Son of the Revolution

by June Venable

  “Your friend also said he’d return when he could.”

  “Do you mind if I rest now, sir?” Caleb saw the pity in Amos Clark’s eyes. Abby probably feels sorry for me too. He wanted to talk to no one until he decided how he could face life as a cripple.

  Lost in thought, he didn’t know how much time had passed when he heard a soft tap on the door. He closed his eyes, turned his face to the wall and didn’t answer. Presently, there was only silence.

  * * * *

  The next time Caleb opened his eyes, the sun was making patterns on the coverlet. Again, came a knock. Before he could answer, the door opened and Abby stormed in. Standing with her hands on her hips, she glared at the boy in the bed.

  “Caleb Fields, I’m almost sorry I’ve spent so much time worrying about you this past week. Here you lie, hiding in this room, feeling sorry for yourself. Have you thought of the boys who didn’t come home at all?”

  Caleb stared in shock. Abby seemed full of surprises.

  “What do you want me to do? I can’t walk. I may never walk,” he finished bitterly.

  “We’ll see about that. For now, I want you to eat something. Are you hungry?”

  When Abby mentioned food, Caleb realized he was famished. “Yes. Yes, I am.”

  He also realized how he had treated the Clarks after they had taken him in and cared for him.

  Abby returned shortly with a tray and set it down on the stool. “Let me help you to sit up and I’ll put this on your lap.”

  Once settled, Caleb looked at the girl. “Abby, forgive me for the way I’ve acted. I owe your family so much. You saved me once and now it seems you’ve done it again. I’m only thinking of myself and my problems, and have completely forgotten my manners. My ma taught me right and wrong and I’ve been wrong. Tell me, how is your ma?”

  Once more, the blue eyes swam with tears. “My mother died six months ago.”

  “Oh, Abby, I’m terribly sorry. I though often of her bravery and how she helped me before.”

  “She thought of you too, and prayed for your safety. I know she would want me to help your now.”

  “I’m safe all right, but I might as well be a prisoner.” The bitterness returned.

  “Don’t, Caleb! I won’t have you talking like that. You will walk again. I just know you will, and I’m going to help you.”

  “How, Abby? On these useless legs? I think the doctor was right. I’ll be a cripple for the rest of my life.”

  “No, Caleb, you won’t. The doctor didn’t say for sure. He didn’t know your spirit, but I do and I know you’ll walk again.”

  Caleb looked deeply into Abby’s eyes. He knew she meant what she said, but how would they accomplish an impossible task?

  “How? How can I walk?”

  “I don’t know yet,” she said honestly, “but we’ll find a way.”

  “You’re a true friend, Abby,” he said, ashamed of his outburst.

  “Then eat. You’ll need all your strength if you’re going to use your own two legs.”

  * * * *

  The following week found Caleb and Abby sitting under one of the oak trees just beyond the garden. Amos had carried Caleb outside. The day was unseasonably warm for late January.

  When he set Caleb down, Amos teased him. “This laziness must stop. I understand you’ve a mind to walk again. If so, you must work at it. I’ll need some help in the fields soon. If the weather holds out, we should start planting before long.”

  “I’d love to lend a hand, sir. I owe you and Abby so much. You’ve saved my life twice now, and if I can help with anything, I’ll gladly do so.”

  “It’s not us you owe for your life, boy. But I think you’re going to do fine now. Just you worry about walking again, and when you’re ready, I’ll expect to see you on the business end of a shovel.”

  “Caleb will walk soon, Father.” Abby’s faith never wavered.

  “Aye, girl, I think he will. Now, I mustn’t waste this beautiful day. I have much to do.”

  “Caleb, I’d like to hear about the battle where you got wounded if you feel like talking about it.” Abby settled down to listen to Caleb’s story.

  Drawing a deep breath, the boy relived the day, describing the sights and scenes of the battle where the Continental Army overcame the Red Coats. He talked until he reached the part when he was shot. “That’s all I remember until I woke up here.”

  “It took a lot of bravery to help chase that awful Tarleton off the battlefield.”

