I do not own The Patriot
Colonel Tavington settled in his tent for the night with a sigh. The day had been long and several men had been lost to the "Ghost". He didn't dare removing his boot, in case they needed to move quickly, he didn't like being unprepared, and made sure that he was ready for any possible outcome, that is until this vigilante had caused chaos amongst the troops.
He let down his long brown hair and ran his finger through it deep in thought, He glanced at the trunk at the other side of the tent and notice a letter patiently waiting for him. He crossed the tent and picked up the envelope as if it were made of glass, it had been weeks since he had received word from his family, His wife Margaret, nick named Marmee, a mix of Mommy from his four daughters, and her first name. And his beloved daughters, Margo who was fourteen, Lucille who was ten and a pair of twins named Bridget and Kimberly who were six.
It had been a month since His family had been moved to Ohio, being promised land should they win the war. It was a wonderful opportunity, but having his family so close to the war made him anxious, fearing that one day he will get a letter not from his wife, but from the war office, informing him of their death.
With the blade of his knife he sliced through the wax seal carefully, Margaret's carful hand writing lopped and curled across the page,
My dear husband…
Margaret Tavington sighed and pulled on her apron, preparing to make the weeks bread, it was easier to buy it but, homemade was cheaper and kneading the dough calmed her nerves. She flinched as the sound of distant canon fire shook her to her core she peered out the window to view her children playing in the yard of their large home. She brushed her flour coated hands on her apron and rushed to the door, "Girls, come inside for a while." She called, counting each head as they filed into the house.
"Lucy, Margo, Bridget…" she tallied, "Where is Kimberly?" she asked, she marched out to the porch, "Kimberly?" she called, not response.
Panic filled her until she spotted a crop of wild brown waves dart out of the wheat field, "Kimberly Ann Tavington I specific told you to stay by the house," Margaret scolded her, "And you've ripped your dress, go change and bring it down to be mended."
Marmee muttered under her breath, "It should come today." Margo commented, "It always comes around this day."
As if one cue the thundering of hooves echoed down the dirt path outside the house, the girls rushed out the door in a frenzy, but Marmee settled for a steady pace, never one to let her extreme emotions show. She came from a family with money and was raised to act as such, just because she was in the colonies it didn't mean she could through pride to the wind and act wild.
"Ma'am" a young man of about seventeen wearing a bright red coat and a black tri-corn hat rode up on a brown stallion, "A letter for you Ma'am." He handed her an official looking envelope, "Thank you son, and your pay." She pressed a tip into the boy's hand, and watched his eyes light up with joy, "thank you Ma'am." He said furiously, He tipped his hat to her and winked at Margo, who swooned and giggled.
"Is that is it?! Is it here?!" the children talked over each other in a mass incoherent babble, Marmee rolled her eyes and let out a high pitched whistle, the girls quieted down and hurried into the house and gathered in the parlor.
Marmee sat in her designated high backed chair, next to a large chair that had remained empty since the beginning of the war, and would remain empty until it ended. The matriarch elegantly placed herself in her chair and opened the envelope slowly.
My dear wife,
It has been exactly eight days since I received your letter, and I can glad to hear that you and the girls are settling in nicely. In your last note you informed me that Margo has become acquainted with girls in the town, I can only hope they share our views. I am impressed that Kimberly and Bridget have progressed so far in their lessons. And finally I wish to inform my dear Lucille that I plan on describing each native bird I have seen here for her sketch book, though I'm sure she has seen many on her own.
I must go, but I send my love to you all and I promise we will be together once again soon,
~Father.
"Alright girls, Off to bed with you all, it's late and you have lessons in the morning." Marmee shooed the protesting girls up the stairs in into their shared rooms. The twins in one room and the two eldest in the other. "Mommy?" a small voice called from the dark room, "Yes Kimberly?"
"When is Father coming home?" the child asked, "Soon dear."
"But why did he leave? No one has ever done anything bad to us." Bridget asked, from the other bed, "Father left, Father left because he is very brave, and he wasn't going to let the Colonies forget who was in charge. Now go to sleep." Marmee closed the heavy wooden door with a quiet click.
She walked down the Hall to the Master bed room that she shared with her husband. She stripped herself of her dress and petticoat, and dawned a cotton nightgown and pulled her house coat over it. She picked the letter back up and sighed, pressing the paper to her face and inhaling the smoky smell from the candle had and written it by.
"Oh Darling if only you knew how much we miss you." She sighed and sat at her stationary to write a reply.
She was always carful to make her letters entertaining, finding new way to keep his mind off the battle, telling him the small things the girls had done that week or new accomplishments.
My Dear Husband.
The girls practically trampled the poor letter carrier to get to your latest letter. Kimberly gave me a fright when she wandered off into the fields again today, she is so much like you William you would be proud, though I did get a note from her school master saying she beat up a boy for taking her doll. Margo has confirmed that her friend's parents are indeed Loyalists and Bridget has many new drawings for you to see. Every day the twins ask when their father will come home to us, but I tell them you are very brave and are protecting our country…
The blasts of canons shook the house and Made Marmee jump, reminding her to be careful and not mention how close the fighting grew to their home each day. And how she often kept the children inside for fear of a sudden raid.
Marmee looked in the mirror by the door, She was only thirty seven, but she had tiny wrinkles from stress and small grey hairs scattered about her mass of amber curls, barely noticeable but to her they seemed huge. She never told him of the worry that plagued her at night, when the duties of every day live kept her from thinking about it. But sometimes she would go weeks without news and when a rider did come she prayed it did not bear a letter from William's superiors informing her of her husband's death.
I am fine, I bake and care for the children and the house, the harvest will be late this year I think, or so the farm hands say. It is at this time of day I think of you the most, how you would make me laugh, and tell me everything will be fine. Williams I pray every night you come home safe to us and this wretched war will end. I pray to God to bring my husband back, to bring the girls their father back.
Marmee's worst fear was raising her children alone, the thought of failing them was more than she could bear. Since William left Nights felt like years, and she wished she could march out onto that battlefield herself and bring home her husband.
Come home safe,
Margaret, Margo, Lucille, Kimberly and Bridget
"The nights Seem so much longer, Now that I am here Alone" ~Little Women
