Rush Revere and the Brave Pilgrims: Time-Travel Adventures with Exceptional Americans

by Rush Limbaugh

  I looked at the invitation again and said, “Lucky for you it doesn’t mention what to wear, so that means you can come as you are.”

  Liberty smiled and let out a long, relaxed breath.

  That’s when I thought I would have a little fun with him. “Oh no,” I said as I pretended to study the invitation.

  “What is it?” Liberty asked.

  “Well, I just noticed that your name isn’t on the invitation.”

  “What!” Liberty snapped. “Let me see that!” I moved the parchment up to his eyes as he scanned the letter word for word.

  I continued, trying not to smile. “That’s too bad. I’m sure we could bring you back something. A carrot, perhaps.”

  Liberty’s head jerked from the letter to my face. He gave me a penetrating stare as if trying to shoot laser beams from his eyes. His head jerked back to the letter. He stared some more. An idea must have popped into his head because he slowly turned to me with a big, wide, satisfied grin. He asked, “And just how do you think you’re going to get to the Pilgrim Party, Professor? Hey, I like that alliteration. Pilgrim Party Professor.” He refocused his attention and gave special emphasis each time he used the letter p. “The point I prefer to punctuate is that I’m your ride! You can’t get there without me.” Liberty smiled and blinked rapidly several times.

  I couldn’t help but smile and said, “Perfectly played. You’re right. I’m sure it was just an oversight on William’s part. We’d love for you to join us.”

  “Or perhaps the better way to say that is I would love for you to join me,” Liberty said.

  “Touché!” I laughed. As we walked away from the school I said, “Let’s go gather some items for our history class as well as for the festival. Then we’ll go have some lunch and return before class starts.”

  “Sounds like a plan!”

  “But let’s not eat too much. Remember, William said we should come hungry.”

  Liberty looked at me like he was embarrassed to know me and said, “You did not just say that. For the record, there are three subjects that have always put me at the top of the class: breakfast, lunch, and dinner.”

  * * *

  We returned just seconds before the Honors History class started. Liberty, of course, held his breath and walked into the classroom unnoticed. I carried two large grocery sacks and set them down near the teacher’s desk. As the bell rang and the students took their seats I reached up to feel the once-sealed letter from William Bradford resting in my pocket. I couldn’t help but smile that we were invited to attend the first Thanksgiving.

  Seal of the city of Plymouth, Massachusetts.

  I quickly welcomed the students and asked for everyone’s attention. As all heads turned in my direction, Liberty exhaled and appeared at the back of the classroom. Freedom noticed him but no one else did.

  I noticed that all the desks were filled but one.

  “Has anyone seen Elizabeth?” I asked.

  Before anyone could respond, the door to the classroom jerked open and Elizabeth rushed in. She was so fast that Liberty didn’t have time to disappear.

  “Ah-ha! Caught you!” Elizabeth yelled, pointing. “See, I told you he had a horse in the classroom.”

  Principal Sherman was still inching his way through the door. Elizabeth quickly turned and impatiently pulled him into the classroom. In the two and a half seconds it took to look back and pull the principal through the door, Liberty vanished.

  “What just . . . How did . . . Where did he go?” Elizabeth asked, confused.

  Principal Sherman surveyed the scene.

  “He was right there!” Elizabeth pointed as she marched to the back of the room. “Right here!” She spread out her arms as if showing off a masterpiece. She whipped around to the principal, who looked somewhat bothered.

  Principal Sherman sighed and said, “I apologize for the intrusion. I always hate to interrupt a teacher’s precious time nurturing the fine minds of Manchester Middle School. But Elizabeth was so passionate about it and assured me that you had a horse in your classroom. And not just any horse.”

  “That’s right!” shouted Elizabeth. One of the yellow bows in her hair looked off-kilter. “Daddy! It’s a talking horse who loves American history. He recited the Preamble to the Constitution. He took Mr. Revere to visit the Pilgrims. You all saw it! And his horse really does talk! Tell him!”

  Elizabeth stared at the students, urging them to back her up, but they all avoided her glare.

