CHAPTER NINETEEN
December 25, 1776
Trenton, New Jersey
Rall’s Christmas dinner was cut short by musket fire on the northern side of Trenton. Fearing an attack, the colonel ordered the civilians out of his headquarters before riding out himself to check the perimeter. Sutton watched Selena Christensen depart on the arm of Colonel Knyphausen, allowing the regimental commander into her home. His men arrived with a commandeered wagon, as he’d ordered. He stepped back into the headquarters and caught Emily Daniels’ eye.
“Your carriage has arrived,” he said, smiling. “I trust you’ll allow my dragoons to escort you home?”
“Thank you, Captain Sutton.”
She returned the smile and made a polite but unnecessary goodbye to Stacy Potts and made her way through the dining room. They walked to the front door, her hand grasping his left elbow. Sutton looked down at her and smiled.
“I’m sorry our evening was cut short. My men will get you home quickly and safely.”
Emily smiled. “I’m sorry, too, and thank you for seeing me home.”
Sutton shook his head. “My orders are to stay and secure the Princeton Road.”
“In this weather?” Emily asked. “A storm is coming, I believe.”
Sutton shrugged. “Then perhaps you should stay here? I could house you at my quarters.”
Emily shook her head. “I must get home. Father is leaving in two days to hunt in the north. If I’m not there to help him pack, he’ll forget his very clothes.”
She laughed and he loved the sound of it. “Then, when he’s gone, perhaps I can visit you?”
“I would like that very much.”
“Then let’s get you home,” he said and escorted her down the steps. Heat rose in his face and his heart thumped in expectation. In three days’ time, she would be his. At the wagon’s step, she turned and kissed him gently on the cheek.
“Be well, Captain Sutton,” she said. He could barely keep his attention on helping her safely onto the seat.
He looked up at the driver and nodded. With an escort of four dragoons, the wagon trundled into the breezy, overcast afternoon. His mind on the kiss, Sutton called for his horse with the intention of riding out to see what Rall and his army of idiots had accomplished in the brief fight.
He turned and saw Lieutenant Sturm looking at him with a sly grin.
“Something funny, Lieutenant?” They stood beside the deck of the Potts home in what little shelter it provided from the rising wind.
Sturm shook his head. “The good captain smiling like a schoolboy is a sight to see, sir.”
“Ha,” Sutton snorted. The laughter felt good. “I suppose I am intrigued as to the possibilities.”
A fierce gust of wind tore through the treetops at the edge of town and dropped the temperature several degrees. The smell was familiar—a cold crisp scent of snow. The darkening sky to the south gave the storm an ominous tint.
“Will the colonel keep his troops on alert in such a storm, Lieutenant?”
Sturm shook his head. “Doubtful, sir. Such a storm means finding a warm fire and a glass of brandy. The good colonel will certainly do both this evening. Perhaps a game of cards. Will you be joining us?”
He looked down the street toward his quarters. Colonel Knyphausen had not emerged. There was no point in going home. With the prospect of Emily Daniels in his immediate future, his interest in Selena Christensen turned cold in an instant. She would have her fun and he could have his. “I believe I shall.”
* * *
“Thank you, Sergeant,” Emily said. “Ride quickly and get out of this weather.”
The dragoon sergeant saluted crisply and the wagon, with its escorts, shot down the road toward Trenton. She closed the door against the breeze and twisted the simple wooden latches to hold it closed. She ducked into the kitchen and found her father at the kitchen table with the strange rifle in pieces on an oil cloth. He glanced up at her.
“Have a nice time?”
She shivered. “That man is appalling, Father. I see you did not give them all the weapons.”
Daniels laughed. “Of course I didn’t. Distract them with fresh tea and food and they’ll respond to hospitality. You know that all too well, just like I’m sure you kissed the good captain’s cheek and made him feel like a king, Daughter.”
“I did,” she smiled. “I felt like a fox in a hen house. Being that close to him for that long makes me want a bath.”
Daniels nodded. “If they’d only known. Now, tell me what you saw. Is there anything that differs from what Mason and his friends told us?”
She sat down and poured herself a splash of wine into a cup. “All of the senior commanders were there. Sutton told me that the forces number thirteen hundred or so capable soldiers. Colonel Von Donop has not returned from Mount Holly and Rall has kept the regiments on an almost constant alert status for days. Everything that Mason and Murphy said rings true, Father.”
Daniels wiped at the barrel of the strange rifle. “Do the Hessians suspect anything?”
Emily shrugged. “A man came in. They said his name was Wahl but I did not recognize him. He told Rall that Washington was coming.”
Daniels stopped rubbing the rifle and his eyebrows rose. “What did Rall say?”