  Caleb’s chest puffed up as he accepted Abby’s compliment. Suddenly his eyes widened.

  Not daring to speak until he felt sure, he reached out and touched the girl’s arm. “Abby,” he whispered, “my toes feel funny. It’s like little blades of grass tickling them.”

  “Oh, Caleb, perhaps if you can feel something, it means your legs might heal.”

  “It’s stopped now.” Caleb’s shoulders slumped in dejection.

  “It will happen again, just wait.”

  It soon became their habit to sit under the oak in the afternoons. Abby had duties in the house that took her time in the mornings but after the noon meal, she and Caleb escaped to the shade of the old tree. Often they read, each engrossed in the pages before their eyes. Sometimes, one or the other read aloud when they found an amusing passage or a character they fancied and wanted to share.

  The weather changed slowly, growing warmer with each passing day. The scent of Sweet Williams filled the air from the little garden Abby tended, and bright green sprouts replaced winter’s weakening hold on the land.

  Several months had passed since the strange tingle in Caleb’s toes, so long ago he had almost forgotten. Deep in a book about the sea, it took him minutes to realize it had happened again. This time stronger sensations ran through his whole foot.

  “Quick, Abby! Help me off with my shoes.”

  Bewildered, Abby did as Caleb asked. She tugged at his boots, then removed the thick hose.

  “Look! Look at my toes. I can move them. I’m wiggling them myself!”

  “I knew it would happen! Oh, Caleb, I’m sure you’ll walk any day now. Maybe even dance a reel,” she cried, as her eyes sparkled.

  Caleb laughed when Abby jumped up and whirled in circles, clapping her hands to unheard music.

  Amos Clark came from the house and gave the girl a bewildered look. He glanced at Caleb. “Has my daughter taken leave of her senses?”

  “No, sir, we’re celebrating. I can wiggle my toes.”

  Inspecting the bare feet and treated to a demonstration of toe wiggling, Amos Clark smiled. “That’s fine, son, really fine. You’ll walk again soon for sure.” Amos Clark turned away, but not before Caleb saw the mist gather in the older man’s eyes.

  “Say, Abby, I just remembered. It’s my birthday today. So much has happened it almost slipped my mind.”

  “Oh, I wish I had known earlier.” With a mysterious look on her face, Abby added, “stay right here, Caleb. I have something to do.”

  “Where else would I go?” Caleb grinned, able now to make a small joke about his condition.

  The young man leaned back in the fragrant grass, arms locked beneath his head. He soon drifted into a light sleep and dreamed he had danced a reel with Abby.

  Moisture on his face woke Caleb. He looked up. Rain and heavy clouds had replaced the sun. A jagged bolt of lightning flashed across the dark sky. The crash of thunder that followed brought Abby from the house. She looking up, wiping her hands on her apron. “I’ve been so busy inside I didn’t notice a storm had blown in.”

  “Is your father in the field?”

  “Yes, he’s still out with the men. I’m not strong enough to help you, but I won’t leave you. It’s just a spring storm. It won’t last long.”

  She had barely spoken when the downpour increased. Lightning crackled around them and rain came down in sheets. They shivered in their wet clothing and clung to one another under the big tree.

  “Abby, go back in the house
. I’ll be all right. Your father will probably come along soon.”

  Another crash of thunder sounded, then the sky flamed as a lightning bolt struck the old oak. A heavy branch, torn from the trunk, dropped on Abby and Caleb, covering the girl. Caleb dug frantically and uncovered Abby’s white face. Her lashes lay like dark fans against her cheeks while a thin stream of blood ran from her temple. She didn’t move.

  I’ve got to get her out from under this branch, Caleb thought. How can I do it? His eyes darted around the landscape, but only the ravages of the storm lay around them.

  Please help me, Lord, Caleb prayed. I can’t help myself.

  He grasped the trunk of the tree and forced himself upright. Unsteady, he tried to balance himself. He felt strength flow into his limbs, but moments later fell to his knees. Tears of frustration mixed with the rain. He glanced toward the house. The distance wasn’t great, but to Caleb, it seemed impossible.

