weâre getting closer. There is no more laughter, no more claps on the back. Joseph Brant. His men. Theyâre not far from where weâre standing. Abram and Daniel, the two stolen boys, come into my mind. I attempt toimagine their feelings this morning but then stop. There is no sense to thoughts like this.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see the doctor and the colonel gather with Major Meeker and a Mr. Wisner, who is a Lieutenant Colonel. I make my way over to the doctorâs side, as I was given an order to stay close to him. The four men speak in low voices.
âDo we continue?â Dr. Tusten asks. He doesnât look at Colonel Hathorn, but squints out into the hemlock. Itâs as though heâs trying to hide his thoughts so they donât interfere with the colonelâs decision.
âOf course we do,â spits Major Meeker. The major has no trouble letting his wishes be known, and he elbows poor Lieutenant Colonel Wisner in the ribs to bring the fellow round. The lieutenant colonel rubs his ribs and agrees with the major.
Colonel Hathorn studies the ground at his feet.
Major Meeker begins to speak again, but the doctor puts a hand on his arm to stop him. âLet him think,â Dr. Tusten says.
I can see the major struggle to
I hear Major Meeker behind us. Heâs lingered near the back of the group all day. His loud wheezing seems to fall into rhythm with our footsteps. Heâs a big man and the heat and rapid pace must surely have affected him greatly. He urges the men: âCome on boys, weâll catch âem yet, put yer heart in it.â
I smile. I like the pompous major with his gigantic nostrils and his expensive hat.
âYes, boys, put your heart in it,â I say quietly as we march on into the night.
       CHAPTER SIXTEEN
     NOTHING
       FRIDAY, JULY 23, 1779
I hear something. A rustling? A movement? I cough ⦠causing white spots of pain to light up behind my closed eyes. My temples throb as my ears suck in every sound around me. But all I hear is my own raspy breath.
âItâs only a dream,â I mumble, licking at my dry lips. Where is the water?
But wait ⦠I hear it again â¦
The last leaf hangs low on the stalk. Is it ready?
âFather?â
I open my eyes.
âScar?â
He doesnât answer.
I turn my head toward him and end up with a bunch of his thick, black hair in my mouth.
Again I hear it. A whisper.
I breathe in ⦠and out ⦠in ⦠and out ⦠trying to quiet the thudding of my heart.
The sky is brightening. I can no longer see the stars.
Itâs nothing. I close my eyes.
But then my eyes fly open. I have not heard a sound, but deep inside, I feel it.
Heâs coming.
       CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
     A SHOT CRACKS THE SILENCE
       THURSDAY, JULY 22, 1779
We marched all day and long into the night, camping finally after the moon had a good view of us. The miles added up to more than twenty, and my good mood disappeared into the sticky July night. My body is a tangle of aches this morning as I hobble into a clearing.
More pine, more rocks, more laurel ⦠from the view around me, I could easily be within shouting distance of home. But the white faces of the tired men who file into the clearing after me transform it into an alien place. They sag against trees, collapse in patches of ferns, and drain their canteens, but no one makes a sound.
The day has dawned bright, not a cloud in the sky. But the heat hammers away at us, morning or night; there is no relief from it. My clothes itch and I would do just about anything to dive into the cool river right now. I wipe the sweat from my face with my sleeve. Weâre getting closer. There is no more laughter, no more claps on the back. Joseph Brant. His men. Theyâre not far from where weâre standing. Abram and Daniel, the two stolen boys, come into my mind. I attempt toimagine their feelings this morning but then stop. There is no sense to thoughts like this.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see the doctor and the colonel gather with Major Meeker and a Mr. Wisner, who is a Lieutenant Colonel. I make my way over to the doctorâs side, as I was given an order to stay close to him. The four men speak in low voices.
âDo we continue?â Dr. Tusten asks. He doesnât look at Colonel Hathorn, but squints out into the hemlock. Itâs as though heâs trying to hide his thoughts so they donât interfere with the colonelâs decision.
âOf course we do,â spits Major Meeker. The major has no trouble letting his wishes be known, and he elbows poor Lieutenant Colonel Wisner in the ribs to bring the fellow round. The lieutenant colonel rubs his ribs and agrees with the major.
Colonel Hathorn studies the ground at his feet.
Major Meeker begins to speak again, but the doctor puts a hand on his arm to stop him. âLet him think,â Dr. Tusten says.
I can see the major struggle to
Similar Books
