Young Benjamin Davidson

Written By: Commander Cody CC-2224

CHAPTER 4

Six Years Later…

April, 1769 A.D.

Ten-year-old Benjamin Davidson was riding fine, well-built steed across the greenery of Virginia, not several miles from Yorktown. The horse was not his; rather, it belonged to a neighbor next door, and the neighbor consented to let him borrow it, so long as he was not reckless with it.

His exhilaration was taken a little too far when he raced the horse through the woods. Almost recklessly he sped past tree trunks until he reached the main dirt road. Then he sped into a grassy clearing of a plantation.

Unbeknownst to him a sentry at the plantation spotted him and alerted the law enforcement. By the time Ben was making his speedy heading back to Yorktown, a couple of uniformed British dragoons dressed in scarlet red were high on his heel. They shouted at him multiple times, but Ben didn't heed them, as he was quite desperate to evade them off their track.

"You, boy!" shouted one of the horsemen. "Stop your horse at once!"

Ben ignored them and pushed the stallion as hard as he could at its maximum speed.

"Halt, or we will be forced to shoot your horse!" the horseman shouted.

Ben steered speedily through the forest until he came to the grassy clearing near the outskirts of his hometown.

"You've heard the warning!" shouted the dragoon. "Prepare to be fired upon!" Drawing their flintlock pistols, they fired on the horse. One bullet missed, but the other managed to impact on the stallion's right hind leg, which temporarily disabled the horse. The stallion, as a result, let out a wild, loud "neeeigh" as it bent its front legs and kicked off Ben sideways, leaving him sprawling on the grassy lawn. In a fit of heart-thumping hoof beats the horse struggled to get up.

Ben was all flustered as he struggled to get up as well. The dragoons stopped in their tracks and promptly dismounted their horses. Their very form was intimidating, even for his age.

"What is your name, boy?" one of the dragoons inquired rather pompously in his British lilt.

"M-My name is Benjamin Davidson, sir," he replied through a mixture of anger and fear.

"You will come with us," demanded the dragoon. Both men hauled Ben to one of the horses and the dragoon mounted his horse. After the other dragoon tied the disabled horse behind and mounted his horse as well, the two set off steadily to Yorktown.

"Where are we going, sir?" asked Ben a little timidly.

"To Yorktown. Someone has charged you of trespassing the property of Middling Plantation and you'll need to answer for what you did."

"Why?" asked Ben anxiously, his heart beating fast and his nerves twitching a little. "I didn't know that was property of such a plantation!"

The group continued on until they reached Yorktown.

"Where do you live?" inquired the dragoon.

"W-why should I tell you?" challenged Ben.

"If you don't tell us, we'll lock you in the public gaol."

Ben was pretty cross. "Follow my directions, then," he said finally.

The dragoons trotted through Main Street until they reached Ben's house. The galloping was pretty much enough to bring Mrs. Davidson and little Hannah outside the front porch.

"What's going on?" she inquired rather anxiously. Then she took notice of her son. "Ben? What happened?"

The lead dragoon horseman spoke up. "We were alerted to a trespasser running around at whim on a Middling Plantation," he said.

Mrs. Davidson was very aghast. "Benjamin Davidson! What's got into you?"

The Davidsons' next door neighbor came out of his house, too. "What's got into my fine horse as well?" he barked, as he noticed the steed's limping condition. He, too, took notice of Ben. "You…you are responsible for this!" he yelled.

"I am not!" retorted Ben. "Those horsemen shot it!"

"Silence, young man!" scolded the horseman.

"Tis true," quipped Ben rather tactlessly.

Mrs. Merriman put little six-year-old Hannah on the porch steps and began to make her plea. "Sirs," she began a little timidly for a young mother her age. "My Ben is only ten years old. He probably didn't know that he was traveling across Middling Plantation."

"Didn't know, indeed," sneered the officer. "Humph. I'll have him know what the inside of a gaol is like so he doesn't do that again."

Mrs. Davidson would not give up. "Sirs, I beg of you," she continued. "Ben…is just a troubled lad. He has lost his father since he was only four years old, and has been without any mentor of his gender for the past five years."

"Then get one!" sneered the dragoon.

The woman's eyes were blazing with seething anger. How dare these men treat us when we are beset with troubles, as if we can afford everything! she seethed. She approached the dragoon with a cross look in her face. "I…have been struggling to keep our business running to make ends meet, and you,,,you…of all people, are implying that I can hire a tutor as if we've got the luxury to?" She glared at him. "You will not take my boy to the authorities on account of that. If that plantation owner has a complaint, I will be the one to personally apologize to him on his behalf." She lowered her voice to a serious one. "You have to right to take such matters into your own hands."

"Manners, woman," scolded the other dragoon. "Such talk will get you hanged on the gallows, for you dare to set limits on what the king's horsemen can and cannot do."

"Then hang me if you will," she said defiantly, while at the same time trembling in fright.

Such a statement was enough to alert Hannah. "No, Mother, don't!" she squeaked in fright as she instinctively ran to Mrs. Davidson and desperately clung to the skirts of her work gown. "Don't! Please!" she cried.

The dragoon started fumbling in his waistcoat pocket for some rope, if there was any, but his companion shook him. "Colonel."

"The lead dragoon shot a rather exasperated look at his companion. "What now, man?" he spat.

"'Tis pointless. Why waste rope on a common woman? We have better things to do than to meddle in such petty affairs."

The officer sighed crossly. "Very well," he snapped. "We'll leave this…this woman…to deal with his tripe." After pushing off Ben, he motioned his horse. "Giddap!" he yelled. Leaving the neighbor's lamed horse behind, both dragoons cantered off in a huff.

The neighbor walked up to Ben and accused him again. "My horse was shot by those damned redcoats on account of you, Davidson!" he yelled again. "You shall not ride any of our horses again! Ever!"

"Y-yes, sir," faltered Ben. The neighbor immediately swung a rope around the poor horse's neck and proceeded to walk it back to his stable. Ben watched the horse that he borrowed and knew during the previous three years in his life disappear.

"Just when I was getting good at horses," he muttered bitterly to himself.

Mrs. Davidson put her right arm around her son and beckoned him to face her. "You caused a whole world of trouble today, Ben," she said. "If I am to repair the damage you did, you will have to watch your younger sister while I head off to Middling Plantation to apologize to the owner for what you did. You have a responsibility now."

Ben nodded pretty solemnly. Mrs. Davidson looked at her son in all manner of seriousness once again, as she pointed her right hand index finger near his nose.

"I'll forgive you on this one because you…didn't know. But next time I don't want you wandering off away from the town ever again, or even trespassing on people's property. The next time that happens…I will ground you in the house for a whole week, possibly a month. Do I make myself clear on that?"

Ben nodded again almost timidly.