by DiAnn Mills
“But the danger,” his wife continued, “and you wish to take Delight?”
“No one will suspect a man and his daughter delivering goods. We shan’t go far, and danger will be beyond us. Once I make the delivery, I will be home immediately.”
“Mama, please understand. I want to help Papa. God will be with us. He will be our shield and protector.” Delight’s voice rang out true as always. If the young woman had any doubts about the dangers and risks of this rebellion, Henry had never heard them.
“What if soldiers arrive to question Henry? Most assuredly he has heard every word. What will become of us?” Mistress Butler reasoned.
Elijah drew in a heavy breath. “I believe he will honor our home. He is a God-fearing man, one who knows the way of the righteous. He wears a British uniform, but his heart strengthens to our cause.”
Silence echoed around them. “Very well,” Mistress Butler whispered. “Godspeed. I’ll prepare a bundle of food while you hitch up the wagon and ready yourselves. How long will you be gone?”
Again no one spoke. Elijah must have motioned to his wife. “If all goes well,” he said, “we will be spending the evenings in various homes along the way.”
“Am I to suppose you have other duties along the way?”
Elijah’s boots tromped across the floor. “Yes, my dear. Not a moment shall be wasted.”
All of Henry’s earlier thoughts resurfaced. A bit of relief washed over him in not knowing their destination. He felt no ill will toward Elijah and his mission. Quite the contrary, he rather envied and admired their courage. Oh Lord, I cannot fathom having such faith in one’s convictions. I am greatly troubled. In my pledge to serve the king, I should turn Elijah in. Even while I pray, my heart is twisted and turned in searching for the truth. But he is right. I could never report his workings to the British.
In the dark of early morning with only the stars and a three-quarter moon lighting a white path, Delight rode with Papa in silence. They traveled along a solitary path toward the rendezvous point in New York with the rhythmic sound of the horses’ hooves easing her mind like a lullaby. Tucked away in her left shoe was the precious information for General Gates. The warm evening and the lull of the wagon made for her half-awake, half-asleep state.
“Would you like to lie down in the wagon?” Papa’s question broke the silence.
“I think not. I like riding here next to you.”
“As though you were a little girl again?”
Delight smiled and linked her arm in his. “You have always been tree height to me, Papa.”
“Someday, probably sooner than I desire, another man will inspire you to those sentiments.”
She laughed lightly. “He’d have to possess all of your fine attributes.”
“All?” he teased. “Shall the poor man also have my faults?”
“Oh Papa, you have so few.”
He roared, sending his mirth out into the night. “I believe you need to have this discussion with your mother. She might enlighten you.”
Delight leaned on his strong shoulder. “You are going to enlist, aren’t you?” She whispered the words as though Mama rode with them.
“I am anxious to do my share.”
“Is that your second mission in New York?”
“Possibly.”
“But you are contributing to the cause now.”
He paused before continuing. “This is not the first time.”
Guilt crept through her about not telling Papa what she had done when the redcoats occupied Boston. “Is it not enough?”
“Not when it plagues a man’s heart and mind to do nothing less for the freedom of his family.”
Tears stung her eyes. “You should be an orator.”
“A cooper suits me fine.”
“A man should always seek higher aspirations,” Delight insisted.
“I am, daughter. It is my fondest wish for my children and grandchildren to proudly state their father and grandfather fought in the war for independence.”
“But—”
“Not simply in the capacity of carrying information.”
Delight felt a yoke of sadness. “I understand, for as a woman I have wanted to do so much more.”
“Your mother and Aunt Anne are planning to melt down pewter next week and make musket cartridges.”
“And I will help.”
Papa hurried the pace on the horses. “Your soldier must not discover this.”
“Who? Certainly you don’t mean Henry. I would never reveal patriot information.”
“Your sisters might speak unawares. That is why your time with Mama and Aunt Anne must be in secret.”
She nodded and closed her eyes, more weary than she’d originally believed.
“Henry is a good man,” Papa said. “Our plight for freedom is not unknown to him.”
Irritation clouded over her. “What do you mean?”
“Delight, remember how Henry told you he joined the British army for transportation here from Ireland? For a better way of life?”
“And he is a weaver of cloth by trade.”
“Do you not see? Henry is no different than my father coming to America to establish his cooper trade or the thousands of others who braved the dangers of ocean travel to better themselves and their families.”
Papa’s words made sense. Although Delight distrusted Henry, he often displayed a likeable side. “I comprehend what you are saying, but how do you propose to convince him?”
“Through prayer and what he senses in our family. The longer he lives in our home, the more he sees our passion for liberty.”
She sighed. “One afternoon Mercy and Hope were playing with their dolls in the hall. When I listened to their chatter, they were imitating you and Mother discussing your enlistment.”
Elijah chuckled. “And what was the result?”
“With the girls, Mercy enlisted despite Hope’s protests. Of course, Henry heard every word. At the time I merely found it all humorous, but his privy to the game is, as you say, an influence to our way of thinking.”
“And you, Delight, are the biggest influence in his life.”
“Papa, I’m afraid you are sadly mistaken. Neither of us is prone to pleasantries. We barely tolerate each other.”
