by John Jakes
The trio, including O’Brian, disappeared in the dust and commotion.
Philip wiped his forehead. Sweat trickled beneath his shirt. He searched the faces of the excited people clustering outside their homes and near the meeting house—where the remains of the gun carriages finally collapsed into ash.
No sign of her. Not anywhere. With a weary sigh, he started for the east edge of town.
“Philip?”
He turned, blinking into the smoke and glare. He was afraid in the depths of his soul that his ears had played him false. And false hope was worse than none—
A patch of smoke cleared. He saw her.
Her plain gray dress was stained, torn at the sleeves, wet all around the hem. Her chestnut hair was tangled. Something seemed to turn and break inside of him. Tears welled in his eyes as he shouldered the musket and ran toward her.
She ran too, closing the distance between them with amazing speed. Dropping the musket, he swept his arms around her, kissing her tear-stained cheek, kissing her unashamedly in the smoky sunlight.
“Anne,” was all he could say at first. “Oh, Annie, oh my God, Annie—I thought I’d never see you again. Your father turned me away from Wright’s last night—”
“And told me about how he threatened you,” she said, half-laughing, half-crying as she wiped her eyes.
“Did Daisy find you? I sent a message—”
“Yes, she brought it. That’s why I’ve been searching for you all morning. Were you at the bridge?”
“I was. But I only got to fire one round before the redcoats ran.”
Her hands seemed all over his face, his arms. Squeezing, touching.
“You’re not hurt—?”
“No, no. Only two or three died on our side.”
“I’m such a sight—I look so terrible—” Her face was still wet with tears. She spoke in short, almost incoherent gasps. “We’ve been at the millpond, pulling out the flour barrels. The poor grenadiers—they were so polite. They neglected to crack the barrels open. The flour around the lids sealed them shut. So most of the flour is good as new. Philip, that fat, frightened puppy—” Her laugh was ragged. “—Smith, the commander—he paid for wagons and chaises to carry his wounded back along the retreat route. Paid for them! Gentlemen to the end!”
“Some of those gentlemen are shot down dead,” Philip told her. “I’m supposed to go up the road and find Barrett’s companies again. We’re to follow the redcoats and harry them, Mr. O’Brian said—”
“Smith ranted about the delay of the reinforcements he sent for. There may be many more troops marching out from Boston—”
“Annie, forget the troops.” He touched the freckles on her cheek, barely able to speak. “Last night, your father said—he told me—”
“That I’m going to bear a child? It’s true.”
“Why didn’t you speak of it before I left for Philadelphia? You knew it then, you must have!”
She answered quietly, “Of course I did. But I wouldn’t have used that to hold you—”
“Just what I suspected!”
“I’d have no man without love, Philip. And I want no man except you—” Her voice broke. She brushed at her tear-streaked face, embarrassed. “Truly, I never thought you’d come back. What—what happened in Philadelphia?”
A peculiar smile pulled up the corners of his mouth. “I almost bought a whistle. But it cost too much.”
“A whistle? Whatever are you talking about?”
“It’s not important,” he said, still smiling that strange smile.
“But the woman, Philip. What about her?”
He thought a moment, then said, “I’ll tell you one day. When we’re old and our child’s grown up, maybe. All you need to know now is that it’s done—and I know what I want and what I am.”
“What I hoped and prayed you’d turn out to be!” she whispered joyfully, hugging him.
“Annie, there’s nothing I can offer you—Christ, not even the certainty I’ll come back today. Who knows what kind of fighting there’ll be if we chase the British? But if I can come back, Annie, I want to marry you—”
“Not because you think you must,” she said with a shake of her head. “Not because of my father. Or for any other reason except—”
“That I love you,” he finished, kissing her.
Some passing men jeered and called him a yellow shirker, and why didn’t he get a move on? He paid no attention, his hands fierce against Anne’s back, holding her, feeling the warmth of her through the stained dress—and the trembling, too, as she wept her happiness.
She wrapped her arms around his waist, buried her face against his shoulder. “We’ll raise good strong sons, Philip. You’ll start a fine printing firm of your own and be a rich man—we’ll have a splendid house—”
“Annie, Annie—” He lifted her chin, caressed tears from her eyes. “That’s a good dream. But not a certain one. The fire’s broken out. Right here in Concord this morning. And in Lexington, they said—”
“Yes, eight or nine of Captain Parker’s best were shot down on the green. But you saw how the people rose up in the countryside—came to fight—”
“Still, it’s a terrible thing to think of what can lie ahead. The colonies locked in war with the strongest nation on earth—God knows what sort of future any man will have—”
“I know!” she exclaimed, her face shining. “I know—now that you’ve chosen your side. You’ll live, and we’ll take what comes—and we’ll still be together when it’s done, you’ll see. What Sam Adams wants will happen now, it must—”
“You mean independency?”
