Patriots Cause

By the mid-afternoon hour, the two teams had collected the waiting supplies from the Rafferty's farm and were headed back to camp.  Cole felt the mission was going smoothly, but also sensed it might be going too smoothly as he looked up at the sky.

The scattered gray clouds loomed and blocked the few rays of sun they had enjoyed earlier.  The threatening storm clouds brought with them cold, damp moisture.  As gusts of winds started to pick up, Cole predicted, "It looks like a late winter storm is brewing."

"Hopefully we can make it back before conditions worsen," Emma said shivering as she too watched the ominous sky.

"Take a blanket from the back and wrap it around you to ward off the cold," Cole suggested.  "We can't be but five miles from camp."

With the threat of impending bad weather, Cole picked up the horse's pace while Harold followed suit.  As they did, over the hill came the thunderous hooves of more horses.  Four riders were bearing down on them at a full gallop.

"Hightail it out of here!"

"The British are upon us!"

Cole immediately recognized Alex and Harry Lee from their shouts and reeled the wagon about.  The two-horse team bolted into motion at his signaling.  Cole veered the wagon toward the isolated tavern, a short distance ahead, where they could take refuge and maybe lose the British attackers.

Emma held onto the wagon for dear life as they raced into the stable.  With the wagons and horses straining to a halt, the occupants leaped out of the wagons, grabbing their guns and ammunition pouches.

"Harry! We need to split up!" Alex shouted in a commanding voice. "Cole, Emmit, and I will take cover at the tavern."

"Right! The rest of us will hold out in the barn."

The trio sprinted across the yard.  Alex swung open the tavern door, infiltrating the tavern, then slammed and barred the door shut.

A startled tavernkeeper grabbed for his musket.  Recognizing the intruders as fellow patriots he allowed them to take refuge.  A throng of British light horsemen in hot pursuit had followed them and now surrounded the grounds.  Shots rang from every direction, shattering windows, glass objects, and splintering wood throughout the tavern.

"Cole and Emmit take either side window!"  Alex shouted his orders while motioning them to their positions.  Pointing to the tavern owner and his wife, he said, "You, take the rear and I'll cover the front.  Maintain a steady fire, and keep clear!"

The close firing of shots were deafening to Emma's unaccustomed ears.  The arid smell of smoke was choking.  She was filled with tension and fear at her first battle encounter.  But, there was little time to think, it was time to fight.

Her drill practiced skills of firing and reloading of shot became a reflex motion.  The steady firing made it possible to keep most of the British pinned down.  However, two British had amazingly crept up by the front door and tried to thrust themselves bodily through the front door.

Emma caught sight of the encroachers while Alex was reloading his musket.  Thinking to protect him, she foolishly stood up, trying to get a shot off and screamed, "Alex, look out!"

Alex reacted to the warning and fended off the intruders but not before one of them got off a shot that ricocheted off something and grazed Emma's upper arm.

The pain was excruciating.  All she saw was white light, stars, and then darkness.

Unable to sustain the intense barrage of fire, the British light horsemen began to scatter and fall back.  In the stable, Harry Lee was delivering one last, crashing volley as the remaining British abandoned the yard.  Alex noticed silence over to his left.  Glancing over his shoulder he saw Emmit's crumpled form.  Blood saturated his coat.

Alex and Cole reached the injured soldier at the same instant.

"Oh, my God, Emma!" Cole cried, frantically lifting her head, causing her hat to fall from her head, releasing her auburn tresses.

"What is she doing here?" Alex shouted, paralyzed with recognition.

Emma was unconscious and deathly pale.  There was so much blood.  Instantly putting aside his disbelief he began to examine her arm, ripping away the torn clothing.  The tavern owner's wife rushed over with a bowl of water and a cloth, spilling water as she went.

Alex swiftly began to administer what aid he could, first washing away the blood.  Then, with the palm of his hand, Alex applied pressure to the wound, which helped stop the bleeding.

"The shot looks like it went clean through her arm,” Alex said temporarily binding the injury with a handkerchief he had found tucked in Emma's chemise strap.

At that moment, Harry charged into the tavern exclaiming, "The British are in retreat!  We..." Harry stymied his remarks when he noticed Alex working on an injured soldier and approached the circle.  "My God it's--"

"Emma," Harold and Swede murmured in unison.

"Emma Geiger!" Harry shouted seeing past her disguise as Emmit. "What?”