“Do you know why?”
She righted herself from his shoulder. “I have no notion whatsoever other than I have tended to him while he recovers.”
“Ponder on this matter. You are a loyal patriot and a godly woman. Of late, I have noticed you are kinder to him, but you have not relinquished one bit from our cause.”
And I shall not deviate. “You would like for me to be gentle, but firm?”
He turned and smiled broadly. “A wise and beautiful daughter I have.”
“For you, Papa, I can do what you ask. Sometimes he is not entirely intolerable.”
Elijah’s laughter rang around them. “Delight, I do believe the two of you would make a fine pair—providing he forsook his redcoat ways.”
Delight bit back the remark she’d have eagerly passed to her sisters if they had mentioned such a ridiculous notion. “Papa, surely you don’t mean such?”
“Indeed I do. I see the way the man looks at you and is thoroughly confused, and I see the way you are vexed with him.”
“That is not an indication of love.”
“Is it not? Perhaps this is another matter to discuss with your mother.”
Out of respect, Delight chose not to reply. Never in a hundred years would she consider Henry O’Neill a proper suitor—not even if he enlisted in the Continental army and became a general overnight.
Chapter 6
Much to Henry’s confusion, he sorely missed Delight. Her wit and clever mannerisms kept his mind occupied, although he could live without the sarcasm. She made him feel alive. By their battling of words over the war, he could once again imagine carrying his musket and exchanging conversation with his compatriots. Never, in all his days, did he think he would
miss a lively discussion with an argumentative woman.
In moments like these, he recalled his time with Adam. His friend had said he’d been drafted into the British army along with many young men of poor means. Henry pushed Adam’s memory aside. Neither unshed tears nor bitterness would bring back his friend. More so than ever, Henry felt guilt pricking him like a burr, for his sentiments leaned toward the rebels. He agreed with most of their complaints.
Eager to depart from this room he had come to regard as a prison, Henry inquired of Charity for a fallen limb. She and Faith secured one, and with a little effort, he trimmed and fashioned it into a crutch. His restless spirit yearned to be outside even if it meant more pain. The weather had grown slightly cooler, and he longed to linger on a grass blanket with Bear and enjoy the first whispers of autumn.
One aspect of his confinement embarrassed him. He earnestly desired the necessary room rather than have to endure one more day with the chamber pot. He cringed each time Delight lugged it from the room—and she was always quick to note her disgust. For that concession alone, he’d crawl from the Butler home. Once he secured his freedom, he would beg Mistress Butler for a set of Elijah’s clothes while he mended the huge tear in his uniform breeches.
When Henry was ready to try out his crutch, Charity, Remember, Faith, and Patience offered aid, but he stubbornly refused their assistance and struggled to his feet. Wish they would go about their business. This is difficult enough without women hovering over me. Forcing his weight onto his hands, he leaned on his good leg and pulled himself up far enough so that he could grab the crutch. He sweated profusely but dared not give in to the pain. Once he steadied himself, he glanced into the sisters’ anxious faces and grinned.
“Look here, lasses. I am ready for a race.” He moved about the hall until he mastered the technique, then set his sights on the kitchen. From there he’d venture into the blessed outdoors.
As he hobbled across the wooden floor, he could hear the birds and smell something pleasant, which was a sight better than himself. Bear walked alongside him, seemingly offering encouragement. Odd, the dog had become a constant companion after Delight declared the beast might eat him. He stopped to take a long look at the kitchen—the source of laughter, tantalizing fragrances, and more than one quarrel among the sisters. From this room came a world he had grown to admire and respect. During his initial entry into the home, his suffering had blinded him to almost everything. But now, spotless best described the Butler’s kitchen, with rising bread—another pleasant smell—and the tart sweetness of a bowl of apples. He’d forgotten how wonderful life could be. Henry vowed to always treasure his two legs and the freedom to have them take him places.
Thank Thee, Lord.
Outside in the bright sunlight in the company of the young misses, he trudged toward a maple tree. Already he required a rest but felt too proud to confess his weakness. “I should like to sit in the shade of this glorious tree and enjoy a most beautiful day.”
Henry’s gaze drank in the beauty of changing leaves in gold and scarlet. The air was cooler, too, and refreshing. How much he had missed in a few short weeks.
“Would you like something to read?” Remember folded her hands primly in front of her. At times he wanted to laugh at her pious habits, for most surely her sisters mocked her mercilessly. Yet Miss Remember beset him with her servant’s heart. Aye, he should follow her example.
“A Bible would be fittin’ and anything else ye might have.” He dropped the crutch and eased onto the soft ground, relishing every blade of grass beneath him. He tugged at one and held it up to the sunlight splaying through the tree branches, examining every strand. “I believe I’ve found heaven,” he announced to the young women surrounding him. Glancing about, he wondered where Mercy and Hope had gone. “The little lasses, are they not out and about?”
“They’re with Aunt Anne,” Charity said. “She has a little boy their age, and the three play together famously.”
He nodded. “Children need those times before they spend their lives working.” He recalled well the day when whimsical inspirations were put aside to help provide for his brothers and sisters.
