Spirit of the Revolution (14 page)

Mathias walked across the room and sat in the large chair opposite her. He wanted to study her eyes for the slightest bit of recognition she might reveal as he continued the tale. “This man repeatedly risked his life to send every shred of information he could glean to General Washington. One cannot measure the service he gave his country. Inside the barn, Elisabeth tucked a note written on a small scrap of paper into my hand. She told me Jacob would allow her to carry no more than that. Elisabeth told me that a message critical to the General and our cause, needed delivery with all haste. After she left, I broke the seal on the note and read it. Jolena, the note simply said,
‘time is key.’”

He noted her growing apprehension, yet she remained silent, and for that, he gave his gratitude. “After destroying the note and scattering the small bits of paper to a northerly wind, I raced back and gathered the lads as quickly as I could. At the time, finding Alex and William at Sam’s house did naught but aid our goal. I’ve often wondered since that day, if I found the boys scattered in various places, would things have turned out differently. Not that it matters now, of course. After the four of us stopped off at Jed’s place and collected him, we rode off toward the doctor’s house.”

Mathias stood up and paced the floor as he recalled the memory he relived more often than he desired. “In our haste, we drove our horses to their limit. The woods were the shortest and most direct path. Within two miles or so of the doctor’s home, a goodly number of Redcoats emerged from the forest and made all haste to surround us. At first, it didn’t make sense to see them there. Elisabeth told me the entire army left well before daybreak. She said they had marched toward New York—the opposite direction. Then I saw him and all of the pieces fell into place.”

“Saw
him
?” asked Jolena, her confusion obvious.

“One of the doctor’s most
loyal
servants,” Mathias spat. “A man by the name of Percival Peddelton. Jacob literally rescued this man from the grip of death. Years earlier, he found him off the side of the road, badly injured. He took him into his home without reservation, nursed him back to health, and gave him a place to stay. After he recovered, the doctor supplied him with a job and paid him very good wages for the services he rendered his family.

“Despite all this, Peddelton pointed me out to the commanding officer as the man they sought. He assured him I carried something in my pocket the English army needed to retrieve. Something Elisabeth Weidmann had given me earlier.”

Jolena’s eyes widened and her mouth dropped as he made the comment. Nevertheless, he wanted to finish the narrative without interruption. He would quiz her at the end of his tale. “The traitorous dog had his pistol trained on me as if that cold piece of steel could protect him from my wrath. The officer in charge ordered us to abandon our weapons and step forward. Sam let me know he targeted the officer. The other lads signaled the targets they had chosen as well. I picked Peddelton. I wanted to see to it personally that he could never again endanger the Weidmann family with his foul mouth.” Mathias sat down next to Jolena on the sofa and leaned toward her. He captured her gaze and held it. Tears filled her expressive eyes, yet he needed to finish the story.

“Months earlier, the five of us made a pact. We would never allow the English to take us captive. We had knowledge of things our enemies should never know, and we vowed never to give them the opportunity to extract that information. The fact is, as you have read for yourself, Morgan chose only skilled marksmen for his army of Rangers. That day, none of us missed our targets. Once we emptied our firearms, we fought with all other weapons at our collective disposal. None of us fell quickly or easily during the ensuing battle, not even our horses.” Mathias shook his head and gazed upward as he recalled the memory.

“Outnumbered and surrounded, the surviving Redcoats could continue reloading their weapons while we could not. Alexander fell first, followed by Jedediah and then William. Samuel fell in his effort to take down the man who trained his freshly loaded musket on me. At that point, I fought alone, but not for long. Despite the carnage of the battle, and the fact we could see our bloodied bodies lying on the ground, we also discovered we could still see each other. Somehow, there in the forest, we remained together.

“At the time, we could do naught but watch as the remaining English soldiers searched my body, looking for something of importance or material wealth. They of course, found nothing. They searched the bodies of all the lads and again, found nothing. They even searched through the tack on our dead horses. Without troubling themselves further over our bodies, or even the bodies of their own men scattered across the ground, they quit the place. I can only assume they hurried off to rejoin the main body of soldiers on their march to New York.”

