this ain’t no ghost.” A short, stout man had come, elbowing people aside, pushing his way to the front of the crowd. He shook Anne’s arm roughly.
Anne stopped crying. In the sudden silence a child’s voice sang out, “That ain’t no ghost, that ain’t no ghost, that’s my brother.” A small girl detached herself from a red-haired woman standing just behind Rachael Robinson andthrew herself at Jem. He scooped her up into his arms and he grinned at the red-haired woman. “I brung you some more company, Ma.” He looked around at all the people. “Though I don’t guess you was lookin’ for it. She come from over the mountains, she says. Her name’s Phoebe Olcott.”
“She’s dead! She’s a ghost!” Anne’s voice started to rise again.
“No, I am not,” Phoebe said at the same moment that Aunt Rachael said, “That will do, daughter. You can see quite plainly that Phoebe is no ghost.” She drew Phoebe into her arms and held her close. “Thanks be. Thanks be to Providence for your safe return to us. Later, when we have had supper, we will talk. Now, child, come with me. Come, Anne.”
Phoebe turned to obey. The shock of seeing Anne and Aunt Rachael here was, if possible, greater than the shock she had had that morning when she’d found she could not give Gideon’s message to the General at Fort Ticonderoga. Her mind was spinning. What had happened? How had they come here, almost to the shore of Lake Champlain? Why? Even in the gloom she could see how worn her aunt looked and that her usually fastidious appearance was marred by a soiled gown. But she seemed so much the same kind, quiet, capable person she had always been that Phoebe felt comforted.
“No.” Anne stepped in front of her mother. She would not look at Phoebe. Her voice shook. “I wish she were dead. She should be dead. It’s her fault we’re all out here in the wilderness with no place to go. It’s her fault Gideon died. She’s a traitor — didn’t her father fight for the rebels in Boston? Didn’t she run away right after Gideon was killed? What is she doing out in the woods alone? Alone! Phoebe Olcott is too scared of everything that moves to come out in the wilds alone. I don’t believe she’s alone. There’s someone else, others like her, waiting to murder all of us. She’s a traitor like her father! Make her tell!”
For a moment the silence was so intense that the sharp howl of a wolf in the near distance was like an echo of Anne’s last words. It was too dark now to see faces clearly, but, by what light there was, Phoebe could see the people, shuffling, moving. She could feel them coming slowly towards her. She could hear their low muttering. “No,” she cried, “it isn’t true. Aunt Rachael, I am not! Jem?”
He backed away from her. “You sure musta been laughin’ at me talkin’ about the things you rebels done to us,” he said bitterly. The angry whispering from the crowd was louder. A man stepped forward, a stick in his hand. Phoebe felt as though her heart would stop beating. She grew icy cold.
“No!” She swallowed hard. “Anne? AuntRachael?” She stopped, her mouth too dry to form words.
Rachael came swiftly to her side and put her arm around her. She turned and faced the crowd. “We are all in this same sorry state,” she said. “It is no time to be turning on our own. Don’t we all know how that feels? Phoebe is no traitor. I know she is not.” She looked around at the other people, her arm tightened protectively around Phoebe’s shoulders. “Come, we must get you something to eat and a place to sleep. No one will hurt you.”
“Mother!”
“Anne, we will have no more of your hysteria tonight.”
Anne said no more, but the look she gave Phoebe made Phoebe slip closer to her aunt, and all night that look would give her nightmares. She let herself be led through the hostile crowd to the fire beside which Jed, Noah, and their father were all sound asleep. Still shaken, she was
Anne stopped crying. In the sudden silence a child’s voice sang out, “That ain’t no ghost, that ain’t no ghost, that’s my brother.” A small girl detached herself from a red-haired woman standing just behind Rachael Robinson andthrew herself at Jem. He scooped her up into his arms and he grinned at the red-haired woman. “I brung you some more company, Ma.” He looked around at all the people. “Though I don’t guess you was lookin’ for it. She come from over the mountains, she says. Her name’s Phoebe Olcott.”
“She’s dead! She’s a ghost!” Anne’s voice started to rise again.
“No, I am not,” Phoebe said at the same moment that Aunt Rachael said, “That will do, daughter. You can see quite plainly that Phoebe is no ghost.” She drew Phoebe into her arms and held her close. “Thanks be. Thanks be to Providence for your safe return to us. Later, when we have had supper, we will talk. Now, child, come with me. Come, Anne.”
Phoebe turned to obey. The shock of seeing Anne and Aunt Rachael here was, if possible, greater than the shock she had had that morning when she’d found she could not give Gideon’s message to the General at Fort Ticonderoga. Her mind was spinning. What had happened? How had they come here, almost to the shore of Lake Champlain? Why? Even in the gloom she could see how worn her aunt looked and that her usually fastidious appearance was marred by a soiled gown. But she seemed so much the same kind, quiet, capable person she had always been that Phoebe felt comforted.
“No.” Anne stepped in front of her mother. She would not look at Phoebe. Her voice shook. “I wish she were dead. She should be dead. It’s her fault we’re all out here in the wilderness with no place to go. It’s her fault Gideon died. She’s a traitor — didn’t her father fight for the rebels in Boston? Didn’t she run away right after Gideon was killed? What is she doing out in the woods alone? Alone! Phoebe Olcott is too scared of everything that moves to come out in the wilds alone. I don’t believe she’s alone. There’s someone else, others like her, waiting to murder all of us. She’s a traitor like her father! Make her tell!”
For a moment the silence was so intense that the sharp howl of a wolf in the near distance was like an echo of Anne’s last words. It was too dark now to see faces clearly, but, by what light there was, Phoebe could see the people, shuffling, moving. She could feel them coming slowly towards her. She could hear their low muttering. “No,” she cried, “it isn’t true. Aunt Rachael, I am not! Jem?”
He backed away from her. “You sure musta been laughin’ at me talkin’ about the things you rebels done to us,” he said bitterly. The angry whispering from the crowd was louder. A man stepped forward, a stick in his hand. Phoebe felt as though her heart would stop beating. She grew icy cold.
“No!” She swallowed hard. “Anne? AuntRachael?” She stopped, her mouth too dry to form words.
Rachael came swiftly to her side and put her arm around her. She turned and faced the crowd. “We are all in this same sorry state,” she said. “It is no time to be turning on our own. Don’t we all know how that feels? Phoebe is no traitor. I know she is not.” She looked around at the other people, her arm tightened protectively around Phoebe’s shoulders. “Come, we must get you something to eat and a place to sleep. No one will hurt you.”
“Mother!”
“Anne, we will have no more of your hysteria tonight.”
Anne said no more, but the look she gave Phoebe made Phoebe slip closer to her aunt, and all night that look would give her nightmares. She let herself be led through the hostile crowd to the fire beside which Jed, Noah, and their father were all sound asleep. Still shaken, she was
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