Once Remember returned with a Bible and an additional pamphlet, the sisters left him alone to read. Bear curled up next to his side and laid his mammoth head on Henry’s lap. He breathed in the wondrous earth. Always given to the spaciousness of God’s creation and a driving need to be outside, the three weeks of recuperation had deprived his natural instincts. Even when weaving in Ireland, he had the loom beyond the confines of four walls, surrendering only when night fell or the elements of weather prohibited his craft. That is why he enjoyed the rigorous training of the army while others complained.
Henry grasped the pamphlet Remember had brought to him. He curiously read the title: Common Sense by Thomas Paine. How peculiar, he hadn’t heard of this title before. Perhaps the reading would spin away his hours. Completely immersed in the curious topic, he read for the next hour. One portion in particular, in which the writer addressed the purpose of kings, resonated with him.
Paine wrote, “Government by kings was first introduced into the world by the Heathens, from whom the children of Israel copied the custom. It was the most prosperous invention the Devil ever set on foot for the promotion of idolatry. The Heathens paid divine honors to their deceased kings, and the Christian world hath improved on the plan by doing the same to their living ones. How impious is the title of sacred majesty applied to a worm, who in the midst of his splendor is crumbling into dust.”
Had Mr. Paine written the truth or merely twisted it to suit his own purpose? Henry felt the conviction of the man’s words sear his heart. God be his judge, every word of Common Sense spoke to the core of his being.
Near dusk on the third day of their travels, a few miles inside New York, a man on horseback approached Delight and her father.
“Are you a stranger to this fair country?” The rider reined his stallion in close to the wagon. The horse was a fine one indeed, its coat a silky black. It pawed at the ground, indicating a desire to run with the wind. The animal’s master offered an incredible smile, sinking deep dimples into the corners of his cheeks.
“A sojourner, my friend.” Papa brought the horses to a halt.
An odd reply for Papa unless …
“Ah, we are all but travelers on this earth for as long as the Lord blesses us,” the young man said. “Pray tell, where are you bound?”
“Where the soil breathes of liberty.”
The young man smiled. “I’m honored to meet you, sir. I’ve heard courageous tales about your endeavors.”
I was correct in my assumption. Pride soared through Delight at Papa’s valiant stand for the patriots.
Her father reached out to shake the man’s hand, then nodded at Delight. “This is my daughter.”
The young man extended his hand to her. “A pleasure to meet you, miss. I shall be near your home two weeks hence, the Lord providing.”
“Do honor us with your presence,” Papa said.
“Thank you. I shall most certainly do so.” He tipped his tricorn hat.
“We look forward to seeing you again,” Delight added. She felt a glimmer of warmth spread over her cheeks at his engaging smile. She must ask Papa his name, since they had not been properly introduced.
“Pardon my hasty departure, but I must be on my way,” the young man said.
“Of course.” Papa turned to her. “Your shoe.”
She hurriedly removed it and produced the document for her father. In the next instant, the young man turned his steed and disappeared into the brush. A strange sensation flashed through her body.
“And who might that be?” Delight’s cheeks grew hot at the realization of her interest in the dark-haired young man with the dimpled smile, and she hid her confusion by bending down to put on her shoe.
“James Daniels, the son of an influential patriot. Both have worked closely with Sam Adams and the Sons of Liberty,” Papa
said, picking up the reins. “He’s not married.”
Delight caught her breath. “I simply wondered what his name was.” First Papa mentioned the most absurd possibility with Henry, and now he indicates Mr. Daniels is not married. Is he anxious to marry me off?
“I merely mention his marital status because he works diligently for the patriots, often transporting information through enemy lines. He’s been beaten by loyalists, wounded by British soldiers, has witnessed his father’s death at Bunker Hill, and watched while his home burned to the ground, yet still he refuses to settle for anything less than liberty.”
Delight’s heart pounded hard against her chest. Such valor! Such heroism! That was the sort of man she wanted to share a home with one day, not the likes of a redcoat named Henry O’Neill with his carrot-top hair and unbridled loyalty to the British.
The matter of Henry had better be laid to rest. She had given Papa her word to treat him as a friend and a guest in order for his Tory heart to soften, but nothing else. And what did Papa mean by referring to Henry: “I see the way the man looks at you and is thoroughly confused”? No mind, she didn’t intend to explore it another minute. The thought repulsed her.
That night, Papa and Delight slept under the wagon. They were anxious to return home and had traversed long into the evening until exhaustion prevailed against them. Even then, Delight’s mind reeled with the happenings of this cherished time with Papa. She’d witnessed a side of him that brought tears to her eyes—a true patriot. One day, she would draw her children to her side and tell them about their grandfather. Sooner than those days, she’d reveal her own small part in the war, although she still desired to do more than make musket shells.
James Daniels existed as another matter: quite handsome, that man. His smile could charm the bark off a tree. In short, she wouldn’t mind his visit at all.
Two days later they finally made it back to Chesterfield. The small village had become home, but Delight sorely missed the excitement of Boston. Mercy and Hope met them with enthusiastic affection as though they had been gone for months. Mama and the rest of Delight’s sisters filed out one by one to offer their hearty welcome and share in Papa’s and Delight’s embraces.
