Before his wife could offer a protest or the dog follow, Archer cocked the musket and stepped outside, closing the door behind him. The hens clucked indignantly as they were forced to step out of his path.
Musket held loosely across his arms, he waited.
The riders slowed their mounts and fanned out, finally stopping in a rough line abreast in front of the cabins porch. One of them, a lean man in his forties with sallow features and the stain from an old powder burn on his right cheek, eased his horse forward. He was dressed in a long blue riding coat and a slouch hat. With his right hand resting on the musket laid across his saddle horn, he addressed the man on the ground.
Morning, William! A fine day, wouldnt you agree?
It was, Archer said, without warmth.
The rider acknowledged the slight with a thin smile. He considered Archer for several long moments and then said, Youll know why were here.
Archer met his gaze. And you know my answer. Youve had a wasted journey, Deacon. Ive already told you; my loyaltys to the King.
Im sorry to hear that, the rider said.
Archers eyes moved along the line of horsemen. They were dressed in a similar fashion to Deacon and all, save one, carried the same cold expression on his face. Archer was acquainted with each of them. Four were fellow homesteaders: Deacon, Isaac Meeker the florid-faced man to Deacons right, who farmed land two valleys over and the surly-looking pair on Deacons immediate left, Levi and Ephraim Smede.
The Smede brothers were seldom seen apart. Rumour had it that was the only way the pair could muster one functioning brain between them. When they werent helping their father on the family farm, they hired themselves out as labourers to anyone who wanted a wall built or a stream dammed or someone intimidated.
Axel Shaw, the dour individual on Ephraim Smedes left, was postmaster over at the settler village near Caughnawaga. Archer turned his attention to the rider at the other end of the line. Curly-haired, with angular features, he was the youngest of the group. Archer could see by the way his hands were fidgeting with his reins that he was more ill at ease than the others, as if he would rather have been someplace else.
That you, Jeremiah? Archer enquired pleasantly. Havent seen you for a while. Howve you been? Hows Maggie? Beth was hoping to call in on her the next time we picked up supplies at the store.
The horseman shifted uncomfortably, embarrassed at being singled out. Shes well, thank you. Refusing to meet Archers eye, his gaze slid away.
Enough, the man called Deacon cut in. Were not here for a neighbourly chat. This is business. He looked at Archer. So, you wont reconsider?
Not now, Archer said; his tone emphatic. Not ever.
The horseman considered the reply then said, Maybe you should have left with the others.
Archer shook his head. Ive too much sweat and blood invested in this place to walk away. He stared fixedly at the man on the horse. Or see it purloined by the likes of you.
The rider coloured. Recovering quickly, he assumed a look of mock hurt. You wound me, William. What sort of man dyou take me for?
A goddamn traitor, Archer said flatly.
The humour leached from Deacons face. Not a traitor, Archer. A patriot. Like these men with me; men whove had their fill of paying unfair taxes to a country on the other side of the world and not having a thing to show for it.
A country you fought for, Seth, Archer responded, as I recall. You took the Kings shilling then. Was it so long ago, youve forgotten which side you were on?
Ive not forgotten, but a little more remuneration wouldnt have gone amiss.
Archers eyebrows lifted. What were you expecting? We defeated our enemies; the Kings enemies; and we lived through it. That should have been reward enough.
Not for me, Deacon snapped. His grip on the musket tightened and then, as if having come to a decision, he intoned solemnly, William Archer, by the authority vested in me by the Tryon County Committee, you are hereby called to attend the County Board in Albany. There to appear before the Commissioners for Detecting and Defeating Conspiracies, in order that you may swear an Oath of Allegiance to the State of New York and the Congress of the United States of America.
No. Archer shook his head. Ive told you: my allegiance is to the Crown, not your damned Congress. Besides, Ive better things to do than make a wasted journey all the way to Albany and back. Ive a farm to run; stock to care for.
Deacon looked out towards the pasture and sneered. Three milk cows? Not what Id call a herd.
Archer stiffened. When he spoke, his voice was brittle. And youd know all about that, wouldnt you?
Deacons head turned quickly. Whats that supposed to mean?
