American Challenge

by Susan Martins Miller

  “My aunt’s baby is coming,” Stephen explained. “I must find Mistress Payne.”

  The neighbor shook his head. “Half of Boston is at the Customs House. You’ll not find her easily.”

  “I have to try.” Stephen wheeled around and started running toward the place where he had been forbidden to go.

  He ran for blocks. Stumbling over loose cobblestones, he nearly collided with a lamppost as he whizzed past. The blackness was blinding in some places. He ran from memory of where the streets turned and intersected. Picturing Aunt Dancy in her bed, with her face tense from fighting the pain, Stephen ran harder. For Aunt Dancy’s sake and for the baby not yet born, he ran even when he thought he would collapse with the next step.

  As he got closer to the center of town, Stephen was engulfed in a swelling crowd. Gasping for air, he finally allowed himself to stop and look around. He could not see the reason why the crowd had gathered, and he did not care. He cared only about Aunt Dancy. Everyone was bundled up against the frigid temperature. Viewed from behind, every person in the crowd looked alike. Stephen began to bump up against people so he could look into their faces one by one. He pulled on elbows and tugged on coats. “Have you seen Mistress Payne?” he asked urgently of anyone who would listen to his thin voice in the middle of the mob.

  Then he bumped up against a coat he recognized. “Uncle Cuyler!”

  “Stephen! What in the world are you doing here?” Uncle Cuyler grabbed Stephen by the shoulders and tried to steer him out of the throbbing mob.

  “It’s Aunt Dancy. I came to look for Mistress Payne, but she wasn’t home.”

  Uncle Cuyler looked down at Stephen in alarm. “Stephen, is Aunt Dancy all right?”

  Stephen nodded. “She’s fine. At least she was when I left. But she said the baby is coming. I have to find Mistress Payne.”

  Uncle Cuyler shook his head. “There is no time to waste. I will come with you.” Uncle Cuyler and Stephen swung open the front door and started running up the stairs.

  “Lydia! Aunt Dancy!” Stephen called out. “Uncle Cuyler is here.”

  Lydia appeared at the top of the stairs and fell into Uncle Cuyler’s arms just as he reached her.

  “I’m so glad you’re here. When the baby started coming, I didn’t know what to do!”

  CHAPTER 4

  The Baby

  Where is she?” Uncle Cuyler released Lydia and glanced around.

  “She’s in her bed.” Lydia pointed down the hall. “She looks terrible, Uncle Cuyler. Is she going to die?”

  “She’s having a baby, Lydia. But most likely she’ll be just fine.”

  Lydia and Stephen scampered down the hall after their uncle.

  “But it’s too early,” said Stephen. “Will the baby be all right?”

  “If there is anything to worry about, I’ll tell you both.”

  Aunt Dancy’s door stood open.

  “Cuyler!” she said. “What are you doing here?”

  “I couldn’t find Mistress Payne,” Stephen explained. “Nobody was home. Everybody was down on King Street. I know you told me not to go there, but I had to find someone to help you.”

  Aunt Dancy smiled faintly. “Under the circumstances, it’s understandable.” She grimaced in pain, then glanced at Uncle Cuyler. “I’m not used to having a man help me birth a baby.”

  Uncle Cuyler grinned. “Well, if you would rather have Lydia stay …”

  “No!” Lydia shouted. She backed away from the bed with her palms held up. “Uncle Cuyler is a doctor. He can help you.”

  Uncle Cuyler turned to Lydia and Stephen. “As Aunt Dancy said, under the circumstances, it’s understandable. Now why don’t the two of you go downstairs. I’ll call you if I need anything.”

  Lydia shot out of the room. Stephen backed through the doorway reluctantly. He was glad Uncle Cuyler was there, but he wanted to be completely sure that Aunt Dancy would be all right.

  When he had joined his sister downstairs, he said, “I hope nothing happens to Aunt Dancy. I don’t think it’s good for a baby to be born too early. Something must be wrong.”

  Lydia threw her hair over her shoulder haughtily. “You find too many things to worry about.”

