The Prize Page 4

  Caleb exclaimed, “Why, these are excellent tidings indeed! Perhaps we shall hold Montreal even before the militia enlistments expire.”

  “You may count on that, young Caleb.” MacGregor looked the boy over appraisingly. “I know you miss your Pap, son, but at this rate, the war will be over before you know it, and we can all go back to our farms and families. Why, I wonder if the King won’t see that we mean business and offer terms once he learns of our success in Canada?”

  “What I have heard of King George’s disposition does not lead me to be sanguine as to the chances of that happening,” Caleb replied, “but I know not, of course, what is in his mind.”

  “None do, ‘tis true,” MacGregor answered. “Some say that he is mad, and I could believe that, what with all that he has visited upon these Colonies.”

  “I misdoubt whether his is truly madness, or just an arrogance,” Caleb answered. “In either case, the result is the same, is it not? Redcoats laying down their arms, and the Continental stripes rising over British forts, and British ships.”

  He looked around the room at the men shouting toasts and cheerful speculations at each other and grinned. “I had best bring this news back home, lest Ma think that I took the opportunity to join in on the drinking and the foolery.”

  MacGregor clapped him on the back and grinned back at him. “A wiser man than I, you are. Safe travels, then, Caleb, and may the morrow bring yet more good tidings!”

  As he untied and mounted his horse and started on the journey home, Caleb felt lighter than he had in months. Indeed, he had not realized until it was gone what a burden he had carried on his shoulders. He caught himself whistling merrily as he went, and grinned to himself, spurring the horse into a trot again, that he might arrive home sooner to share the news.

  It wasn’t until he was nearly halfway home that he remembered that he had been supposed to see about turning some of the fowl that were cluttering the cabin into money with which to purchase necessities. He shrugged; he was sure that he would be back in the village tomorrow for more details of the Continental successes.

  The late evening sun glinted through the leaves, combining the reds of sunset with the crimson leaves, and casting everything around in an eerie blood-red shade. Yesterday, Caleb might have been frightened by this, thinking it an omen. Today, he simply reveled in the beauty of the scene as he sped home.

  The good news buoyed the family through another stretch of days without any word from the north. Caleb was dispatched to the Fuller homestead to deliver three of his geese and a wheel of cheddared cheese that Polly had set aside for them. Many of the families in the community were similarly assisting, as they could, the family whose patriarch, well known in the area, suffered an unknown fate in the hands of the English.

  With no sons to help his wife, Lieutenant Fuller had arranged for a rotation of men from the village to assist on the farm in his absence, and this practice had carried on with his seizure by the British. However, the women of the area knew from personal experience that this help, welcome though it undoubtedly was, could not alone fill the table of a wife who was consumed with worry over the fate of her husband.

  As he beached his canoe and made his way up the bank, Caleb could not help but be impressed by the homestead. Rather than the rude cabin that his own father had erected on their arrival, Lieutenant Fuller had a proper house, with two stories, glass windows and a brick chimney. He knocked at the door, and Fuller’s wife, a striking woman, opened the door.

  “I have brought these for you as a gift from the Clark family, down the river a couple of bends,” Caleb said. The warmth from within the house washed over him, and he half-wished that he could enter and dry off thoroughly. “My mother thought that some goose and a cheese might serve to bring some cheer to your household.”

  Fuller’s wife nodded, smiling in gratitude. “Indeed they will, Mister Clark.” Caleb felt a warm thrill at being called “Mister” Clark; nobody had before referred to him as such. “Please convey my appreciation to your mother and to all of your family. Would you come in and warm up before you return home?”

  “I should like to very much, Madam, but I have work to do before the light fails.”

  “Very well, then … a safe trip to you, and thanks again!”

  “You are most welcome. We pray daily for your husband’s swift return, and for your own fortitude and safety in his absence.”

  “That is most kind of you. I have faith that this trial will be ended while we still have strength to endure it.”

