"It's a beauty, isn't it?" he bellowed.
The horse stopped in front of the coffeehouse, puffing and wheezing. The farmer jumped down to load my valise and food hamper into the back of the wagon.
Grandfather headed into the house. "Be out in a tic," he promised. He was acting like we were headed for a lark instead of fleeing an epidemic. I shook my head. It wouldn't do to be angry.
I hugged Eliza one last time. She muttered a quiet blessing and tucked a lock of hair into my cap.
"You stay out there until two hard frosts," she warned. "Promise me that."
"Yes, Ma'am," I answered. "Thank you, Eliza. Thank you for everything. You've done so much ..." I couldn't choke out anything else.
She hugged me tighter.
"Hush, child. I'm doing no more than your mother would do in my place. This is how the Lord wants us to treat each other. She'll be fine and we both know it. Don't worry about her. You take care of yourself."
She turned me around and gave me a shove toward the wagon.
"Thought you said the old man was coming," the farmer said as he tied down the valise.
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"Have patience," I said. "Here he comes."
Grandfather stepped onto the porch dressed in his regimental jacket, his sword buckled onto his belt, and King George on his shoulder.
He saluted.
"Captain William Farnsworth Cook, Pennsylvania Fifth Regiment, here to escort you beyond the lines of the dread and terrible enemy, Yellow Fever, Miss Matilda."
He clicked his boots together and offered his arm to me. Eliza laughed as she wiped her eyes with her apron. Grandfather helped me climb up into the wagon before hoisting himself aboard with a grunt. King George circled overhead and squawked. The farmer yelled, "Giyup!" and cracked the whip across the back of the horse.
And so I left home, in a manner quite unpredicted.
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CHAPTER ELEVEN
September th, 1793
Great numbers of the citizens have shut up their houses and fled into the country...
-Letter of Ebenezer Hazard Philadelphia, 1793
With only one half-starved horse pulling us, it took nearly an hour to be clear of the city line. The dry road was rutted from the wagons and carriages which had fled before us. The insects were vicious. I smacked them on my arms and legs until my skin stung. Grandfather took out his handkerchief and mopped sweat off his face and neck. I waved away a mosquito that buzzed in my ear.
"It's the smell of that baby," I said. "His drawers are full, and it's attracting every bug for miles."
Grandfather chuckled. The laughter caught in his throat and made him cough. I watched with alarm as his face reddened. I pounded his back until he raised his arm in protest.
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"I'm fine, child, I'm fine. No need to beat me senseless."
The farmer turned around in his seat and glared at them.
"He ain't sick, is he? I'll not have fever victims in my wagon."
"Take care you don't drive off the road. We're fine back here. Mind your horse," I snapped.
Grandfather raised an eyebrow.
"You're turning into a regular scold, Mattie Cook. You sound like your mother, ordering menfolk around."
"Some menfolk need ordering."
"That they do." He straightened his legs as best he could between the baskets and clothing bundles. "I propose we enjoy our carriage ride in the country. It would hardly be proper to remove my coat, but if I can beg my lady's indulgence, I will unfasten a button or two." His stiff fingers fumbled with the pewter buttons until they released and he could breathe with ease.
"There," he sighed. "That's better. It's time to review your soldiering lessons."
I groaned. From my crawling days, Grandfather had taught me all the tricks of the American and the British armies, and quite a few from the French. Again and again and again. It would do no good to argue. I was his captive.
"A soldier needs three things to fight," he continued. He held up three fingers and waited for my response.
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"One, a sturdy pair of boots," I said. "Two, a full belly. Three, a decent night's sleep."
Grandfather thunked his boots on the floorboards.
"Hey," protested the farmer.
"My boots are sound."
Grandfather belched.
"Tsk, tsk," said the farmer's wife.
"Eliza fed me breakfast enough for two blacksmiths."
He pulled the brim of his hat down over his eyes and settled back against a rolled-up mattress.
"And now I'm going to get some sleep before our coachman delivers us unto the joys of the Ludington family barnyard and their odiferous pigs."
"Pigs," echoed King George.
I settled in alongside him so my head rested on his chest. The rhythmic turning of the wagon wheels, the hum of insects in the barley fields along the road, and the beat of Grandfather's heart blended into a lullaby.
I woke when the wheels stopped turning. I had to shield my eyes from the sun.
"Why are we stopping?" I asked. The farmer didn't answer, but pointed up the road. The baby cried.
Four horsemen armed with muskets blocked our way.
Robbers! I felt for the small purse hidden in my pocket and nudged Grandfather with my elbow. The farmer let his hand drop to the knife handle rising up
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from his boot. The baby wailed and the horse shifted nervously in his traces. The riders advanced.
One of the men lifted his hat.
"Don't be afraid, we mean you no harm."
The farmer's hand stayed on the knife.
"You are entering Pembroke," said a second man. "Planning on staying here?"
"Just passing through," said the farmer. "I'm taking these folks on up to Gwynedd, and the wife and me are heading for her mother's in Bethlehem."
"We don't have any money," said the farmer's wife.
The first man took a piece of paper from under his coat.
