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The goodbye's were brief but wholesome before Gabriel's leaving. Charlotte had fetched all the children so they could bid him goodbye and there was much crying and sadness on the part of the younger ones. Little Susan was handed over to Gabriel and immediately, her small arms clasped around his neck in a fierce embrace. "I'll be back Sue. You just have got to wait for me. And you must be good. Understand?" Susan didn't speak, but she nodded slightly and reached back for Abigail. Finally he turned to Hannah. "Are you going to bid me farewell? Or are you going to stand there, still as a statue like you always did when you were mad at me when we were younger?" Gabriel asked, the teasing evident in his voice.
Hannah smiled slightly, but it crumpled and she threw her arms around Gabriel as the tears began to stream down her cheeks. Gabriel held her tightly, rocking her back and forth in his arms. Finally she pulled away, wiping the unruly tears away from her eyes. "You keep safe, and be careful. Promise me that you won't purposely go looking for a bullet to kill you, because if you do I won't even cry for you Gabriel Martin." She said with a teary smile. "Oh, you'll cry. Then you'll be mad at me, but you'll cry. But I promise Hannah." He said, his finger wiping away a stray tear that slid down her face. "Thank you. I'm sorry for what I said before. Please be careful Gabriel." Gabriel smiled and hugged her once more, planting a kiss on her cheek. "You be careful. Take care of Susan for me." He said, with a smile. "I promise. Goodbye Gabriel." She said, pulling away.
Gabriel smiled and turned to Thomas. "Well Thomas, I'm off to war. I wish you could come with me." He said. Thomas smiled and shook Gabriel's outstretched hand. "I wish I could go too. You don't know how much I wish I could go." Thomas said, a wistful smile about his face. "Maybe soon. Pray for me." He said pulling his hand away from his brother. Thomas nodded and held his chin high. "One thing I want you to do for me." Gabriel added quietly. Thomas nodded and leaned in closer to Gabriel as he whispered in his ear. "Take care of Hannah." Thomas leaned up sharply. "You heard me. Do that for me?" Gabriel asked soberly. "Yes I'll do it, but why?" Gabriel shrugged. "You know her. Just make sure she's alright. This isn't going to bode well with her You know how she is." Thomas nodded, but his eyes were still troubled. "I will. Goodbye Gabriel."
Gabriel smiled and turned to Benjamin, his face sobering. "Goodbye Father. I will write." He said, his mouth still set in a determined line. Benjamin's face looked pained, but he let his arm rest on his son's arm. "Be careful my son. Be swift and sure. The bullets can't reach you if you're careful." He said, remembering how Elizabeth had said the same thing when he went off to war. Gabriel smiled, remembering the story behind the words and turned away from his family. The children waved goodbye and he only turned back once to wave. Then he didn't turn back. He didn't look back.
Letters came. Not very often, but they came. There was always excitement when the anticipated Post Rider came through, bringing with it an occasional letter from Gabriel. One such letter addressed to Thomas told of the horrors of war, and of the recent death of Peter Cuppin. As Hannah listened with the rest of the children as Thomas read the letter with glad eyes, she realized that Gabriel had matured greatly since his departure. Now he did not speak of just how they were going to beat the English. He told of the true horrors of war, not of the beauty of it. But at the same time, he still held his idealistic views of the world they would build when the war was over. Hannah sighed as Thomas ended. She thought of her own letter she had received at her home, not far away. It had been a surprise to her and it ran over and over in her head.