  Caleb replied, “And so must we all.” Touching the brim of his hat, he nodded in farewell and returned to the path back to where his canoe awaited. On the short paddle home, he wondered how much longer the trials they all faced would last, and whether their endurance would prove sufficient after all.

  And then, in the blink of an eye, it was over. Caleb spotted a flotilla making its way back up the lake, headed south for Crown Point or Ticonderoga, and the very next day, the blockhouse was again a scene of jubilation and no small amount of drinking. MacGregor greeted Caleb as he walked in, “Good day to you, lad! I wonder whether I oughtn’t just set out tables and go into competition with Mallett for a tavern!”

  Caleb laughed with him and asked, “What news this time, Mister MacGregor?”

  “Montreal has been taken without so much as a shot fired! The English dog, General Carleton abandoned the city to us and then snuck past our boys, and he’s holed up now in Quebec City.”

  “These are welcome words indeed!”

  “Oh, but that’s just the half of it, lad. General Montgomery released the Green Mountain Boys, as their enlistments are due to expire in a little over a month anyway, and they were not adequately equipped for the harsh cold of winter so far into the north.”

  “Released? So they’re free to return home?”

  “Indeed, lad! They’ve mustered at Fort Ticonderoga, and I’ll wager you’ll see your Pap before the week’s out.”

  Caleb found that his mouth had gone dry and his eyes damp. He stood for a moment, unmoving, and then sprang to life, clasping MacGregor’s hand in an enthusiastic grip. “I must be off, then. Ma will want to have a fit meal prepared to greet him with, and we’ll need to otherwise ready ourselves for his return.”

  “Aye, you go then, lad, and make ready for your Pap. Give him my best when you see him, if you would.”

  “Surely, Mister MacGregor, and thank you!” Caleb turned to rush out the door, and in his haste, ploughed right into a slight young woman who was just walking in. He did not recognize her, though. Indeed, he had paid little attention to the female portion of the settlement until the last year or so. That attention was as yet mostly furtive and nervous, and having inadvertently assaulted the girl did not help his confidence. Flustered, he stammered a hurried apology, taking in at a glance her bright blue eyes and the auburn plait that rested on her shoulder.

  “Better than a swift apology would be a more careful examination of your surroundings,” the girl said to him, her eyes flashing. Her voice was warmer than her eyes, though, and a small smile played at her lips as she regarded him. He noticed that her voice carried an accent that he could not place, though it seemed somehow familiar.

  “I shall endeavor to be more cautious in the future, miss. I am in a hurry now, though, so if I may—” He motioned with his eyes toward the door.

  “Certainly,” she replied, the strange lilt in her voice teasing at the edge of his mind again. “Perhaps we will meet again, with more care and fewer bruises.”

  He did not notice that the initial irritation in her eyes at the collision had faded entirely by the time he finally passed through the door, transforming into something more contemplative as she watched his exit.

  By the time Elijah trudged down the track to his farmstead, first appearing through the softly falling snow as an apparition, he could find no fault with the appearance of things from the outside. As Samuel shouted in joyful greeting and ran to embrace his f
ather, Polly and Caleb stood at the door, beaming. Elijah released his younger son, and then strode forward, grasping Caleb’s hand and then embracing him wordlessly, as well.

  Finally, he turned to Polly, and took her into his arms, breathing deeply of her hair and holding her tightly for so long that only the gurgle of Samuel’s belly could disrupt the moment. Elijah laughed and stepped back from his wife. “From that, I take it that dinner has not yet been eaten?”

  They all laughed and went on inside. As he set his rifle and knapsack beside the door and pulled off his cold and sodden coat and boots, he told them the highlights of his service. “Most of the time, we sat in the putrid barracks at Ticonderoga,” he said. “The English waste no money on providing for their men, I can tell you that. I suppose that with a smaller garrison, the fort might have been comfortable enough, but with the number of men we stuffed into that hellhole, it was hardly a stronghold at all.”