Archer stared coldly back at him. Dont play the innocent, Seth. I know damned well that losing my other two cows was your doing. Wouldnt be surprised if you paid those two to do your dirty work, either. Archer indicated the Smedes. I hear breaking the legs of livestock is one of their specialities.
Deacons eyes darkened. You need to curb that tongue, my friend. Thats slander. Men have died for less.
Youd know about that, too, I expect. And pretty soon, Deacon, youre going to realize Im not your friend. So youd best ride on. Theres naught for you here.
Archer heard the cabin door open behind him.
Deacon rose in his saddle and tipped his hat. His expression lightened. Oh, I wouldnt say that. Morning to you, Mrs Archer.
Beth Archer did not reply. She stood in the doorway, the checked cloth in her hands, staring at the line of riders. The flour smudge on her cheek had disappeared, Archer noticed.
Unfazed, Deacon lowered his rump and adjusted his grip on the musket. Thing is, the Commissioners want reassurance that youre not passing information to enemy forces.
Archer sighed. Im a farmer. I dont have any information to pass, not unless theyd like to know how many eggs my bantams have been laying.
Anyone refusing to swear allegiance to the Patriot government will be presumed guilty of endeavouring to subvert it.
Archers eyebrows rose. Commissioners tell you to say that, did they? Must be difficult trying to remember all those long words. Good thing youre the spokesman and not either of those two. Archer threw another look towards the brothers.
Theres still time to recant, Deacon said.
Recant? Now youre sounding like Pastor Slocum. Maybe his sermons are starting to have an effect after all. Hell be pleased about that.
If you renounce Toryism youll be permitted to stay with no blemish attached to your character.
Well, thats a comfort. And if I refuse?
Then youll be subject to the full penalty of the law.
Which means what?
Anyone who refuses to take the oath will be removed.
Removed? Archer felt the first stirrings of genuine concern. To where?
A place where theyre no longer in a position to do damage. Either to another part of the state, or else to a place of confinement.
You mean prison.
If necessary. Its my duty to inform you that unless youre prepared to take the oath, this land becomes forfeit, as do all goods and chattels, which will be sold off for the benefit of the Continental Congress.
Sold? Archer shot back. The hell you say! Stolen, more like! And how do you propose to do that? You going to hitch it all to a wagon? Or roll everything up and deliver it to Albany in your saddle bags? That, Id like to see.
Taint the farm thatll be heading Albany way, Archer. Itll be you. You and your family.
It was Levi Smede whod spoken. A thin smile played across his sharp-edged face.
Archer stared at him. His finger slid inside the muskets trigger guard. Youre threatening my family, now?
Deacon threw the brother a sharp look before turning back. Ive orders to deliver you to the Board, under guard if necessary. Its up to you.
Well, I suppose that answers that question, Archer said.
Question? Deacon frowned.
Why theres six of you.
He looked along the line. Deacon was riding point, but based on their reputations, the Smedes were undoubtedly the more significant threat, though Ephraim was the only one of the two holding a musket. Levis was still strapped across his shoulders. Of the other three, Shaw and Meeker, although they had their weapons to hand, would probably hesitate. Jeremiah Kidd, Archer sensed, would be too scared to do anything, even if he did manage to un-sling his musket in time.
Throughout the exchange, Archer had become increasingly and uncomfortably aware that Beth was standing behind him. He knew that it would be no use telling her to go inside. Her independent streak was part of what had attracted him to her in the first place. He was surprised it had taken her this long to come out to see what was happening.
Theres just you and me, Deacon said, his voice adopting a more conciliatory tone. No reason why this cant be settled amicably. All youre required to do is ride with us to Johnstown and place your signature on the document. Small price to pay for all of this.
His eyes shifted to the porch where Beth Archer was framed in the doorway. The inference was clear.
Archer stepped forward. Go home, Deacon. Youre trespassing. This is my land. I fought for it once. Dont make the mistake of thinking I wont do so again.
Deacon turned his attention away from the house and stared down at him in silence, eyeing the musket. Finally, he nodded. Very well, if thats your decision; so be it. Ephraim, Levi
So much for just you and me, Archer thought.
Will! Beth cried, as Levi Smede grinned and drew a pistol from his belt.