My dearest Hannah,
How time has flown by here! I scarcely can believe that it has been two years since I saw you last in Charlestown. You most likely have blossomed into quite a beautiful young woman. I only wish I could be there to see it. How is the family? Thomas, Meg, Nathan, Samuel, William, and little Susan? Does Susan talk yet? If only there were some glad tidings of her. I only pray for the day when I shall hear her tinny voice calling my name. You remember Anne Howard? How fares she? I know what you are thinking, but simply give me a straight answer. I have not had contact with her since the beginning of the war. War is awful, just like you said it would be Hannah. I curse myself for not having the brains to listen to you. It is horrible. All of it, the gunpowder, the blasts of sound and light, the powder that rests on my lips as I fire my musket, the smell of blood and burning and rotting flesh. There is nothing beautiful about war. My good friend Peter Cuppin was killed by my side. The look in his eyes was filled with the horror of death, but at the same time peace of the coming of eternal life. I pray for his soul daily, as well as those countless others who have perished on the battle field. You will pray for me? I surely need it. In the meantime, I pray and hope that this letter finds you in good health and your relationship with my brother has not faltered. Yes, I know of your attraction. No fear. My lips are sealed. Farewell my dear little friend. May the Lord bless and keep you. Your loving friend and "brother",
Gabriel
Hannah had blushed at the mention of her attraction to Thomas. So he knew. If only he knew what it had blossomed to. It was more than a simple attraction now. No, now it had blossomed into a full blown love. Whenever she left him, she felt the longing of one who yearns for the companionship of a boy instead of a girl. She didn't know how to approach Thomas with the fact. She didn't want to look a fool if she was the only one with these feelings. She would feel awful and foolish if he only cared for her as a friend nothing more. And another thing that troubled her was that her parents wished very much for her to marry a certain boy from Charlestown. He was a pompas lad named Edward, very full of himself and full of England. She had told her parents with as much composure as possible that she could not marry a person who did not have the same ideals as she. Her parents had pleaded with her to understand that they didn't like his views either, but they wanted her to marry well and in society. Hannah had left then, walking up to her room and slamming the door, sobbing as hard as she could on the bed.
"Good letter wasn't it Hannah?" Maggie jumped as Thomas spoke to her. "What? yes, it was. I'm going to go, and, do something." She stuttered as she walked into the house. Thomas looked after her curiously, then shrugged. He looked about him, then walked into the house and crept up the numerous flights of stairs to the attic. He walked into the attic softly and his green eyes gazed upon the large trunk. It had been his grandfather's and his father's before him. It had been given to Benjamin as a wedding gift when he had married Elizabeth. He opened the lid gently and sifted through the old memorbilia. Books, knick-knacks occupied the trunk. But towards the bottom, he found what he was searching for.
In the bottom there was a red coat, the coat his father had once proudly adorned in the French and Indian wars. He placed it on his shoulders and gazed proudly at his reflection in the mirror. He moved his now long brown hair out of the way and smiled endearingly. Then he reached into the trunk for something that would complete the outfit. His father's hatchet. It was inscribed with his father's name on the blade and had been given to him by his father and Thomas' mother as a present before the war. He held the handle of the hatchet with a smile and waved it a few times for good measure, imagining an imaginary British soldier in front of him, at his mercy. His reverie was soon cut short though by the arrival of his father.
Thomas started at his father's sudden appearence. Benjamin did likewise. His face paled as he saw his son's attire. He walked over to him and sighed heavily. "Take it off." He said softly, helping him take it off. It was then that Thomas heard his father make a sound that he had never heard him make, a sound of utter helplessness. It frightened him somewhat, but still made him see something. Does he really not want me to go so badly? But why? He thought as he unwillingly slipped off the coat. He turned around to stare at his father, rebellion rising in his eyes. "Not yet Thomas." Benjamin said softly as he laid the coat in the trunk. "Why not?" Thomas asked, his voice cool. "Seventeen." Thomas sighed dismally and threw his hands in the air. "That's two years. It's already been two. The war could be over by then!" He said, his voice quivering, not in anticipating tears, but in anger.
"God willing." Benjamin responded as cooly as his son. Thomas gritted his teeth and watched his father. He could see that in this subject he would be unbending and unwilling. "Alright, seventeen." He said, with an air of resignation, but still with determination. Benjamin nodded and shook his son's hand in agreement. In his innermost thoughts, when he shook his son's hand, a single thought ran through his mind. I'm signing a death contract with my son. God, help me. He stood up shakily. "Put these things away." He said as he began to walk out the door. "Father." Benjamin turned around once more as his son called him. Thomas was standing there, his face still ablaze with the unfairness of the situation, his hands grasping the hatchet. "What happened at Fort Wilderness?"
