Altered America (16 page)

             
The area Matthew was operating from was heavily forested mountains and valleys.  His band could survive out there for years.

             
Benjamin would have to draw him out. If there really were a rebel source, perhaps he could use that to his advantage. He picked up his quill, dipped it in the dark ink, and started writing up two sets of orders. One he would issue by the usual method, the other he would keep within a select circle of trusted officers. Once they were ready, he summoned his chief of staff to distribute the first set, and waited for the man to leave before sealing the other set, pouring hot wax on each of them and marking them with his official seal.

             
The next day, he summoned his most trusted officers into his quarters, to tell them of the plan. They all nodded and accepted the envelopes, and promised to explicitly tell their subordinates to leave the orders sealed until the specified time.

             
Captain Henry Rourke was in command of the largest contingent and Benjamin walked out with him. Henry was a commander of
the Bears
, an elite unit based on the Royal Marines of the British armed forces.  The Bears were attached to the New England Army and specialized in irregular warfare.

             
“Colonel? You’re coming with us?” Rourke asked as the Benjamin grabbed the stirrups of his tall horse.

             
Benjamin nodded. “I need to see this through. Though we may be enemies, I know Matthew from long ago. He may come peacefully if I can just talk to him.”

             
Henry looked at him with sceptical eyes. “With all due respect, sir, as far as Lyon is concerned you’re nothing but a traitor. How do you know he won’t shoot you dead on the spot?”

             
“You’re right, he may. But I was there at the start. I know him. I have to convince him that this fight is finally over.”

             
“And if you can’t?”

             
Benjamin didn’t answer that question. He knew what he might have to do if Matthew proved implacable. He didn’t want to dwell on it.

             
“Come, Captain, we have somewhere to be,” Benjamin said.  “We don’t want to miss being late for the welcoming committee.”  He spurred his horse and set off in a loud gallop, with Rourke and his men following close behind.

* * *

              After seeing the men return to the camp in the valley, Matthew left and travelled to his usual spot for meeting his informant. He met her in the small village of Duxbury behind a broken down cottage. Her name was Elizabeth Doyle, the secretary and mistress for one of the Redcoat captains. To the captain’s detriment and Matthew’s gain, the man liked to brag during his pillow talk.

             
“They’re sending out a party to search for you tomorrow,” said Elizabeth. She stood straight with her arms gripping her dress, holding it up slightly, for the ground behind the cottage wasn’t exactly clean.  Matthew guessed she didn’t want to get any dirt or moss on it.  “It will be much larger than the group of men today.”

             
“Where are they planning to travel?” Matthew asked.

             
“Along the northern road, past the edge of the forest on Mt. Resting Lion,” she replied.

             
Matthew pictured the location in his head—a dusty road that went from Montpelier to Richmond. There were any number of places they could set an ambush.

             
“I can see what you’re thinking,” she said, “but they’ll be out in force. You’ll have to be careful, Minister Lyon.” She still addressed him by his governmental title, even if he was no longer acting in that capacity. She despised the Redcoats as much as he did; she had lost three brothers to them during their initial attacks on the border.

             
Matthew reached over and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry, dear. We know what we’re doing. Your information has been invaluable. You are a credit to the nation of Vermont. I’m sure your brothers would be proud of you.”

             
“Thank you, Minister. Do be careful. You’re the last hope any of us have for a free Vermont.”

             
Not the last,
Matthew thought as Miss Doyle left the darkened area behind the cottage.
If anything happens to me, young Seth will carry on the fight.
He hated to think that so many of the civilians who still wanted Vermont to be independent were pinning all of their hopes on him. One man should never be the sole force behind a movement.

             
The next day he gathered all the members of his guerrilla band together. Normally they would split into separate forces and attack different targets, but with the Redcoat numbers larger, they would need everyone together.

             
“Are you sure this is wise?” Seth asked. “If we’re all in one place, it’s easier for them to return with a huge band to track us.”

             
Matthew wanted to hit the Redcoats hard, but he knew Seth was right. They shouldn’t risk everything. “All right, I want you to take your men to the peak near Gillet Pond and keep an eye out. If any of the Redcoats make a break for the mountains, you can chase them down and take them captive. If you see anything go wrong for us, take your men and head south to Mt. Ellen. You’ll be able to get supplies from Waitsfield; the Redcoats haven’t got any men garrisoned there.”

             
Seth nodded and left to take his men to the position while Matthew called out for the officers milling around to prepare for the attack.

* * *

              Matthew and his men were waiting on the slopes, concealed in the low-lying bushes as the British came up the road past the Bolton Valley.

             
There were more than twice as many Redcoats than the last band, and they looked more ready for a fight, though his guerrillas still had them outnumbered. That was the only way to fight a war like this—never fight the enemy on his terms, only yours.

             
Matthew signalled his officers and they started quietly ordering their men forward. Once they were within shooting distance, Matthew gave the order. “Now!”

             
The guerrillas of the Green Mountains yelled and whooped as they started firing, scaring the redcoats and their horses. A great many of the redcoats were hit and fell from their horses. Some of them had reacted quickly though, and were firing back hard. This group was certainly tougher than the lot they had ambushed the day before.

