Decision at Fletcher's Mill

by David Caringer

  His superiors would see the need as he had. There would be no Tory militia involved next time. He would move on the rebels again within days. There would be no half measures this time. He would bring all his surviving cavalry and any reinforcements he could obtain from among the hundreds of regular infantry troops located at Camden. He looked around at his exhausted men as they finished the burials and mounted for the next leg of their journey. A price would be paid for what happened today. It would be collected at Fletcher’s Mill.

  CHAPTER 35

  Ira looked around the room in deep concern for a moment before his gaze returned to the quilt-wrapped lieutenant wavering on his feet in front of the sofa. He quietly stepped forward and gently grasped the young man’s upper arm to help him sit down. Billy resisted and whispered, “Please, sir, I need to find my trousers and uniform coat. I need to see about my men. I need to talk with someone in authority here. My mission…. The wagons….”

  Ira leaned his cane against the wall and slowly removed his gloves as he introduced himself. “My name is Ira Fletcher, son. I own this house and most of the buildings and land surrounding it. Fletcher’s Mill belongs to me. I have only recently begun to learn of its military importance. I understand that the mission you were given by General Morgan was to deliver your convoy of supplies and wounded men to my mill.”

  Billy was surprised to realize that Reverend Fletcher was offering his hand in friendship and what appeared to be … respect. Ira glanced to his side and introduced the other man as Captain Robertson. Robertson stepped forward and reached out to shake Billy’s hand. Robertson said, “You have done a fine job getting these men and supplies here, Lieutenant Morgan. We received a detailed oral report from Sergeants Strickland and Duncan. Duncan also told us the most amazing tale of your participation in the battle at Cowpens. You seem to have made a dramatic impression on those two! I must say, we were not expecting the great number of weapons and the vast store of ammunition your wagons contained, not to mention all the other supplies. I assure you they will be put to good use. My men and yours are now transferring the material from the wagons to a fortified cave behind the stone mill building.”

  Billy heard all of this while still standing uncertainly before the two men wrapped in the quilt he so desperately wanted to trade for his uniform coat and trousers. Elizabeth and Mona reentered the room from the door behind Reverend Fletcher. The older woman quietly moved from one patient to another in the parlor, carefully checking on them in the candlelight. Elizabeth gracefully moved through the room picking up colorful cloth scraps that were scattered about on the floor. Reverend Fletcher was talking again. Billy suddenly realized that he didn’t know what his host had said to him. Elizabeth glanced up and their eyes momentarily met. Her cheeks seemed to brighten, and she smiled before looking back down to her task.

  Reverend Fletcher didn’t seem to notice, and Mona was busy with the restless amputee near Silas. Billy turned his attention back to Ira and tried to remember what he asked. It was useless. Ira waited patiently for another moment and then said, “Well, no matter. I see that you are still recovering from your wounds.” He looked appraisingly at Billy. “Did I hear you right, young man? You are searching for your trousers and your uniform coat? Whatever happened to them?”

  Mona stood and intervened when she recognized the growing concern in Ira’s voice. “The lieutenant’s clothing was filthy, Ira. The trousers also needed mending. They were removed while he was sleeping so that he could be bathed before the doctor worked on his wounded thigh.

  “He is wearing one of your nightshirts, along with one of my best quilts.” She smiled as she nodded toward Billy’s humiliated form.

  Reverend Fletcher stared at him with a strained expression on his face, then seemed to notice Elizabeth in the room for the first time. Ira turned toward his granddaughter and said, “What on earth are you doing here, Beth?”

  She said, “I’ve been helping Aunt Mona and the doctor care for these poor men, Grandpa.”

  Ira looked at Mona quizzically. Mona silently answered him with a return gaze that implored him to treat Elizabeth with greater understanding. “These injured men…? Mona, I don’t want Elizabeth exposed to this!” He glanced around the room as he said it to emphasize his point.

