Decision at Fletcher's Mill: A Novel of the American Revolution
300
Decision at Fletcher's Mill: A Novel of the American Revolution
300Hardcover
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Overview
Young Billy Morgan enters this chaotic world as a militiaman during the decisive battle of Cowpens. He becomes the butt of many jokes before the battle by trying to gain acceptance from his comrades through a foolish boastful lie. At Cowpens, the other men learn that there is much more to Billy Morgan than any of them thought possible when he leads them into the fiercest part of the fight. He is rewarded with a promotion and given a task that is much larger than his limited experience and apparently questionable character would seem to support.
Ira Fletcher is one of the richest men in South Carolina. He has powerful political connections. Fletcher is a complex man with a fiery past, and a passion for the Gospel. He owns Fletcher’s Mill and almost everything around it for miles. Rumors abound regarding vast treasure hidden in or under the mill. Ira abhors slavery. He elevates former slave, Ezekiel, to a position of authority at the mill. Elizabeth, Ira’s orphaned granddaughter, is raised by the widowed Ira, Ezekiel, and family friend Mona Partridge. The jealousy of His planter neighbors explodes into cruel violence that threatens everything Ira holds dear. He is forced to choose what is truly valuable.
Love and loyalty, greed and violence, courage and grace all abound as these people and many others are drawn together. Choices must be made. Change is coming. It is a time of weighty decision at Fletcher’s Mill.
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781595558183 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Elm Hill |
| Publication date: | 03/12/2019 |
| Pages: | 300 |
| Product dimensions: | 6.34(w) x 9.37(h) x 1.00(d) |
About the Author
Read an Excerpt
CHAPTER 1
A sudden gust of cold damp wind swept through the scattered trees and scrub. This brought tears to the eyes of twenty-year-old Private Billy Morgan as he strained to see traces of movement at the far end of the sloping meadow. The gray light of dawn didn't help much. Billy was a twisted mixture of conflicting emotions. The fear and excitement he felt in this moment was overshadowed by his humiliation and the contempt of those men around him who now saw through his lie. He crouched close to his only real friend, Silas Whitaker. He felt small comfort in the fact that they were part of the thin line of militia riflemen far out in front of the more substantial lines of continental troops. Billy would have once felt honored to be hand-picked for this job in recognition of his astounding accuracy with the rifle. He couldn't shake off the taunts and jeers he brought on himself from the men that he so wanted to accept him.
Billy and Silas left their homes in western Virginia and walked more than one hundred miles to join the militia in North Carolina. Over a thousand American rebels, both continental regulars and militiamen, searched the distant tree line now for the approaching enemy. It was very cold for South Carolina on this January morning. Billy and many of the men around him shivered uncontrollably. The rain stopped, but the sky remained steel gray even as the daylight increased. The continental regulars and the militiamen from Georgia and the Carolinas had camped in the meadow overnight and were prepared for the fight they knew was coming.
The commander of this combined American force was none other than the "Old Wagoner" himself, Brigadier General Daniel Morgan. They were detached from the main southern Continental Army of General Nathaniel Greene. They had marched from North Carolina into the western "backcountry" of South Carolina to harass the British loyalists and to strengthen the exploits of the "Overmountain Men" and other rebel forces responsible for the decisive victory in October at the battle of Kings Mountain. The British had split their southern forces as well and sent a rather large battle-hardened contingent in pursuit of Morgan's small army. General Morgan retreated northward through the driving rain and soon decided to make a stand here with his back to the swollen Broad River.
Silas punched Billy and pointed slightly to the right, saying, "There!" in a whispered gasp. Billy also noticed the movement as he shifted his gaze. Two distant horsemen in the hated green uniforms of the British "legion" moved slowly into the bottom of the meadow and stopped. One of them put a glass to his eye and slowly surveyed the line of militiamen drawn across the upper part of the meadow.
One of the horsemen was Lieutenant Colonel Banastre Tarleton. Tarleton was in command of this combined force of British cavalry and light infantry. His scouts watched the rebel militia for almost half an hour before reporting the enemy presence to him. He received the news while he was back with the infantry commander trying to cajole more speed out of his exhausted troops. Tarleton was elated as he hurried forward to verify that he had finally caught up with the rebel force they were chasing.
Tarleton knew the value of lightning-quick strikes against frightened militia. He wore a well-earned reputation among the rebels, and his own troops, as a callous "butcher" of the militia he so deeply despised. He understood the landscape in this area from the available maps and the descriptions given by the loyalist militia guides under his command. Tarleton knew this large sloping meadow was called the "Cowpens" because it had been used for many years as an area to collect the local herds. He also knew that his enemy was trapped with their backs to an impassable river that was swollen by the recent torrential rains.
Colonel Tarleton scoffed as he concluded that "General" Morgan had blundered into this trap in such a predictably amateur way. Turning around, he galloped back into the trees and began shouting the orders necessary to bring his superior force into the correct formation for attack. He planned to send his cavalry dragoons forward first. They would be followed by the lines of advancing infantry. There were two small "grasshopper" canons at his disposal also, but he didn't intend to wait for them to be brought up. Tarleton's force consisted primarily of the best available cavalry and the finest British light infantry. He believed that this ragtag rebel mob would flee in terror as they witnessed the inexorable advance of His Majesty's Finest. It had happened so many times before. Why should this battle be any different?