  “I do not!” Stephen picked up a poker and tried to stir the embers in the fireplace into flame. He added three new logs. Having a baby was a natural thing, but it was also dangerous. His own grandmother had died giving birth to Uncle Cuyler. Stephen thought he had good reason to feel nervous about Aunt Dancy no matter what Lydia said.

  Lydia moved to the window. “Was it really exciting out there? Did you really go to King Street?”

  “Yes, I went to King Street. But it was not exciting. It was frightening.”

  “You’re exaggerating,” Lydia accused. “It couldn’t have been too bad out there. Otherwise, why was Uncle Cuyler there? He always tries to stay out of trouble.”

  “I don’t know,” Stephen mumbled. “Maybe he went because he’s a doctor and he thought somebody might get hurt.” He glanced toward the stairs. It was quiet. Was it supposed to be so quiet when a baby was being born?

  Outside, the streets throbbed with the action of the crowd. The people scurrying down the street now were curious onlookers who had been lured from their beds by the tumult.

  “Half of Boston must be out there,” Lydia observed. She could not tear herself away from the window. “How many people did you see?”

  Stephen shrugged. “I don’t know.” He was satisfied that the fire was going to catch. He held his hands over its heat to warm them. His feet felt like blocks of ice. He had not been aware of how cold and wet he had gotten during his trek into the night.

  “What’s the matter—haven’t you learned your figures in school? Even a six-year-old can count.”

  “It was dark, and I was looking for Mistress Payne, not counting heads.” Stephen sank, exhausted, into a wing chair. He bent over to pull off his wet boots. Under his coat, his nightshirt had stayed dry. Scooting the chair closer to the fire, he drew comfort from its warmth and light.

  “Did you at least see what was happening?” Lydia’s questions persisted. “Why is everyone out there?”

  “I don’t know that either,” Stephen confessed. “Some men were shouting. That’s all I know.”

  “How could you be out there for so long and not find out what is going on?” Lydia was disgusted at her brother’s incompetence.

  Stephen just shrugged. He was too tired to argue with Lydia.

  “You’re not much good for anything, are you?” Lydia snapped.

  Stephen glared at his sister but did not respond.

  Lydia turned away from Stephen. “I think I’ll step outside for a bit of fresh air,” she said casually. She took her cloak off the hook next to the door.

  Stephen sprang from his chair. “You can’t go out there!”

  “I simply must have some fresh air, or I will never be able to get any rest tonight.” Lydia tossed her cloak around her shoulders.

  Stephen threw himself against the door and checked the bolt.

  “Don’t be silly,” Lydia scoffed. “I’m older than you are, so you can’t tell me what to do.”

  “I can when you are doing something foolish.”

  “I’m also bigger than you are, so you can’t stop me.”

  To prove her point, Lydia hurled herself at Stephen and knocked him off balance. He landed on his knees. Laughing, Lydia unbolted the door and opened it. Proud of her accomplishment, she stepped outside.

  Stephen scrambled to his feet and planted himself in the doorway. “Lydia Lankford! You get back inside!”

  “Are you going to make me?” She took two more steps and craned her neck to look down the street. “Oooh, everybody is coming back this way now.”

  “Lydia, I insist that you come back inside!”

  Lydia laughed. “Are you going to tattle to Aunt Dancy? I think she has more important things on her mind right now.”

  Stephen wheeled around and
looked up the stairs. Only empty, quiet space looked back. He hoped that was a good sign. If something were wrong, surely Uncle Cuyler would have called for help. In the meantime, Lydia was right. She had made up her mind, and he could do nothing to stop her. He spun around once more and stood facing the street, but he did not step across the threshold. He was helpless. He could do nothing for his aunt or her baby, and he could not even protect his sister from the danger in the street. He groaned, wondering how he would ever explain this night to his parents.

  Lydia’s observation about the movements of the crowd was accurate. The throng did seem to be moving in the direction of Aunt Dancy’s house instead of away from it. But what that meant, Stephen did not know.

  Now he was glued to a sentry post of his own. He did not plan to follow Lydia out into the night, but he would stand in the doorway and watch her as far as possible. But Lydia was not moving. At least her feet were not. Her head wagged from side to side as she tried to make sense of what she was seeing.

