He was too weak to argue with Malinda, so he took the cup in his hands, feeling its warmth. Slowly, he touched it to his lips and took a sip. The warm broth filled him from the inside out. He took another sip, and then, feeling his strength being renewed from the nourishment, he drank the rest down in one gulp.
Malinda looked on in shock. “Well, I guess that hit the spot. I suppose I will excuse your lack of manners in guzzling that soup down like a pig eats its slop. After all, I do expect you are hungry. I think Constance just pulled a loaf of bread from the oven. I will bring you some.”
“And some more broth . . . please, miss,” requested Gabriel.
“And some more broth. I am glad you like it.” Malinda smiled.
As Malinda turned to leave the room, Gabriel felt an overwhelming sense of gratefulness over how this girl had cared for him in his sickness. He has not seen a warm, embracing smile for a long time, let alone from a pretty girl his age.
Before long, Malinda returned with bread, soup, and another, smaller girl. “You must be Constance,” he said, looking at the girl as she gave a blushing giggle with a dimpled smile from behind Malinda. He took the food and tried as best he could not to devour it as if he were a pig, this time aware both girls were watching him.
“I have to get my strength back so I can get back on the road. I would like to leave tonight.”
No sooner had he said those words than he remembered how foolish he had been to leave the innkeeper’s fire and venture out into the pouring rain. He had been impatient, and he knew it. He had almost died from his lack of patience. Yet, here he was again, failing to recognize his weakness. It was ridiculous to think he would somehow be able to return on his journey when he had not moved a muscle in a week.
Malinda looked at Gabriel. “Well, you have yet to properly introduce yourself by even telling me your name, and now you want to get up and leave. You are free to go anytime you like, taking your ill manners with you. But I suggest you stay here until you are at least strong enough to walk.”
He appreciated the strength in Malinda’s words and knew she was right. “My name is Gabriel, Gabriel Cooper, and I am traveling from New York to Boston. I will heed your advice and stay here until my strength returns, and I am very grateful for your kindness, hospitality, and all you have done for me.”
Malinda smiled again and took the empty cup of broth from his hands. “That’s much better, Gabriel Cooper.” Then, turning to her sister, “Constance, will you please go tell Father our mystery guest is named Gabriel Cooper, and he is awake?”
Constance disappeared and a few minutes later came back through the door with a ruddy, tall man. He sat down next to Gabriel.
“Well, I am glad to see you’ve made it, son. I had my doubts there for awhile, but we kept giving you Mr. Arnold’s medicine and praying the good Lord would renew your health,” said the man. “My daughter tells me you are called Gabriel Cooper and are from New York. I am Thomas Fleming, and I know you have met my daughters, Malinda and Constance. Now, you may not want me asking all of these questions, but I cannot delay. There may be people wanting to know where you are. Why have you left New York? Are you running away from your parents?”
Gabriel thought about the question for a moment. Technically he was running away from the Lorings, but the Lorings were not his parents, and so he plainly replied, “No, sir.”
“The least you can do, after all we have done for you, is to tell us the truth,” said Mr. Fleming softly but sternly. “Young boys such as yourself do not leave home without a reason, son.”
“I am telling you the truth, sir. I am not running away from my parents. They both died from the pox over a year ago. I do not have any family, so I left New York to join the militia gathering outside of Boston to fight for our freedom. I have a drum and am going to be a drummer boy.” Gabriel had no idea if Mr. Fleming was a Tory or a patriot, but he knew he was about to find out.
He heard a soft whining sound after he finished. He looked over and saw Constance weeping softly in the corner of the small room.
“Don’t cry,” said Malinda, patting Constance on the back.
Gabriel wondered what he said to make the little girl cry. Mr. Fleming bowed his head slightly, almost whispering to Gabriel, “The girls lost their mother . . . my wife . . . from illness about a year ago. I’m sure your mentioning the death of your parents has brought back memories for them both. It’s been very hard on them, especially young Constance. They’ve had to become the women who run the house, instead of just my little girls. There’s not a day goes by that I don’t think about their mother, and I know the same is true for them. I cannot imagine what it’d be like if they lost me, too. My heart goes out to you, Master Gabriel. I wish there was something I could do.”
“Sir, you have already saved my life, and for that I owe you much more than can ever be paid,” replied Gabriel.
“I can’t say I had much of a hand in it. It was my girls, Mr. Benedict Arnold, and
