The Bully Boys (11 page)

“That's where Tecumseh and his people are from. You have to understand, Tommy, that the British have perpetrated their share of injustices against the Indians, but prior to this war the American army launched countless attacks that slaughtered thousands upon thousands of Indians, burned villages, forced them to leave their lands. Things the natives will never forget. And that is why they are on our side. We are the enemy of their enemy, and thus we are allies. I just pray that the King will recognize and reward their deeds when we finally drive the Americans back across the river.”

The rocks under my feet slipped and I scrambled to regain my balance. Hitting the flat I saw Jamison and McAdams ahead. They were standing outside the vine-covered overhang and waved to us.

“I wish you'd have let us know what you were up to before you did it, Lieutenant,” Jamison said.

“When you started screaming you nearly scared the daylights out of me!” McAdams added. “You haven't any idea how loud that echoes on down through the cave!”

FitzGibbon just smiled.

“And then when the screaming stopped we heard those Americans charging down the hill like they were being chased by the Devil himself. You should have heard them! Screaming, yelling, cursing, their horses snorting and hooves pounding against the rock! I don't know how they managed to get down without half of them going over the edge!”

FitzGibbon started to laugh again, that loud, explosive laughter that made everybody within earshot start to smile
and then laugh along with him. It dissolved the tension that had been gripping my stomach like a fist and I broke into laughter as well.

“I suppose we'd better get going before they get down to the fort and report the hundreds of Indians up here. You never know, they might actually find the nerve to round up a few hundred soldiers and come back!”

* * *

I DIDN'T know what I was most pleased about: seeing the last of those Americans or starting to see the familiar sights that marked the approach to our land. We passed between two large piles of stones that my Pa and uncle and I had taken out of one of our fields last year. My Pa always joked that with all the rocks we pulled out each spring you would have thought we were planting stone seeds. If the war hadn't come I would have spent a good part of that summer making those piles into fences. That and felling trees and pulling the stumps to make our fields bigger.

Up ahead, grazing peacefully, were a dozen of our sheep . . . and our plough horse . . . and in the distance I could see the tip of our barn. After hearing about the Watsons' barn, I was more than a little relieved to see it. Off to the side was the little plot of land where my grandparents were buried, and then I saw my favourite climbing tree, and . . . my Ma was standing beside it.

CHAPTER NINE

“ M
A!” I screamed at the top of my lungs as I spurred my horse to race toward her.

She dropped the basket she was holding and ran to me. I brought the horse to a stop, its hooves throwing up clumps of dirt, leaped down to the ground and threw my arms around her.

“Tommy, Tommy,” she whispered as she wrapped me tightly in a hug.

She started to cry and I could feel her entire body shaking. I released my grip on her but her arms remained tightly around me.

“It's okay, Ma . . . I'm okay.”

She sobbed even louder. “I know . . . I know,” she managed to choke out.

I heard the footfalls of FitzGibbon's horse right behind me and I felt almost embarrassed as my mother continued to cling to me. I tried to console her, to make her see it was all right. Why was she crying so much? I was right here and
everything was all right. I patted her on the back . . . when had she become so small? It had been almost two years since the first time we'd stood back to back and I was just a hair taller. Of course I'd kept growing since then—but she seemed so much smaller now, so thin. I couldn't have grown that much in just a few weeks.

“Good morning, ma'am,” the Lieutenant announced.

She released her hold, slightly, and looked up at him, still atop his horse.

“My name is James Fitz—”

“I know who you are, Lieutenant FitzGibbon,” my mother interrupted. “And for the first few days after my son was gone I wasn't too happy at the mention of your name.”

I had to smile. There was a little taste of that fire that I knew was inside of her.

“I can understand your distress,” he said. “It was with a heavy heart that I had to ask your son to accompany me.”

“Your heart was light compared to mine. You have no idea what it is like for a mother to be separated from her son.”

“Indeed not, ma'am . . . although I know the pain I felt as a son separated from his mother.” FitzGibbon dismounted.

“And I was angry,” my mother continued. “Angry at your reasons for taking my son. Surely, I thought, the Americans would not be so mean-spirited or petty as to hunt down a mere boy.” She paused. “But I was wrong on that count.”

“They were here looking for me?” I asked.

She nodded her head. “A party of ten soldiers, one with his head bandaged and bloodied, came snooping around the
farm. Apparently somebody in town is a traitor and told the Americans it was you who attacked their man.”

“What happened when the soldiers came?” FitzGibbon asked.

“I told them it couldn't be my son Tommy because he hadn't left the farm for more than a week.”

“And they believed you?” FitzGibbon asked.

“No, but they did believe their own man and his eyes.”

“I don't understand,” I said.

“I let them see my son.”

“But how could you—” I started to say.

“My son, John . . . your brother . . . who told them he was Tommy. The two soldiers, the one with the bandaged head and one other, looked at him and said that he wasn't the one.”

“Well done, ma'am, very well done indeed!” FitzGibbon exclaimed.

“And of course Mr. McCann swore up and down that he'd known my son since he was born, and that he was old but not senile and knew it wasn't Thomas.” She paused. “What would they have done to my Tommy if they had found him?”

FitzGibbon did not answer immediately. “Perhaps they would have beaten him, or taken him prisoner and brought him back to the States.”

My Ma reached out and took my hand in hers. “And we've seen what they've done to the farms of people they suspect of doing them harm.” She shook her head. “I would never have believed that there were men capable of burning
people out, stealing their possessions . . . if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, or heard it from people who had seen it all happen.”

“It has happened, although thank goodness not that often. Most of the soldiers, American and British and Canadian, are honourable people. There are always a few bad apples in every barrel, though, aren't there?” the Lieutenant said.

“Surely you can't mean to say that some of His Majesty's men have acted similarly?” my Ma questioned.