  “I don’t see any soldiers,” she called over her shoulder to Stephen. “They probably carried them off to the harbor and pushed them off in rowboats.”

  Stephen shook his head. Even Lydia had to recognize how silly that sounded.

  Suddenly Lydia began to run up the street against the press of the crowd. Stephen’s heart sank. He could do nothing for her now.

  “William!” Lydia shouted.

  Stephen jerked his head up and peered into the dark. He saw Lydia fling herself into William’s startled embrace. He could not hear what William said, but he could see his brother turn Lydia around and point back toward the house. Stephen breathed a sigh of relief. Lydia was more likely to listen to William than to anyone else. William and Lydia approached the house together. Lydia had her arms crossed and her lower lip stuck out as far as it would go.

  “Thank goodness you’re being sensible,” William said to Stephen. “Keep Lydia here, in the house.”

  “That’s easier for you to say than for me to do,” Stephen replied.

  William chuckled briefly. “Right you are. But try.” Even in the cold air of a March night, Will was sweating. He wiped the back of his hand across his forehead. Stephen noticed how worried William looked.

  Lydia stamped one foot. “At least tell us what’s going on.”

  “I don’t have time right now. Besides, what are the two of you doing out here in your nightclothes? Where’s Aunt Dancy?”

  “Upstairs,” Stephen explained. “The baby is coming.” He saw the look of alarm in William’s eyes. “But don’t worry. Uncle Cuyler is taking care of her.”

  “I’m glad for that,” Will said. He glanced over his shoulder into the street. Then he put his hands squarely on Lydia’s shoulders and stooped slightly to look her in the eyes. “I have to go. Promise me you will stay here. In the house. With the door bolted.”

  Lydia pouted, but she finally agreed.

  In a few more minutes, the streets were quiet. Whatever had brought the crowd out of their beds was over, and everyone had gone home. For a long time, Lydia adamantly refused to believe it was over and resisted sleep. She kept her vigil at the window and waited for the next round of activity. Stephen gave up trying to persuade her of anything and let his exhaustion overtake him. He fell asleep on the rug in front of the fireplace with a quilt his grandmother had made pulled around his shoulders.

  In his dream, Stephen heard a cat. Actually, it was just a kitten, and it sounded frightened and cold. It stood in the middle of King Street and shivered. Stephen tried to reach the kitten before the crowd trampled it, but his feet were stuck in mud, and he couldn’t move. Just as the crowd was about to press down on the cat, Stephen woke.

  “It’s the baby!” Lydia was shaking his shoulder. “Did you hear it cry?”

  Stephen rubbed his eyes and sighed in relief. There was no kitten on King Street. There was a baby upstairs.

  “It sounds like a boy to me,” Lydia said authoritatively. The cry came again.

  “You can’t tell if it’s a boy or a girl by the way it cries.” Stephen rolled his eyes. Lydia said the most ridiculous things. “I just hope the baby is all right.”

  “It’s crying, isn’t it? That’s exactly what a new baby is supposed to do.”

  Stephen stood up. The fire had grown cold again. Lydia must have fallen asleep, too. He added more logs and wondered if he should carry some wood up for the fire in Aunt Dancy’s room. The baby should not get cold.

  “Let’s go upstairs!” Lydia said.

  “Don’t you think we should wait for Uncle Cuyler to call us?”

  “He’ll think we’re asleep and not bother us for hours. I’m going even if you aren’t.” Lydia pranced toward the stairs.

  “I’m coming; I’m coming.” Stephen shed his quilt and grabbed an armful of logs.

  Upstairs, they knocked gently until they were given permission to enter. Aunt Dancy was sitting up in bed looking exhausted but joyous. She held a tiny bundle in her arms. “Come see your new cousin.”

  Stephen surrendered his load of wood to Uncle Cuyler, who was tending the fire. “Is he all right?”

  Uncle Cuyler chuckled. “He is a she. And she is just fine.”

  Putting their differences aside for the moment, Stephen and Lydia sat on the edge of the bed and peeked into the blanket their aunt held. Tiny little arms flailed in their faces.

  “She’s so small!” Lydia exclaimed.

  “Yes, she’s small because she came early,” Aunt Dancy said. “But Uncle Cuyler assures me that she is perfectly healthy.”

