American Challenge

by Susan Martins Miller

  Lydia the Patriot © 2004 by Barbour Publishing, Inc.

  Kate and the Spies © 2004 by JoAnn A. Grote

  Betsy’s River Adventure © 2004 by Barbour Publishing, Inc.

  Grace and the Bully © 2006 by Barbour Publishing, Inc.

  Print ISBN 978-1-61626-463-5

  eBook Editions:

  Adobe Digital Edition (.epub) 978-1-60742-532-8

  Kindle and MobiPocket Edition (.prc) 978-1-60742-533-5

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted for commercial purposes, except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without written permission of the publisher.

  All scripture quotations are taken from the King James Version of the Bible.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual people, organizations, and/or events is purely coincidental.

  Cover design © Greg Jackson, Thinkpen Design

  Published by Barbour Publishing, Inc., P.O. Box 719, Uhrichsville, Ohio 44683, www.barbourbooks.com

  Our mission is to publish and distribute inspirational products offering exceptional value and biblical encouragement to the masses.

  Printed in the United States of America.

  Bethany Press International, Bloomington, MN 55438; July 2011; D10002870

  Table of Contents

  Lydia the Patriot

  Kate and the Spies

  Betsy’s River Adventure

  Grace and the Bully

  Bonus Educational Material

  Lydia

  the Patriot

  Susan Martins Miller

  A NOTE TO READERS

  In Lydia the Patriot we meet Stephen and Lydia Lankford. While the Lankfords are a fictional family, the Boston Massacre actually did take place, and this story of the shootings and the trial that followed are based on the many firsthand accounts that still exist.

  It may strike you as odd that the baby born at the beginning of this book doesn’t get named for eight months. While we usually name our babies right away, it was common for parents in the eighteenth century to wait several months, and sometimes years, before they named their children. More than one in six babies died before they reached their second birthday, and usually parents waited until they were sure their child would live before they decided on a name.

  CONTENTS

  1. Unwelcome Soldiers

  2. Unknown Dangers

  3. Emergency at Midnight

  4. The Baby

  5. The Attack

  6. Argument in the Print Shop

  7. The Patient

  8. The Funeral

  9. Important News

  10. Family Feud

  11. Escape

  12. The Trial

  13. The Verdict

  14. Unconscious!

  15. Family Reunion

  CHAPTER 1

  Unwelcome Soldiers

  Lydia was doing it again. Ten-year-old Stephen Lankford closed his brown eyes and let his head hang down to his chest.

  Lydia’s green eyes flashed as she bobbed her brown-haired head around the corner and shouted, “Lobsterback!”

  “This is great!” Lydia said gleefully. She rested against the brick of the customs building to catch her breath. “He doesn’t even see us!” She leaned around the corner again. “Bloodyback!”

  “It doesn’t matter if he doesn’t see you,” said Stephen, who was much more sensible than his fiery twelve-year-old sister. “He’s a British soldier on duty. He doesn’t care what you are doing.”

  “Uncle Cuyler says the soldiers are human beings like the rest of us,” Lydia asserted. “If he’s human, then he has to notice when someone is bothering him. It’s just a question of how long it takes.” She stepped out farther this time. Cupping her hands around her mouth, she called, “Lobsterback! Go home!”

  “Why do you do this, Lydia?” Stephen asked, his irritation growing. He shifted the bucket of food he carried from one hand to the other. “He’s a soldier. He gets his orders from a general or the king or somebody. You’re just a silly little girl. He’s not going to go home to England just because you scream at him in the street.”

  “I am not a silly little girl!” Lydia declared. “I’m twelve years old, and my father is a leading citizen in Boston.”

  “That doesn’t matter to a soldier.”

  Lydia stepped away from the wall more brazenly. “Be a man! Do what is right!” She stood there, her feet planted in the snow and her hands on her hips, glaring at the soldier.

