April Morning by Howard Fast

crazy kids spend all your time playing war. Bang, bang! There goes another redcoat. You have red on your mind even when you’re asleep. That’s why you dreamed that the sky is red.” I got out of bed and pulled him over to the window. “Now look for yourself. Is the sky red or isn’t it?”
    Levi pressed close to me at the open window. We became silent as we stared out into the night. A few shreds of cloud lay across the moon, but plainly enough we could see the treetops, the common, Cousin Simmons’ house, the Peabody house, and Buckman’s Tavern, where the road to Menotomy bent around the common. It must have been about an hour past midnight then, perhaps a little earlier, but already the time of the night when silence settles like a heavy blanket, and a voice above a whisper is cursed and interdicted. I took comfort in the fact that Levi and I were sheltered by a strong house, with our mother and father nearby and with so many friends and neighbors within call. I have heard our relatives from Boston talk with some disdain about the few cultural offerings of a little town like ours, and about the bigotry and narrow-mindedness that is inevitable in a village, but at this moment I wouldn’t have changed the security of my bedroom for all the wonders of the world. I can assure you that if you are thinking about going adventuring, or the sea and the wonders of far Cathay and the Indies, the middle of the night is no time for it.
    Levi’s skinny body was pressed up against mine, and I could feel him shivering under his nightshirt. I forced myself to be gruff and assured as I said to him, “There. Are you satisfied?”
    â€œAdam—listen,” he whispered.
    He has ears like a bat. I listened, but I couldn’t hear anything but the soft, sighing night noises.
    â€œAdam, I hear hoofbeats.”
    â€œWell, suppose you do, Levi. There are travelers by night.”
    â€œTravelers don’t race their horses in the darkness.”
    I heard it now, and Levi was right. The sound was of a horse being raced through the night, and clearer and clearer came the drumbeat of its hoofs. I strained my eyes toward the Menotomy Road, but it was too dark and there were too many trees obstructing my vision for me to make out a rider. But the rider was nearer now, and the hoofbeats echoed through the whole village; and then he pulled up in front of Buckman’s, and I heard him shouting at the top of his lungs, although I couldn’t make out his words. Being that Buckman’s is a way station, they always keep night lights burning, and now lights began to flicker in the windows of the tavern. I heard the rider shouting again.
    Father came into the room, pulling on his trousers over his nightshirt. “What are you boys doing at the window?” he asked.
    Levi told him breathlessly.
    â€œYou’re sure the rider was racing?”
    We heard him shouting again. Mother came in, carrying a candle. Lights were beginning to flicker in some of the houses. “I don’t see why,” Mother said, “a rider by night must take us all out of our beds. You get under the covers this instant, Levi, or you’ll take a death of cold from this night air.” Granny then appeared behind her, demanding to know why everyone was up and about in the middle of the night.
    â€œIs someone sick, Moses?”
    â€œNo one is sick,” Father replied. “Why don’t you all go back to bed?”
    â€œWhy don’t you?” Mother countered.
    â€œNow look, Sarah. That was an express from Cambridge. He came up the Menotomy Road, didn’t he?”—turning to me.
    â€œThat’s right.”
    â€œWell, if it’s an express, it’s Committee business. A man doesn’t take a chance on breaking his neck on a dark, rutted road without it being a matter of some importance. And if it’s Committee business, I have to be there.”
    Mother shook her head