Rebecca Rides for Freedom by Emma Bernay

Author:Emma Bernay [Berne, Emma Carlson]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Capstone; Stone Arch Books; Girls Survive; Emma Carlson Berne; American Revolution; Action & Adventure/Survival Stories; Historical Fiction; 9781496596901; 9781496599100; 9781496597618
Publisher: Capstone
Published: 2020-06-26T00:00:00+00:00

“Please, let me go!” I cried.

“We’ll take her back to camp,” the sergeant said to his men. “We can decide what to do with her there.” He looked up at me with those odd blue eyes. “And if we find out you are a spy, little girl, your brother is going to be the least of your worries.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

Pennsylvania countryside

December 3, 1777

4:00 p.m.

The men led us back the way I’d come, out through the woods and into another little gathering of trees. The soldiers surrounded me on all sides, laughing and talking as they walked. One led Brownie, and the sergeant himself walked at my stirrup, where he could see my every move.

I clung to the saddle, my stomach rolling with worry, my mind spinning. The worst had happened—I’d been captured. And they suspected me of being a spy. All they would have to do now is find the dispatch.

I had to do something. I could try kicking Brownie so that he bolted ahead, but without reins, I would surely fall. They’d be upon me in an instant.

Should I try signaling to some sympathetic person passing on the road? I thought.

I quickly dismissed the idea. There was no way to know who was a Loyalist and who a Patriot. And there was no one around, especially now, as the soldiers led me deeper into the snow-covered trees.

“Please, where are you taking me?” I ventured to ask after what seemed like a long time.

“Camp,” the sergeant said shortly. He offered no more explanation.

After a few more minutes, we came to a clearing where a few large boulders offered a natural shelter. I could see signs of a camp about: a dead fire ringed with stones, a few pots laying nearby, trampled, dirty snow. Three horses stood tied to low tree branches on the other side of the clearing.

“Dismount,” the sergeant ordered.

I slid off clumsily, nearly falling in the snow, and stood there shivering. I clutched the cloak with its precious button around me, not daring to look at the soldiers’ faces, lest they should read my secret.

The men stood in a ring around me. “What are we going to do with her, Sergeant?” one of them asked.

The sergeant stared at me for a long moment. “That is what we have to decide,” he said. He motioned to the dead fire. “Go warm yourself.”

One of the other soldiers, a skinny one who looked no older than a boy, knelt down beside the ashes. He quickly kindled a blaze with a flint and steel. I held out my purple hands, keeping my eyes fixed on the soldiers and Brownie every second.

The men stood in a group, talking, and then one of them led Brownie to the other horses. He tied the reins up to the saddle, then tied Brownie to a low tree branch using a length of rope.

“I say take her to the main camp now,” one of the soldiers said. “If she’s not a spy, she’s a Patriot and up to something.

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