  The British soldier blinked in the early March snow flurry that fell gently from the sky. The tall egg-shaped bearskin hat made him look taller than he really was. His red woolen jacket and white breeches were splattered with the mud of dirty snow. Nevertheless, he stood with his feet solidly apart, his musket leaning over his shoulder. He was on duty. He paid no attention to Lydia. She certainly was not the first child who had pestered him while he was on duty.

  “This is silly, Lydia,” Stephen insisted. He stepped forward. “Let’s keep going.”

  “No!” she cried indignantly. “I’m not finished.” Lydia nearly knocked the breath out of him when she swung her arm around into his stomach.

  Stephen grimaced and leaned against the building, holding his stomach. Lydia was acting the way she always did. She had to have her own way, and she refused to listen to logic. When she did not get what she wanted, she flailed around in such a fit that nearly everyone gave in to her just to calm her down. Even their mother let Lydia have her way most of the time. In contrast, Stephen preferred to keep to himself and not disturb anyone else.

  Stephen looked forward to the day when he would be allowed to move around Boston on his own. As it was, he always had to be with one of his older siblings. And considering the condition of Boston, his day of freedom was a long way off. Even Lydia usually had to have either their older sister, Kathleen, or their brother, William, with her. But on this day, she had nagged her mother into allowing her to cross Boston from the Lankford home to the home of Aunt Dancy and Uncle Ethan without supervision. Thinking that two were better than one, Mother had sent Stephen along. She could rely on him for an accurate report of any mishaps.

  Stephen did not want to face any mishaps. He wanted Lydia to leave the soldier alone and move on to Aunt Dancy’s house. He shifted his load once more.

  Stephen knew he would most likely grow into manhood before peace came to Boston. Since Massachusetts was a British colony, Stephen had always accepted that it was logical for British soldiers to be there. But it seemed as if fewer and fewer people felt that way. Since the Townshend Acts took effect in 1767 and Boston became the headquarters for collecting customs fees, the people of Boston had started rioting the same way they had during the Stamp Act when Stephen was younger. Mobs broke into houses of British officials or anyone associated with the British government. They threw furniture around and made vicious threats, forcing some of the officials to leave Boston in fear of their lives. Even lifelong neighbors who showed a small amount of sympathy for British officials faced the fury of street gangs.

  Stephen did not remember much about the Stamp Act. He had been only five then. In those days, his sister Kathleen had tried to protect him from what was happening. But William had told him the stories as he grew up. And now William made sure Stephen understood the Townshend Acts and why so many British troops were in Boston.

  William Lankford, Stephen’s brother, was nineteen now. He still lived in the Lankford family home and shared an attic room with Stephen, but William was a man. He worked all day alongside their father, Richard Lankford, putting out a newspaper and extra flyers
about special events. Will was hardly ever home after supper.

  When Stephen was younger, Will used to tell him simply that he had meetings to go to in the evenings. Now Stephen was old enough to know that most of Will’s friends were in the Sons of Liberty. He also knew that many people in Boston believed that the Sons of Liberty were responsible for many of the wild activities that happened. Some even said that the Sons of Liberty were the ones who truly ruled Boston.

  With Sam Adams and the other members of the Sons of Liberty, Will spent all his spare time planning how America, as he called the colonies, would someday be free of the British. America would make its own decisions about taxes and how to spend money. Each colony would be able to give its opinion about what was best for its citizens. And King George of England would mind his own business and concern himself with England.

  When Stephen was eight, a single day had forced him to grow up in a hurry. He had been visiting his uncle Ethan, who owned Foy Shipping, down near the harbor. Suddenly the crew of one of the idle ships had scrambled through the streets around Boston Harbor with the news: British troops were coming. Holding his uncle’s hand tightly, Stephen had run down to the harbor to see for himself.