Those words were like a magic incantation for Benjamin, but not magic for good. Magic for ill, for those words conjured up the screams of men, women, and children in agonized torment. The fear in those eyes, and then the hollows of their skull as their eyes disappeared at his and other's hands. He then saw his son, doing much the same action and the sight frightened him. He remembered Elizabeth's frightened face, a face very much like Thomas' own, save the blonde hair. He remembered her face, her face filled with horror and through his drunken mind, he had realized his mistake. He had reached out for her but she had shunned him and had run away up to their room, locking the door and sobbing for hours. The ghosts of the past disappeared from his eyes and instead his son took their place, still standing in the same place. "Just put them away." He whispered, walking quickly from the room. It was then that Thomas saw Hannah standing across the hall, watching him, seeing him with the hatchet with wide eyes.
She walked towards him and to his surprise, her hands clasped his that were still grasping the hatchet tightly. "Don't do this to me Thomas." She whispered. Thomas gazed at her with troubled eyes, his anger towards his father's hesitation melting away. "I can't help it." He said softly, looking away from her. She leaned forward and her hand touched his face gently. "Please don't Thomas. I don't know if Gabriel will ever come back. If you didn't come back, I don't know what I'd do." She whispered. "You'll learn to live without me." Thomas said confidantly. Hannah shook her head. "No I won't! I wouldn't be able to live without you knowing that you were killed and buried somewhere far from here." She said angrily. "All the mothers of their sons seem to be able to cope with it fairly well." Thomas said cooly, his anger rising again. "I'm not a mother. Thomas, you, I don't know how to say this." She said, raising then dropping her voice.
Thomas did nothing, just looked at her. She raised her blue eyes to his and her every movement was visible to Thomas. "What? That you have feelings for me?" Hannah's eyes widened further and she placed her hand upon her mouth. "Yes, I've known it for a while, most likely since I've loved you from the start. You just never took heed. Now you feel the same way and you don't know how happy that makes me feel, but you must understand, I'm going to go to war when I am seventeen, with or without your consent." He said firmly, cringing slightly at his own hard words. Hannah flinched as she gazed at him. Then she hardened and she straightened with a visible effort. "Very well then, if that is how it must be. I will not interfere. I would not dream of interfering with a mere boy's patriotic dream of getting himself killed. No, I wouldn't dare. It's much too important." Hannah said angrily, rushing down the stairs. Thomas watched her go and for a split second considered letting her run away from him. Then he found himself dashing down the stairs behind her and calling her name.
He stopped short on the porch in front of her. She was frozen in place and her hand that drifted in the air was trembling. Her blue gaze had captured the figure of a man stumbling down the road. It was Peter. Thomas took in the situation and swiveled on his heel back into the house. "Father! Come here! Something's wrong!" He yelled up the stairs. He walked up closer to Hannah but she walked away from him, running down the road towards the black man. "Peter! Peter what happened! What's wrong Peter?" Hannah yelled as she stumbled away from Thomas and onto the road towards the man. When she finally reached him, Benjamin had joined her and Thomas.
The black man was covered in soot and dirt, one eyebrow cut deeply, a trail of blood running down his black, sweating face. Hannah's gaze was surprised and fearful, but when she spoke, her voice became hardened. "What happened Peter?" She asked quietly. "Oh Missus, dem British men dat yer Pa was always preachin' 'gainst done come! They came an' tol' the Massah that he didn't have no right preachin' like he did. Massah said dat dis here a free country an' he kin preach whateva he wants to, 'specially if it's da truth. Den da leader of the British men he got all stony lookin' like a coyote most like an' he looked at da Missus as she came outta da house an' he, well, he." Peter stopped and gazed sadly into Hannah's face.