“He said, ‘Let them come,’ and they all laughed. Poured more wine,” Emily replied. “They do not believe Washington is coming. At least the Hessians.”
“And Sutton? What was his response?”
She shrugged. “He wants to have the river freeze deep enough that the entire British army marches across and destroys Washington’s army once and for all. He doesn’t believe Washington would cross the river even in that eventuality. He thinks Washington a coward with a failing army under his command.”
“The weather is certainly doing what our friends predicted,” Daniels said. “I believe they were telling the truth.”
Emily nodded. “A nor’easter to be sure. Mason and his friends are patriots, Father.”
“Aye,” Daniels said. “Look at this.”
He sat the rifle down and retrieved a single brass casing from his tool kit. He twirled it in his fingers and she could see that the crimped tip of the round was wide and held a small pointed projectile.
“You reloaded it?”
“I think so. Added more powder to the cartridge. Tried to fashion a projectile, but it’s hard to say if it will work at all. We won’t know until we test it.”
Emily grinned. “I thought you would have already.”
“No.” Daniels smiled in return. “Mason and his friends know how this thing works. I’ll let them test it before I do anything else.”
“They’ll be encouraged you were able to reload it anyway, Father.”
Daniels smiled. “What else can you tell me about the party?”
“Plenty,” she said. “But the perimeter is lightly defended and if the storm does worsen, I don’t expect they’ll put up much of a fight. Just like Murphy said.”
“We’ll see,” Daniels replied. He sat down the round and reached for his cup. He held it out for a toast. “You did well, Emily. Your mother would have been proud.”
“I want to do more, Father. Especially against those bastards.”
Her father stood and gathered six rifles from the far wall. “Then, you can help me load these rifles. When the battle is over, and if the dragoons escape like Murphy said, they’ll be coming for us. We have two choices. We can stay here and fight them, or we can run. Whichever you choose, that choice must be made now, Daughter.”
“What about you, Father? What would you do?” Emily said and dabbed at a tear threatening to run down her cheek. She knew the answer before he even started to speak. “You want to stay here and fight, if it comes to that.”
“I do,” he said. “If it comes to that, I will. However, our young friends might have something to say about whether we’ll need to.”
Emily smiled. “You think so?”
She reached for one of the rifles in front of her father. With practiced skill she readied it for loading and retrieved a cartridge from the flat wooden box on the table. Loading the rifle took only a few seconds because of long practice, and she looked up at her father as she checked the flint and rested the rifle next to her on the floor.
Father and daughter smiled at each other and sat loading the collected weapons for a stand neither hoped to make. As they worked, the first wisps of snow began to fall from the dark sky. When they finished, their thoughts turned to dinner even though neither was hungry. The sun set and the snow slowly piled up on the road outside. She paused at the window for a long moment.
They’re coming. They’re coming tonight in this awful storm to change history .
* * *
Washington waited as long as possible before mounting his horse and moving to the river for the final time. On the roads to either side of the ferry, his army huddled in clumps around tiny fires trying to stay warm. The winds turned from occasional gusts to a powerful, steady blast. Snow and ice pellets fell at such a rate he could barely see a quarter mile. Still, his army was in good spirits and ready. Along the bank, a flurry of activity began. The steady Durham boats were making their way back empty and ready for another load. Above the excited voices, he could hear Henry Knox’s distinctive voice calling for the next units in line. Men turned from their fires with longing glances before stepping into the wide-bottomed boats.
Ice clung to the shoreline and made it difficult for the men to climb aboard. He watched them in their tattered shoes and bare feet. Some stepped into the river before boarding, exposing their feet to the frigid water. Such dedication. To conduct this attack so shoddily clothed. These are the men our Congress forsake.
As soon as the boats had appeared, they were loaded and quickly pushed away from the banks with full loads bound for the New Jersey shore. A soft cheer came up as the men saw him now, riding huddled against the storm. He nodded and tried to put a smile on his face while his mind worked to estimate their numbers.
General Knox approached with a frown that confirmed Washington’s own dark thoughts. Their numbers weren’t even half across the river and time was mounting against them.
“General.” Knox saluted. “The army is forty percent across. We’re fighting ice in the river, sir, but the boys are making good time now. The far side is deserted and we have security pickets out a half mile down each road.”
Washington nodded. “Thank you, Henry. This crossing would not be possible without your stentorian lungs rousing the men to their tasks. I could hear you in camp, almost.”
Knox beamed in the starlight. “I do my best, General.”
“That you do,” Washington said as he swung a leg up and dismounted. No sooner had his feet hit the ground than the cold seeped through his boots. “Have you sent the artillery across?”
