War of Hearts, A Historical Romance

© 2013 by Lemon Press

All rights reserved

www.lemonpresspublishing.com

www.lynnhubbard.com

Published by Lemon Press at
Smashwords

Smashwords Edition, License
Notes

This book is dedicated to all the brave

men and women who stood up for their
beliefs.

No matter what the cost.

And for my greatest fan, Delores Rhoten
Sibert, who taught me that life can be taken in an instant. You
will be missed by all. I believe that once we pass from this earth
our worries are gone, and only joy remains. You have touched more
hearts than you will ever know.

Delores Rhoten Sibert 1966-2013

Sarah marched across the frozen ground,
following the wagons. An icy wind whistled through the trees and
she pulled her blanket closer to her for warmth. The monotony of
the trek allowed her mind to wander and she soon found it drifting
to the past. With a sigh she thought of how much her life had
changed in just a few short months.

Stumbling over a tree root she fell to her
knees and her blanket was sodden by the snow. The chill crept into
her bones; she ignored it and pressed on. It did not even compare
to the coldness that seeped into her soul. Once again, her memories
besieged her.

Her father, Henry Fanum, was a stoic man who
believed in ‘live and let live’. Although most of their neighbors
were Tories, he preferred not to choose a side. Having a small
farm, they did not have to worry as much about thieves. The few
animals they owned were not worth much. Keeping his head down and
working hard, he hoped to avoid the conflict.

This worked well until the raids increased;
then no one was safe. Needing more recruits to squash the uprising,
the British hired an army of Hessians from Germany to come to
America and fight for them.

The mercenaries and British combined made
their way through Sarah’s New Jersey home. Along their path, they
took whatever they needed; and then some. Tales of their pillaging
and defiling women spread quickly, and the people were on edge.

The only thing of any real worth on the
Fanum Farm was Henry’s family. Until the skirmish was settled, he
had taken to keeping the women in the house and animals in the barn
when danger was near.

If only it had worked.

***

She could recall that summer day vividly.
She was sitting on her bed next to the window to use the light to
work on her sewing. She hated sewing and would much rather be
outside in the glorious sunlight.

Sensing her emotions, Sarah’s mother,
Hannah, rested a reassuring hand on her shoulder. Looking up at her
mother’s shimmering red hair and smiling face lifted her spirits.
She and her brother had inherited the same radiant color. That
moment of simple peace would stay in Sarah’s heart forever.

For, in the next instant, her world would be
turned upside down. Sarah heard their dogs barking wildly. It was
then that she first smelled the smoke. Looking anxiously out the
window, a horrific sight met her eyes. Their barn was on fire!
Throwing caution to the wind, she ignored her mother’s shouts of
warning; she burst through the door of their house and ran. Knowing
the barn was lost, she headed to the fields looking for her father
and brother.

She soon found her father lying on the
ground next to the plow. Blood was seeping out of his chest and
into the rich soil below. In such shock, she barely registered the
soldier standing over him. His bayonet was still wet with blood;
the same color as the uniform he wore. In a trance, she turned to
watch him unceremoniously wipe it off on the ground. As her
situation started to sink in, his eyes turned to meet hers, and she
took a tentative step backwards.

Her mother’s scream cut through the air and
Sarah darted back towards the house. Her heart pounded so hard she
could feel it in her head. She could hear the soldier behind her,
and she ran even faster. A shot rang out, but on she ran without
looking back.

The wind shifted, blowing the hot, smoky air
toward her from the burning barn. Her lungs and eyes burned.

She threw open the door and jumped on the
back of the vermin who was covering her mother. Unfortunately, she
did not see the other man in the room waiting his turn. Chuckling,
he grabbed her by her hair and tried to pull her off. Intent on
chocking the life out of the man below her, she ignored the sting
and bit down on his ear as hard as she could.

Sarah cried out in despair as she felt his
strong arm wrap around her waist. Then she found herself on her
back. With the soldier's attention turned to his belt buckle, she
reached over and grabbed the sharp iron spit from the fireplace.
Using the strength of fear, she ran it through him.

A look of shock crossed his face; his hands
were instinctively grasping the iron bar and trying to pull it out.
Terrified, Sarah gave it an extra shove and knocked him over a
stool. Her relief was short-lived; her mother’s attacker was now
turning on her.

Sarah fought like a wildcat as he tried to
subdue her. Hannah tried to come to her aid, but was tossed to the
side for the effort. Sarah screamed, as she was once again thrown
to the floor, and her dress was pulled up over her head.

She heard the door bang open and pushed her
skirt down in time to see her brother Silas appear and cut the
man’s throat from behind. A shower of blood splattered on her as
she watched in frozen horror. She could taste the coppery essence
in her mouth and turned her head to vomit. Her stomach emptied with
the gravity of their situation sinking in. Their father was dead.
They had killed British Soldiers, a hanging offense, she was sure.
Her sobs filled the air as her brother knelt at her side and hugged
her tight.

“It’s okay. You’re gonna be okay.” Silas
whispered.

She was shaking from emotion as she turned
to look for her mother. She found her lying on the ground next to
the fireplace like she was asleep. Sarah tried to shake her awake,
but there was a dark stain on the stone hearth. She was gone.