  The large British fleet had maneuvered its way in from the sea, past the green islands of Boston Harbor. The decks of the ships were solid red, covered with British soldiers who stood shoulder to shoulder. Their muskets were ready for action if needed. Anchors plunged from the ships and lodged in the mud beneath the harbor. The crowd watched from the docks as rowing boats were lowered from the ships and four thousand British soldiers rowed to shore.

  That was a year and a half ago, and life in Boston had not been the same since. Stephen had always accepted the presence of British soldiers as normal. A few hundred were needed to conduct the king’s business. But four thousand! It was as if England had decided to take its own colony captive.

  The soldiers had no place to stay once they arrived. Citizens of Boston had already been forced to take British soldiers into their homes. Uncle Ethan and Aunt Dancy had had two soldiers with them for a while a few years ago. Stephen remembered because his cousins, David and Charles, had come to stay with the Lankford family for a few months while the soldiers were in their house. Uncle Ethan and Aunt Dancy did not want their sons sitting at the same table where British soldiers ate.

  But four thousand soldiers could not find beds to sleep in or tables to eat at. They soon resorted to seizing the private property of Boston’s citizens. One regiment even pitched its tents on Boston Common. Another took over Faneuil Hall, a public meeting place. Soldiers filled the State House also. The citizens of Boston lost the privacy of their homes as well as the freedom of their public places.

  William had explained it all to Stephen again and again. One of the reasons the troops had come to Boston was to help enforce the taxes of the Townshend Acts. Paper, lead, glass, paint, and tea were taxed. The money was used to pay the salaries of royal officials in the colonies. Since they were now paid by the king rather than the residents of the colonies, the officials paid attention to what Parliament in England wanted instead of listening to the colonists. Frustration with taxes that most people thought were unfair led people to take their feelings out on the soldiers.

  Lydia did not pay taxes, so Stephen doubted that she could truly be frustrated with them. He thought she just liked to stir up trouble.

  Lydia was still busy taunting the British soldier. Stephen was tired and cold, and he did not hold it against the soldier that he was British. No doubt the soldier was tired and cold, too.

  “Lydia,” Stephen said sternly, “if you don’t stop this nonsense, I’m going to turn around and go home and tell Mama.”

  Lydia rolled her eyes. “You sound like Uncle Cuyler. You should pay more attention to William instead. Taking a stand against the British is not nonsense.”

  “Calling that soldier names is not accomplishing anything. You’re just pestering him.”

  “It’s all I can do,” Lydia said, pouting. “Everyone thinks I am too young to do anything important.”

  “I’m serious, Lydia. You know Mama would not approve of this.”

  “She doesn’t always approve of what William does, but she lets him.”

  “That’s different.”

  Stephen glared at his sister, turned around, and took three steps in the direction they had come from. He was prepared to follow through with his threat.

  “All right, all right,” Lydia said. She grabbed Stephen’s arm and made him stop. “I give up.”

  “I’m glad you’ve come to your senses. Now just keep walking and leave him alone.”

  Lydia did not answer, but she began to walk casually toward the soldier. Stephen followed, suspicious of Lydia’s sudden change of mind. They were directly in front of the soldier now. Stephen kept his eyes straight ahead.

  Suddenly Lydia ducked down and scooped up a handful of snow.

  “What are you doing?” Stephen hissed. He pulled on her arm as hard as he could.

  Lydia broke from his grip easily. She pressed the snow between her hands into an icy ball. Then she hurled it at the soldier.

  “Lydia!” Stephen cried.

  The snowball hit the soldier squarely on the forehead. His musket came off his shoulder and swung around toward Lydia. Stephen lurched forward and grabbed her again.

  “You little troublemaker!” the soldier shouted.

  Lydia laughed loudly while Stephen pulled on her arm.

  “If you dare try such a stunt again, I’ll not be so easy on you the next time!” The soldier wiped the snow from his face and glared at Lydia.

  “You wouldn’t hurt me!” She was not afraid to defy him. “You would get into too much trouble.”

  “Just try me!”

  Stephen’s heart was pounding. He was not interested in finding out whether Lydia or the soldier was right.