  The principal walked to the back of the classroom and patted Elizabeth on the shoulder. “There, there, my dear. It’s all right.”

  The students were all watching, eyes glued to the scene at the back of the classroom. In that exact moment, Liberty reappeared at the front of the classroom.

  “There he is again!” Elizabeth pointed frantically to the front of the classroom. But, again, in the one and a half seconds it took the students to look where Elizabeth was pointing, Liberty had already gasped for air and had vanished again. I stood all alone at the front of the class and waved at all the searching eyes.

  Freedom got up out of her chair and opened the back door. She said, “Is anyone else warm? This room feels really stuffy. I’ll just leave the door open for a minute.”

  Smart girl, I thought. I hoped Liberty took the hint and was leaving the room.

  “I think I’m partly to blame for Elizabeth’s behavior,” I said. “There was an accident this morning. . . . Oh, I almost forgot.” I pulled out a new phone that I had purchased after lunch. “Here you go. And I do sincerely apologize about this morning.”

  “Accidents happen,” said Principal Sherman. “Let’s go to the nurse so you can lie down while I call your mother.”

  Elizabeth took the phone and started to squawk, “But Daddy!” Principal Sherman put his hands on her shoulders and started to leave. Elizabeth looked around the classroom one last time and then quietly exited with her father.

  The whole class burst out laughing.

  “All right, all right,” I turned to the class and said, “enough of that. You all had an opportunity to turn me in, but you didn’t. Why?”

  “We like you!” said Tommy.

  “Yeah, yesterday was awesome,” said another boy in the front of the class.

  “We hope Liberty comes back,” said a girl sitting near the empty desk.

  “We don’t want to lose our talking horse!” said another boy.

  “If that is how you truly feel, I can assure you, Liberty and I will be back. But we wasted enough time and we have an important history lesson today.” I went to the chalkboard, grabbed a piece of chalk, and began writing some letters. K-I-S . . .

  “Kissing?” guessed Tommy. The class laughed. “I thought this was history class.” Then Tommy’s face turned serious. “Wait, we’re not going to talk about the history of kissing, are we?”

  The boys all groaned, and the girls seemed very curious about where I was going with this.

  “No,” I said, “I’m not finished putting letters on the board.” I continued writing,

  K-I-S-T-I-N-G . . .

  Tommy interrupted again, “Mr. Revere? It looks like you’re trying to spell kissing and I’m no kissing expert, but I’m pretty sure you’re spelling it wrong.”

  Again, laughter bounced off the classroom walls.

  “Thank you, Tommy. But if you’ll let me finish, I’ll explain.” I finished writing each letter. K-I-S-T-I-N-G-V-A-G-H-N. “There! Does anyone know what this says or means?”

  All I got were blank stares. Timidly, a couple of students raised their arms.

  “Is it some place in Europe?” said a boy.

  “Is it somebody’s last name?” asked a girl.

  Tommy tried one last time and said, “I’m pretty sure it has something to do with a girl kissing a guy named Vaughn.”

  This time, I found myself laughing. “Imaginative, but no,” I said. “Sometimes, what we see is not what is truly there. Most people see Liberty as an average
horse. But you know differently. Likewise, most people don’t see history for what it truly is. To know the truth about history, it needs to be experienced to be understood. When we begin to know the real people who were a part of real events in history, we begin to see those events differently. Today we are going to visit one of those events. Remember, oftentimes what we see is not what is truly there.”

  Using the same letters, I rearranged them and spelled T-H-A-N-K-S-G-I-V-I-N-G. “By simply unscrambling the letters, we see what is truly there. Tell me what you think about when you hear the word Thanksgiving.”

  “We get out of school!” said a boy in the back row.

  “My family goes to my grandma’s house and all our cousins come and it’s like a big party,” said a girl near the windows.

  “I love watching football,” said Tommy. “And my mom cooks a big turkey with stuffing. One year my dad tried cooking the turkey, but it didn’t turn out so well and the fire department showed up, so, well, now he makes the mashed potatoes and gravy. And, of course, there’s always pumpkin pie. I’m getting really hungry just talking about it.”

