Free Paxton's War by Kerry Newcomb

from different bolts of cloth.
    â€œFather said this would happen,” Hope said, disappointed. “He said they’d turn you into a Tory over there. Is it true, Jase? Tell me it isn’t true.”
    The urgent plea in her voice broke Jason’s heart and compelled a reply. He wanted to reassure Hope and Allan that he was indeed on their side. But because his plans were still only half-formulated, and because, even in their formative stages, he knew they would require absolute secrecy, he couldn’t speak his heart. Instead, he answered in what he himself knew to be silly-sounding clichés. “Music’s become my whole life, Hope. The pain that you’ve suffered wounds me as well, but I’ve come home to be with my family, and to compose and play music. Isn’t that enough?”
    â€œNo, it’s not!” Allan hissed. “This is a time when every man jack has to choose sides. There’s no in-betweens. Anyone caught sitting on the fence will be shot by both sides, I guarantee you, ’cause I’ll be one of those doing the shooting—brother or no brother.”
    â€œAllan!” Hope gasped. “What are you saying?”
    â€œIt’s all right,” Jason assured her. “I understand how he feels.”
    â€œUnderstand all you want,” Allan shot back, his eyes flashing, “but remember. If you ain’t with us, you’re agin’ us. Come along, darlin’.”
    â€œNo!” Hope gasped, plucking at his sleeve. “You can’t, Allan. Any one of a dozen men out there—”
    â€œLet cowards stand in the shade,” Allan spat.
    â€œNow look here!” Jason protested. “You have no—”
    â€œI’ve looked,” Allan said, cutting him off. “And my eyes have seen what there is to see. Now you look, and see how bold men dare stand in God’s light!”
    â€œAllan, please!” Hope pleaded, and then, as her husband strode out of the forest and into the open of the meadow, she whirled on Jason. “This is your fault!” she hissed. “And if he’s turned in …”
    The sentence hung ominously on the air. Left alone when Hope raced off, Jason sighed and leaned against the hickory tree. Everything had happened too fast, he thought, closing his eyes and smelling the deep green of the Carolina forest, a fragrance he’d dreamed of for so long. Too fast …
    The setting was peaceful, but his mind was troubled. Should he have taken Coleridge into his confidence? But how, when he’d only just met the man? And how, when he himself didn’t know what he was going to do? Did they truly expect him—or any man—to give himself over to them without question, and if he didn’t, to cast him out like so much rotten fish? Who gave them the right to decide he was against them simply because he didn’t march in with rifle in hand and immediately beard the British lion in its den?
    It was too much. Too much for a day or a week, much less an hour. What a homecoming! Buckley, as much the fool as ever, pompously throwing his weight and fortune around. Coleridge, with his brittle temper and quick accusations. Colleen … Ah, Colleen. Colleen on the dock, her amber eyes burning as they stared into his. Colleen in the carriage, the song on her lips, which had tasted sweet as clover, or honeysuckle. Colleen, whose beauty, whose smile, whose touch was enough to drive away demons and—
    â€œThere you are!” Joy’s soft, lilting voice interrupted his meditation as, with Peter at her side, she approached him. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you.” She glanced back at the picnic. “You’ve met Allan?”
    Jason nodded. “Yes.”
    â€œA hard man to like. He’s very …”
    â€œOpinionated?” Jason asked. “Quick to judge? Sure of himself? Hard-headed?”
    Joy smiled wanly. “All of those. But he’s