six
o'clock this evening," Washington announced, "I'll need maps for
this area and east of the river."
"Yes, sir," Baylor nodded
and went to the wooden chest where the general's papers were kept.
His mind began to race with the possibility of an offense against
the enemy. Why else would the general require maps of the enemy’s
territory?
General Washington stood at the window,
looking out at the snowy scene, wondering what the weather would be
like over the next few days. But he could no more plan a war based
on the weather than predict what it would be.
Suddenly, a group of men left their campfires
and ran towards one end of the camp. He watched as the group
converged and someone knelt down in the snow, huddling over a
figure on the ground. Fear stabbed him. Had yet another soldier
succumbed to sickness?
“Corporal Baylor, go find out what the men
are doing over there,” Washington told him.
“Yes, Sir!” the corporal
replied, pulling a cloak over his shoulders as he left.
Washington watched the corporal run towards
the group, which parted upon his arrival. He leaned over the prone
figure on the ground and gestured with his arm. Several men lifted
the figure and followed the corporal back to Washington’s
headquarters. Washington watched with great interest as they
carried the cloaked figure inside.
“Over there, near the fire!” the corporal
ordered and the men placed the figure down gently.
When they stepped back, Washington saw that
it was a young woman.
“She stumbled into camp and collapsed,” the
corporal explained.
“Is she still alive?” asked the general.
“I believe so,” replied Corporal Baylor.
Washington told Baylor to fetch Widow Harris.
"Go search the area for others who may have
come with her," Washington ordered and the men left.
Washington looked at the
silent figure on the floor. Her full lips were blue and her skin
was as pale as a marble cemetery statue. She was no more than
eighteen years old. A strand of light brown hair fell from her dark
bonnet, tied under her chin. Her cloak hid her body, but he could
tell that she was small. He wondered how she came here, and
why.
Old Widow Harris appeared and waddled over to
the hearth. When she saw the girl, she cried, "Heavens! Where did
she come from?"
"She wandered into camp alone," Washington
told her, "Can you help her?"
Widow Harris touched the girl's cheek and
hands.
"She's nearly frozen to death! Bring her
upstairs to bed!"
Corporal Baylor nodded and lifted the small
figure effortlessly. He carried her up the narrow wooden stairway
and into the room where Widow Harris was turning down the
blankets.
"I'll put a warming stone at her feet and try
to give her some hot soup," Widow Harris said as she hurried to the
kitchen.
When Corporal Baylor
returned downstairs, the door opened again and another figure was
carried inside. It was another young girl wrapped in a cloak, and
her face was battered. Baylor gasped at her purple bruises and
swollen jaw.
"Take her upstairs," Washington ordered.
Corporal Baylor helped the other soldier carry her.
"Were there any others?" Washington asked a
soldier.
"No sir, but we'll keep
searching."
"Very well," Washington nodded and dismissed
them.
"I wonder where they came from," Corporal
Baylor remarked, descending the narrow wooden stairs.
"The nearest settlement on
this side of the river is Bristol, but someone would have seen them
before they reached this far. See what you can find out,"
Washington told him.
Baylor nodded and left with the others.
The men told him that the
girls had approached camp from the east. The men walked eastward
toward the river and met the search party.
"We found no others," one of
the soldiers told him, "but it looks like the ladies came across
the river in this small rowboat. It wasn't here yesterday, I can
promise you that!"
Baylor followed him to the
edge of the river where a small wooden row boat was pushed up on
the icy shoreline. Baylor regarded the