Collier James Lincoln - The Winter Hero

THE WINTER HERO

James Lincoln Collier and
Christopher Collier

For our Massachusetts connection, Lydia, Willie, Paul, and Susan

No part of this publication may be reproduced in whole or in part, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission of the publisher.

Copyright 1978 by James Lincoln and Christopher Collier. All rights reserved.

Ebook Copyright 2012 by AudioGO. All Rights Reserved.

Trade ISBN 978-1-62064-482-9

Library ISBN 978-0-7927-9524-7

Cover photo @ Bonnie Schupp/iStock.com.

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My Brother Sam is Dead

Who Is Carrie?

War Comes to Willie Freeman

Jump Ship to Freedom

With Every Drop of Blood

The Clock

The Bloody Country

THE WINTER HERO

Chapter One

I RAN ACROSS THE BACK FIELD AS FAST AS I could go, heading for the woodlot where Peter was cutting firewood. It was late in the afternoon, but it was hot, the way it can be in August in New England. As I got up toward the tree line I could smell the grapes on the vines climbing up through the branches. I couldnt see Peter, but I could hear the saw going buzz, buzz on each stroke. Peter, I shouted.

The saw stopped for a few seconds and then it started up again. I was nearly at the woodlot now. Peter, I shouted. The saw stopped again. I got to the fence at the end of the field and climbed over it into the woods. Now I could see Peter through the trees, standing there with the bucksaw in his hands, three-foot logs scattered on the ground around him. He stood watching as I ran through the trees. Peter, hes taking the oxen.

What? Whats happening?

I came up to him and stood in front of him panting. He was more than six feet tall and I wasnt but five-foot-five. The oxen. Hes taking them.

Whos

The sheriff. Sheriff Porter.

His head snapped back as if he had been hit, and then his jaw jutted forward the way it did when he started to lose his temper. Lets go, he said. He flung the saw off onto the woodpile and started running. I picked up the saw. It would rust if it was left out overnight. You could spend half a day sharpening the teeth if that happened. I couldnt even guess how many shillings a new blade would cost. I put the saw over my shoulder with the teeth facing away from my neck so I wouldnt get cut if I tripped. Then I began to run. Peter was far ahead of me. He was strong and he was a fast runner, and by the time I got clear of the shade of the woodlot he was nearly across the back field. I ran on. I saw him vault the fence into the barnyard and disappear around the side of the barn. By the time I got to the fence myself I could hear him shouting at somebody. I climbed over the fence carefully so as not to get nicked by the saw, went around the barn, and leaned the saw against the barn door.

The barn was about fifty feet behind the house. In between there was the hen house, the hog pen, and a patch of ground where Molly grew her squash and beans and pumpkins and such. The sheriff was standing in front of the barn next to his horse. He had got the oxen out of the barn, yoked them together, and was running lines from the yoke to the horses harness. It was going to take him hours to lead the oxen anyplace that way.

Peter stood there, standing as tall as he could to loom over the sheriff. Take your hands off them, he said.

Peter, dont give me trouble, Sheriff Porter said. Do you think I like this? There was a musket hanging down next to the horses saddle, and he gave it a quick look.

Peter reached out, grabbed the sheriffs forearm, and squeezed it. Mattoon sent you.

The sheriff looked back at Peter, pretty calm. Never mind Mattoon, he said. I have a legal order to take these oxen.

Signed by Mattoon.

Hes a justice of the peace. Its legal.

It may be legal, but its not right. How am I going to plow without oxen?

Molly was standing at the back door, watching. She was holding the baby in her arms and the other two little ones were peeking out from behind her. Peter, she hollered. Hold your temper.

Peter gave her a look, and then turned back to the sheriff. Im warning you, Porter, he said. Cut these oxen loose or Ill break you in half.

He could do it, too; he was that strong. The sheriff stopped tying the rope and stared at Peter. Look, he said, I dont like this either. Its the law. You borrowed money from Mattoon and you didnt pay him. Hes got a legal right to take the oxen.

As the law he signs the order; as my creditor he takes my oxen, Peter shouted. How can I pay anybody anything when every time I turn around Mattoon and his kind in the General Court have plastered on another tax?

Peter, hold your temper, Molly said.

Youre not the only one, Sheriff Porter said. Yesterday I took a horse and a plow from James Bacon and the day before, a hundred weight of flax from Hezakiah White. And last week we had to foreclose on a farm down in Amherst. I didnt like any of it, either, Peter, but thats the law.

Mattoons law, Peter shouted. How come the high and mighty have got the laws on their side and the plain man hasnt got any on his? Who makes the laws?

The General Court

The General Robbers. The General Lawyers. The General Liars and Cheaters. He spit. No, sir, Porter, youre not taking my oxen. Im warning you. Untie them and get off my farm.

Peter, Molly said sharply.

I was kind of scared. When Peter lost his temper, he was likely to do almost anything.

Now, Peter, the sheriff said calmly, you prevent me today, and theyll just send four of us up here tomorrow to pick up the oxen and maybe take you along as well for interfering with the law. Theres no use in it.

Peter grabbed his arm again. Im warning you.

Let go of me, Peter.

By God, Im warning you, Porter.

Peter, Molly shouted. He swiveled his head around, and at that moment the sheriff did a little side skip and broke loose from Peter. He swung up on the horse, jerked the musket from its boot, and leveled it at Peter. Peter stood crouched, his arms at his side, about to charge.

Molly raced out of the doorway. Justin, she shouted at me, take the baby. I grabbed it out of her arms. She leaped up on Peters back and grabbed him around his head, covering his eyes with her hands so he couldnt see. He staggered forward from the sudden weight, then righted himself.

Get off, Molly.

You just calm down, first, she said. He grabbed her hands with his, unpeeled them from his face, and shook her off. She jumped around in front of him. Calm down, she said.

He stood staring at her, panting. Porter still had the musket leveled. He looked at the gun and then at Molly. Finally he said, Youd better learn which side youre on, Porter, ours or theirs. Were not going to stand for it much longer. Theres trouble coming and itll be coming soon. Then he spit again, and walked off full speed toward the woodlot. I snatched up the saw from the side of the barn where Id left it, and ran after him with it.

Peter, I brought the saw in, He turned and stared at me. Then he took the saw and, without saying a word, turned around again and walked away. I knew he was going to work off his temper cutting wood.

This was in a town called Pelham, in the western part of Massachusetts. Peters farm is on East Hill, about nine miles east of the Connecticut River. Molly is my sister. My mother and father are dead. My father got killed in the Revolution. My mother was always sickly, and trying to run the farm without my father was hard on her. Especially with only two kids to help her. When she died, Molly and I moved in with my Uncle Billy. His name is Conkey, same as mine, and he owns a little tavern a couple of miles down the road. I kind of liked working at the tavern. But then Peter McColloch came home from the Revolution. Being as he was a hero, Molly fell in love with him, and they got married and bought this farm. Then, after the little ones started to be born, they needed help on the farm, so I came out here to live. I liked it. It was hard work, but Peter made it fun.