to be prepared for
the possibility—the probability—that something soon will."
She closed her eyes and swallowed against the sudden thickness in
her throat. Her life had been so simple. There had been her music, and there
had been her family. She hadn't wanted anything else, hadn't needed anything
else. But, oh, how she needed that. She couldn't lose part of her family, had
never even seriously considered that she might. Her father, her brothers, even
her steel-under-softness mother, all had seemed indestructible. They'd always
been there, and always would. Even when she'd been a child, and her oldest
brother and, briefly, her father, had gone off to fight the French, she'd known
they'd come home safely. Of course they would. They were Joneses; they'd come
home without a scratch.
But this would be different. It was too big, it was too much.
It couldn't happen. She didn't want it to happen, wouldn't let it
happen, and so it wouldn't.
"Elizabeth?"
"Yes?" Bennie squared her shoulders and opened her eyes,
forcing the disturbing thoughts away. Today would be wonderful, her family was
safe, and everything would go on as always.
"Did I tell you're looking especially pretty this morn?"
She glanced down at her new dress; her mother had prevailed, after
all. Bennie liked the deep, forest green color; it reminded her of the few rare
pines hidden in Finnigan's Wood. The dress was more fitted than she was used
to, snug at the waist, close over her chest. It made her feel exposed, but she
couldn't very well not wear the thing after her mother had gone to the trouble
of making it.
"A stork in peacock feathers," she scoffed. "Why
don't you buy me something to eat before the mustering?"
"Can't." Brendan grinned. "I can't afford it."
Bennie frowned at him in mock severity. "I don't eat that
much."
"Uh-huh—compared to a horse, maybe. Or Adam. But compared to
the rest of the world—"
"Three sweet buns at most. I promise."
"I really can't, Elizabeth. It's almost time for the mustering."
She glanced out at the square; several dozen men were already
milling about in loose groups. "But it's scarcely noon. The mustering
never starts before two o'clock."
"It does this year." He grabbed the musket leaning
against the wall near the door.
"But why?" His grim look was all the answer she needed.
"Oh, in case the British decide to show up?"
"We'll be all done."
"Why didn't someone tell me?"
"We didn't tell anyone who didn't need to know." He
opened the door and motioned her through. "Let's go."
***
The Jones women stood together at the mustering. Bennie, Mary, and
the wives of the four married sons all watched with pride puffing up their
breasts and bringing broad smiles to their faces. There was no question that
the Jones men were the finest of the lot.
Cadwallader strode up and down the raggedy rows of soldiers, his
silver-gilt head high as he performed his last inspection as the elected
captain of the troops. After today, Adam would take over as leader. It was
time.
But that didn't mean Cad was any easier on the men on this
occasion. Though they were clothed in a wide-ranging conglomeration of tans,
rusty reds, browns, dark greens, and even an occasional purple, it didn't
matter. They might not be garbed like soldiers, but they had the equipment.
Each man was required to present his flintlock musket for
inspection. Cad made sure it was perfectly oiled and ready to fire; if not, he
made sure the man was out of the line until it was. Each man also had to
deliver two spare flints, a priming wire, and a brush. They knew Cad would
never let them get away without having all the proper tools, so they all did.
At the same time Cad was marching up and down the rows, the
selectmen were presenting the other officers with money for the military
banquet.
Banquet, hah, Bennie thought. It was simply an excuse to seriously
deplete the stores of the Dancing Eel.
Her father stopped dead between the rows, an oddly questioning
look on his
the possibility—the probability—that something soon will."
She closed her eyes and swallowed against the sudden thickness in
her throat. Her life had been so simple. There had been her music, and there
had been her family. She hadn't wanted anything else, hadn't needed anything
else. But, oh, how she needed that. She couldn't lose part of her family, had
never even seriously considered that she might. Her father, her brothers, even
her steel-under-softness mother, all had seemed indestructible. They'd always
been there, and always would. Even when she'd been a child, and her oldest
brother and, briefly, her father, had gone off to fight the French, she'd known
they'd come home safely. Of course they would. They were Joneses; they'd come
home without a scratch.
But this would be different. It was too big, it was too much.
It couldn't happen. She didn't want it to happen, wouldn't let it
happen, and so it wouldn't.
"Elizabeth?"
"Yes?" Bennie squared her shoulders and opened her eyes,
forcing the disturbing thoughts away. Today would be wonderful, her family was
safe, and everything would go on as always.
"Did I tell you're looking especially pretty this morn?"
She glanced down at her new dress; her mother had prevailed, after
all. Bennie liked the deep, forest green color; it reminded her of the few rare
pines hidden in Finnigan's Wood. The dress was more fitted than she was used
to, snug at the waist, close over her chest. It made her feel exposed, but she
couldn't very well not wear the thing after her mother had gone to the trouble
of making it.
"A stork in peacock feathers," she scoffed. "Why
don't you buy me something to eat before the mustering?"
"Can't." Brendan grinned. "I can't afford it."
Bennie frowned at him in mock severity. "I don't eat that
much."
"Uh-huh—compared to a horse, maybe. Or Adam. But compared to
the rest of the world—"
"Three sweet buns at most. I promise."
"I really can't, Elizabeth. It's almost time for the mustering."
She glanced out at the square; several dozen men were already
milling about in loose groups. "But it's scarcely noon. The mustering
never starts before two o'clock."
"It does this year." He grabbed the musket leaning
against the wall near the door.
"But why?" His grim look was all the answer she needed.
"Oh, in case the British decide to show up?"
"We'll be all done."
"Why didn't someone tell me?"
"We didn't tell anyone who didn't need to know." He
opened the door and motioned her through. "Let's go."
***
The Jones women stood together at the mustering. Bennie, Mary, and
the wives of the four married sons all watched with pride puffing up their
breasts and bringing broad smiles to their faces. There was no question that
the Jones men were the finest of the lot.
Cadwallader strode up and down the raggedy rows of soldiers, his
silver-gilt head high as he performed his last inspection as the elected
captain of the troops. After today, Adam would take over as leader. It was
time.
But that didn't mean Cad was any easier on the men on this
occasion. Though they were clothed in a wide-ranging conglomeration of tans,
rusty reds, browns, dark greens, and even an occasional purple, it didn't
matter. They might not be garbed like soldiers, but they had the equipment.
Each man was required to present his flintlock musket for
inspection. Cad made sure it was perfectly oiled and ready to fire; if not, he
made sure the man was out of the line until it was. Each man also had to
deliver two spare flints, a priming wire, and a brush. They knew Cad would
never let them get away without having all the proper tools, so they all did.
At the same time Cad was marching up and down the rows, the
selectmen were presenting the other officers with money for the military
banquet.
Banquet, hah, Bennie thought. It was simply an excuse to seriously
deplete the stores of the Dancing Eel.
Her father stopped dead between the rows, an oddly questioning
look on his
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