Mathias chose not to reveal the presence of the brilliant white light she mentioned during their first encounter. None of them wanted to venture a guess as to what fate awaited them on the other side of it, and they discovered they were not compelled to enter it. That day each man personally made his own choice as to his destination. So, they found their way to the McGregor home and made it their haven.

“Mathias?” Tears flowed freely down Jo’s cheeks, and try as she might she couldn’t get them to stop. Her imagination conjured the sight of her boys lying there on the ground, bloodied and broken, after fighting so bravely against so many. How she wished she could gather him into her arms and just hold him. She wanted to sob into his chest and receive what comfort he could give in return. “I’m so very sorry. I wish—I really wish I could just—”

“Don’t cry, Jolena.” He cupped her face and used his thumbs to wipe away her tears. “All of this happened a long time ago.”

“Did any of you suffer overly long, Mathias? I couldn’t bear it if you did—”

“No, Jolena, we didn’t suffer. Dry your eyes now. I didn’t tell you this story to make you cry,” he whispered.

“I know that,” Jo said as she struggled for control over her tender emotions. Then suddenly, she remembered what she needed to tell him. “I don’t know if there’s a relation to this story or not, but Mathias, I know the name Weidmann. I have a set of grandparents, several generations back with that name. I’m not sure my Jacob is married to an Elisabeth right off the top of my head, but I do own a clock that once belonged to Johan Andries Weidmann. Come with me. I’ll go check my computer in the library for you and see if anything relative to this situation is in my family genealogical database.”

Jo looked up as she wiped at a wayward tear. Mathias disappeared. She found him waiting for her in the library. He had her computer up and running before she entered the room. She activated the program, clicked on her ancestral charts, and searched out the Weidmann family tree. The Michaelssons tied in with the Weidmanns when her fourth great-grandfather, Stephen Michaelsson married the daughter of William Weidmann in Iowa. William was the son of Willem and Anna Hall Weidmann. Jo’s mouth dropped as she gazed at the next set of grandparents.

“Look Mathias.” She plucked a tissue from the box and sniffed as she pointed toward the highlighted name. “I’m related to the Jacob and Elisabeth Weidmann who
did
live in this county. Do you see? I have them both recorded as being born here in Pennsylvania. I descend through their son Willem. I have a tremendous amount of notes dealing with this family. Give me a minute to see if I can find something that might give you the answers you seek.” She turned her attention to absorbing the abundant information dealing with the Weidmann family. After a time, Mathias broke the silence.

“Willem accompanied Elisabeth into the barn that morning, but I think you ought to know—”

“And of course,” she said as she looked up from the screen. “Jacob is the son of Johan Andries Weidmann, whose clock is down stairs in the sitting room. We speculate he carried it along with him when he immigrated to America as a young man. After all, he probably couldn’t have purchased such an item here at that time in history, could he?”

Mathias waved the comment aside and said, “Jacob’s father never lived here. Jacob and Elisabeth emigrated from Germany, along with their two oldest children. Elisabeth’s parents and siblings sailed with them, not Jacob’s parents. As I recall, the Weidmanns arrived in Pennsylvania shortly after Alexander and his family moved here. So, you see, Jacob and Elisabeth weren’t born here, Jolena. They told me themselves they were both born in Baden, Germany.”

“That can’t be right, Mathias,” Jo said, pointing at the dates and places on the computer screen. “These notes say that Johan Andries is buried on the Weidmann farm, and we found an immigration list that shows a very similar name several years prior to the birth of Jacob. The Genealogical Society read and recorded his stone back in 1930. And remember, I have his clock—”

“No, Jolena. You’re forgetting how well I know the family. Trust me. Jacob’s father never lived here.” Mathias stopped short as he gazed into her eyes. “Wait a minute. Time is key; a clock tells time, and you have a clock that belongs to the Weidmann family. Let’s go take a look at that clock of yours, shall we?”

Mathias acknowledged the presence of the boys with a single nod the moment they entered the parlor. Jo could literally feel their excitement. Sam fixed his gaze on and stepped closer to her clock.