             
It didn’t take much longer, though. The Green Mountain Boys soon had the British overwhelmed and surrendering, with half of them riding off in retreat.

             
Matthew oversaw the seizing of supplies and weapons. The Redcoats had been carrying quite a lot of ammunition and some quality rifles. It was a good catch.

             
As Matthew was cataloguing the supplies into separate piles and getting them into sacks for transport, he heard something, and turned his head.  It had almost sounded like the rumble of horse hooves, but that couldn’t be right. The redcoats had fled more than twenty minutes ago. There was no way they could have brought back reinforcements so quickly.

             
“Hurry up,” he said to Joseph Edwards, one of his lieutenants. “We don’t want to linger here any longer than is necessary.”

             
The men had almost finished gathering up the supplies when the rumble of horse hooves echoed through the trees. Horsemen appeared out of nowhere, having surrounded the site of his ambush. Matthew and his men had their hands on their guns. He trained his aim, ready to fire at a moment’s notice, even if it was suicide. The redcoats had theirs out as well, but seemed to be waiting.

             
He heard the sound of several more horses ride up and approach. Then he saw who was leading them. Colonel Benjamin Tucker a former Green Mountain Boy and turncoat to the British. Matthew’s face twisted into a vicious scowl when he saw him.

             
“Don’t fire,” Benjamin shouted.

             
Matthew wasn’t sure if the traitor was talking to his men or the guerrillas, but Matthew and his men kept their guns up and aimed at the Redcoats, ready to shoot at a moment’s notice.

             
Benjamin dismounted his horse and started walking towards Matthew. He looked like he had something to say. Matthew hoped it was good. He had never felt so betrayed than when he had been told that Benjamin had gone over to the British. One failed expedition and the man had signed over to the Crown! He despised anyone who didn’t stand up for their own values, and friendship with Benjamin had only made the betrayal all the more bitter.

* * *

              From the look on Matthew’s face, Benjamin could tell he wasn’t pleased to see him. Convincing him to surrender might prove more difficult than he’d first thought. He hadn’t even seen the man in twenty years and that had been in a tavern on the Canadian border.

             
Benjamin still had a scar on his cheek from the smashed bottle that Matthew had tried to shove through his face. They’d both been stinking drunk at the time, but Benjamin had been lucky to come out of it with his face intact. He couldn’t let that incident affect his judgment now though—he had a job to do.

             
“Matthew,” he said, “you and your men have done well out here, but it’s over. I have an entire regiment of the best New England cavalry with their guns trained on you, and I have more riflemen in the woods surrounding this whole area.”

             
Matthew’s face didn’t change—he kept staring at him scornfully. He was as stubborn as Benjamin remembered. Maybe it was too much to hope that he could let things go.

             
“The best choice for you and your men is to lay down your arms and surrender.” Benjamin spoke louder now, so all of the guerrillas could hear him. “None of you will be mistreated. I have in my hands a document which indicates that any guerrilla who surrenders here will face no more than two years imprisonment for any actions taken during this time against the British Army or the rightful government of Vermont.” He held up the piece of paper so the men could all see it.

             
Some of the guerrillas were slowly dropping their aim.

             
“And why should my men take the word of a turncoat like you, Colonel?” Matthew challenged. “You betrayed what you believed in, and for what? Thirty pieces of silver and a red coat to wear?” He was practically screaming, with his rifle aimed at Benjamin’s chest.

             
Benjamin kept his cool and calmly said, “I made my choice a long time ago, and so did you. Things were very different back then. Britain doesn’t hold any overlordship on New England, only friendship. The other leaders of Vermont have recognized that. Why can’t you?”

             
“I’ve fought for and served this country too long to just hand it over,” Matthew answered.

             
Benjamin shook his head. “All you are doing is causing chaos. If you keep this up, one of the southern powers will try to take advantage. If you accept my offer, you and your men will serve a short imprisonment. After that, you’ll be free men of Vermont again.”

             
Benjamin could see the conflict in Matthew’s eyes. He wasn’t sure whether it was the offer, his words, or simply the fact that Matthew had grown weary of war, but in the end the man surrendered. His shoulders slumped and all of the defiance that he had been holding onto left him. He let his rifle drop to the ground. The rest of his men did the same and Captains Rourke’s men moved in to secure them.

             
“You did the right thing, Matthew,” Benjamin assured him.

             
Matthew didn’t say anything in reply. He was staring toward the south as if there was something important there. Benjamin couldn’t see anything other than mountain peaks. Matthew gave Benjamin another look, holding a slight smirk on his face as he stepped in line with the rest of his men.

             
Benjamin shrugged. The man had surrendered; it didn’t really matter what he found amusing.

* * *

              Seth Warner had watched everything through his telescope. His heart had sunk as he watched the Redcoats and their New England allies surround Matthew and the other guerrillas. He had seethed and kicked the rocks at his feet in frustration as he watched them surrender, and fumed further as the Redcoats moved in to secure them. Matthew had been like a father to him and now the enemy had him!

             
The few men Seth had under his command now had no choice but to head for Mt. Ellen and make a new camp there. They would bide their time and let the Redcoats drop their guard. Then they would strike when and where the enemy least expected it. One way or another Seth would fight to ensure a free Vermont, even if it took years.