“I can only speak directly for my men. But I know of similar acts, the burning of homes on the American side. While they were done as acts of retribution for American atrocities on this side of the river, they still left innocents without shelter.”

I couldn't imagine that FitzGibbon would ever order or allow such behaviour. He was a gentleman. Then I thought about our burning of the blockhouse. That was different, though . . . that was a military building, and not the house or barn of some poor homesteader.

“It will be so good to have Tommy back under our roof . . .” She paused, and the smile on her face faded as she looked up at FitzGibbon. “It is safe now . . . you are leaving him . . . aren't you?”

“I'm sorry, ma'am. He is here for the day, but I do not believe it would be safe to leave him here for—”

“I understand,” she interrupted. “And I trust your judgment in these matters, Lieutenant.”

“I think it would be best if he remained at a safe distance for the next month or so.”

“But he is with us for the day?”

“The day and possibly the night. My men and I must go farther and there is no guarantee that we'll be back before nightfall.”

“I wish you to encounter no problems, Lieutenant, but I hope you are delayed enough to allow him to spend one night in his own bed!”

“I'm afraid that wouldn't be advisable,” FitzGibbon said.

“But I don't understand.” I turned to FitzGibbon. “You said you might be gone until tomorrow.”

“Regardless, your bed needs to stay unoccupied. You should sleep in the hayloft. You need to stay away from the house in case an American patrol returns this evening. I know it is a long shot, but—”

“We can't take that chance,” my Ma said. “Not for Tommy and not for the rest of the family. He'll sleep in the hay tonight. Let's get up to the house . . . your brother and sisters will be so happy to see you! Lieutenant, can you join us for a cup of tea before you leave?”

“I'm afraid I have to decline your invitation. Perhaps another time. Tommy, I'm leaving you the supplies, but I have to take your grey with me.”

“I thought you might.” I knew that if soldiers came then I could easily hide in the hay or scoot out the back door and into the woods without being seen. But the horse would still be there in the barn where anybody could see it and maybe remember that it belonged to an American soldier.

“Where do you want these supplies, ma'am?” FitzGibbon asked.

“Supplies?”

“Everything on the horse is meant for your family. They're the wages your son has earned working on the DeCews' farm.”

My Ma was more than just a little pleasantly surprised.

“Well, I'm glad to hear he's been working all this time and not trying to run off and be a soldier,” she told the Lieutenant. “I know the young men are needed to fight, but they're needed on the farm, too.”

I looked at FitzGibbon, who was looking down at the ground. I didn't want to lie to my Ma, but there was no way I wanted her to know anything about what else had transpired.

“But surely all these supplies can't be for us!” she exclaimed, once she'd had a look at the provisions.

“You can use what your family requires and offer some to others you know who might be in need,” the Lieutenant said.

“Thank you,” she said, taking his hands in hers.

“No need. Thanks goes to your son and to Mr. DeCew.”

“And is that where my son will be going back to after he leaves?”

“Yes. That's where he'll spend his time until he returns home.”

“That's so good . . . so good to know he's safe . . . especially after what's happened to his Pa.”

CHAPTER TEN

M
Y HEART ROSE up into my throat. My Pa?

“He was wounded in battle,” she said. “Is he badly hurt?” I demanded.

“I was told he's going to be all right. I'm sorry . . . I didn't know how to tell you.”

“Where is he?”

“In a field hospital near Burlington. At least that was where he was . . . but I was told almost a week ago, and he was wounded ten days before that, so I don't really know.” Ma shook her head slowly. “I was told by Mr. McGregor and he was told by somebody else. That was all the information he had.”

“But there must be some way to find out how he's doing and where he is,” I said.

“Lieutenant?” my Ma asked FitzGibbon.

“I can make some inquiries, but it's very difficult . . . I'll try, when we get back to our camp tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant. I'd be most grateful and in your debt,” she said.

“No ma'am, if I do a dozen favours for your family I will still remain in your debt. If it hadn't been for your son, I would have been killed or captured. You should be very proud of Tommy.”

“I am . . . I always have been. He's a good boy . . . but he really isn't a boy any more, is he?”

I wasn't? It was only a few short weeks ago that she had told me that I was too young, just a boy, and there was no way I was going off to fight in any war.

“tommy!”

I recognized my sister Sarah's shrill call and turned around in time to see her and my brother John racing toward me. Behind them came the twins, moving as fast as their little legs would carry them. Sarah got close and then leaped the last three feet into my arms, nearly knocking me backwards as she wrapped her arms around me tightly.

“Lieutenant FitzGibbon, this is my sister Sarah, my brother John, and these two are nothing but trouble,” I said, as the twins wrapped their arms around my legs.

My brother reached up to take off his hat and extended his free hand to shake FitzGibbon's.

“Honoured to meet you, sir,” he mumbled, his eyes cast down to the ground.

“Pleased to meet you as well, John. I think I must owe you an apology, too. With me taking away Tommy it must have left you with a lot more work to do.”

“Some,” he answered, shuffling his feet. He looked uneasy.

“Some?” Ma said. “With both their Pa and Tommy gone he's been the man of the house, and he's been doing a wonderful job!”

John blushed slightly, but I also noticed him puff out his chest and he brought his eyes up off the ground.

“It was my pleasure to meet you all, but I'd better be off if I'm to have any chance of getting back by nightfall,” FitzGibbon said. “If I'm not back by then you should just settle in for the night and not expect me until midday tomorrow. Do you think you can stand to have your brother around for a while?”

John smiled, and Sarah, who had just released her grip on me, grabbed one of my hands tightly. The twins, who I didn't think really understood what he meant, still caught the spirit of the moment and started laughing.

“Before I go, I was wondering if you had some butter I could buy from you,” FitzGibbon asked.