  “And you?” Stephen asked. “Are you all right?”

  Aunt Dancy smiled and reached for his hand. “I’m just fine, thanks to you. You found me the best help anyone could have.”

  “I would have gone, you know,” Lydia said emphatically. “You should have sent me.”

  “I needed you here. Everything you did to prepare for the birth was important.”

  Satisfied, Lydia turned her attention back to the baby. “What is her name going to be?”

  Aunt Dancy gave a quick laugh. “Your uncle Ethan and I have not agreed on a name for a girl yet. We thought we had at least another month to think about it, and we wanted to be sure the baby was healthy.”

  “So she doesn’t have a name?” Stephen asked.

  “Not yet. There’s no hurry. We want her to have just the right name.”

  Stephen pressed a finger against his new cousin’s palm, and the baby with no name gripped it tightly.

  That’s right, little girl, Stephen thought. You can depend on me.

  CHAPTER 5

  The Attack

  It’s a girl!” Lydia pushed open the front door of the Lankford home and bellowed as loudly as she could. Seventeen-year-old Kathleen was not impressed with the announcement. “Of course you’re a girl. We’ve known that for over twelve years.”

  “Not me,” Lydia said, stamping one foot. “Aunt Dancy’s baby. It’s a girl.”

  “You can’t tell that until it’s born,” Kathleen retorted. Stephen finally tumbled through the front door. Breathless, he said, “She’s right. It’s a girl. She was born about three hours ago.”

  Kathleen’s eyes widened, and her jaw dropped open. “Mama!” she called out. She spun around on one foot and ran to the kitchen. Lydia and Stephen followed, grinning with their news.

  Margaret Lankford set down the pan she was warming and wiped her hands on her apron. “But what are both of you doing here? Surely you didn’t leave your aunt Dancy alone!”

  “Uncle Cuyler is there,” Stephen said assuringly. “He took very good care of her all night.”

  “Cuyler?” Mama said, puzzled. “What about Mistress Payne?”

  “I couldn’t find her. But I found Uncle Cuyler in King Street.”

  Mama’s shoulders jerked slightly, and her fists tightened. “You were in King Street? Last night?”

  Stephen nodded. “I had to go, Mama. The baby was coming. Aunt Dancy needed help.�
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  “And I’m not ready to birth any babies!” Lydia exclaimed. “When Uncle Cuyler got there, I was never so glad to see anyone in my whole life.”

  “And he’s still there?” Kathleen asked.

  Stephen nodded. “Yes, but he wants Mama to come.”

  “I want to go with you,” Kathleen said to her mother.

  “Certainly.” Mama turned to her younger daughter. “Lydia, run upstairs and tell your father to come down immediately. You’ll have to fend for yourselves for breakfast.” She reached for a basket on a high shelf and began filling it with food.

  “Is William home?” Stephen asked, although he could guess the answer.

  Mama shook her head.

  “He didn’t come home all night?”

  Again she shook her head.

  Stephen wanted to ask more questions, but he could see the double concern his mother already bore for her patriotic son who had been out all night during a riot, and for her sister-in-law and dear friend who had given birth prematurely. So Stephen said nothing more. When he allowed himself to sit down and rest for a few minutes, he realized how truly tired he still was.

  In a few minutes, Lydia was back with her father in tow, and Mama and Kathleen hurriedly bundled up the things they thought they would need and left for Aunt Dancy’s house.

  Richard Lankford rubbed his hands together energetically. “Why don’t I mix up some batter for pancakes to celebrate your new cousin?”

  Lydia grimaced. “Because your pancakes are always lumpy!” Stephen flashed a disapproving look at his sister. To his father, he said, “I would love some pancakes, Papa.”

  “You don’t mind the lumps?”

  Stephen shook his head. “The lumps are the best part.”

  Papa threw his head back and laughed. “Stephen, you are too kind. I can always depend on you to say something more generous than I deserve.”

  “That’s our boy!” said a tired but fiery voice. All heads turned to see William leaning against the door frame. His face was grimy and his clothes disheveled. His hat was cocked to one side. Stephen thought he looked so tired that he could hardly stand.