Sarah held her and wept.

It was Christmas. The night was dark. Snow
filled clouds blocked out the stars offering them little to no
light. With the hope of freedom in their hearts, the men pressed
on.

Battered by sleet and snow, Sarah stood
huddled on the Pennsylvania shore, with the other women watching
them go. She clutched a thin blanket around her frail shoulders
even though it did little to block out the frozen wind.
Nonetheless, she was one of the lucky ones.

Many of Washington’s soldiers had no coats,
and some, no shoes. Their bare feet were numb from the cold. A
trail of bloody footprints marked their way as they marched across
the icy ground.

Tears stung her eyes watching Silas step
into the last Durham Boat. The deep wooden sides seemed to swallow
him up as he sat down for the arduous voyage. The boat was
originally constructed to carry iron, not men. She could hear the
sound of creaking wood and cracking ice as it was poled off into
the river. She said a prayer and it disappeared into the
darkness.

Sarah barely noticed the other women around
her shuffling back to camp. They would wait, as they had so many
times before, for their men to return. With a fearful heart, she
turned and walked back to camp alone.

***

Their leader, General George Washington, was
a powerful force. He would stand toe to toe against any man. He was
also compassionate; he knew his men were suffering and did
everything in his power to get them the supplies and funds they
needed. He made it a point to walk among his troops and listen to
their needs and ideas.

It was this quality that drew Silas to him;
that, and the chance for revenge. Revenge for the death of their
parents, and for the black mark left on all of their souls. Sarah
refused to stay with the neighbors and followed her brother to
war.

She was one of the many women who left their
homes behind to sleep in dirt and follow the camp. It was better,
she thought, to be there, to know what was happening. To keep
abreast of the goings on instead of fretting away in an empty house
wondering if your loved one would return.

Sarah slowly wandered back to their camp.
The cold was making her tired. She pushed it away. There would be
little sleep for her this night. Those left behind were cooking
their evening meal. However, Sarah was too full of worry to
eat.

She prayed her brother would return safely.
It was a daring move on the General’s part. Typically, armies did
not fight in winter. Travel was too treacherous. Food, supplies,
and amenities were slim. In fact, if you could believe the rumors,
Cornwallis was packing to return home to England for the
winter.

The Americans were not as relaxed. The mood
in the camp was as dismal as the weather. The sick, which were left
behind, wondered if they would survive the next few days. Most of
the men’s contracts were expiring soon, and they longed to return
home. Sarah knew Silas would not be among those eager to leave.
They had no home.

Not wanting to spend the dark night alone,
she entered one of the houses being used as a hospital. She was
looking for her friend, Margaret. Margaret was a boisterous woman.
Once overly large, her skin sagged on her frame. However, even the
lack of food could not diminish her spirit. She was like a lantern
in the darkness. Barely able to see, Sarah was surprised when a
metal cup was pressed into her hands.

“It’s coffee. It’s cold, but it’ll help get
ya through the night.”

She gratefully sipped at the bitter
blackness. Sleep tugged at her again; but she was too distraught to
rest. Silas was all she had in this world.

A groan broke the stillness and Margaret
turned to mop her husband Homer’s brow with a wet cloth. Even in
the frigid air, he was still hot with fever. A rattle escaped him,
and with each breath Sarah worried for his life.

“Pleurisy. It’s a bit harder for him to
breathe at night. I hope it will pass soon. Getting that supply of
blankets the other day was a blessing.”

“Yes. Yes it was. We are still in need of
more blessings though.” Sarah replied.

“God is on the side of those pure of
heart.”

Homer fell back into an arduous sleep, and
Margaret sat down on the floor to rest. The snores and groans of
the other men in the house were softened by the wind howling
outside.

There were so many ill. The house was full
of them, lying on straw covered matts. There was hardly anywhere to
walk, much less sit. With a flicker of candlelight, Sarah looked
around at the other men, if you could call them men. Some of them
were just boys. She prayed for their health as well as Homer’s.
Needing comfort, Margaret started to hum a song; a Christmas
carol.

Sarah was almost startled. It seemed
impossible that Christmas was here. There was no feast, no
presents, and no family. Nevertheless, it was Christmas. They
needed a miracle, and this was the time for miracles. Hope swelled
in her chest, and she relaxed a bit, the soft music was filling her
heart and lifting her spirits. Softly, she started singing
along.

Silence surrounded them. Even the ones
moaning in pain settled down to listen. Sarah tried not to think
back to last Christmas. It was just too painful. Instead, she let
the melody comfort her as it did the others.

The storm pressed onward. Wind slipped
through the cracks of the wood hewn house, bringing in the cold and
dampness. Sarah was stiff from sleeping on the wooden floor.
Chilled from the winter storm, she was not sure if she would ever
be warm again. As dawn arrived, she fretted for her brother and the
other soldiers who had not yet returned.

She heard a sob from Margaret and turned to
find her hunched over Homer’s still form. He had passed during the
night. Not knowing what to say, she laid a hand on Margaret’s
heaving shoulder. Mutely, two men approached to remove him. The
much-needed blanket was left on the straw for the next infirm man
as they carried Homer outside to tend to his remains. Grasping
Margaret’s hand, the two women followed.