page23 (1/2)

Marcus joined a line of soldiers He filed into line next to a gangly fellow about his age wearing a red-and-white-checked shirt and a pair of navy breeches that had seen better days

“Where you fro a momentary lull in the action

“Out west,” Marcus replied, not wanting to give too much away

“We’re both country bumpkins, then,” the soldier replied “Aaron Lyon One of Colonel Woodbridge’s men The Boston boys poke fun at anyone who lives west of Worcester I’ve been called ‘Yankee’ more times than I can count What’s your name?”

“Marcus MacNeil,” Marcus said

“Who you with, Marcus?” Lyon rooted around in a pouch at his waist

“Him” Marcus pointed at Seth Pomeroy

“Everybody says Pounsmiths in Massachusetts” Lyon produced a handful of dried apple slices He offered some to Marcus “Picked last year from our orchard in Ashfield None better”

Marcus devoured the apples and mumbled his thanks

Their conversation dropped away to silence when they reached the narrow neck of land that connected Cae to Charlestown It was here that the scope of what awaited theh his teeth at their first good look at the s from the distant prospects of Breed’s Hill and Bunker Hill

The line drew to a halt as Seth Pomeroy stopped to converse with a rotundand tricorn hat that sat on his balding head at opposing angles Marcus recognized the une from South Hadley

“Looks like you’re joining up with us,” Aaron said, watching the exchange between Poe

Woodbridge rode down the line, cal the soldiers

“MacNeil, is that you?” Woodbridge squinted “By God, it is Go with Poh a turkey’s eye in my back pasture, you can surely hit a Redcoat You, too, Lyon”

“Yes, sir” Lyon’s s’s whistled through front teeth that let as h as the pickets on Madam Porter’s fence

“Where are we going?” Marcus asked Woodbridge, planting his feet a bit farther apart and cradling the gun in his hands

“You don’t ask questions in the are replied

“Arence “I’ for Massachusetts—in the militia”

“Shohat you know, MacNeil Congress, in its wisdom, decided thirteen different colonial militias were too entleood on a horse—is headed up froround, a da pronouncement intended to cover southern landowners, tall men, equestrians, and city folk “Do as you’re told, or I’ll send you back to Hadley where you belong”

Marcus reached the Northaunsmith just in time to hear him address the motley company of soldiers

“We don’t haveout sot two legs and is wearing a British uniform”

“What’s our mission, Captain?” A tall man in a buckskin jacket with sandy hair and the sharp eyes of a eighed the pouch in his hand

“Relieving Colonel Prescott on Breed’s Hill He’s stranded there,” Pomeroy replied

There were groans of disappointment Like Marcus, most of the men wanted to fire upon the British arotten themselves into trouble

Poan theirthe ground and rattling nearby buildings to their foundations The king’s troops were trying to blast to pieces the fragile strip of land they alking on, thereby cutting Charlestown off froe The land rolled under Marcus’s feet Instinctively, he picked up his pace

“Even the whores left Charlestohen they saas co this way,” Lyon said over his shoulder

“What was coeddon, or at least that was Marcus’s conclusion once he saw the number of British ships on the Charles River, the heavy bouns across the water, and the thick plumes of smoke

Then he caught sight of thebriskly toward them from a distance, and his bowels turned to water

When Pomeroy’s troops finally met up with the other colonials, Marcus was surprised to discover that soer than he was, like the freckled Jimmy Hutchinson from Salem Only a feere as old as Seth Poe, including the hatchet-faced captain whose orders Marcus now followed: John Stark of New Hampshire

“Stark was one of the first rangers,” Jimmy whispered to Marcus as they crouched behind a endary for their keen eyes and steady hands as well as their long rifles, which were accurate at far greater distances than the muskets most men carried

“Oneyou” Stark had crept up to the front line, silent as a snake A red flag ornareen pine tree ound around one hand Stark fixed his attention on Marcus “Who the hell are you?”

“Marcus MacNeil” Marcus fought the urge to jump up and stand at attention “From Hadley”

“You’re the one Poht,” Stark said

“Yes, sir” Marcus couldn’t hide his eagerness to prove it

“See that stake?”

Marcus squinted through a sap in the hay that had been wadded between the fence rails piled atop the old wall to provide better cover He nodded

“When the British reach it, you stand and shoot Shoot the fanciest uniform you see The ainst this fence will do the same

“Eyes or heart?” Marcus’s question earned a s marksman

“It doesn’tas one shot is all it takes to bring hiround and keep your head down Once you’re down, Cole will shoot with the second line”

Stark pointed to the sharp-eyed man in buckskin The soldier nodded and touched his hat

“Once Cole’s down,” Stark continued, “Hutchinson and the final line will take aim”

The strategy was brilliant It took a count of twenty to reload a ive or take Stark’s plan meant there would be no lull in the attack, in spite of the relatively small nu straight into a barrage of fire

“And then?” Jimmy asked

Cole and Stark exchanged a long look Marcus’s racing blood stuttered He’d weighed the pouch when Poh powder for one shot That look proved it

“You just wait bythe boy on the back

War involved farIt was nearly half a day before the British caan to approach the stake, however, everything seemed to happen at once

The fife and drums struck up a tune The drummer was a boy of no more than twelve, Marcus saw—no older than Patience

One of the British soldiers whistled along The rest of the red-coated line picked up the song with enthusias out the words with jeers and catcalls

Yankee Doodle came to town,

For to buy a firelock,

We will tar and feather him,

And so ill John Hancock

“Bastards” Marcus’s finger quivered on the trigger at the insult to one of his heroes, and the president of the recently convened Continental Congress

“Hold your fire,” Cole whispered fro him of Stark’s orders

Then the first of the British soldiers, his red-and-gold unifor in the hazy air, stepped past the stake

“Fire!” Stark shouted s joined a line of soldiers He filed into line next to a gangly fellow about his age wearing a red-and-white-checked shirt and a pair of navy breeches that had seen better days