  He struggled to his knees, and pushed at the branch until he freed Abby. Looking at her, he spotted the apron strings that trailed from beneath her still form. Caleb tied them in a knot and wrapped the ends around his fist. He hoped the strength of the fabric held. He began to crawl, tugging on the apron strings. The rain had turned the ground to mud and washed away Abby’s flower garden.

  Caleb pulled himself along with one arm, dragging Abby with the other. The rain grew heavier. It stung like little needles on his skin. Even the course material of his shirt didn’t protect his arms as he crawled through the pebbles and sharp branches.

  He stopped, exhausted with pain and the extra weight. He longed to give up, but one glance down at Abby’s pale face and he pushed on. He reached the door just as the wind tore parts of the roof away and hurled the pieces to the ground around them. With one last burst of strength, Caleb pulled Abby into the house. He lay still for a moment, his breath coming in heavy gasps.

  After what seemed like hours, Caleb raised his head. He must get something to wipe the blood from Abby’s face. If he could make it a few feet to the table, he felt sure he’d find something. He inched his way over, reached up, grabbed the edge and pulled himself up. For the second time that day, he stood on both legs. Weak and shaky, his eyes searched for something to bind Abby’s wounds. His eyes took in the disarray. Thick pottery bowls held sugar and flour, some of which lay in a light dusting on the floor. Looking further, he saw a cake, fragrant with spices, cooling on the sideboard. He realized Abby had baked the cake for his birthday.

  He spotted a cloth and dipped it in the water bucket on the table. On his knees once more he crawled back to Abby.

  Caleb leaned on one elbow and brushed the dark curls aside and carefully dabbed at the mud, then held the cloth to the cut on her temple.

  “Wake up, Abby,” he whispered. “Please open your eyes. I don’t know what else to do.”

  At that moment, the anxious voice of Amos Clark filled the room. “Abby, Caleb, are you here?” Catching sight of the two, he dropped to his knees. “What happened, boy?”

  “A tree limb hit Abby, sir. I’ve bathed her face, but she still hasn’t opened her eyes.”

  “Let me look at her.” Amos bent over his daughter. He picked up the cloth and gently patted his daughter’s face. Caleb knew the big man felt as helpless as he did.

  As they watched, Abby’s eyelids fluttered open. She looked at her father and Caleb bending over her.

  “What happened? How did I get inside?” She looked from one to the other.

  Amos shook his head and looked at Caleb. “Can you explain this?”

  “No, sir, I just did the only thing I could think to do. I crawled and pulled Abby behind me.”

  Amos looked from one to the other. “I think she’ll do well now, lad. I also think something happened here today that we don’t fully understand, but I thank you for somehow having the strength to save my girl.”

  SIXTEEN

  From that time on, Caleb grew stronger. Each day, he found he could take a few more steps than the day before. A slight limp soon marked the only evidence of his wound. True to his word, he gladly pitched in to help Abby’s father in the fields. His skin, burnished from the sun, glowed with a healthy hue. His eyes, the color of topaz, sparkled, and he soon reached a height that caused him to stoop under the doorframes or risk a bump on his head.

  The summer days stretched out long and hot. After the drenching the earth received from the storm, the rain ceased. Crops lost the bright green of spring and the land turned brown and dry.

  Amos Clark stopped several times a day to stare at the brassy skies. Caleb knew the older man hoped that each passing cloud would bring the much needed moisture to the ground.

  On Sundays, Caleb accompanied Abby and her father to church. The first time he had attended services, he looked around wistfully at the families gathered to hear the words of Reverend Potter. He missed his family and thought often of the Larkins. He recalled how Seth had teased Elizabeth in a brotherly, loving way. And each day he spent here, witnessing the closeness of Abby and her father, he felt more alone than ever. But his feelings of gratitude to the Clarks kept him from revealing his loneliness.

  * * * *

  On this late October Sunday, excitement filled the crowded little church. A rider had galloped into town the previous week, waving a message that told of a great victory at Yorktown. The British Cornwallis had surrendered after holding out for fifteen days against the combined forces of Washington’s Continentals and their French allies under the command of General Comte de la Rochambeau.