  Elizabeth spoke up immediately with far more passion than she intended to convey, “Exposed to what, Grandpa? To the suffering of these poor souls? To the torn bodies of other women’s fathers, husbands, and sons? What would you have me do, Grandpa? Do you want me to hide from this? Is that what the ‘Good Samaritan’ did in Jesus’ parable…?” The girl’s outburst seemed to hang in the air for several seconds. The room remained silent but for the labored breathing of the wounded soldiers.

  Ira looked from Elizabeth to Mona and then back again. Billy broke the silence by clearing his throat as he carefully sat back down on the sofa. When Ira turned back toward him, his expression had changed. He now seemed overwhelmingly sad. It was as if he aged several years in those few moments. Ira spoke softly to Mona while looking into Billy’s eyes. “I simply want to protect her as long as I can from the horrors occurring around us.” He didn’t break the eye contact with Billy as he said to Elizabeth, “No Beth, I don’t want you to run and hide. You are growing up in very troubled times, and these men need our help. That is why they are here in our home. I love you so much though … I just want to protect you….”

  Ira slowly turned toward the parlor door and said, “Please return Lieutenant Morgan’s uniform to him as soon as possible, Mona. He clearly yearns to return to his duties.” He made no further attempt to force Elizabeth from the room. This surprised the girl and somehow saddened her. She felt, in that moment, that her guarded childhood had suddenly ended in her grandfather’s eyes. There was a fleeting regret, but she brushed it away as she resumed her earlier task. Ira paused briefly in front of Mona near the doorway. She reached up and touched his cheek with a look in her eyes that said Thank you much more clearly than words could convey. Captain Robertson followed Ira out. Mona left the room to go and get the lieutenant’s clothing. A few seconds later, Elizabeth and Billy were the only conscious people in the parlor. The silence slowly became palpable.

  Curiosity finally overcame Billy and he asked, “What are all those cloth scraps, miss?”

  Elizabeth smiled and blushed slightly again. “I was working on a quilt for my hope chest sir … before … before so many things started happening at once. I meant to clean up the mess I had made, but there just didn’t seem to be time to spare for it … until now….” Her efforts slowly brought her across the room near the sofa.

  Billy said, “I’ve watched my mother and sister quilting … I don’t think I could ever have patience enough for such an endeavor.”

  Elizabeth replied, “Where is your family, Lieutenant?”

  Billy felt a pang of homesickness as he said, “Pa’s dead, but Mom and Sis still live up in the mountains of western Virginia.” Elizabeth said that she had never been there, and expressed that it must be a beautiful place. Billy couldn’t imagine why she thought it must be beautiful, but didn’t reply. He thought any place would be beautiful if someone like Elizabeth were there.

  Their conversation went on quietly for several minutes. Neither of them seemed to realize that Elizabeth was now seated at the other end of the sofa. Nor did they notice when Mona came back into the parlor carrying Billy’s now clean, mended, and carefully folded uniform. Mona was not a prude, but she recognized that it was totally inappropriate for these two young people to be seated together on the parlor sofa like this. She could only imagine what people would say if they heard about it. The thought of Ira coming back in right now sent her into a state near panic. She placed the folded uniform on the end table and said, “Elizabeth Fletcher, I need you to help me out in the kitchen.” Elizabeth seemed startled as she looked up and realized where she sat. She stood quickly and excused herself before picking up her scrap bag and following Mona out of the room.

>   Billy leaned back while thinking along lines that he had never investigated to any great extent in the past. He couldn’t shake the strange emotion he felt since first seeing the face of this angel a short time ago. He slowly leaned forward and stood to carefully dress himself while keeping the quilt draped over his body in case the ladies returned suddenly. The uniform was clean and dry. The trousers had been expertly mended with a perfectly matched piece of patch material replacing the area damaged by the bullet several nights ago. The process of dressing took much longer than it might have at any other time. He was still very weak, and the pain in his thigh was overwhelming. Billy finally sat back down fully dressed. He carefully folded the quilt and placed it on the sofa next to him. He remained deep in thought as he tried to regain his strength. It took several more minutes of pained struggle to put his boots on.

  Silas quietly but suddenly spoke again from the shadows across the room. “That is a very beautiful young woman, Billy! Yes, a very beautiful girl indeed, sir….”