"We aren't highwaymen, Ma'am. We have been authorized by the town council to keep out fever victims. I have to ask you to step down so our doctor here can have a look at you. If you aren't sick, you can pass through town. If you are, you'll have to turn around."
The farmer jumped to the ground. His wife handed their baby down to him, then hopped into the dust herself. I shook Grandfather to wake him. The doctor examined the little family, peering under their eyelids and looking down their throats. I shook Grandfather harder.
"Wake up," I said. "There is a doctor who must see us."
He didn't move. Something twisted inside me. I pinched his nose.
"Grandfather," I said, my voice louder. "Please wake up."
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"Is there a problem here, Miss?" The doctor walked to the side of the wagon. He opened one of Grandfather's eyes with his lingers. Grandfather woke with a start.
"What in the name of heaven!" Grandfather shouted. He broke off into a coughing fit. "Water," he croaked.
I looked at the men on horseback.
"Can he have some water, please? We have been traveling in the sun all morning."
The men looked at each other and at the doctor. Grandfather stopped coughing and leaned back wearily.
"I'm fine, child. I can wait until we get to the farm. I seem to have contracted a summer grippe." He tried to sit up straighter. "No need for further delay. Off we go!"
The doctor stepped back and covered his mouth with his hand.
"Take this man back to the city," he commanded. "He is infected with disease."
"No!" the farmer shouted.
One of the horsemen turned his horse and galloped away.
"Nonsense," Grandfather said. "There's nothing wrong. . . ." He broke off coughing again. I stared in horror, first at Grandfather, then at the doctor.
"You must help him," I cried. "If he is sick, you must help him."
The farmer grabbed me under the arms, pulled me from the wagon, and threw me onto the
road. He and the
&
doctor lifted Grandfather and deposited him beside me. King George squawked and circled above the commotion.
"They aren't my family," the farmer said as he motioned for his wife to climb aboard. "They only rode in back the last mile or so. They was walking and we picked them up."
"He's lying!" I shouted.
"I don't have no fever," the farmer continued. "My wife and baby are healthy. Let me just drive through so I can get to Bethlehem by nightfall. We won't stop for nothing."
The doctor nodded to the leader of the group.
"Go ahead," the man said. "Make haste."
The farmer brought the whip down with all his strength, and the wagon lurched forward. I stared, mouth open, as the wagon disappeared into a cloud of dust. Our food, our clothing-gone. This couldn't be happening.
"Go back to Philadelphia," the doctor advised. "There are physicians there who will treat you. You can't stay here."
"We can't walk!" I protested. "It's miles!"
"Have you no mercy?" asked Grandfather.
The leader of the group looked down on him.
"We have to take care of our own, Sir."
Grandfather glared at the man. I had never seen him so angry. He looked as if he wanted to run the man through with his sword. But he just stared.
"And I shall look after mine," Grandfather vowed. "I shall look after mine."
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CHAPTER TWELVE
September 8th, 1793
Our inhumane neighbors, instead of sympathizing with us tauntingly proclaim the healthfulness of their own cities... -Letter of Ebenezer Hazard Philadelphia, 1793
We hadn't walked far before Grandfather shook with chills.
"Let's rest a while under that chestnut tree, child," he suggested.
I untied my apron and filled it with timothy grass until it formed a soft pillow for Grandfather's head. I wanted to ask him what we should do next, but he was asleep again before I could say a word.
I bit the inside of my cheek to force back the tears. Crying wouldn't help anything. I put my hand on Grandfather's forehead. It was hot and dripping.
Think, I commanded myself. We have no food or water. We're at least ten miles out of the city. It would
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take hours to walk back, even if Grandfather felt well. It is just a summer grippe, I told myself. It is just a summer grippe. It had better be a summer grippe, because there is no way to care for him if he is truly ill. I ran my tongue over my dry lips. The first thing we needed was a drink of water.
I slipped Grandfather's canteen from his belt. His chest rose and fell steadily, and his heart thudded regularly.
"I'll be back soon," I whispered as I kissed the damp white hair above his ear.
I walked a few hundred paces south to where the road rose sharply. On top of the hill, I squinted along the horizon until I found what I was looking for.
A line of willow trees.
"Old soldier's trick," I said as I set off. Find a willow tree and you'll soon find water nearby.
The stream was sweet and clear. I drank my fill and washed my face. It was much cooler under the willow than it had been under the chestnut tree. Maybe I could convince Grandfather to move here when he wakes, I thought.
But first I had to find supper. A row of raspberry bushes heavy with ripe fruit lined the other side of the bank. I splashed over and started to pick the fruit.
"Raspberry bushes mean rabbits are about," I told a curious bluebird watching from a milkweed plant.
Grandfather could snare a rabbit, and I'd cook it over
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a small fire. With fresh water and food, we could stay under the willow until he regained his strength, then head back to the city. Grandfather would recuperate at home with Mother, and I could care for them both. I ate a handful of berries. My solution was perfect.
"I have a plan," I shouted as I ran back to the chestnut tree. I held my overskirt out in front of me to keep the raspberries from being crushed. The full canteen sloshed against my backside.