"Go on Peter." Hannah said, her tone hard as flint. "Oh Missus I shouldn't!" Peter warned. "Go on!" She said, raising her voice. Peter cast a despairing glance at Benjamin and Thomas before going on. "Well, da British man, he tol' da Massah dat if he wouldn't listen to no reason, he would make him hear a different kind o'music. An' he done pulled out his gun an'," Peter paused and gulped hard. "He done shot da Missus, jest as she reached da Massah. Shot her right in da head. It, I ain't about ta go in no detail Miss Maggie, but da Missus, she done fell right on the Massah, and da Massah looked at her all white an' bloody and he began a screamin' sometin' awful! He began ta yell an' curse and he grabbed his gun dat he hides in his pocket an' began shootin' every red coat in sight. He asked me ta help an' I did. I hid behind da bushes and shot da red coats, but dat leadah, dat British leadah dat done shot da Missus, he snuck behind da Massah an' shot him in da back of da head. Da Massah was starin' hard at me as he fell an' he done keel ova. Den the leadah man, tol' da udda's ta sack da house an' put it on fire." Peter stopped and caught his breath, his tentative brown eyes looking at them.
"Well he did dat, an' he jest left da Massah an' Missus dat way, lyin' on top of each udda. Da house is probably done gone Miss Hannah. I couldn't do nothin'." Peter pleaded. Hannah stared off into space, tears falling out of her blue eyes, her arms hanging limp at her side. Thomas gazed at her in shock. Benjamin blinked away the tears that threatened his own eyes and he placed a reassuring arm on her shoulder. Hannah started at his touch but didn't make a move to take it off. But finally she began to walk. "I need to be alone for a while. Don't worry, I won't be long." She said distantly as she began to walk away. Thomas made a move to go after her, but Benjamin restrained him and shook his head. "Thank you Peter. Would you like to stay for a few days?" Benjamin asked. "No Massah Martin. I'se gotta be gettin' along. I need ta find da Massah's cousins in Charletown ta tell 'em da news. Thank ya anyways Massah." He said as he began to walk away from them. Benjamin waved farewell, his other arm still on Thomas' shoulder, holding him back.
The goodbye's were brief but wholesome before Gabriel's leaving. Charlotte had fetched all the children so they could bid him goodbye and there was much crying and sadness on the part of the younger ones. Little Susan was handed over to Gabriel and immediately, her small arms clasped around his neck in a fierce embrace. "I'll be back Sue. You just have got to wait for me. And you must be good. Understand?" Susan didn't speak, but she nodded slightly and reached back for Abigail. Finally he turned to Hannah. "Are you going to bid me farewell? Or are you going to stand there, still as a statue like you always did when you were mad at me when we were younger?" Gabriel asked, the teasing evident in his voice.
Hannah smiled slightly, but it crumpled and she threw her arms around Gabriel as the tears began to stream down her cheeks. Gabriel held her tightly, rocking her back and forth in his arms. Finally she pulled away, wiping the unruly tears away from her eyes. "You keep safe, and be careful. Promise me that you won't purposely go looking for a bullet to kill you, because if you do I won't even cry for you Gabriel Martin." She said with a teary smile. "Oh, you'll cry. Then you'll be mad at me, but you'll cry. But I promise Hannah." He said, his finger wiping away a stray tear that slid down her face. "Thank you. I'm sorry for what I said before. Please be careful Gabriel." Gabriel smiled and hugged her once more, planting a kiss on her cheek. "You be careful. Take care of Susan for me." He said, with a smile. "I promise. Goodbye Gabriel." She said, pulling away.
Gabriel smiled and turned to Thomas. "Well Thomas, I'm off to war. I wish you could come with me." He said. Thomas smiled and shook Gabriel's outstretched hand. "I wish I could go too. You don't know how much I wish I could go." Thomas said, a wistful smile about his face. "Maybe soon. Pray for me." He said pulling his hand away from his brother. Thomas nodded and held his chin high. "One thing I want you to do for me." Gabriel added quietly. Thomas nodded and leaned in closer to Gabriel as he whispered in his ear. "Take care of Hannah." Thomas leaned up sharply. "You heard me. Do that for me?" Gabriel asked soberly. "Yes I'll do it, but why?" Gabriel shrugged. "You know her. Just make sure she's alright. This isn't going to bode well with her You know how she is." Thomas nodded, but his eyes were still troubled. "I will. Goodbye Gabriel."