Colonel Tarleton was filled with nationalist pride and contempt for the rebellious scoundrels he faced on the field this day. He could easily imagine the panic and the sight of men dropping everything to run away in terror. He could almost hear the frightened cries for quarter. His men would give quarter to these scum, "Tarleton's Quarter." Yes, he knew the meaning of the phrase. It was used by his enemies and critics as an insult. His men had executed a great many of these wretches after they rose in rebellion against the king. They usually surrendered quickly enough at the first sight of the king's army righteously advancing with their leveled bayonets.
Tarleton wasn't intentionally cruel to honorable men, but these weren't honorable men. They dared to rebel against the king. They dared to pretend that they could stand against the Royal Army. They dared attempt to stand on this or any battlefield and resist him, Banastre Tarleton. He now reveled in the accusations and the reputation they brought him. After all, his men were simply using their sabers and bayonets to extinguish these miserable curs while they whined and plead with their hands in the air.
Billy was still stinging from the insults and catcalls he endured when his comrades learned of his earlier lie. He and Silas joined the militia because they wanted to be part of the cause of freedom as the colonies struggled to throw off the tyranny of the British Crown. Silas thought he knew Billy's family well. They had been friends since Billy was a small boy constantly tagging along with Silas and his comrades. Silas was like an older brother to Billy. When the boy's father died, it was Silas who taught Billy to hunt, fish, and survive in the wilderness. Silas was surprised when he first learned of Billy's outlandish claims. He knew Billy's father moved his family south to the back country of Virginia from the Pennsylvania Colony when Billy was just a babe in arms.
Silas and his brothers helped the elder William Morgan clear his land and build a stout home for his wife and children. Silas fell deeply in love with Billy's older sister, Rachel, and he believed she shared his feelings. William was a quiet man who never spoke about his reasons for leaving Pennsylvania. Silas thought he knew the family well, but now he realized that he didn't. When he first heard the whispered talk among the other men, he didn't know what to think. He remained loyal to his young friend regardless of what was said. He agreed to travel down with Billy out of the mountains into the southern piedmont for more than just the cause of freedom. He intended to marry Rachel and he couldn't refuse her when she asked him to watch over the young man until he got this foolishness out of his system.
Billy made a stupid mistake when they finally did join up. Like most young men thrust into the company of older men, he wanted to be accepted and respected. Rather than earning that respect through hard work and demonstrated integrity, he tried to gain it through a stupid lie. He bragged to the other men in his company that Colonel Daniel Morgan was his uncle, even though he didn't know of any real relationship with the heroic Virginia rifleman. Billy overheard his parent's quiet arguments about their estranged relatives in the north when he was a child. He knew they weren't the only Morgan family to move south into western Virginia.
Everyone knew most of the legends surrounding Daniel Morgan. He was rumored to be a great grandson of the pirate Henry Morgan. He was thought to be Daniel Boone's cousin. He was known to be one of the survivors of the ill-fated Braddock campaign during the French and Indian War. He was one of a very small number of men who ever survived 499 lashes from an English whip. Morgan was working for the British army as a civilian teamster during the war when he ran afoul of an overbearing British officer. The disagreement became violent and ended with Morgan striking the officer. He was immediately arrested and subjected to the justice of a British military court.
The sentence of 499 lashes was considered a form of capital punishment because it usually resulted in the horrific death of the person being flogged. Its purpose was, in fact, to strike terror into the English soldiers forced to witness it, so that they would not repeat the crime that brought about the punishment. Morgan miraculously survived the flogging with an undiminished certainty regarding his own innocence. He came away from the ordeal with a seething hatred for the British that never diminished, along with chronic back problems that lasted the rest of his life. Daniel Morgan was also known to be one of the true heroes of the victory at Saratoga, along with the now-hated Benedict Arnold.
Billy simply made use of the fact that no one but Silas knew him in his new militia unit and that he and the great hero shared the last name, Morgan. In fact, the whole thing started when he signed his name to the enlistment roll. The sergeant quipped, "Any kin to Daniel Morgan?" Billy responded, "What if he's my uncle?" The lie took on a life of its own after that. For a while, he was actually treated with deference by his captain and some of the others. This began to wane when he continued to embellish the "legend." Billy was struck with terror when his company learned that Daniel Morgan had been promoted to brigadier general and placed in command of their part of the southern army by General Nathaniel Greene.
The inevitable embarrassing moment occurred two days ago during the forced march across the South Carolina countryside. At a brief halt, the general and his small entourage of aids rode back past Billy's company and left the trail for a small hill about thirty yards away. His colonel used the moment to impress the general by dragging Billy, "his nephew," over for an impromptu family reunion. When Billy resisted, the colonel became furious and wanted to know why. Billy tried to quietly confess the lie to the colonel just as the general started back toward the trail. The general heard part of what was said and stopped his horse a few feet away. Billy felt the sky darken as Daniel Morgan shook his head slowly and spat tobacco juice onto the ground at Billy's feet. The general then laughed deeply without saying anything and rode on up the trail.
