Gabriel only nodded.
“Very well,” said Grimm, gathering up his reins. Hannigan snatched the coins from Gabriel’s hand and threw his drum back into the thorny bushes as hard as he could. He then pushed Gabriel down into the road and held his face tightly against the dirt. Leaning down, he put his hot, stinking breath next to Gabriel’s face and said, “I hope you heard what Mr. Grimm said. If it was up to me, I’d run you through right here and now.”
Hannigan stood up and kicked him hard in the ribs. He felt as though a spike had been driven into his side. The air was forced from his lungs in a loud gasp, and he writhed in pain.
“Hurry up, Hannigan,” shouted Grimm.
Climbing back on his horse, Hannigan left Gabriel groaning in the road. The loyalists rode off, leaving a trail of dust that began to settle on Gabriel’s already-dirty coat.
Gabriel began to lift himself off the ground and stood in the road, motionless. He tried to comprehend what just happened. He grabbed his bruised side, sorry for the pain he felt, but now he felt more the patriot than he ever had before. He was more determined than ever to stand up and march north.
He gathered up his belongings, and with a pain still stinging his side, he shook out his blanket to remove the dust. There was a large hole ripped down the middle of the blanket. He immediately threw it down and ran over to the bushes where Hannigan found his sack. There, lying on the ground next to the thorny bush that had slashed his face, was his coin pouch. He could not believe his eyes. A thorn must have torn a hole in his blanket when Hannigan had pulled it from the bushes, and the pouch had fallen out. A sense of relief came over him. He picked up the small pouch and kissed it. “Thank you, God. Thank you,” he muttered.
He remembered Ben’s words: I do not believe there are many things in this life that happen just by chance. What other explanation could there be for these loyalists not finding his coins?
With his aching side still shooting pain, he needed to rest. He picked up his drum and tramped through the bushes to find a place to lie down. Once he did, the exhaustion from the day’s turmoil overwhelmed him. He thought about what had happened. Between his pain and his restless thoughts, sleep was allusive yet again. He kept returning to the same question over and over: Why was I spared?
Finally, unable to find an answer, he gave in to his exhaustion and fell asleep among the bushes.
H 5 H
BATTLE BREWING
Gabriel woke up with soreness from the kick to his side and a grumbling sound coming from his stomach. It was damp and dark out, with a thick fog shrouding the moon and stars. His stomach growled again, yet he had nothing to eat to satisfy his growing hunger. The only thing he could do was pack up his things and start walking. At least it was dark and foggy. No chance of being spotted by more loyalists.
He headed back to the road and slowly began to move his stiff and sore muscles, hoping they would limber up as he went along. He had no idea how long he had slept or what time of night it was. He only knew that he was hungry.
To forget about his hunger, Gabriel began to think again about what had happened to him that afternoon with Bradford Grimm. He was thankful his coin pouch had fallen from his sack, but he was also mad at himself for letting the crazed loyalists get hold of him in the first place. The pain in his side reminded him of his mistake. If only I’d taken cover sooner, he thought.
Then he remembered that Hannigan told him they stopped because they took notice of his running. If he had just stood by his decision to continue walking alongside the road, then Grimm and Hannigan might have ridden past without stopping. It was his indecision that just about ended his journey to Boston, and he knew it. He spoke to himself in the cool, foggy night air, “I have got to be able make up my mind and stick with it.”
Gabriel’s stomach growled again, and his mind quickly returned to his hunger. Walking on, he saw a very dim light off in the distance. With the thick fog blurring his vision, he wasn’t sure how far away it was. He left the path and headed toward it. As he stepped through the tall grass alongside the road, small beads of rain began pelting him. He picked up his pace a bit, but it seemed the faster he walked, the harder the rain came down. By the time he could finally see the outline of a house with a faint candle in the window, the rain was pouring down.
He approached the house with caution and carefully stepped onto the front porch. A board creaked, and he was about to turn and run, but nobody came to the door. Slowly and carefully, he peeked in through the candle-lit window. Except for the candle, which was about to burn out, there were no other lights inside. Whoever lives here is probably asleep, thought Gabriel, and would not appreciate me knocking on their door to ask for some