“Yes—maybe declared by that very Congress meeting in May. Philip, it has to come! A new country. Free of the old bonds just like you’re free of them. But we’ll weather everything—and turn the Kent family into something strong and fine.”
He let himself smile a little, saying:
“Provided your father doesn’t put a ball through me first. Where is he?”
“Down at the pond hauling out the flour barrels.” She laughed. “I told him I felt an attack of female dizziness coming on. He’s utterly confounded by such things. I said I was going back to Wright’s to rest—but I was really coming to hunt for you again. By the time you return, I’ll see that he’s properly tamed—since you’ve decided to do the decent thing,” she finished, teasing.
He kissed her for another long, sweet moment
“Somehow, I think you’re right, Anne.”
“About what?”
He pressed her hand. “I think the Kents will turn out to be a very fine family indeed.”
He retrieved his fallen musket and, after one final wave, started walking east.
vi
Philip headed out of Concord in company with other men. A great many sang. Some recounted the fight at the bridge second or third hand, or continued making obscene jokes at the expense of the royal troops. Philip’s belly growled. How long was it since he’d eaten or slept? It seemed an age.
Yet there was a spring in his stride; a fresh sense of direction. Despite the uncertainties and dangers ahead, he was, for a few moments, completely happy.
The euphoria didn’t last long.
How would England react now? he wondered. With armed might, surely. Unrestricted and unrestrained. Only in that way could the King hope to put down this rebellion in the cause of freedom—
No matter. He’d follow the road from Concord wherever it led. And come back to Anne, and see their baby born. The first one, then many more—
Dirty, weary, he still hummed a little as he left the highway and started to climb the hillside toward the ridge, where he thought he’d glimpsed some of the Concord contingent. The higher he climbed, the hotter the sun seemed to burn. Almost like a fire on his face.
He climbed toward the blue sky and the free air at the crest of the ridge and caught up with three men he recognized. He was soon out of sight of Concord, lost among the other Americans streaming ea
st to fight.
Afterword
Several people deserve a generous share of thanks for their contributions to this book.
First, Lyle Engel, whose concept of the series provided the canvas for this panoramic picture of our beginnings as a nation.
Maria Ray merits special mention for her editorial help and continuing encouragement.
Norman Goldfind, vice-president and editorial director of Pyramid Books, who developed the concept with Mr. Engel, has lavished the kind of interest and attention on the project that, all too often, an author finds missing.
And Norman and Ann Kearns, senior editor at Pyramid, must be thanked for a host of perceptive suggestions that helped strengthen the final work immeasurably.
Finally, I must tender appreciation to my family, who collectively endured months of three different typewriters clacking at strange times, small mountains of research books cluttering up the otherwise orderly premises and periods of authorial gloom and doom alternating with nonstop monologues about Paul Revere’s dentistry or Dr. Franklin’s air baths that monopolized dinner-table conversations. My wife especially was patience personified when I kept the lights on and the coffee kettle whistling in more predawn hours than I’m sure she cares to count.
I often think that far too many Americans today do not know how and why this country came into being—and, more tragic, do not care. Perhaps in some small way, these novels will help remedy that unhappy situation—and prove, at the same time, as entertaining as only an epic adventure of the spirit can be.
To all those people named, who have been instrumental in my own personal rediscovery of our heritage—a rediscovery that has been, if I may be allowed to use the word in this cynical age, inspiring—I owe a lasting debt.
And Don—thank you for that very first phone call.
JOHN JAKES
A Biography of John Jakes
John Jakes is a bestselling author of historical fiction, science fiction, children’s books, and nonfiction. He is best known for his highly acclaimed eight-volume Kent Family Chronicles series, an American family saga that reaches from the Revolutionary War to 1890, and the North and South Trilogy, which follows two families from different regions during the American Civil War. His commitment to historical accuracy and evocative storytelling earned him the title “godfather of historical novelists” from the Los Angeles Times and led to his streak of sixteen consecutive New York Times bestsellers.
