Love’s Betrayal Read Free Page B

would tell him of the many times she had relayed messages to the patriots.
    One of their new neighbors, Abby Rutherford, had brought a loaf of bread and a cheery welcome when they first arrived. She and her husband had two sons the ages of Mercy and Hope and seemed cordial enough until Mistress Rutherford mentioned her intense dislike of the patriots.
    â€œWe are of the mind that liberty is the utmost course for our country,” Mama had said with a smile.
    Mistress Rutherford stiffened and moved toward the door. “I am dismayed at how you feel about King George. He is our established king. I certainly hope you soon come to your senses.”
    Mama wiped her hands on her apron and stepped ahead of the woman to the door. “Thank you for the bread, Mrs. Rutherford. If you think a pompous, selfish man across the Atlantic cares about anything other than lacing his pockets with our money, then you have lost
your
senses.”
    Mrs. Rutherford stomped out, red-faced. Mama whirled around and faced her daughters. “We women may not carry muskets and bayonets, but we can surely sear the Tories’ hearts with the truth. Remember, the truth shall set us free.”

    Henry fought loyally for the British. Not once did he regret his enlistment, knowing at the end of the rebellion, he would live out his days in the colonies. He spent the winter of 1776–77 in Canada, fighting bitter cold and hunger from rationed provisions. He didn’t mind the vigorous training, for he acquired strength and a disciplined will about him. Pride and determination clothed him more securely than the white wool coat issued to keep him warm. He had made splendid friends. One in particular, Adam Bennett, had been drafted from a poverty-stricken area of London. In him, Henry found a kindred spirit.
    On May 6, 1777, soon after the St. Lawrence River had thawed enough to allow passage, General John Burgoyne arrived in Quebec. Pleased with the training of his regular troops, Burgoyne set June 13 as the date to launch a massive campaign designed to free New York and the surrounding areas from the patriots.
    â€œI heard the captain talking last night,” Adam said. He polished a black powder smudge from his musket before continuing. “Quite admirable of us, I might say. The captain said military brilliance had emerged from the Canadian forces.”
    â€œAye, Adam. I’m pleased. What else did he say?”
    Adam leaned closer, staring down his long, pointed nose. “General Burgoyne said with the British right wing division under Major General Phillips and the German left wing division under Major General Baron von Riedesel, we are indeed an impressive and disciplined force.”
    â€œI’m proud. This war will soon be ended, and we can all go about our business.”
    On June 13, twenty-eight ships and several bateaux headed across Lake Champlain toward Fort Ticonderoga, where the hastily retreated Continental forces gave the British success. The campaign continued, and Henry’s optimism that the war would be quickly won gave way to endless fighting, following a long, grueling overland wilderness trail to Fort Edward. Henry faced fatigue and discontent in a land he had once believed was his destiny. He despised the rebel movement and vowed they all should be shot or hung for defying King George.
    Just north of Albany, New York, at Stillwater, the fighting grew steadily worse. The Americans were proving to be a fighting force of their own.
    Henry heard the order to advance. Gripping his musket, he charged forward amid the blinding smoke. The cries of wounded men and the blasts of gunfire spiraled terror through his body.
    â€œHenry!” Adam shouted.
    He turned to see his friend fall into bush and thorns.
Dear God, no!
Henry rushed to Adam’s side and pulled him into a clearing. Blood gushed from his friend’s chest and onto his uniform. Henry covered the wound with his hand, staring in horror at the