“I truly don’t think there’s anything hidden inside, Mathias. I’ve had it professionally cleaned twice and I know my parents had it done at least once. If Jacob hid something inside it, I’m sure that something is long gone by now.”

Despite her misgivings, Jo walked over to the clock and opened the face. The latch on the side allowed the back panel to open so one could clean or repair the mechanism. She clicked the latch and turned the clock around. As the backside of the wooden panel swung open, a crudely etched name and dates appeared on the backside. At once, she found herself surrounded by all her ghostly companions. They wanted a closer look as well.

She pointed at the carving. “Do you see the label? We believe this is proof that my grandfather Johan Andries owned the clock first.”

She took a step back as Mathias studied the panel for several moments. His eyes lit up with sudden comprehension. He then turned toward his companions.

“Jacob hid the item we needed to find in his family cemetery,” he said the words as if stating a simple fact.

Sam laughed as he slapped Mathias on the back. Soon the room echoed with laughter as the rest of the boys joined in.

“What do you mean?” She gazed at each of their exuberant faces, feeling naught but confusion.

“This label is written in Jacob’s hand. As his contact, I have seen examples of his writing many times. If I solved this puzzle correctly, Jacob gave us the clue we needed, when he said, ‘time is key,’ be that his family motto or not. Such a phrase would set us looking for a timepiece and once we discovered this clock, it wouldn’t take us any time at all to open the back panel. In so doing, we would see the note he left for us to find. Don’t you see? This carving reads, ‘Johan Andries Weidmann 1724, Baden, Germany—1776, Berks, Pennsylvania, Beloved Father,’ a common cemetery inscription, should anyone else find it. However, as we were all aware, Jacob’s father never sailed to these shores.”

“I wonder,” Sam said as he scratched at the corner of his mouth, “if the information is still there?”

Mathias shook his head. “I don’t know, Sam. But I wouldn’t think so. My guess is Jacob learned of our demise from the report of the returning Loyalists. I’m sure he sent someone else to retrieve it. You must remember its importance.”

“No—I don’t think he did, because I don’t believe he could have,” Jo said, suddenly excited. “In the notes I have on my computer, I have a copy of an existing letter Elisabeth wrote to one of her granddaughters, years after the war ended. The letter said she assumed her husband died in New York shortly after he left with the British, because he never made contact with her again. No letters, no messages—nothing. He never returned home from the war.

“Mathias, you said yourself one of their servants identified you. Doesn’t it make sense he would also betray Jacob to the British army, when he first convinced them to send a company of men after you?” she asked.

“She’s probably right about that, Mathias,” William said. “In all likelihood, they executed Jacob on the spot and well before we met our own deaths.”

“I say we go find out,” Jedediah stated.

“How can we do that?” asked Jo. “After all of this time and all of the changes occurring over the centuries, do any of you even know where the Weidmann cemetery is located or even if it still stands?”

“Oh, it’s still standing,” said Alexander. “The cemetery is located on the property that now belongs to the tedious neighbors a bit north of here. You know, the Parkers.”

Jo took in a sharp breath as she stared. “Do you mean to tell me my ancestral grandparents lived on the same property, now owned by Douglas and Gloria?”

“That’s right,” William said. “And that gives you every right to check it out, doesn’t it?”

“Well, I’m up for it,” Sam said. “Of course, we’d need the lass here to go with us. We can accomplish many things on our own accord, but I don’t know if we have the skills to dig down into the dirt.”

“How about it, Jolena?” Alexander bounced his brows and gave her a nudge. “Are you up for a little adventure?”

“Such an escapade could be fun,” William baited.

“I don’t know, boys. Just picture the look on their faces when I knock on their door and say something like— “So, you know the ghosts who live at my house? Well they think they might’ve left something important in your cemetery a couple of centuries back. So, you don’t mind if we go and look for it, do you?”

Chapter 11

“We don’t have to seek their permission, Jolena,” said Sam. “They wouldn’t even have to know we’re there. The cemetery is quite a distance from the house they live in and to keep our business to ourselves, we should probably go at night, anyway.”