Born in Chicago in 1932, Jakes originally studied to be an actor, but he turned to writing professionally after selling his first short story for twenty-five dollars during his freshman year at Northwestern University. That check, Jakes later said, “changed the whole direction of my life.” He enrolled in DePauw University’s creative writing program shortly thereafter and graduated in 1953. The following year, he received his master’s degree in American literature from Ohio State University.
While at DePauw, Jakes met Rachel Ann Payne, whom he married in 1951. After finishing his studies, Jakes worked as a copywriter for a large pharmaceutical company before transitioning to advertising, writing copy for several large firms, including Madison Avenue’s Dancer Fitzgerald Sample. At night, he continued to write fiction, publishing two hundred short stories and numerous mystery, western, and science fiction books. He turned to historical fiction, long an interest of his, in 1973 when he started work on The Bastard, the first novel of the Kent Family Chronicles. Jakes’s masterful hand at historical fiction catapulted The Bastard (1974) onto the bestseller list—with each subsequent book in the series matching The Bastard’s commercial success. Upon publication of the next three books in the series—The Rebels (1975), The Seekers (1975), and The Furies (1976)—Jakes became the first-ever writer to have three books on the New York Times bestseller list in a single year. The series has maintained its popularity, and there are currently more than fifty-five million copies of the Kent Family Chronicles in print worldwide.
Jakes followed the success of his first series with the North and South Trilogy, set before, during, and after the Civil War. The first volume, North and South, was published in 1982 and reaffirmed Jakes’s standing as a “master of the ancient art of story telling” (The New York Times Book Review). Following the lead of North and South, the other two books in the series, Love and War (1984) and Heaven and Hell (1987), were chart-topping bestsellers. The trilogy was also made into an ABC miniseries—a total of thirty hours of programming—starring Patrick Swayze. Produced by David L. Wolper for Warner Brothers North and South remains one of the highest-rated miniseries in television history.
The first three Kent Family Chronicles were also made into a television miniseries, produced by Universal Studios and aired on the Operation Prime Time network. Andrew Stevens starred as the patriarch of the fictional family. In one scene, Jakes himself appears as a scheming attorney sent to an untimely end by villain George Hamilton.
In addition to historical fiction, Jakes penned many works of science fiction, including the Brak the Barbarian series, published between 1968 and 1980. Following his success with the Kent Family Chronicles and the North and South Trilogy, Jakes continued writing historical fiction with the stand-alone novel California Gold and the Crown Family Saga (Homeland and its sequel, American Dreams).
Jakes remains active in the theater as an actor, director, and playwright. His adaptation of A Christmas Carol is widely produced by university and regional theaters, including the prestigious Alabama Shakespeare Festival and theaters as far away as Christchurch, New Zealand. He holds five honorary doctorates, the most recent of which is from his alma mater Ohio State University. He has filmed and recorded public service announcements for the American Library Association and hasreceived many other awards, including a dual Celebrity and Citizen’s Award from the White House Conference on Libraries and Information and the Cooper Medal from the Thomas Cooper Library at the University of South Carolina. Jakes is a member of the Authors Guild, the Dramatists Guild, the PEN American Center, and Writers Guild of America East. He also serves on the board of the Authors Guild Foundation.
Jakes and his wife have four children and eleven grandchildren. After living for thirty-two years on a South Carolina barrier island, they now reside in Sarasota, Florida, where Jakes has resumed his volunteer work on behalf of theaters and libraries while he continues writing.
Jakes in 1936, on his fourth birthday.
Jakes and his comedy partner, Ron Tomme (at right), won first prize for their comedy act on Rubin’s Stars of Tomorrow, a talent show aired on WGN-TV, in Chicago, 1949. Tomme went on to star as the leading man on the CBS soap opera Love of Life.
Jakes with his daughter, Andrea, in the mid-1950s, in front of his home on North Walnut Street, Waukegan, Illinois.
Jakes received his fourth honorary doctorate, this one from DePauw University, in 1985 in Greencastle, Indiana. Jakes and his wife are both DePauw graduates. At left is Dr. Richard Rosser, then-president of the university.
Jakes with his wife, Rachel, at a boat party for sixty friends to celebrate the couple’s fiftieth anniversary in 2001 at Calibogue Sound, Hilton Head Island, South Carolina.
Jakes’s 2006 publicity photo for The Gods of Newport, taken on the Cliff Walk at Newport, Rhode Island.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this ebook onscreen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locale
s is entirely coincidental.
copyright © 1975 by John Jakes and Lyle Kenyon Engel
cover design by Mimi Bark
978-1-4532-6321-1
This edition published in 2012 by Open Road Integrated Media
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