Billy returned to the rest of the unit covered with sullen shame. The story soon spread. He found himself to be the butt of every cruel joke his comrades could invent. The only man who didn't participate in the cruelty was Silas. The two would always be fast friends in spite of Billy's failure. Silas seemed to see a youthful version of himself in this young Virginian. The two men shared a common love of the land. They shared a common love of Billy's sister. They were both excellent woodsmen, and they were both astoundingly accurate shots with their long colonial rifles. Regardless of his immaturity and his dramatic failure with the "Uncle Dan" story, as it was now laughingly known, Billy was probably the best marksman in the small militia company. He and Silas had obtained meat for their suppers on several occasions when other hunters and foragers came in empty-handed. Silas only narrowly avoided a few fistfights when the truth about "Uncle Dan" came out, but it passed.
General Morgan moved through the camp the previous night, visiting the units on the hillside and along the banks of Thickety Creek. He gave hearty talks of encouragement to the frightened militiamen, along with detailed instructions to each of his unit commanders. The speeches he made that night would become legendary as he used humor, threats, pleas, and promises in his unique "Old Wagoner" way to build the spirits and the tactical understanding of his men.
Billy and Silas listened intently to him among a large number of men around their campfire. They heard him say, "Men, I know you're scared. We're all scared. I'm scared. None of us would be normal if we wasn't. But let me tell you what scares me most. It ain't the British. It ain't their swords, or them bayonets. It sure ain't old Benny Tarleton! No. I ain't scared of any of that! What scares me is lettin' you good fellas down by not seeing how yer brains work in battle and failin' to use you right. I know rifles. I know riflemen. I know some of you could pick one of them fleas off old Benny's moustache at three hundred paces. ..." He paused to let the laughter die. "That's part of what I wanted to talk to you about. We're gonna line the best shots among you up as a picket screen about a hundred paces out front of the rest of you.
"The regular continentals will be lined up about 150 paces behind your main body near the top of the hill. Colonel Washington and his cavalry are gonna be around back of the hill out of sight. As Benny gets here, he's gonna see you boys out in the open and come chargin' in here thinkin' he's got us whipped. I want you pickets to give special attention to their officers. Anybody hangin' back from the line on horseback is a fair and special target for ya. They'll probably see what's happenin' and charge you with some of them dragoon cavalry fellas. It's OK to shoot them too. The thing is, I know how long it takes to load a rifle. Just shoot, reload, shoot again, and run." This brought a muffled chorus of protest from around the fire.
The general paused a few seconds and then went on, "Now wait a minute! Just shut up and listen. When you knock down some of their officers and empty some of those dragoon saddles, they're gonna be good and mad. When you skedaddle, they're gonna think they got you whipped again, and they'll come on like a herd of drunk mules with their tails on fire. You boys in the second line are just gonna shoot three rounds each, and then I want you to run too. They'll turn into a chargin' mob as soon as they see that. I want you to run around the hill on our left side. As you disappear, Benny's boys will run headlong into our continentals near the top of the hill, and they'll be flanked by our cavalry comin' past you in the other direction. The only thing they'll be able to do is die or give up." He paused again, and this time the wisdom of what he was saying began to dawn on some of the men even though there were still muffled complaints about being expected to deliberately run away.
This morning, Billy and Silas were among the hand-picked riflemen positioned in the line of about 150 skirmishers far in front of Colonel Andrew Pickens's main body of militia. They watched as the British dragoons rode out of the trees at the far end of the meadow and formed a line. When the cavalry began to move slowly forward, Billy forgot his fear and jumbled thoughts. He selected a target near the center of the line of horsemen. The cavalry began to trot. The seconds seemed to slow perceptibly as a bugle blast sent the horses into a gallop.
Billy felt a momentary twinge of anxious dread as he realized that he could now distinctly see his target's face under the bouncing dragoon helmet. He had never before aimed his rifle at another man. Pushing this aside, he took a sharp breath and exhaled slowly as he calmed his aim and squeezed the trigger. Almost all of the skirmishers fired at the same time. The smoke billowed and blew quickly away as Billy saw his target collapse and fall from the saddle. Many of the saddles were empty now.
The cavalry charge continued, but some of the horsemen began to shy away as a few more rifle shots took deadly effect. Some of the galloping dragoons were sporadically returning fire with their short carbines. Billy was frantically reloading as he watched a huge dragoon still charging toward him. Silas suddenly screamed and swung his unloaded rifle, butt first, at the nose of the charging horse, causing it to lurch to a halt and throw the dragoon forward. The cavalryman began to swing his saber before he was thrown. Silas couldn't avoid the blade and the weight of the man as the horse now stumbled and rolled onto both of them. Billy momentarily froze in horror as his brain struggled to accept that his friend could not have survived the impact of both the rider and the horse. The area around him was filled with smoke, screams, shots, and galloping horses.
(Continues…)
Excerpted from "Decision at Fletcher's Mill"
by .
Copyright © 2018 David Caringer.
Excerpted by permission of Thomas Nelson.
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