Chapter Four
"Are you sure about this, James?" asked Moses. "What about you, Sarah? We understand if—"
"It isn't an ideal situation." Sarah admitted, pulling on her cloak. "But I admit that although this law is necessary, it isn't fair to the colonists and I'm willing to help my friends." she glanced around quickly after her statement to see if anyone had reacted to her choice of words and her eyes uncertainly met James'. This was the first time she had referred to the occupants of the print shop as friends out loud.
She quickly looked away to hand Henri his coat, "Put this on, Henri, it's cold out."
"Cold? Pah!" the little french boy feigned disgust. "It is not cold outside."
"You may think that now, but we'll be out for most of the night." James reminded him, pulling on his own coat. "And I think it's beginning to snow." he glanced out the window at the rapidly falling white flakes. Already the ground was thinly coated.
The group had decided to deliver the paper to the patriots still reading it under cover of darkness, but all four of them going on the errand would leave the print shop unattended. Since the incident with the broken window the night before, Moses had decided that he would stay behind. James, Sarah and Henri had insisted on going. Sarah, an excellent rider, would provide transportation for James and Henri. It would be slow going with three passengers but it would get done.
"It's dark now. We're wasting time." said James. "Goodbye, Moses." Sarah and Henri echoed the peasantry.
"Be careful." cautioned Moses, and the children filed out of the back of the print shop.
"We're coming up to the last house." whispered Sarah as she walked their horse up to the gate. They could not go at a faster pace without drawing attention.
"Come on, Henri!" it was nearly dark and James fumbled with the paper before stepping off and handing it to Henri. The boys had been trading off the job of setting the paper by the back door, and it was Henri's turn. Henri crept towards the house as quietly as possible.
"Hello, what's all this 'ere?"
Sarah and James both turned as they saw two British soldiers riding towards them. Henri was hidden by the house, and James could barely see his face looking out from around the corner. He knew how to get back from here, and he could go back to the print shop. But him and Sarah on the horse?
"Don't lead them to the shop." he whispered to Sarah, who nodded and set off quickly the way they came as the two soldiers came closer.
She brought the horse to a canter with the soldiers pursuing, but she knew they wouldn't be able to keep it up very long—not with two riders, not in the snow, and not in a narrow city street. So she turned and began to ride towards the woodland, out of the city.
They rode in a most haphazard fashion, the horse being the only able to see where they were going, and horses never take into account the added height of their riders, earning Sarah and James a great many pelts from branches. Small twigs scraped their face and caught on their clothes and Sarah's hair.
Both children could still hear the British shouting behind them, so they kept going. A larger branch scratched the side of Sarah's face as they rode past and became entangled in her hair. The horse didn't stop and the branch was pulled to its full length before part of it broke off in her hair. She bit her lip.
Being able to see barely anything except the falling snow, both children kept their heads as low as possible. Sarah held onto the neck of the horse and the reins, and James held onto the sides of the saddle. Both children could clearly hear the British soldiers behind them.
James was half-excited as they continued to ride. He rather wished he was the one with the reins, but that couldn't be helped at the moment. He was also panicking, but only in the back of his mind where things were slightly more thought through. Even with his head down, he could feel the air, made colder by their fast pace.
They turned again, sharply, and a rather large, low-hanging tree bough smacked James squarely in the head and almost knocked him off before he grabbed back onto the saddle. By now his eyes had adjusted to the dark, but the woodland was a blur around him as the horse sped onwards.
Suddenly Sarah slowed to a walk, then stopped. "Can you hear them anymore?"
"No." James replied, out of breath. "Let's turn back."
"Alright," said Sarah. "Which way?"
Unfortunately for both of them, it was pitch dark and snowing. "I don't know." he confessed, looking around. Sarah shivered. "We'll have to wait until morning to find our way out."
"James!" if she had been on the ground, and English girls did that sort of thing, Sarah might've stamped her foot.
"Don't blame me. Your precious Redcoats chased us into the forest."
"You live here. You are supposed to know where we are." James hopped down from the horse. "Where are you going?"
"I'm going to sleep. I'm tired." James lay down in the snow. Sarah glared at the patch of dark retreating underneath a tree, tied the horse so it couldn't run during the night, and did the same.
