Free The Color of Freedom by Michelle Isenhoff Page B

men in the center of the green. As his mount reared, he shouted, "Captain Parker, I saw them! Half mile out!"
    The commander turned gravely to his drummer. "Sound the call to arms."
    Men poured onto the field. Conversations rose and fell among them like grass tumbled by the wind. When their murmurings grew quiet, the captain addressed them, "Every man of you who is equipped, follow me. Those who have no weapon, go into the meetinghouse and furnish yourselves from the magazine. Then join the company."
    Less than half of the men had arrived armed. These followed Captain Parker to the far side of the green where he arranged them into a single line. There they stood defiantly, waiting for their fellows who crowded the door of the meetinghouse.
    Salizar reappeared and climbed into the wagon. "It'll do us no good to lose our merchandise now," he stated. He flicked the reins over Aberdeen's back. The old horse responded immediately, pulling the wagon out of sight behind the building.
    Unable to hold her seat, Meadow leaped from the wagon and ran to the corner of the building like a moth drawn to the deadly flicker of a candle. As morbid as her curiosity felt, she had to know the outcome of the confrontation.
    The town held its breath. Only the shuffle of weapons at the meetinghouse door broke the stillness. Women peered anxiously from behind dark, shuttered windows. The men held their line - forty tense faces set determinedly toward the lightening sky, toward Boston. Very young boys and very old men among them, they stood grim and stubborn.
    The minutes ticked by slowly, feeling weighty and surreal. Nearby, a single bird awakened and began a noisy serenade. A lone dog trotted along the road, turning onto a narrow lane with a purposeful stride. A few more men from the meetinghouse straggled into the ranks.
    Then they came.
    The tramp of jackboots crunched and splashed over the road, echoing back from the fronts of the buildings.
    Captain Parker paced before the militia, calling out encouragement and boosting their nerve. "Stand your ground, men," he yelled, "Don't fire first; but if they want a war, by God, let it start here!"
    The regulars came quickly, wheeling to cut off three dozen men still scattered around the meetinghouse. Led by an officer on a magnificent stallion, they came stern-faced and proud, showing little sign of their all-night march.
    Each wore a blood red uniform crisscrossed with straps that held weighty packs to their backs. White wigs and black hats bobbed as they came, marking time with each step. Against their shoulders rested muskets fully as tall as Meadow, affixed with bayonets that stabbed at the sky like so many needles.
    She watched with wide, frightened eyes as row upon row of the king's men flooded the commons until they outnumbered the colonists nearly three to one. Then they stopped, and the world fell silent.
    The stallion pranced before the colonists, and the officer brandished his sword. He called out in a voice that rang across the field like a tolling bell, "Disperse, you rebels! Lay down your arms!"
    When he dropped his weapon, the first platoon fired a sudden volley at the colonists.
    Meadow jumped in horror at the unexpected noise and peeked out from between splayed fingers. As the smoke wafted away toward the east, she could see the American line still intact. Too close to miss, the shots must have been charged with only powder.
    The rebels shifted nervously, but they held fast. Tension flowed thick as cream as men eyed each other across the field. Meadow held her breath and leaned forward, counting each slow heartbeat.
    When she felt she must scream, Captain Parker finally ordered his men to scatter.
    Meadow sank to the earth with relief. To order anything less, she knew, would have meant a blood bath. But just as the ranks of colonists began to disband, a single shot rang out.
    It jolted Meadow with its suddenness. Before its echoes died away, pandemonium broke out across the commons. She