  “Lydia,” he whispered harshly, “if you don’t come with me this instant, I will tell Papa, not Mama!”

  Lydia scrambled up the street, giggling, while Stephen trudged behind her, infuriated.

  CHAPTER 2

  Unknown Dangers

  When they were out of shouting distance, Lydia stopped to catch her breath and laughed again. “That was great!”

  “You could have gotten hurt, Lydia,” Stephen said. Frustrated, he pushed on her elbow to nudge her along. His stomach was still flipping rapidly.

  “You are such a fraidycat,” Lydia said. “I am not!” Stephen said indignantly. “But this is why Mama does not want you out by yourself.”

  “Just because Mama is frightened does not mean that I am.” Stephen did not want to talk about it anymore. “It’s cold out here, Lydia. Let’s keep moving.” He stepped ahead of her and gestured that she should follow. When she seemed to resist, Stephen added, “Aunt Dancy is waiting for us, and we don’t want her going out in this cold because she’s worried about where we are. If we don’t hurry up, we’ll be late.”

  Aunt Dancy was the reason they were making this trip across town. She was going to have a baby. Charles and David were excited about having a new baby in the house, even though they were twelve and fourteen years old. Stephen was the youngest of all the cousins in the Turner and Lankford families. Everyone was excited about a new member of the family after ten years.

  “Aunt Dancy is not a fraidycat,” Lydia declared. “She’s going to have a baby in a month, but she’s not afraid to be alone in her house.”

  “That may be true,” Stephen argued, “but she will be afraid if we don’t show up on time when there’s so much danger on the streets. Now let’s go!”

  Uncle Ethan had needed to make a business trip from Boston to New York City. He hated the thought of leaving Aunt Dancy in her condition, but the business was pressing, and he felt he must go.

  Charles and David had been nagging to go to New York for months. Aunt Dancy had insisted that Uncle Ethan take their sons with him. After all, the baby was not going to
be born for at least a month. It was better if everyone kept busy while they waited, she had pointed out. It was good for the boys’ education to see New York and learn more about their father’s business. Uncle Ethan had resisted at first, but not for long. He had learned many years earlier that there was little point in arguing with his wife once she had made up her mind.

  As a compromise, Aunt Dancy had agreed to let the other relatives take turns spending the nights with her. Uncle Ethan did not want her to be alone, just in case something unexpected should happen—which Dancy was sure would not happen. She agreed to her husband’s plan simply to keep him happy.

  So Stephen and Lydia’s older sister, Kathleen, had spent several nights with Aunt Dancy, as had their mother. Uncle Cuyler’s wife, Aunt Abigail, had taken several turns. Then Lydia had pleaded for a turn. She’d insisted that twelve years of age was old enough to be trusted with something as simple as sleeping in the same house with her aunt. After days of listening to her daughter’s relentless insistence that she was ready for grown-up responsibility, Mama had given in. But she’d sent Stephen along as well. Lydia had objected furiously, but Mama had held firm this time.

  As they walked, Stephen checked the tin bucket of food he carried. This was their supper. The biscuits wrapped in a cloth had survived the excitement, but some of the gravy had spilled during the frenzy of getting away from the soldier. Stephen’s fingers were getting sticky. He decided that if there was not enough to go around, he would simply say that he did not care for any gravy with his biscuits that night.

  Uncle Ethan had been gone ten days now. In only two more days, he would return to look after Aunt Dancy himself. In the meantime, she spent her days at the Foy Shipping office, making sure the accounts were kept current. Both Stephen’s mother and Aunt Abigail found a series of excuses to drop in at the office of Foy Shipping. Aunt Dancy spent her evenings chatting with whatever relative had been assigned to bring her supper and sit with her for that night. Now it was Lydia and Stephen. Aunt Dancy kept insisting that there was plenty of time before the baby would come and that they were all fussing over nothing, but she accepted the attention anyway.