  Buggies filled the tree-shaded churchyard and neighbors greeted others from distant farms.

  Reverend Potter cut his sermon short. “I know you’re all anxious to celebrate the wonderful news. You’ve been asked to share what you have with your friends and neighbors. We’ve all had little in the way of food and other necessities for many years because of this terrible war, but we have cause now to come together and give thanks. So, let us conclude with a prayer for those gathered here today, and the hope that other loved ones will return to us safely and soon.”

  The crowd poured from the church. Amos, Caleb and the other men carried tables from the church and set them up in the leafy shade. Abby and the other women laid out the food. The platters of each seemed sparse, but with all contributing, it looked like a royal feast to Caleb.

  The children clustered around the tables, their eyes wide with anticipation. Abby brought dried-peach pies. She had talked Caleb into helping and handed him a paring knife. When the sweet scents filled the kitchen, he looked at the girl whose face was flushed from the heat of the oven. Her hair curled around her face.

  “Since I had the most important job, I will tell everyone I made the pies alone,” he teased.

  “Then there won’t be any samples today, Private Fields.”

  Meanwhile, the sun bore down. The men removed their hats to wipe wet brows. Later, everyone said they had never seen a day so hot and dry. It was unusual to have such weather this time of year.

  By afternoon, babies slept in their mothers’ laps and older people sought the shade. Boys ignored the temperature and played games of tag and challenged each other to footraces. Young girls sat under the trees to cheer their favorite runners and whisper secrets behind cupped hands.

  Caleb stood with the men discussing the war whose end seemed in sight. At one point, he glanced at Abby. A tall, young man leaned down to catch her words. Whatever she said caused the fellow to smile.

  As twilight closed in, families reluctantly gathered to begin the trek home. Caleb and Abby sat in the wagon waiting for Amos to take his place in the driver’s seat. Just as he climbed up, Amos looked to the south and gave a cry. Those close by turned to see what had startled him. All eyes followed where he pointed. A gasp rose from the crowd as they spotted plumes of grayish smoke that rose in the purple dusk.

  Amos gave an expert snap to the reins and the horse galloped down the familiar path toward home. Others followed the buggy, which set a pac
e few could meet. Abby and Caleb hung on, not speaking as the horse raced down the narrow lanes.

  Even at a distance, they could see the angry orange flames licking skyward. They came from the barn. A random breeze will put the house in danger from the dancing sparks, Caleb thought. He and Amos jumped from the buggy as soon as they reached the house.

  “Fill those buckets from the pond,” Amos called to one group. To another, he pointed to the barn. “Get the livestock out, but don’t put yourselves in danger.” Still others herded the few horses that had already escaped the fiery structure.

  “Caleb, you and Abby go to the house and get anything we wouldn’t want to lose, but if this fire spreads, get as far away as you can. Take care of her, son,” he said, nodding toward Abby before he tuned back to the fire that threatened their home and livelihood.

  Caleb followed Abby into the house and found a box to carry any valuables Abby wanted to save. He watched as she collected family treasures. Into the box went an old Bible. “This has been in our family for a hundred years,” Abby said, as she placed the heavy book in the box. She followed with a few pieces of silverware that had belonged to her grandparents. Several other mementoes joined the rest.

  “Let’s don’t linger too long,” Caleb said as he glanced nervously out of the window.

  Abby reached into a cupboard drawer and picked up a small broach carved of ivory. “This belonged to my mother. My grandfather, a sailor, brought it to her when she was about my age.” Her voice caught. “Oh, Caleb, these things might be all my father and I have left if the fire spreads.”

  “We won’t let it.” Caleb patted Abby’s shoulder awkwardly, not knowing what else to do when faced with her tears.

  They fled the house, but stopped short outside. Only a few smoking timbers remained of the barn, but the fire had stopped before it reached the farmhouse. The animals had all been accounted for.

  The two watched as the workers sank to the ground, their chests heaving. The water dipper passed from mouth to mouth. The cool liquid slipped down throats parched from the heat and the fight to keep the flames contained.