Liberty 1784: The Second War for Independence Read Free Page B

branded me. That’s supposed to be an ‘R’ for rebel, but I screamed and squealed and twisted so much that ugly blob is what resulted.”
    Homer nodded. “I thought that’s what it was. Somehow I thought that only black people got branded and then only slaves, although I guess you were a slave of the British. Either way it’s a vile way to treat a man.”
    Will sat down on a rickety chair and wrapped himself in a blanket. He was freezing and, as his condition improved, he didn’t want to be naked in front of his new companion. He was also completely spent.
    “Now what?” he asked.
    Homer stood and stretched. He was a big man and Will guessed his age at forty or so. “You rest up for a bit, and then we’ll figure that out after we get some food in you. If I tried to feed you now, it’d be a waste of food. You’d probably puke it up again thanks to the seawater you drank.”
    Once again Will did as he was told.
    * * *
    Sarah Benton and her cousin Faith hugged each other and waited for the dawn. They were in the small western Massachusetts town of Pendleton’s one prison cell as guests of Charles Braxton, the sheriff. They were to be punished by spending a day in the stocks for speaking ill of the king. The population of Pendleton was only a couple of hundred, but many of them were Tories and most would be there to watch the two women’s discomfort and humiliation.
    Sarah Benton was twenty-six and ten years older than Faith. She felt guilty for her cousin. It was Sarah’s sharp tongue that had said that the king was responsible for the war and the death of Tom, the fine man who she considered to be her husband. Faith just happened to be standing by when she made the comment, but that meant nothing to Sheriff Charles Braxton. His authority included the ability to punish minor offences, and a day in the stocks for Sarah’s impertinence was what she and Faith would suffer.
    Sarah was certain she could handle it, but she less was less so regarding her cousin. Plump little Faith looked terrified. Why, Sarah wondered? It couldn’t be all that bad, could it?
    She’d known little about Pendleton. She and Tom had lived somewhat closer to Boston, but after his death in the war, and with Boston being a virtual British garrison, she’d decided to move west to her cousins. A woman alone, especially the widow of a rebel, was not safe with so many angry and vengeful British soldiers roaming around. The British and Tories were in a vengeful mood.
    Of course, it now seemed that sleepy little Pendleton, with a population of about two hundred living in clean, well-appointed homes, wasn’t all that safe either. Sheriff Braxton was a virtual dictator appointed by the British in Boston to control this area and he did so with a hard and often cruel hand.
    “Come on out for your day in the sun,” exclaimed Sheriff Braxton with a sarcastic laugh. Deputies came in and separated the two women. A sobbing and unprotesting Faith was led down a hallway to another room. Sarah was led by the arm to Braxton’s office where she was pushed against a wall. She heard voices through it, but nothing to cause her concern.
    Braxton glared at her. “A day in the stocks is not pleasant, Sarah Benton.”
    “I think I will survive. Would it help if I apologized for my wicked tongue?” She did not offer to pay a fine. She had no money, and the sheriff knew it.
    “No. What’s said cannot be unsaid, any more than water can be put back in a bucket after its spilled. You must be punished.”
    “I see.”
    “But your punishment can be changed. You’re an attractive woman, Mistress Benton.” He reached out and touched her light brown hair. Sarah gasped in surprise. “And a pleasant figure, too. Nice and firm and trim, not soft and plumpish like your cousin.” His hand slipped into her dress to her breast and squeezed, while his other hand groped between her legs.
    “Stop that,” she said weakly. His hands hurt her. Braxton was a very large and