Benjamin Martin watched from over the brim of his glasses as Annabelle hesitated to sign her name.
"Hurry up, Son." He said with a sigh. "Uncertainty will only get you shot where you're headed."
The feather pen shook in her hand. What was she doing? Not even a year ago, she believed that her life's greatest adventure would be temporarily teaching at her father's schoolhouse. And now, under an influence of nothing more than the temptation of adventure and retribution, she was about to seal her fate with the stoke of a pen.
She cleared her throat and looked across the table at him, a man who she would soon learn to have suffered losses so similar to hers, and longed to exchange some sort of information. He began to tap the edge of the book with his fingers in impatience.
"Do you have anyone who has died in the war?" Benjamin asked, intuitively- as if by request. While Annabelle was stunned and relieved by his question, she limited herself to a simple nod and nothing more. "Then do it for them, Boy. Or get out of this tavern."
She took a breath, reminding herself of everything that she ran away from. The Whitleys, the Abbotts, her sisters and the complicated love that she harbored for that butcher. The pen grew steady, the ink slipped out in a fluid line as she gave birth and name to her new identity: Will Arden.
"Mr. Arden, then. I take it you've gathered everything from home, yes? Get yourself a room upstairs for the night." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small bag of coins. "You will be compensated for your enlistment, of course. I suggest using it to find yourself a horse and to stock up on ammunition. We leave at first light."
Her thoughts heading into town with Gabriel were so different from how she felt when she left the tavern. At first, she felt so much excitement from merely being asked to participate in something communal. She was starved for inclusion in the village and had never been complimented on anything quite so well as the way that she killed the pig in the woods. Now, she strongly considered taking off down that misty path at the entrance town, running to her quiet home in the forest and never returning. But what adventure would there be in that?
Finding a horse and ammunition was easy and it only helped matters that she'd run into Gabriel shortly after leaving the tavern. He showed her exactly where to go for resources and even introduced her to some of his men.
"I don't know, Gabriel. He looks like a pansy to me." Annabelle heard one say as she stepped into the armory.
She didn't mind this much, if there was anything that Annabelle had grown used to over the years, it was being mocked. Whether it was within or out of earshot stopped mattering to her long ago. Instead, she busied herself with learning to communicate without words. After trying and failing a few times, she learned that jingling the bag of coins was message enough to the shop-keeps that she meant business.
After a fitful night of sleep in the loft above the tavern alongside the other soldiers, she reported for duty with everything that she needed, including a handsome black quarter horse who Annabelle quickly learned to be just as easily distracted and stubborn as she.
The first day passed in a blur, filled with more travel than combat. She began to dread more than anything her first encounter with the redcoats. Periodically, the men would stop to train their new recruits. While her shooting was clean and accurate for the most part, it did take Annabelle a while to get used to reloading under pressure. Gabriel realized that she was having trouble almost right away and offered his assistance.
"Remember, Mr. Arden," Gabriel said- only when he was confident that Annabelle was becoming proficient in her technique, "we will try our best to cover for you if you panic or lose focus, but only for so long. Practice like hell every chance you get. Like your life depends on it, because it does."
When the men made camp at what appeared to be an old Spanish mission, Annabelle secluded herself at the edge of the murky water while the other men ate and conversed. It was not until everyone was tucked soundly around the low-burning fire that she briefly washed in a space out of sight, changed, and prepared to do her laundry. She'd packed only the essentials and two changes of clothes. The notebook and a wooden stub of a pencil had made its way into her load as well, but they remained at the bottom of her saddlebag.
She dunked her soiled clothing in the water and scrubbed them with force. When she was satisfied, she wrung them out and hung them from the branches of a nearby tree. Her coat had lost a button during the long day's ride and it needed replacing. Annabelle threaded her needle and prepared to sew, but grew uncomfortable when she felt someone watching her. She expected it to be Gabriel. He'd monitored her rather closely that first day. It would turn out that this was simply out of fear that his new recruit wasn't all that he'd hoped him to be. Deep down, she feared that he suspected her to be a fraud. And she was right to do so. But it was, instead Benjamin who was watching.
"Don't let the other men see you doing that." As he approached her, Annabelle shrugged in question. "You'll be doing laundry and mending garments for the entire militia!" When she didn't laugh, he changed the subject slightly. "You know, I can't help but notice that you are a solitary man." Benjamin looked down at Annabelle's fingers as they navigated the needle and thread. She moved the fabric over them slightly, bracing herself for a comment on the feminine build of her ungloved hands. "Being in a group like this requires a certain trust. Since you cannot speak, your actions will be your words." Annabelle cocked her head slightly, confused and a bit afraid by this confrontation. "What I'm getting at is this- I will be watching you and Gabriel will be watching you until you give us reason to either trust you or not trust you."
"Well, that's just great." Was all that she could think as she adjusted her hat over the top the wet braid that she'd tucked away after bathing. This was only going to work so long as she kept her hair up, face dirty, and tongue held. As you can imagine, this was by far the longest that Annabelle had ever gone without talking. How could she live without words?
Benjamin's gaze and tone then softened a fraction. "Gabriel tells me you live alone. You're about his age." He paused, watching the side of Annabelle's face as he spoke. She did, indeed, look different without the usual mess of dirt on her face. Her profile was smooth and petite, her tiny nose turned only slightly at the end. If she was a boy, she was a very young boy. The only thing that gave her away as being at least seventeen was her height. "Perhaps younger. I take it you lost everyone, then?"
She turned, her light eyes full of fire. "How dare you ask me this?" She thought. "You hardly know me!"
"I'm sorry. I won't speculate. When you're a father, concern comes naturally."
Annabelle nodded, turning her head away for a second time.
"I lost a son." Benjamin continued what was beginning to seem like a conversation with himself. Although she remained turned, he sensed a change in Annabelle after saying this. "One of those Green Dragoons shot him in the back in front of my other children."
She turned to look at him again and gave the best "tell me more" gesture that she could come up with.
"Until he is stopped, Colonel Tavington will continue to cut our innocent loved ones down like wheat…" he could see a tear appear in the corner of Annabelle's eye, "I thought that name would mean something to you. Finding common ground, that is loyalty's secret ingredient. Don't worry, Boy. Before long, we shall rid ourselves of that parasite and win our liberty with honor…"