Gabriel smiled and turned to Benjamin, his face sobering. "Goodbye Father. I will write." He said, his mouth still set in a determined line. Benjamin's face looked pained, but he let his arm rest on his son's arm. "Be careful my son. Be swift and sure. The bullets can't reach you if you're careful." He said, remembering how Elizabeth had said the same thing when he went off to war. Gabriel smiled, remembering the story behind the words and turned away from his family. The children waved goodbye and he only turned back once to wave. Then he didn't turn back. He didn't look back.
Letters came. Not very often, but they came. There was always excitement when the anticipated Post Rider came through, bringing with it an occasional letter from Gabriel. One such letter addressed to Thomas told of the horrors of war, and of the recent death of Peter Cuppin. As Hannah listened with the rest of the children as Thomas read the letter with glad eyes, she realized that Gabriel had matured greatly since his departure. Now he did not speak of just how they were going to beat the English. He told of the true horrors of war, not of the beauty of it. But at the same time, he still held his idealistic views of the world they would build when the war was over. Hannah sighed as Thomas ended. She thought of her own letter she had received at her home, not far away. It had been a surprise to her and it ran over and over in her head.
My dearest Hannah,
How time has flown by here! I scarcely can believe that it has been two years since I saw you last in Charlestown. You most likely have blossomed into quite a beautiful young woman. I only wish I could be there to see it. How is the family? Thomas, Meg, Nathan, Samuel, William, and little Susan? Does Susan talk yet? If only there were some glad tidings of her. I only pray for the day when I shall hear her tinny voice calling my name. You remember Anne Howard? How fares she? I know what you are thinking, but simply give me a straight answer. I have not had contact with her since the beginning of the war. War is awful, just like you said it would be Hannah. I curse myself for not having the brains to listen to you. It is horrible. All of it, the gunpowder, the blasts of sound and light, the powder that rests on my lips as I fire my musket, the smell of blood and burning and rotting flesh. There is nothing beautiful about war. My good friend Peter Cuppin was killed by my side. The look in his eyes was filled with the horror of death, but at the same time peace of the coming of eternal life. I pray for his soul daily, as well as those countless others who have perished on the battle field. You will pray for me? I surely need it. In the meantime, I pray and hope that this letter finds you in good health and your relationship with my brother has not faltered. Yes, I know of your attraction. No fear. My lips are sealed. Farewell my dear little friend. May the Lord bless and keep you. Your loving friend and "brother",
Gabriel
Hannah had blushed at the mention of her attraction to Thomas. So he knew. If only he knew what it had blossomed to. It was more than a simple attraction now. No, now it had blossomed into a full blown love. Whenever she left him, she felt the longing of one who yearns for the companionship of a boy instead of a girl. She didn't know how to approach Thomas with the fact. She didn't want to look a fool if she was the only one with these feelings. She would feel awful and foolish if he only cared for her as a friend nothing more. And another thing that troubled her was that her parents wished very much for her to marry a certain boy from Charlestown. He was a pompas lad named Edward, very full of himself and full of England. She had told her parents with as much composure as possible that she could not marry a person who did not have the same ideals as she. Her parents had pleaded with her to understand that they didn't like his views either, but they wanted her to marry well and in society. Hannah had left then, walking up to her room and slamming the door, sobbing as hard as she could on the bed.
"Good letter wasn't it Hannah?" Maggie jumped as Thomas spoke to her. "What? yes, it was. I'm going to go, and, do something." She stuttered as she walked into the house. Thomas looked after her curiously, then shrugged. He looked about him, then walked into the house and crept up the numerous flights of stairs to the attic. He walked into the attic softly and his green eyes gazed upon the large trunk. It had been his grandfather's and his father's before him. It had been given to Benjamin as a wedding gift when he had married Elizabeth. He opened the lid gently and sifted through the old memorbilia. Books, knick-knacks occupied the trunk. But towards the bottom, he found what he was searching for.