Archer threw the musket to his shoulder.
Inside, Beth! he yelled, as Deacon brought his gun up.
Archer fired.
The ball struck Levi Smede in the chest, lifting him over the back of his saddle and down into the dust. The pistol flew from Smedes hand.
Archer was already twisting away when Deacons musket went off, but he wasnt quick enough. The ball punched into his side with the force of a mule kick. Pain exploded through him. Dropping his musket as he fell, he heard another sharp yet strangely distant report and saw Deacons head snap back, enveloped in a crimson mist of blood and brain matter. Hitting the ground, he saw Beth draw the pistol from beneath the checked cloth, aim and fire.
Axel Shaw shrieked and clamped a hand to his thigh. Dark blood sprayed across his horses flank.
Ephraim Smede, bellowing with rage at his brothers plight, flinched as another shot rang out and stared aghast as Isaac Meekers mount crashed on to its side, legs kicking. Searching frantically for the source of the attack, his eyes were drawn to a puff of powder smoke dissipating in the space between the barn and the hen house.
Bitch! Spitting out the obscenity, Smede aimed his musket at Beth Archer. The gun belched flame. Without waiting to see if the ball had struck, he tossed the discharged weapon aside and clawed for his pistol.
Meeker, meanwhile, had managed to scramble clear of his horse. Retrieving his musket, he turned to see where the shot had come from, only to check as a ball took him in the right shoulder, spinning him like a top.
Archer, on the ground, venting blood and trying to make sense of what was happening, found Jeremiah Kidd staring at him in puzzlement and fear. And then Archer realized that Kidd wasnt staring at him he was staring past him. Archer squirmed and looked over his shoulder. Through eyes blurring with tears he could see four men in uniform, hard-looking men, each carrying a long gun. Two of them were drawing pistols as they ran towards the house.
Another crack sounded. This time it was Kidd who yelped as a ball grazed his arm. Wheeling his horse about, he dug his heels into the mares flanks and galloped full pelt in the direction of the stream.
Only to haul back on the reins, the cry rising in his throat, as a vision from hell rose up to meet him.
Wyatt, discharged rifle in hand, stepped out from the side of the barn. Hed been surprised when Archer had shot Smede, assuming that Deacon would be the farmers first target. It had taken only a split second to alter his aim, but hed not been quick enough to prevent Deacons retaliation. As a result, Archer was already on his back by the time Deacon met his emphatic demise, courtesy of Wyatts formidable, albeit belated, marksmanship.
It had been Jem Beddowes, Wyatts fellow Ranger, whod shot Meekers horse from under him. Beddowes had been aiming at the rider, but the horse had shied at the last moment, startled by the volley of gunshots, and the ball had struck the animal instead, much to Beddowes annoyance. His companion, Donaldson, had compensated for the miss by shooting Meeker in the shoulder, which had left the fourth Ranger Billy Drew and Tewanias with loaded guns, along with two functioning rebels, the younger of whom, to judge by the way he was urging his horse towards the stream, was fully prepared to leave his companions to their respective fates.
Isaac Meeker, meanwhile, having lost his musket for the second time, pushed himself to his knees. Wounded and disoriented, he stared around him. His horse had ceased its death throes and lay a few feet away, its belly stained with blood from the deep wound in its side. Deacon and Levi Smede were sprawled like empty sacks in the dirt, their mounts having bolted. Half of Deacons face was missing.
He looked for Shaw and saw that the postmaster had fallen from his horse and was on the ground, trying to crawl away from the carnage. The musket looped across Shaws back was dragging in the dirt and acting like a sea anchor, hampering his progress. He was whimpering in agony. An uneven trail of blood followed behind him.
A fresh shot sounded from close by. Not a long gun this time, but a pistol. Meeker ducked and then saw it was Ephraim Smede, still in the saddle, who had fired at their attackers. Meeker looked around desperately for a means by which to defend himself and discovered his musket lying less than a yard away. Reaching for it, he managed to haul back on the hammer and looked for someone to shoot. He wasnt given the chance. Ranger Donaldson fired his pistol on the run. The ball struck the distracted Meeker between the eyes, killing him instantly.