  He continued, darkly, “Indeed, I think we lost more men to disease in the barracks than we did on all of the battlefields. Dysentery, smallpox, pneumonia … well, it’s not pleasant dinnertime conversation, let’s just say that much.”

  He shook the snow off his boots and set them before the fireplace, and then lowered himself into his customary spot at the dinner table. The boys peppered him with questions as they helped Polly bring to the table a hearty meal of stewed goose, wild rice that Caleb had gathered off the sand bar at the south of the island, a pudding made with squash and milk, and bread with homemade cheese and butter.

  Elijah answered their questions as fast as they came.

  “Were you shot at?”

  “More than once, yes, but they missed me all but one time.” He lifted his shirt to show them a fresh pink crease of scar along his side. “A scratch, really. I saw many others suffer far worse.”

  “Did you shoot anybody?”

  “I shot at men, but I was always too far off to see whether my aim was true.” As he answered, he shared a glance with Polly, and she knew that there was more to the answer to this particular question than he was saying.

  “Did you have any trouble with Indians?”

  “Some of our parties skirmished with the Mohawk, but I was lucky enough to avoid them.”

  “Did the Canadians come to our assistance?”

  “Indeed, they raised a regiment from Chambly, and even now they march on Quebec City.”

  “What was General Montgomery like?”

  “I did not meet him personally, but he did lead a small force that I was in as we laid in the siege at Saint John’s, and I was impressed with his courage. Another time, I watched him knocked off of his feet by a cannonball that ripped his clothing, yet he sprang straight back up, and gave little indication that he’d nearly been torn in two. Not all Yorkers are terrible men, I suppose,” he grinned.

  “May I propose that we postpone the interrogation until after we’ve had some food? I have not seen a meal the like of this since the day that I departed this house!”

  They laughed together again, and Polly ladled out the food into their trenchers. As she finished, they paused, and both Caleb and Elijah started simultaneously to give the blessing. Caleb quickly checked himself, and said, “I’m sorry, Da … I’ve been doing it while you were gone, and I just—”

  “I am not troubled at this, son.” Elijah sighed and nodded slowly. “I can see that you have done admirably in my absence. Might I ask that you give the blessing this time, and that I can resume that happy duty beginning tomorrow?”

  Caleb blushed deeply and drew a long breath. “Yes, Da. It would be an honor.”

  Bowing his head, with the rest of the family following suit, he said, quietly, “We thank Thee, O Lord, for answering our long prayers and returning our father to us whole and unhurt. We beseech Thee to do likewise for all those who still serve in this struggle, and to give comfort and strength to those whose fathers and friends will not be restored to them until they are all rejoined in Thy glory.” He paused for a beat, and the entire family intoned together, “Amen.”

  They sat together and ate and talked well past the early sunset, sharing the highlights of their time apart. Caleb was gratified to know that his father had not, in fact, been among those who had been threatened with court-martial for the disorderly retreat in the face of a rumor of an approaching British ship.

  For his part, Elijah was impressed to hear of Caleb’s impromptu role as an observer and relayer of intelligence. He laughed heartily, saying, “I knew that we had gotten the information of those British gunships under construction at Saint John’s from some devious channel or another, but I did not imagine that my own son had a hand in it.”

  The praise made Caleb feel warm and quite adult, but he did not miss Samuel’s scowl at the attention his older brother was receiving. He shrugged, as there was little he could do about it. He did make a point to join in when Polly mentioned Samuel’s contributions around the farm, but the irritation was still visible in his younger brother’s countenance for some time.

  Eventually, yawns began to overtake them all, and they retired to their respective mattresses. The boys dropped off to sleep quickly, but their parents continued to talk quietly in their bed late into the night. Finally, they too fell asleep, and the farmstead was silent until the rooster’s crow the next morning.