In the bottom there was a red coat, the coat his father had once proudly adorned in the French and Indian wars. He placed it on his shoulders and gazed proudly at his reflection in the mirror. He moved his now long brown hair out of the way and smiled endearingly. Then he reached into the trunk for something that would complete the outfit. His father's hatchet. It was inscribed with his father's name on the blade and had been given to him by his father and Thomas' mother as a present before the war. He held the handle of the hatchet with a smile and waved it a few times for good measure, imagining an imaginary British soldier in front of him, at his mercy. His reverie was soon cut short though by the arrival of his father.
Thomas started at his father's sudden appearence. Benjamin did likewise. His face paled as he saw his son's attire. He walked over to him and sighed heavily. "Take it off." He said softly, helping him take it off. It was then that Thomas heard his father make a sound that he had never heard him make, a sound of utter helplessness. It frightened him somewhat, but still made him see something. Does he really not want me to go so badly? But why? He thought as he unwillingly slipped off the coat. He turned around to stare at his father, rebellion rising in his eyes. "Not yet Thomas." Benjamin said softly as he laid the coat in the trunk. "Why not?" Thomas asked, his voice cool. "Seventeen." Thomas sighed dismally and threw his hands in the air. "That's two years. It's already been two. The war could be over by then!" He said, his voice quivering, not in anticipating tears, but in anger.
"God willing." Benjamin responded as cooly as his son. Thomas gritted his teeth and watched his father. He could see that in this subject he would be unbending and unwilling. "Alright, seventeen." He said, with an air of resignation, but still with determination. Benjamin nodded and shook his son's hand in agreement. In his innermost thoughts, when he shook his son's hand, a single thought ran through his mind. I'm signing a death contract with my son. God, help me. He stood up shakily. "Put these things away." He said as he began to walk out the door. "Father." Benjamin turned around once more as his son called him. Thomas was standing there, his face still ablaze with the unfairness of the situation, his hands grasping the hatchet. "What happened at Fort Wilderness?"
Those words were like a magic incantation for Benjamin, but not magic for good. Magic for ill, for those words conjured up the screams of men, women, and children in agonized torment. The fear in those eyes, and then the hollows of their skull as their eyes disappeared at his and other's hands. He then saw his son, doing much the same action and the sight frightened him. He remembered Elizabeth's frightened face, a face very much like Thomas' own, save the blonde hair. He remembered her face, her face filled with horror and through his drunken mind, he had realized his mistake. He had reached out for her but she had shunned him and had run away up to their room, locking the door and sobbing for hours. The ghosts of the past disappeared from his eyes and instead his son took their place, still standing in the same place. "Just put them away." He whispered, walking quickly from the room. It was then that Thomas saw Hannah standing across the hall, watching him, seeing him with the hatchet with wide eyes.
She walked towards him and to his surprise, her hands clasped his that were still grasping the hatchet tightly. "Don't do this to me Thomas." She whispered. Thomas gazed at her with troubled eyes, his anger towards his father's hesitation melting away. "I can't help it." He said softly, looking away from her. She leaned forward and her hand touched his face gently. "Please don't Thomas. I don't know if Gabriel will ever come back. If you didn't come back, I don't know what I'd do." She whispered. "You'll learn to live without me." Thomas said confidantly. Hannah shook her head. "No I won't! I wouldn't be able to live without you knowing that you were killed and buried somewhere far from here." She said angrily. "All the mothers of their sons seem to be able to cope with it fairly well." Thomas said cooly, his anger rising again. "I'm not a mother. Thomas, you, I don't know how to say this." She said, raising then dropping her voice.