  Billy replied, “Yes, she certainly is!”

  Doctor Bolt came back into the parlor with his assistant and Mrs. Phillips trailing him. The three were very purposeful in their movements, but they all seemed nearly exhausted. The doctor noticed that Billy was fully dressed now and sitting up on the sofa. He said, “Just what is it that you are about, young man? You shouldn’t be up like this. The stitches in your leg…. This is dangerous for you. I insist that you lie down and rest!”

  Billy wasn’t persuaded. “I’m fine, Doctor. You’ve done an excellent job treating my wound, but I need to go and see to my own responsibilities. I must check on my men. I must learn more about this place and what needs to be done here before we leave to rejoin our army.”

  Doctor Bolt shook his head vigorously and said, “No! This is foolishness! You might reopen the wound! There still might be infection!”

  Billy assured him that he would be very careful, but he wouldn’t change his mind. He was now standing. He looked about the room for the crutch he used earlier on the road near the river. It was not there. Doctor Bolt seemed to realize what he needed and whispered something to his assistant who silently departed. Billy heard the front door open and close as the man left the house. He remained standing with the best look of silent resolve he could muster. The doctor shrugged and turned away. He and Mrs. Phillips continued with their ministrations to the other patients in the room.

  Billy was about to give up and collapse in frustrated resignation a few minutes later when he heard the front door open and close again. The doctor’s assistant had returned. This time, he was accompanied by a frustrated Sergeant Duncan who was carrying a pair of makeshift crutches hastily devised from two tree branches padded with long strips of cloth.

  Duncan said, “Now what’s this, Lieutenant? You mean to get out and about, do you? Sergeant Strickland and I have everything well in hand, sir! There’s no need for you to get about yet!”

  Billy silenced him with a raised hand. “I can’t bear being in here. Let me have those sticks. Now let’s go see what is happening while you tell me everything that I’ve missed during the last several hours.”

  Duncan stared at him for a second longer than was prudent, then grudgingly handed over the crutches. Billy tested them by moving carefully up and down the parlor floor, then headed for the doorway into the hall. He paused to get his bearings and turned toward the front door of the house. Duncan reached up to steady him when he stopped moving. Billy shrugged the help away stubbornly and resumed his movement. They were out on the porch before he stopped again to look around outside. Duncan again stepped dutifully up next to his hard-headed young officer. He realized that he had little idea what was going on in the young man’s brain. On the other hand, he had come to like and respect William “Billy” Morgan with a reverence that most men might think odd. If Billy was strong enough to carry on with his duty, Duncan wouldn’t offer further argument.

  The sergeant explained the layout of the village and the mill. He gave a detailed report regarding the preparations being made here to defend the place against British attack. Billy listened quietly. He had a good understanding of the whole situation at Fletcher’s Mill within a short time. His mind busily worked through what his new responsibilities must be. His earlier mission was accomplished. The lingering memory of Miss Elizabeth Fletcher began to compete with his thoughts of military duty. Billy nodded to Sergeant Duncan and they started off to search for Sergeant Strickland and the rest of his men.

  CHAPTER 36

  Major Sir Thomas Willoughby tried to regain his normally martial posture on the borrowed horse as they rode into Camden. It took a long time to reach this place from the ambush site along the river road south of Fish Dam. His men were moving like beaten animals. Willoughby understood their dejection, but knew it was not caused solely by the attack along the road. These men were tired. They were tired of this seemingly endless war. The pride in their unit, the love of the king, the will to win, all of it was wearing thin. The horrific losses in the ambush accentuated the growing sense of purposelessness.

  Lieutenant Cloyde only lasted a few hours after the battle. His death was particularly grievous to Major Willoughby. Cloyde was a promising young officer. It was too bad that he was part of Tarleton’s legion. Tarleton. What a fool. The man had so incensed the rebels with his refusal to accept quarter. Now they would fight to the death in any encounter. Tarleton would somehow survive the debacle at Cowpens though….