  The rest of the class agreed and starting talking about their favorite Thanksgiving foods.

  I thanked everyone for their comments and said, “Today we’re going to visit the first Thanksgiving. Of course, the Pilgrims didn’t call it Thanksgiving. Their celebration was more of a harvest festival. Rather than try to explain it to you, I’d rather you experience it with your own eyes. History is a mystery until it is discovered. Are you ready?”

  “Are you going to show us another movie? Do we get popcorn this time?” asked Tommy.

  “Yes and yes!” I reached for the large grocery sacks and pulled out two large bags of popcorn, including some paper bowls. I also pulled out several packages of red licorice. The class cheered and several boys gave each other high fives.

  “This movie is a documentary on the Pilgrims’ first Thanksgiving. Pay attention to what’s different and what’s the same when you think about your own Thanksgiving.” I walked to the back of the class and connected the wireless adapter to the projector. “I’m going to step out of the class to check on Liberty, but I expect you’ll be on your best behavior. Enjoy the show.” I dimmed the lights and discreetly nodded at Tommy and Freedom. As students were crawling over chairs and desks to get to the popcorn and licorice, nobody noticed the three of us slip out the back door. We hurried down the hall and through the doors to outside, where Liberty was waiting for us behind the gnarled oak tree.

  “I have your Pilgrim clothes but you’ll have to change when we get there. Liberty, try and get us just inside the forest.”

  Tommy and Freedom climbed up onto the saddle and Liberty wasted no time. “Rush, rush, rushing to history,” Liberty said.

  “The fall of 1621, Plymouth Plantation, the first Thanksgiving,” I said as I ran behind Liberty and jumped through the swirling time portal.

  Chapter 10

  I immediately saw a drastic change in the surrounding forest. Instead of the mostly green leaves of springtime, now the leaves were various shades of vibrant yellow, red, orange, and purple. It was definitely autumn and it felt like the perfect scenery for celebrating the first Thanksgiving.

  Freedom and Tommy were experts at jumping off Liberty. They quickly slipped off their shoes and put their Pilgrim clothing on over their modern-day clothes.

  “It feels like we were just here,” said Freedom.

  “We were,” said Tommy. “Technically, we came here this morning. But about seven months have passed at Plymouth Plantation.”

  I pulled out my smartphone, tapped the camera app, and switched it to video mode. I turned the phone toward Liberty and said, “You’re on. The students back in class will be able to see and hear you.”

  Liberty cleared his throat and said, “Hello, class. It’s me, Liberty. I can’t wait to get back and visit with all of you. Right now, we’re approaching the place where the Pilgrims first settled in America. It’s called Liberty’s Landing.”

  “Liberty!” I whispered loudly.

  “What?” Liberty whispered back.

  “It’s not called Liberty’s Landing,” I said. “You know that.”

  “I was just making sure you were paying attention. Although I do think ‘Liberty’s Landing’ has a nice ring to it, don’t you?”

  I rolled my eyes and firmly said, “Get on with it.”

  “Okay, okay. We’re approaching Plymouth Plantation. The Pilgrims have been living here for about ten months. And now a word from our sponsor.”

  “We don’t have a sponsor,” I said.

  “We don’t? Well, we should. The iced-tea factory that you work for should be sponsoring us. Seriously! Or what about Butterball turkeys! Or Stove Top stuffing! Or—”

  “Liberty, I think I can take it from here,” I said, exasperated.

  “For the record, just because I’m a horse doesn’t mean I don’t have good ideas. Oh, I do. In fact, I have a dream. I have a dream that one day, I won’t be judged by the color of my skin but by the content of my character! Wait a minute. That was brilliant! I could build upon that.”

  “It’s brilliant because the Reverend Martin Luther King, Jr. said it first,” I said.

  “Oh,” Liberty said. “It just goes to show how great minds think alike.”

  I turned the camera toward the Pilgrim settlement. “Class, this is Mr. Revere speaking. You can’t see me because, as I mentioned before, the camera I’m using is attached to my coat disguised as a button. We are approaching the festival now!”

