Billy Green Saves the Day (5 page)

“Murdered!” Foote cried. “After she was murdered by animals like you! I watched her die with a knife in her back trying to run away. Someday we'll kill all of you for good.”

“I know the truth, Mr. Foote!” Billy said. “Sarah told me. You built a home and had a farm on land that didn't belong to you. You stole it from the Indians, and a bunch of you killed their women and children first. If I were them, I'd have done the same thing.”

“Indian lover! I should kill you right now!”

Before Foote could do anything more, one of the tribesmen swept up beside him, withdrew a knife, and held it to the white man's throat, forcing him to drop the guns.

Billy held up his hands. “Please! Don't kill him!” He turned to Norton. “Citizens of the enemy must be spared!”

Norton pondered Billy's plea, then gestured for Foote's release. The tribesman set the angry man free and confiscated his pistols. “You're an honourable man, Billy Green,” Norton said, slapping him on the back.

Humiliated, Foote scuttled up the hill. “I'll kill you! I'll kill all of you!”

Norton climbed onto his horse. “Now you know how hard it is to love and hate at the same time. Maybe now you understand us a little better.”

“I do, but I don't hate Mr. Foote,” Billy said. “I think ... I guess I understand how he feels.”

Norton smiled. “Perhaps you should tell him that. I wish someone had taken the time to understand at the beginning of this war. Who knows? We might not have had to fight it. Good luck to you, Billy Green.” Then he and the other Natives rode away.

“Good luck to you, too,” Billy whispered. “I hope we keep our word.” He watched as the band faded into the night, his mind replete with lessons learned and words to contemplate.

CHAPTER THREE

T
he sun peeking over the horizon eclipsed the lingering black of night, streaking the sky with fluorescent crimson. The Foote farm was veiled in mist, the grass moist with dew. The only sounds came from a few morning birds.

Billy stepped out of the low, rolling fog and frantically looked in all directions. Then he ran across a small field leading to the house and crouched. Peering through a window, he spied Foote sleeping, a musket by his bedside.

Quickly, Billy moved along the porch to another window and glanced inside to discover that Sarah wasn't in her bed. He smiled and ran to the barn. Once inside, he climbed the wooden ladder and heard a cow anxiously shuffle its feet. In the hayloft Billy gazed lovingly at Sarah, who was sleeping on a bed of straw. Suddenly aware of his presence, she sat up and rubbed her eyes. “What are you doing here?”

Excited, Billy started to say something but promptly stopped and glanced away. “You like to sleep in the barn ... when ... when you can't sleep in the house, don't you?”

Confused and still dazed, she nodded. “Why are you here?”

“I ... I love you, Sarah. You know that. And I think, well, I think you love me, too, right?”

“Yes. You know I do.”

Billy stared at the floor and took a deep breath. “I think we should get married.”

“What?”

Billy knelt beside her and stroked her hair. “Let's elope! Tonight!” He quickly fashioned a ring from a piece of straw and pushed it onto her finger. “Sarah Foote, will you marry me?”

Sarah smiled and embraced him.

He kissed her forehead. “I know we're young and our parents will say no. But we have to wait, anyway, until after the war, of course. I'm going to join the army.”

Sarah backed away, a sombre look on her face. “I can't have my future husband fighting in some far-off place while I sit at home and worry.”

“Are you asking me to choose between you and the army?”

Sarah felt the straw ring. “Yes.”

“Why can't I have both? My love for you is as great as that for my country.”

Sarah raised herself. “It's not the same.”

“But you know how much the army means to me.”

He reached for her, but she shrank away. “Apparently, the army is more important than I am.” She started down the ladder.

“I have to fight!”

“Why? It's a stupid war. Who cares if we're under British or American control?”

“I do, and so does your father, and mine,” he said, following her down.

Saddened, Sarah removed the makeshift ring and gave it to him. “You're right. Our marriage would never be accepted ... by either family.”

Billy grasped her hands. “Are you saying we'll never be together?”

Suddenly, the silence was broken by the sound of approaching horses.