  Willoughby was lost in thought. He suddenly realized that the column was stopped. They had passed through town and were in the military encampment on the other side. He gave instructions to his subordinate commanders, and they were quickly engaged in the actions required to bring the exhausted men into military order. Billet areas were assigned and the troops were soon involved in the tedious effort required to make camp. The wounded were transferred to the hospital in an old warehouse on the edge of town. The mounts had to be cared for, weapons had to be cleaned, units had to be reorganized after their heavy losses.

  Junior officers and sergeants would manage most of these things. Major Willoughby took the few minutes required to ensure that his instructions were understood, then remounted to ride back into town to report to the garrison commander. A large house was appropriated here as a headquarters just as had been done in Rocky Mount. Camden was a larger town, but finding the correct house was simple in any event. The bustle of military activity around it made it obvious.

  The town was garrisoned by a mixture of light infantry units which combined to comprise a full battalion of Royal Infantry and two batteries of regular artillery. The commander was an Irish aristocrat, thirty-two-year-old Lieutenant Colonel Lord Francis Rawdon. Rawdon had taken part in many significant battles during this long war, from Lexington and Concord to Bunker Hill, and Long Island. He initially commanded the Royal Army forces, including Willoughby and his dragoons, here at Camden in the decisive defeat of Horatio Gates five months earlier. Now that General Cornwallis had moved further north, Lord Rawdon remained in essential command of His Majesty’s forces in South Carolina. The younger man was Major Willoughby’s immediate commander.

  Lord Rawdon was well known to Willoughby. They were not friends, but they had been together in difficult battlefield circumstances in the past. Some thought Lord Rawdon to be a foppish martinet. Willoughby knew different. He watched Rawdon storm the redoubt on Breeds Hill in Boston. He had seen the young man in action since then as well. They shared a mutual respect for each other as soldiers. Major Willoughby believed that Rawdon would immediately see the need for an attack on Fletcher’s Mill.

  Willoughby was led upstairs in the headquarters building to a large bedroom. He found Lord Rawdon receiving the attention of a dubious-looking physician as he lay under a mass of blankets in a huge bed. The window drapes were closed and the light in the room came from a small dim lamp on a nightstand and a fire roaring in the grate. The room was overly warm and smelled of illness. Willoug
hby made his presence known. The physician turned with a startled and annoyed look on his face. His right hand held a lancet and his left held a small metal bowl.

  Major Willoughby got a clear look at the colonel lying in the bed as the physician moved away. The man barely resembled the dashing young Irishman he last saw on horseback several months earlier. Rawdon’s eyes were sunken. The skin on his face had a strange yellow-gray pallor. He was breathing roughly and appeared to be covered with sweat. Willoughby recognized the signs of a man suffering from malaria. He overcame a powerful urge to grab the fool doctor and throw him out before he could further injure the brave young man lying here in this stifling stinking room.

  Lord Rawdon’s eyes opened slowly and he recognized his new visitor. He shuddered as he struggled to sit up against the insistence of the doctor. Shrugging off the constraint, he croaked, “What on earth are you doing here, Sir Thomas?”

  Willoughby briefly turned his gaze on the doctor with an expression that sent the man scuttling from the room in haste. He stood at attention near the foot of the bed as he began to explain his presence to his superior. Rawdon was sitting up now. He interrupted the major long enough to put him at ease and offer him the use of a large leather chair near the end table at the right side of the bed. Willoughby gratefully sat down before continuing with his verbal report.

  He began with information about the battle at Cowpens. It didn’t take long to explain the actions he had taken since Lieutenant Cloyde arrived at Rocky Mount with information about the captured military supplies and their apparent destination at Fletcher’s Mill. Rawdon listened silently through all of it, even the horrific recounting of the ambush on the Broad River Road. He nodded his head in acknowledgement of Willoughby’s decision to divert to Camden for reinforcements after the losses he had taken. Both men sat in silence for almost a minute after the major finished speaking. The only sound came from the crackling flames in the fireplace and the labored breathing of the very sick man who had just listened to an alarming report regarding two military disasters.