Except it was really quite cold, and the snow was wet and seeping into their cloak and coat, and the wind was blowing hard, and snow was melting on their faces, and the ground was hardened from the cold.
Even so, both children were tired from the ride and the late night. Eventually both the loyalist and the patriot fell asleep underneath their respective trees.
"James, wake up." The young journalist opened his eyes to see Sarah looking at him nervously. He frowned as morning light filtered into his eyes.
"Sarah? Where...where are we?" suddenly he remembered the events of the night before. Sarah bit her lip, looking around.
"I believe the better question is who are we with." she murmured, glancing away. "Don't say anything."
James sat up fully and looked around to see at least ten armed and unfriendly British soldiers. He opened his mouth and shut it again.
"Get up, boy." a soldier prodded him in the back with his boot and both children rose and followed the Redcoats, soldiers flanking them in all sides. James sent an alarmed look towards Sarah. She slightly raised her shoulders and opened her palms, indicating that she didn't know where they were going or what was going to happen to them once there.
Silently James wondered if Henri had made it back to the print shop and if he and Moses were alright. A glance at Sarah showed that his thoughts mirrored his.
They continued onwards.
James couldn't tell how long they walked—it was tiring and the going was hard in the snow, which was significantly deeper then it had been the night before. Both he and Sarah were wet and cold, rendering their overgarments useless.
"Where's our horse?" asked Sarah loudly, trying for snobby British aristocrat, but soaking and shivering, her attempt backfired.
The soldier said nothing but James saw that a soldier behind them was leading the animal.
"Sir, you have no right to—"
"There's a curfew, miss. Care to tell us why you weren't obeying it—out with your young man?"
Sarah blanched. "What? He's not...he's...we got lost and couldn't find our way back to our home." she glanced at James. Then, "James is sick!" she rushed to continue. "James is sick and he needs to ride our horse. He can't walk any more." she coughed, then kicked James in the ankle very hard.
He fell into the snow and took the hint. Sarah coughed again and loudly, rattling her entire body. Taking her example, James forced himself to cough as well. The soldiers looked at him and sighed. "Fine. Get on the horse, lad." said the soldier who appeared to be in charge.
Sarah helped him up and towards the horse. "Here, James, lean on me." she said, ignoring the glare he leveled at her. She mounted the horse herself, then pulled James up to the front.
"James," she whispered, "Can you tell the way back to the print shop from here from here?"
James nodded. The British encampment was just outside Philadephia, but the city was already completely visible from where they were. Sarah leaned over and in a moment had the reins from the tired soldier leading the horse. The horse galloped through the redcoats, who quickly began giving chase.
Sarah glanced behind them so see the soldiers' horses following them closely. They were approaching the city streets now, and the shops passed by in a blur. The only thing clear were their pursuers.
Their pursuers who were going to catch them. Their horses were fresher, though James knew the area better, and there were more of them.
Suddenly James directed the horse around a corner and another one, losing them for the moment. Not many people were about, it being so early in the morning, which was a blessing. One of their British-sympathetic neighbors might have pointed the soldiers towards them again.
Both of them leapt down and James tied the horse before the two pursued children ran inside, safe and currently still free. Sounds of the British soldiers riding past the shop could be heard outside.
The window was still, thankfully, boarded up, so there was no danger of anyone seeing them from outside. Moses was the first to spot them from his place at the coat rack. "James! Sarah! You're alright! We were just going out to look for you."
Henri came bounding down the stairs. "Zhames! Zharah! Did you fight ze Redcoats?" he made swordfighting motions with his arms before James caught him playfully. "You're all wet!" he exclaimed, wriggling away.
"We most certainly did not fight any British soldiers." said Sarah primly, wringing out her hair and sleeves. "I'm going upstairs—good day." she coughed again before heading for the stairwell.
"I haven't sent the letter to Mrs. Adams telling her you won't be coming yet." said Moses. "You're all certain I can't convince you to stay with her?"
All the children nodded, including Henri. Sarah looked down at herself. If someone had told her a few months before that she would be dripping wet from a night spent in the snow after hiding from British soldiers because she had helped to deliver treasonous papers, and that she had escaped from and defied the same British soldiers, she would have called them mad.