Thomas did nothing, just looked at her. She raised her blue eyes to his and her every movement was visible to Thomas. "What? That you have feelings for me?" Hannah's eyes widened further and she placed her hand upon her mouth. "Yes, I've known it for a while, most likely since I've loved you from the start. You just never took heed. Now you feel the same way and you don't know how happy that makes me feel, but you must understand, I'm going to go to war when I am seventeen, with or without your consent." He said firmly, cringing slightly at his own hard words. Hannah flinched as she gazed at him. Then she hardened and she straightened with a visible effort. "Very well then, if that is how it must be. I will not interfere. I would not dream of interfering with a mere boy's patriotic dream of getting himself killed. No, I wouldn't dare. It's much too important." Hannah said angrily, rushing down the stairs. Thomas watched her go and for a split second considered letting her run away from him. Then he found himself dashing down the stairs behind her and calling her name.
He stopped short on the porch in front of her. She was frozen in place and her hand that drifted in the air was trembling. Her blue gaze had captured the figure of a man stumbling down the road. It was Peter. Thomas took in the situation and swiveled on his heel back into the house. "Father! Come here! Something's wrong!" He yelled up the stairs. He walked up closer to Hannah but she walked away from him, running down the road towards the black man. "Peter! Peter what happened! What's wrong Peter?" Hannah yelled as she stumbled away from Thomas and onto the road towards the man. When she finally reached him, Benjamin had joined her and Thomas.
The black man was covered in soot and dirt, one eyebrow cut deeply, a trail of blood running down his black, sweating face. Hannah's gaze was surprised and fearful, but when she spoke, her voice became hardened. "What happened Peter?" She asked quietly. "Oh Missus, dem British men dat yer Pa was always preachin' 'gainst done come! They came an' tol' the Massah that he didn't have no right preachin' like he did. Massah said dat dis here a free country an' he kin preach whateva he wants to, 'specially if it's da truth. Den da leader of the British men he got all stony lookin' like a coyote most like an' he looked at da Missus as she came outta da house an' he, well, he." Peter stopped and gazed sadly into Hannah's face.
"Go on Peter." Hannah said, her tone hard as flint. "Oh Missus I shouldn't!" Peter warned. "Go on!" She said, raising her voice. Peter cast a despairing glance at Benjamin and Thomas before going on. "Well, da British man, he tol' da Massah dat if he wouldn't listen to no reason, he would make him hear a different kind o'music. An' he done pulled out his gun an'," Peter paused and gulped hard. "He done shot da Missus, jest as she reached da Massah. Shot her right in da head. It, I ain't about ta go in no detail Miss Maggie, but da Missus, she done fell right on the Massah, and da Massah looked at her all white an' bloody and he began a screamin' sometin' awful! He began ta yell an' curse and he grabbed his gun dat he hides in his pocket an' began shootin' every red coat in sight. He asked me ta help an' I did. I hid behind da bushes and shot da red coats, but dat leadah, dat British leadah dat done shot da Missus, he snuck behind da Massah an' shot him in da back of da head. Da Massah was starin' hard at me as he fell an' he done keel ova. Den the leadah man, tol' da udda's ta sack da house an' put it on fire." Peter stopped and caught his breath, his tentative brown eyes looking at them.
"Well he did dat, an' he jest left da Massah an' Missus dat way, lyin' on top of each udda. Da house is probably done gone Miss Hannah. I couldn't do nothin'." Peter pleaded. Hannah stared off into space, tears falling out of her blue eyes, her arms hanging limp at her side. Thomas gazed at her in shock. Benjamin blinked away the tears that threatened his own eyes and he placed a reassuring arm on her shoulder. Hannah started at his touch but didn't make a move to take it off. But finally she began to walk. "I need to be alone for a while. Don't worry, I won't be long." She said distantly as she began to walk away. Thomas made a move to go after her, but Benjamin restrained him and shook his head. "Thank you Peter. Would you like to stay for a few days?" Benjamin asked. "No Massah Martin. I'se gotta be gettin' along. I need ta find da Massah's cousins in Charletown ta tell 'em da news. Thank ya anyways Massah." He said as he began to walk away from them. Benjamin waved farewell, his other arm still on Thomas' shoulder, holding him back.