Outside, Adam Green steered his wagon toward the Foote homestead. Samuel Foote emerged from the house and adjusted his suspenders as Adam pulled the reins to stop the team. Barely tipping his hat, Adam said, “Morning, Foote.”

“What do you want?” Foote demanded.

“Have you seen Billy? He didn't come home last night.”

Foote leaned against the porch. “You're not much of a father if you can't keep track of your own son. That's typical behaviour from a traitor's seed.”

“What did you call me?” Adam growled, trying to control his temper.

“You heard me, Green. What I can't understand is, why you or anybody else would fight for the British during the revolution.” Foote lit his pipe. “No wonder the United States kicked you out.”

“Then why are you here? Indians killed your wife and you left the country you claim you love so much. You came to a British territory even though you hate them.

Foote grinned. “It won't be British much longer. I know it and you know it. And once again you're going to be on the losing side.”

“I don't care who wins as long as my son isn't poisoned by the thinking of men like you ... and me. I would think you'd want the same for your daughter. Our children should live their lives in peace without the hatred of men like us.” He took a deep breath. “Now, have you seen Billy or not?”

Foote laughed. “That was a nice speech, the kind the losing side usually recites.”

“Have you seen him or not?”

Foote scowled and took a few steps toward Adam.

“No, and you better keep him away from my Sarah. If I see them together again, I can't be held responsible.”

Adam's eyes widened. “You harm Billy in any way and you'll answer to me!”

“Don't threaten me, you Loyalist pig!” Foote snarled, spitting at the horses' feet.

Enraged, Adam descended from the wagon.

“Stop it!” Sarah cried, running toward them, with Billy chasing her.

Furious, Foote withdrew his pistol and aimed at Billy. “You've soiled my daughter!” Adam lunged for the gun, but Foote trained it on him. “Stay where you are, Green. Get in the house, Sarah!”

Sarah began crying and dashed inside the house as Billy strode past both fathers.

“Keep that filthy son of yours away from her or I will — permanently!” Foote roared, then disappeared into his home.

Adam hesitated for a moment, then snapped the reins to pull the team away.

Foote slammed the door behind him as Sarah stood at the window weeping. “Did he touch you?” her father asked, roughly examining her arms.

“We didn't do anything!” she cried.

Foote grabbed her by the shoulders. “Don't lie to me! You will not see that boy anymore! Do you understand?”

“I'm not a little girl!”

“Don't talk back to me!”

“I'm not my mother! I can't and won't replace her! I want a life of my own!”

Foote backhanded her across the face, sending her crashing to the floor. Sarah brushed her hair aside and felt blood trickle from her mouth.

Mortified, Foote said, “I ... I'm sorry. Please ... please forgive me.” He tried to help her up, but she backed away.

When Sarah got to her feet, she looked at him stonily. “Never ...” she started to say, then ran to her room, slamming the door behind her.

Adam stopped the team of horses, applied the brake, and jumped off the wagon. “Billy!”

Farther up the well-worn road, Billy turned to confront his father. “What do you want from me?”

“For you to have a future.”

Billy wiped tears away with his sleeve. “But by your rules, right?”

“When you have a home of your own with a family, you'll understand what I'm trying to tell you,” Adam said, slowly edging toward him.

“I don't need your blessing for everything I do!” Billy cried, storming off.

“Where are you going?”

“To start my life — without you!”

Adam studied the modest wedding ring on his finger. “You were only a year old when your mother died. You were her last miracle. You remind me so much of her.”

Billy wheeled around. “Listen to you. It's not fair for you to say that to me. I can't take that kind of pressure ... that kind of guilt. Nobody can.”

Adam sighed as he started back toward the wagon.

“I'll be waiting for you at home.”

“Pa?”

“Yes?”

“How did ... how did you know Ma was the one for you? How did you know you loved her?”

Adam's conflicted feelings churned inside him as he wondered whether to scold Billy for his love of Sarah or tenderly explain his son's feelings. “I didn't want her to leave. Any time I saw her I didn't want her to go ... and counted the hours until I could see her again.” He smiled. “I didn't care what anybody said. I would've done anything to be with her.”