Grandfather slowly opened his eyes. I peered closely. His eyes were bloodshot, but they were not yellow. Good, I thought. Just a summer grippe. He pushed himself up to lean against the tree trunk.
"There's my cherub," he said. "I knew you wouldn't leave me to face the enemy alone."
"Here." I fumbled with the canteen. "You need some water. You'll feel much better."
Water spilled along his withered cheeks and down his neck. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and smiled.
"Better than German wine."
"I have raspberries, too," I said.
"Sit close to me, child," he said. "I want to see your face."
I made myself comfortable in the dirt and shared the berries with him. King George swooped down to help himself to dinner.
"I found a stream of fresh water, like a soldier would, by following the willows. It's beautiful and cool and
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peaceful. We'll go there after the sun sets. Once you recover your strength, we'll go home and you can rest in your own bed."
Grandfather slowly raised a raspberry to his mouth. A mockingbird in the meadow whistled, and King George took off in pursuit. Cicadas and crickets sang farewell to the sun slipping toward the west.
"I'm a fool," Grandfather said.
"Pardon me?"
"I'm a fool," he repeated. "Worse, an old fool. Lucille was right all along. I should have paid more attention. General Washington used to say my only fault was stubbornness. If not for that..."
His voice drifted off but his eyes did not close. Would he be strong enough to walk as far as the willows? Maybe we should try in the morning, after he had a good sleep. We sat in the cooling quiet as the stars crept out from the mantle of night.
"I am concerned for your future," he said. "We must form our battle plans, both for this skirmish and the rest of the war."
I waited for his advice. It did not come. That scared me more than anything. He was waiting for me to decide what to do.
"We'll move camp tomorrow," I finally said.
He nodded. "Whatever you say, Captain."
8?
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CHAPTER THIRTEEN
September loth, 1793
American ladies require a peculiar mode of education.
-Dr. Benjamin Rush
Speech to the Young Ladies Academy of Philadelphia
The mockingbird whistled and I woke with a start. I laid my hand on Grandfather s chest. His heart beat like a battle drum. My throat was parched, but the canteen was empty. I set off for the stream, King George fluttering behind me. I hoped Grandfather would sleep a while.
"Pretty Mattie, pretty Mattie," the creature called.
"What do you want?" I muttered. How could I get Grandfather to a doctor? If only I could send word to Eliza, she could arrange for a carriage. A carriage with a doctor, and food, and a clean shift.
A breeze rattled through a corn field, lifting the leaves like outstretched arms. King George landed on my shoulder.
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"Tea, Mattie! I need tea!"
I brushed him off. "Hush, you foolish creature, or I'll make a pillow out of you."
Mother thought I was safe at Gwynedd, slopping the pigs and hoeing the fields. Would she worry when Grandfather didn't return? I kicked a rock down the road.
Why couldn't I have acted strong and calm like Eliza instead of blubbering like a baby? I disgusted Mother. She knew I was weak. I bet she wanted sons. Instead she got a backward, lazy girl child. I kicked the rock deep into the brambles.
I shook my head to rid it of the dark thoughts. I would only consider the good. Mother was surely getting stronger with every hour. Grandfather and I would find a carriage or wagon that would give us a ride to the Ludingtons'. When we arrived, we would find a letter from Mother telling us that all was well and we could go home. I took a deep breath. It felt better to think about pleasant things.
"
Mattie child! Mattie child! Buy me rum!" King George landed on a wild rosebush.
"Go on with you, fleabag. Find us a pot of porridge or an apple pie."
I worked my way around a patch of thistles. The sun burned off the haze, and the dew vanished. My stomach rumbled. If only that blasted farmer had left our food hamper! Along with cinnamon buns, Eliza had packed
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hotcakes and ham, a crock of cherry preserves, another of garlic pickles, and a hard ball of cheese carefully wrapped.
I reached the stream hungry, hot, and tired. With no prying eyes around, I slipped off one of my petticoats, washed it in the water, and hung it over a willow branch to dry. I waded in up to my knees and stood until my toes felt as if they were in a snowbank. What would Nathaniel think if he saw me like this? Would he think me a finer catch than any trout?
When the cold became unbearable, I climbed out of the water to pick berries. It was hard not to think of our kitchen table with bowls of oyster stew, or corn soup, a platter of duck, sweet potatoes and buttered beans, Indian pudding with molasses-or better yet, apple brown betty with extra sugar on top ...
The sound offish leaping from the water interrupted my fantasies. I turned in time to see scales reflecting the sunlight as the fish slid downstream.
Fish! But how to catch one with neither line nor hooks? Where was Nathaniel Benson and his fishing pole when I needed him?
My wet petticoat swayed in the breeze. It would have to do.
I tried to rip open the seam with my teeth, but the tiny stitches that Mother had sewed would not yield. Another fish wiggled to the top of the water to gulp down a water bug.
If I had sewn the skirt, it would have been easy to
9°
tear apart. Instead, I would have to use it whole. I pulled the drawstring at the waist tightly until I could barely poke my thumb through the opening. I would hold open the hem and pray an unusually stupid fish would swim into the trap.