Love's Pursuit by Siri Mitchell Page A

town’s! Blacksmith?”
    Thomas stepped forward. “Aye.”
    “Could you not see to some small repairs of the muskets should they be needed?”
    “Aye.”
    “Then get to it, men! Two lines forming just here!”
    The captain had them smashing hay stacks and lunging at the grasses for an hour. The effort required of the men began to show itself in the dampened shirts that clung to their chests. John’s the same as everyone’s. And soon, I was loathe to look at him.
    The captain raised an arm for silence. He was given it, the men no longer fit for anything but gasping for air.
    “The changing of the watch is heretofore to proceed at the normal times, but the posts are to be at the wood by the river, the ridge near the hay meadows, the minister’s on the south road and at Wright’s hill. Double guards will be posted. The one to walk in one direction and the other to proceed in the contrary. There will be no matches lit for the muskets.”
    “What—!”
    “How can we be expected to fire them if—”
    The captain raised a finger. “If you can see the glow of the match, then so can the savages. Much better to use the rifle as a club, up close, and raise your voice in warning, than to be killed from afar and then overrun.”
    “But—”
    “Thank you for your time. Training day is to proceed from now as is customary. I will greet the first watch of the night at the meetinghouse.”
    That night supper was a dreary affair. The captain was standing watch, waiting for nightfall to change out the guard at the meetinghouse. Father was still flush from the sun and Nathaniel nearly fell asleep in his gruel. The babe had slept for most of the forenoon and now it fussed, demanding Mother’s attentions. It was only in the clearing away of supper that the consequence of the captain’s absence registered in my thoughts.
    He had naught to eat. And none to bring him anything.
    A glance out the door told me that night was almost come. I took several thick biscuits that had been put aside for the morrow and set upon each a nice portion of cheese. Wrapping them in a napkin, I slipped the bundle beneath my apron and moved to step out the door.
    “Where do you go?” Mary’s voice was accusing, as if I were leaving my responsibilities for pleasures.
    I inclined my head toward the privy. “If I do not get there soon, then you will know.” It was not a lie. Least not a real one. I would visit the privy that night. Eventually.
    Her shadow waved me away.
    I moved in haste. It was not unseemly what I was doing. Not exactly. But I would not wish to explain it to any passing by. They might think something . . . different. They might not understand.
    I gained my destination in time to see the group of men part, a pair in each direction. It appeared to me that the captain and John Prescotte started off together. I stood, hidden in the darkening shadow of the building, and reconsidered.
    For certain John Prescotte would not understand my actions. But how could a man be expected to keep watch for a night with nothing in his stomach to sustain him? John’s own mother would never let him stand watch without first feeding him like a prized pig.
    I trailed them, perhaps too closely for my own good, unwilling to leave myself a lone target for any savage. John broke away first, disappearing into the wood.
    The captain kept on, walking some distance until he too hid himself between the trees. And I was not quick enough to track him.
    I stepped from meadow into forest. Stood for a moment, listening, hoping to be given some clue to the captain’s position. There was no sound save for crickets and the low hooting of an owl. A dainty shivering of leaves as a breeze passed somewhere above my head.
    “Captain Holcombe?”
    The darkness around me went silent.

9
    “OVER HERE.”
    What sweet relief to hear his words! I turned in the direction of his voice and began to walk. Soon I perceived him in the gloom. But then I blinked and realized I had offered