  Though they now faced the darkest days of the year, the mood in the Clark household was one of grateful serenity. The world was right again, if only within the walls of their little cabin. A sense of normalcy pervaded the customary rhythms of life as they attended to the routine tasks of heating and maintaining the cabin, caring for their animals, and providing the other necessities of life.

  Caleb noticed that his father seemed to treat him less as a boy since his return from Montreal, and more as a man. Caleb’s exploits during Elijah’s absence had been the subject of many conversations as they worked side-by-side in the barn or along the banks of the river. The only drawback to this, from Caleb’s point of view, was that Samuel seemed to become ever more jealous of their father’s attention to his older brother.

  However, Elijah made a point of spending time with Samuel, too, whether teaching him how to set snares for rabbits, or sitting with him for hours, waiting for an unwary deer to appear in the woods. Too, Elijah expected both boys to make up their neglected studies, and spent many evenings drilling them on their knowledge of Bible passages or mathematics. Neither of his sons particularly enjoyed this attention, yet Caleb, at least, understood its importance.

  One afternoon, Caleb was bringing down hay from the loft in the barn to feed the cows, and he heard his father riding the horse back home from the day’s expedition to the blockhouse in the village. Elijah was later than Caleb had expected him to be, but the heavy, wet snow of the previous evening accounted readily enough for that.

  As Caleb came out of the stall where the cows now greedily pulled at the hay he’d brought down, though, he noticed that his father’s face seemed drawn and haggard. “What is it, Da?”

  “I’ve had some bad news at the store,” Elijah replied. “General Montgomery, under whom I recently served, as you know, has been killed at Quebec City.”

  Caleb gasped, “No!”

  “Indeed. ‘Tis a terrible blow for our cause. In addition, General Arnold was also wounded, and the attempt to take the city failed.” The older man sighed deeply. “A group of the men are gathering this afternoon to remember General Montgomery. I should like for you to accompany me, given your own role in our recent campaign. I have heard from many of the men in this district that your intelligences of activities on the lake were invaluable at several junctures. Will you come along with me to the tavern?”

  A thrill ran down Caleb’s spine, and he asked, “You mean to attend Captain Mallett’s tavern? Do you know how Ma feels about the old Frenchman?” He hadn’t yet related to his father the whole encounter with Mallett, nor Polly’s violent reaction to it. He remained confused and even somewhat disturbed at the
current of hatred the incident had exposed in his mother’s normally even-keeled nature.

  Elijah paused and looked uncomfortable for a moment. “Well … yes, I know that your Ma has rather strong opinions of the man … and, for that matter, his tavern … but she doesn’t necessarily have to know where we go to memorialize General Montgomery, true?”

  Caleb nodded slowly, “Yes, I can see the sense in that.” He still felt deeply apprehensive about the potential for Polly to learn of this, but he could tell that this was important to his father, so he resolved to attend the memorial with Elijah. “I will be honored to accompany you, Da.”

  Elijah nodded in acknowledgement and went into the cabin briefly to let Polly know that he and Caleb would be away for a while. He pulled the saddle off the horse, and turned her out to find what grazing she could under the snow.

  “Come, son, let us be on our way,” he said. “The old nag won’t carry us both, so we’ll have to walk.”

  “It’s not terrible far, though, I don’t believe, is it, Da?”

  “Not too far to get there, but it can be a long track back to home,” his father answered cryptically.

  The tavern rose from a clearing along the lakeshore, peaceful enough from the outside, under the mantle of recent snow. Caleb entered through the broad wooden door behind his father, and immediately his nose was assailed by a rich and overwhelming cacophony of odors.

  There was the sour-sweet smell of rum and applejack, as well as the leathery aroma of tobacco smoke. The sharp reek of hard-working men competed with the more pleasant odor of a rich mutton stew, dark bread and sharp cheese set out before one patron at a nearby table.

  A chaos of conversation, too, overwhelmed Caleb’s senses, as men shouted to be heard over each other. There was occasional laughter, but most of the snippets Caleb overheard were more somber and worried.