“No, sir,” Knox said. “I’m hoping to break up this shore ice with the men a bit before we try to load the cannon. Maybe three loads from now, sir. An hour or two at most.”
Two hours. Washington tried not to frown. They were behind their timeline. He placed his hands into his pockets and his right hand found the coin. Rubbing it seemed to warm him. “A little off schedule, Henry.”
“Yes, sir, but we’re making up for it now. Glover’s men are leaning into their work, sir. I’ll have them across as quickly as I can.”
“I know you will, Henry. Don’t let me keep you.”
Knox turned and called for the next regiments to stand by. As he waited, Washington saw Greene moving his way. Waiting in the cold was not his idea of how to spend a December evening, but it would pass better with a good friend.
Greene approached and stood next to Washington watching the ice floes drift in the gray-black water. “Fine evening for a boat ride, General.”
Washington snorted. A bit of levity in a moment of stress always did him wonders. “Against the French, we were ready to march one day when one of my battalion commanders left his post and ran into the woods. Seemed he’d eaten too many cherries and hadn’t bothered to take care of himself.”
“Did you chastise him accordingly?”
“I didn’t have to,” Washington said. “Embarrassment is a strong tool.”
Greene nodded but did not look his way. “Is that what you’re standing here worrying about?”
“You know me too well,” Washington said. “Ewing cannot cross. Neither can Cadwalader. Just like the cadets said. Even the weather has turned the way they said it would. I have no reason to doubt what they’ve told me, that we’ll take the town quickly, and yet I stand here thinking terrible thoughts of failure instead of thoughts of possibilities. The ones far beyond tomorrow. Do you understand?”
“They have many possibilities to share with us, General. From their dress to their weapons, there is much we can learn from them and much they can change.” Greene cleared his throat. “Ending this war is, if you’ll pardon the expression, the tip of the iceberg.”
Washington snorted. “You could have waited until we were across to make that joke, Nathanael.”
“And ruin the timing?” Greene replied.
Washington sighed and shrugged against an icy gust of wind. “I shouldn’t have sent them to guard the Assunpink. I should have just relied on Sullivan’s brigades to take it quickly. Mason believes he can hold the bridge, but I am not certain.”
“He will, sir. Belief is a powerful tool. Those young men and . . . women will make a difference there,” Greene said. “You haven’t put them there to die, if that’s what you’re thinking. They’ll do what you ask and prove, like you want them to, their worth.”
“You’re right,” Washington said. “I know you are.”
Greene chuckled. “Then what is it?”
Washington withdrew the quarter from his pocket. “This.”
“What about it?”
“Why me?” Washington asked. “Because I command this army? That’s hardly reason to stamp my handsome profile on a coin.”
“Did you say handsome profile?” Greene grinned. “You were never that good-looking, sir.”
Washington snorted. “Only emperors had coins in Rome, Nathanael. What does that say about me? Two hundred and more years from now. What does that say?”
Greene sighed. “I don’t know, sir. If it concerns you, do something about it. Make a wish, perhaps.”
A wish? Washington chuckled. He flipped the coin into his fingers and prepared to throw the distraction into the river and maybe have a measure of good luck in the process. “Then, we shall make a wish.”
Let us prevail.
He reared back and threw the coin as hard as he could. Pausing at the end of the throw, he held the finish for a long moment as if straining to hear the impact. Try as he might, there was nothing to hear.
Greene said in a loud voice. “I think you threw it all the way across, General.”
The men in close proximity cheered and Washington shuffled back to his guarded position next to Greene looking over the river. “There’s no way that coin made it all the way across,” he said with a smile.
“Maybe,” Greene said. “But the men don’t need to know that, do they?”
* * *
Martinez shook him awake. “Mason? You wanted me to get you up, right?”
“What time is it?” He struggled to move in the tight, warm sleeping bag.
“You said get you up ten minutes early. It’s 0150,” Martinez said. “It’s cold as fuck out here, man.”
Mason laughed. “Just like Murphy said.”
“I hate that guy,” Martinez laughed. “He and Dunaway are awake and getting ready to replace me and Koch. He knows you want to talk to him.”
“Thanks, Mark,” Mason said. “Hope you can get some sleep.”
Martinez chuckled, but Mason couldn’t see his face. “You should see how hard it’s snowing, man. I’m not gonna sleep worth a shit.”
“Go get relieved. Tell Murphy I’ll be up there in a few minutes.”
“You got it, boss.”