“Don't I deserve the same chance?” Billy asked, eyes locked on his father.

Adam shook his head. “This is different, Billy. There's a war on, and Samuel Foote is full of hate.”

“So are you.”

“Yes, I am, and I pray you're never like that. But you're young still and haven't experienced life fully.” Adam glanced at his ring again. “Love is hard enough without war and all the problems it brings. At least wait until we know what's going to happen. Wait until emotions aren't running so high. Wanting to marry Sarah is only making a hard situation harder — for you and for her.”

“And for you and Mr. Foote, too, right?”

“Yes, and even though I don't see eye-to-eye with him, I understand his position. We're both parents and we both want what we think is best for our children. It's hypocritical I know, but that's the way it is. Someday you'll understand what I'm saying.”

“What if I run away and join the army? Would you still ... you know ...”

“Love you? Of course I would. Do you really think I want to see you get hurt or killed? It would destroy me. To see a young man with so much potential, more than I ever had, throw it all away for a war nobody wants, would make my life unbearable.” He placed a hand on his son's shoulder. “Billy, I know you're brave and want to fight for your country, but I need you more. Your family needs you more. Sarah will need you more if you end up together. Come home now, please.”

Billy fell silent for a moment, brimming with mixed emotions. Then he reached into his pocket, withdrew the straw ring, contemplated it briefly, and tossed it into a nearby puddle. Adam tousled his son's hair, and Billy retaliated with a light punch at his father's stomach as they laughed and wrestled back to the wagon.

The brilliant sun blazed over a perfectly still Lake Ontario. The stifling heat silenced nature, except for the frequent racket of cicadas. Levi Green trudged through the brush, soaked with sweat, and slapped a mosquito from his glistening neck. “We're not going to find any Yankees hiding here, Billy.”

“Then go home. I know Pa told you to follow me.” Billy quickened his pace as Levi collapsed beside a creek at the edge of the escarpment and splashed water on his burning face with his hat. “I won't be coming home tonight,” Billy added casually over his shoulder. “I'm joining the army.”

“What? You promised Pa you wouldn't.”

“I know what I told him.”

Levi stood and donned his hat. “I'm supposed to look after you — and that's exactly what I intend to do!”

“Walk away, Levi. This doesn't concern you.”

“I'll drag you home kicking and screaming if I have to.” Before Levi could say anything more, Billy punched him in the mouth, decking him. Levi flexed his jaw with his hand as his brother stood over him, fists clenched. “Not a bad punch.” He pulled himself to his feet. “Now try that when I'm ready.”

Billy raised his hands and shadowed his brother. “You'll have to knock me unconscious to stop me!”

Levi grinned and rolled up his sleeves. “If you insist. It's about time somebody taught you a lesson.”

They circled each other as Billy threw a few punches but missed badly. Levi lunged at him, tackling Billy to the ground, but Billy pushed his brother aside with a blow to the gut. The older brother playfully hauled Billy to his feet and placed him in a headlock, but suddenly stopped. “My God,” he whispered, quickly pulling Billy to the ground in a cloud of dust.

Directly below them, at the base of the escarpment, a mile-long blue river of three thousand American soldiers marched toward Stoney Creek.

The smartly dressed U.S. Cavalry wore blue coats with silver buttons and silver braid, white buckskin pants, knee-high black boots, leather helmets wrapped with silver metal topped with white horsehair, and curved sabres at their hips. The infantry marched haphazardly, wearing blue coats and white pants, guns slung over shoulders, barrels down. Six horse teams pulled black cannons, while the mounted artillery units wore blue coats with brass buttons and gold lace. Behind them were supply wagons with Generals Winder and Chandler riding their horses side by side. After them came an ensign carrying a blue-and-white flag with fifteen stars as red-clad musicians kept time on deep, rope-bound drums along with fifers playing “Cottage in the Woods.”

In all the massive American force consisted of three companies of artillery with nine field guns, two detachments of riflemen, one squadron of dragoons, and eight infantry units.