  “Look at all the Indians,” said Freedom.

  Sure enough, I counted about a hundred Indians, double the number of English Pilgrims. I looked for William Bradford or Myles Standish or Elder Brewster but none of them could be found.

  “Mr. Revere,” Tommy said, softly. “I see a bunch of kids playing games over by the brook. We’re going to check it out, okay?”

  “Have fun,” I said.

  Tommy and Freedom ran off toward the brook and I started weaving my way through the guests. Finally, I saw a familiar face. Squanto was walking in my direction and waved as I approached. “You must be Rush Revere!” he said. “Welcome!”

  “Thank you,” I said as we shook hands.

  “It is an honor to meet you,” Squanto said. “William hoped you would come and bring Tommy and Freedom.”

  “We just arrived,” I said as Liberty wandered toward the tables of food. “Tommy and Freedom ran off to see what games are being played by the brook.”

  “Smart children,” Squanto said. “William recognized your horse and asked that I come find you. Come, he is with Massasoit. I will introduce you to the leader of the Pokanokets. As you can see, he has brought many of his people to the Harvest Festival.”

  I nodded and said, “It looks like he brought his entire village.”

  “Before I was captured and taken to Spain. I remember Massasoit had a great army. His people numbered almost twelve thousand, with three thousand warriors.”

  “That’s remarkable,” I said.

  “Yes, but after years of disease, Massasoit was left with fewer than three hundred warriors.”

  I remembered Squanto talking about how many of his people died. I didn’t realize how great a number that really was. I said, “I assume that Massasoit’s visit with William Bradford and the others went well.”

  “Yes,” Squanto nodded. “Very well. Massasoit and the people of the Mayflower worked out an agreement of peace. They promised to help and protect each other.”

  I liked the idea of a peace agreement. I was very glad to see the friendships that had been forged between the Pilgrims and the Pokanokets.

  As I followed Squanto through the maze of people, I have to admit, I felt a little nervous and overwhelmed. I’m not usually starstruck, but walking around meeting exceptional people like Squanto, who left such a mark on American history, was just incredible! Not to mention, I was about to meet the man who could command h
is warriors to capture or kill the Pilgrims like the Indians did with the French sailors who had arrived in previous years. Instead, he chose to befriend them. And from the sound of it, the Pilgrims had helped the Indians as well.

  As we approached several outdoor fires, I saw William Bradford standing next to a strong and muscular Native American. His chest was bare but he wore a thick necklace made of white shells. His long black hair was cut short on one side and his face was painted dark red. He had several warriors standing with him. Their faces were also painted, some red, some white, some yellow, and some black. William presented Massasoit with a pair of knives and some copper chains. In return, Massasoit presented William with some furs and a quiver full of arrows. The two men smiled upon trading the items.

  Squanto turned to me and said, “Massasoit does not speak English, but I will translate for you.” As Squanto approached the sachem, Massasoit turned and acknowledged him. The two spoke briefly and Squanto pointed in my direction. Both Massasoit and William turned and upon seeing me, William rushed over to greet me.

  “Rush Revere, as always your timing is perfect. I see that Squanto has found you,” William said. He took my arm and led me to Massasoit. “It is my pleasure to introduce you to the Indian king, Massasoit.”

  In his native tongue, Squanto translated for William and then introduced me to the king.

  I reached out my hand toward Massasoit and he shook it with a strong grip. He looked to be about thirty-five years old and as lean and fit as any professional athlete. He smiled and spoke a language that was complete gibberish. I smiled back and nodded my head.

  Squanto said, “He says that you have a strong name, like a rushing river.”

  Massasoit spoke again and Squanto said, “He asks if you have brought anything to trade.”

  I felt bad that I had nothing to trade with the Indian leader. Or did I? I slipped my hand into my pocket and pulled out the peppermint candy that was still there from our trip to Fosters’ Family Diner. I said, “I have nothing to trade but I do have a small gift.” I handed a piece of candy to Massasoit, who accepted it in his palm. He looked at it closely.