By the sound of Martinez’s boots crunching through the snow, the storm was in full effect. From what Murphy had said, Washington’s army was not completely across the river. They wouldn’t be able to march until 0400 or so. A lot was still meant to happen. He sat upright with the bag around him and unzipped it. The frigid wind cut into him immediately as he dug for his jacket and snowsuit in the bottom of the bag. A warm jacket made the weather passable. He tied up the hasty snowsuit and reached back into the bag for the musket that had poked him in the back for the last few hours. Before leaving to Murphy and Dunaway’s post, he zipped up his bag. With any luck it would still be warm when he came back in a few minutes.
From the base of the rock outcropping, he climbed and crawled to the hasty fighting position at the top. Martinez and Koch met him along the way.
“Get some sleep, guys,” Mason said.
Martinez replied, “Definitely.” Koch said nothing but clapped him on the shoulder with a heavy gloved hand. Mason knelt on the ground behind Murphy and Dunaway and crawled slowly up between them.
“Halt.” Murphy whirled around. “Who goes there?”
“Mason.”
“Advance and be recognized.”
Mason crawled up until he and Murphy were a few feet apart. Murphy whispered, “Wrinkle.”
“Bait,” Mason gave the password. He saw Murphy close a knife as he crawled closer.
“Howdy,” Murphy said. “Martinez said you wanted to talk with me.”
“Yeah. What’s going on out there?”
Murphy took a deep breath. “Right now? Washington is across the river and they’re trying to move the cannons. It takes them a while. The rest of the army gets across by around 0330 and they’re prepared to march by 0400.”
Mason nodded. “What then?”
“They’ll run into trouble when they try to cross Jacob’s Creek. Really hurts moving the cannon through the ravine, but they’ll be on track for arriving at the edge of Trenton around 0800.”
“It’s just the march then?”
“Yeah,” Murphy said and pointed down into Trenton. Mason couldn’t see anything because of the blowing snow. “Down there, Rall and his men are sleeping. Even the guys on the perimeter have found some shelter from the storm. It’s giving them a false sense of security and, honestly, they all need sleep.”
Mason chuckled. The squad had rotated through guard duty all day and rested thoroughly. “Just like us?”
“No better place to spend a storm like this than in our sleeping bags,” Murphy said.
“Yeah, wish we could have brought them up here,” Dunaway said. It was the first time he’d heard her say anything all day.
“You warm enough, Dunaway?”
“I suppose,” she said. “It’s only a two-hour watch.”
Mason smiled whether she could see it or not. Maybe she’d hear it in his voice. “You’re right, Dunaway. You can do this standing on your head.”
“I was never good at gymnastics, Mason.”
Murphy chuckled. “She’s a drama minor, Mason. Don’t let her fool you.”
Drama, huh. That fits.
“I’ll try not to,” Mason said. The information made him feel better. There was nothing they could do until they all woke up and ate around 0600. From there, they’d move into position around 0730 and wait for Washington’s attack to commence. Combat was a few hours away and there was nothing he could do to stop it even if he wanted to. The course of a nation was about to be decided. “What happens after this?”
“After Trenton?”
“Yeah. When do the British come?”
Murphy scratched his chin. “Not immediately. It takes them a couple of days to gather at Princeton and march this way. They’re here on January 2. That’s when Washington runs on them, attacking Princeton first and then makes them believe he’s just across the river while slipping away in the night. Really pisses General Cornwallis off.”
Cornwallis. Mason stretched his neck and rubbed his temple. “He eventually takes command of the whole army, right? Who Washington and the French defeat at Yorktown?”
“Precisely,” Murphy said. “It would be nice to change that, too.”
Mason sighed. “We haven’t changed anything yet.”
“If that rifle’s down there, or if it is already on its way to England, then we have, Mason,” Dunaway said. “The industrial revolution a hundred years early? Maybe a World War before electricity makes it all the way around the world? We have to find that rifle. If not, everything gets screwy much faster than in our time. Who knows what this world would be like in 2008 if that happens. It’s like the butterfly effect gone crazy.”
Mason screwed under one side of his mouth. He’d heard the term before, but didn’t understand it. It was science fiction or something like that. “We’ll find that rifle, Murphy,” Mason said. He didn’t know if anyone could hear that he didn’t really believe that. “There’s a few things we gotta do before that, though. You guys stay warm up here. Yell if you need anything.”
Murphy chuckled. “Well, we won’t yell . . . ”
“You know what I meant. Good night.” Mason crawled away. He moved around the rocks and descended into the small circle of sleeping soldiers. He unzipped his bag and climbed inside without taking off his jacket. That would save him a few minutes when it was time to get up. Being awake and ready would be critical for him and be good for the rest of them to see. Calm was contagious, as his father would have said. Mason looked one last time at his watch, 0205, and closed his eyes not believing he’d be able to sleep a wink until after the battle was over.